Ants love breast milk.
This is something they don't tell you in the books. Lactation consultants will not prepare you for the moment you pick up a discarded spit-up rag to find the underside teaming with the little buggers. You will freak out. If you have not slept for 6 months, you might just have a complete mental breakdown. On the floor. With tears and snot and trembling and Lo! the unholy usage of the Lord's name.
I'm just saying.
Anyway - I've had two years to recover from THAT scenario. However, just when you thought it was safe to go into the water . . . Ants II - The Second Coming.
I was zoning out while pumping at work when I looked down and saw something bobbing in the breast milk. Not a good sign. So, I kept pumping and watched in horror as this black thing rose higher and higher in the bottle. Finally, I sort of tilted the bottle mid-pump and got a good, full, side-view on the thing. A creepy crawly carpenter ant. FREAKY.
The best part is that I got back to my office and had to tell someone. I mean, wouldn't you? Who could keep that bottled up inside them? So, I told this woman at work who is probably 10 years younger than I am and sort of innocent and naive but in a fun way. Like Betty White in the Golden Girls. And I'm totally grossing her out and she's making these completely horrified faces. Then, before I can start questioning how the ant got in there . . . was it in my bag all along? Was it hiding out in the bottle waiting? Or was it lurking in the Mothers' Room, waiting for some unsuspecting sleep-deprived victim? Before I can get to any of that, she blurts out, "How did the ant come out of your boob? And how could you not have FELT it when it did?!?"
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Get Out!
Let's face it, this house has been trying to get rid of us since the day we moved in. I know that might seem like a silly statement - something straight out of "Poltergeist" - but, for the love of God, it's true.
We've had the normal menagerie of pests - ants, stinkbugs, mice, ladybugs, and spiders. And while they freaked me out at first, I came to accept them as minor inconveniences with simple solutions. But, we've also had snakes . . . in the kitchen and in the computer room. And every year we've endured multiple termite swarms in various rooms throughout the house . . . hundreds of the buggers creeping and crawling and swooping over everything. Our landlords claimed that we were simply too citified and that termite swarms were what country livin' was all about. I'm not so sure they will feel the same way when their house collapses into a heap of sawdust and creepy crawlies, but whatever. Then there was that summer when I was pregnant and had to fight off dozens of wasps in the living room every day for weeks on end. We never did figure out where they were coming from. Most recently, we've had bats. Not inside - I'd be living in a Motel 6 right now if that was the case - but, they seem to have taken up residence between the stone chimney and the side of our house (there is a large gap between said chimney and the house . . . which is just lovely). At twilight, they shoot out of the gap by the dozen and go off looking for whatever bats look for . . . bugs, sex, virgin necks to suck.
So, we're used to these strange and unwanted house guests, as disturbing as they all are. We've also developed the ability to live with the many quirks this house possesses. For instance, the heat is always on. Always. It can be 95 degrees out and that hot air is still pumping out our baseboards. We pay a small fortune to the oil company. There is not one window in the kitchen that can be opened. We have huge windows in the kitchen too - they mock us. About every third day we have to replace a lightbulb somewhere. They just blow out. All the time. I should own stock in Sylvania. The bathroom always smells like mold. It is my theory that our landlords had Bathfitters or some such "quick and cheap" bathroom remodeling company come in and cover up all the mold and rot with one of those one-piece enclosure jobbies. I shudder to think about what most likely lurks beneath all that ivory acrylic. Also, there is no sub-floor underneath our floorboards. And gaps have developed between many of the wooden planks. You can feel a cool breeze coming up from the floor in Logan's room. Also, this is probably where most of our insect/pest problems come from. They just crawl right in. Who could blame them?
So, we deal. We suck it up and put on our brave faces and deal with all this crap. Why? Well, because it's a house and we can afford the rent. For the price we pay now we would not be able to rent another house. And finding an apartment big enough for all of us is an exercise in futility unless you want to pay about double what we pay now. So, we've been sort of stuck. But now we are going to buy a mickey fickey HOUSE and get ourselves out of this hellhole. *Cue the theme song from The Jefferson's now.* The only problem is that now this house is mad. And it's seeking revenge like some jilted ex-girlfriend.
How does it do it? Well . . . I think it's in cahoots with Logan for one thing. In the past few months he has ripped 80% of the painted-over wallpaper off the wall in his room. He has cracked the ceramic cooktop. Broken the dishwasher. Knocked our huge-ass monstrosity of a TV off the TV stand - it landed screen-side down. Of course it did!
All the knobs have broken off our washing machine. The lint filter broke on the dryer. A few days ago, the house had itself an electrical aneurysm. Something happened and suddenly an entire section of our house lost electricity. It just so happened that our refrigerator was included in the outage. And our washing machine. And my computer. FUN. The electrician used the term "nightmare house" and actually called someone over to go up into the attic with him where they pointed and laughed in disbelief at whatever horrors they found up there. I don't even want to know.
The house - it wants us gone. And the feeling is mutual. Please, Baby Jesus, let us get this house we're making an offer on tomorrow.
We've had the normal menagerie of pests - ants, stinkbugs, mice, ladybugs, and spiders. And while they freaked me out at first, I came to accept them as minor inconveniences with simple solutions. But, we've also had snakes . . . in the kitchen and in the computer room. And every year we've endured multiple termite swarms in various rooms throughout the house . . . hundreds of the buggers creeping and crawling and swooping over everything. Our landlords claimed that we were simply too citified and that termite swarms were what country livin' was all about. I'm not so sure they will feel the same way when their house collapses into a heap of sawdust and creepy crawlies, but whatever. Then there was that summer when I was pregnant and had to fight off dozens of wasps in the living room every day for weeks on end. We never did figure out where they were coming from. Most recently, we've had bats. Not inside - I'd be living in a Motel 6 right now if that was the case - but, they seem to have taken up residence between the stone chimney and the side of our house (there is a large gap between said chimney and the house . . . which is just lovely). At twilight, they shoot out of the gap by the dozen and go off looking for whatever bats look for . . . bugs, sex, virgin necks to suck.
So, we're used to these strange and unwanted house guests, as disturbing as they all are. We've also developed the ability to live with the many quirks this house possesses. For instance, the heat is always on. Always. It can be 95 degrees out and that hot air is still pumping out our baseboards. We pay a small fortune to the oil company. There is not one window in the kitchen that can be opened. We have huge windows in the kitchen too - they mock us. About every third day we have to replace a lightbulb somewhere. They just blow out. All the time. I should own stock in Sylvania. The bathroom always smells like mold. It is my theory that our landlords had Bathfitters or some such "quick and cheap" bathroom remodeling company come in and cover up all the mold and rot with one of those one-piece enclosure jobbies. I shudder to think about what most likely lurks beneath all that ivory acrylic. Also, there is no sub-floor underneath our floorboards. And gaps have developed between many of the wooden planks. You can feel a cool breeze coming up from the floor in Logan's room. Also, this is probably where most of our insect/pest problems come from. They just crawl right in. Who could blame them?
So, we deal. We suck it up and put on our brave faces and deal with all this crap. Why? Well, because it's a house and we can afford the rent. For the price we pay now we would not be able to rent another house. And finding an apartment big enough for all of us is an exercise in futility unless you want to pay about double what we pay now. So, we've been sort of stuck. But now we are going to buy a mickey fickey HOUSE and get ourselves out of this hellhole. *Cue the theme song from The Jefferson's now.* The only problem is that now this house is mad. And it's seeking revenge like some jilted ex-girlfriend.
How does it do it? Well . . . I think it's in cahoots with Logan for one thing. In the past few months he has ripped 80% of the painted-over wallpaper off the wall in his room. He has cracked the ceramic cooktop. Broken the dishwasher. Knocked our huge-ass monstrosity of a TV off the TV stand - it landed screen-side down. Of course it did!
All the knobs have broken off our washing machine. The lint filter broke on the dryer. A few days ago, the house had itself an electrical aneurysm. Something happened and suddenly an entire section of our house lost electricity. It just so happened that our refrigerator was included in the outage. And our washing machine. And my computer. FUN. The electrician used the term "nightmare house" and actually called someone over to go up into the attic with him where they pointed and laughed in disbelief at whatever horrors they found up there. I don't even want to know.
The house - it wants us gone. And the feeling is mutual. Please, Baby Jesus, let us get this house we're making an offer on tomorrow.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Pumping Iron
There is a man at work who sees me at least once a day (sometimes twice) making the long trek from my office to the Mothers' Room to pump. He is a friendly, lazy-eyed mailroom employee who is in the habit of making small-talk with everyone he passes in the hall. It is sometimes difficult to ascertain who he is addressing since his two eyes are never focusing in the same direction. I never know which one to look at when I respond to him and so I usually stare at the middle of his forehead while commenting on something banal like the weather, the impending long weekend, or the fact that it is buffalo chicken day in the cafeteria. This is a strategy that has served me well - I have even shared it with my co-workers and, though skeptical at first, they too have adopted my method with great success.
One day, however, one of his eyes caught sight of my gigantic black breast pump backpack. It's large, unwieldy, microfiber monstrosity and can hold my double flanged pump, its various accessories, and a small cooler full of 4 oz. glass baby bottles. It's pretty much the equivalent of having a flashing neon billboard with the word "LACTATING," strapped to my back. Only, this guy clearly did not see it that way at all. "Going to the gym?" he asked, one eye looking right at me and the other veering off towards the sari-enrobed Indian woman walking a few feet in front of him. I was caught off guard and by the time I realized he actually was talking to me all I could blurt out was a hesitant, " . . . yeah . . . "
Honestly, what could I say? Even if I had time to explain, and passing someone in the hall is no place for lengthy conversations, I wouldn't want to delve into the topic of breastfeeding with this man I hardly knew. I'd prefer him not to ever think of my breasts. As far as I was concerned it would be best if he didn't even know I had them. Don't ask, don't tell. Nothing to see here. Carry on. So, I let him think he was correct - I was sneaking off to the gym to jazzercise my postpartum baby weight away. Whatever. A little white lie never hurt anyone.
It's been about 6 months now, though. And after seeing me every day (sometimes twice a day) "going to the gym" I often wonder what he's thinking. I have surmised that he must think I'm a little OCD about getting in shape. And also, he must feel quite sorry for me because clearly I am doing something horribly wrong if I am working out twice a day everyday and I still have a stomach that looks like this:
One day, however, one of his eyes caught sight of my gigantic black breast pump backpack. It's large, unwieldy, microfiber monstrosity and can hold my double flanged pump, its various accessories, and a small cooler full of 4 oz. glass baby bottles. It's pretty much the equivalent of having a flashing neon billboard with the word "LACTATING," strapped to my back. Only, this guy clearly did not see it that way at all. "Going to the gym?" he asked, one eye looking right at me and the other veering off towards the sari-enrobed Indian woman walking a few feet in front of him. I was caught off guard and by the time I realized he actually was talking to me all I could blurt out was a hesitant, " . . . yeah . . . "
Honestly, what could I say? Even if I had time to explain, and passing someone in the hall is no place for lengthy conversations, I wouldn't want to delve into the topic of breastfeeding with this man I hardly knew. I'd prefer him not to ever think of my breasts. As far as I was concerned it would be best if he didn't even know I had them. Don't ask, don't tell. Nothing to see here. Carry on. So, I let him think he was correct - I was sneaking off to the gym to jazzercise my postpartum baby weight away. Whatever. A little white lie never hurt anyone.
It's been about 6 months now, though. And after seeing me every day (sometimes twice a day) "going to the gym" I often wonder what he's thinking. I have surmised that he must think I'm a little OCD about getting in shape. And also, he must feel quite sorry for me because clearly I am doing something horribly wrong if I am working out twice a day everyday and I still have a stomach that looks like this:
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Shoot Me Now
Sorry for disappearing for a couple of months - here are two videos to make up for it.
In the spirit of full disclosure I must confess that Molly is the only one who is pulling herself up to stand. Emma had a little help in the second video. But still. SCARY. I can't keep up with one mobile child, never mind THREE.
Send gin.
In the spirit of full disclosure I must confess that Molly is the only one who is pulling herself up to stand. Emma had a little help in the second video. But still. SCARY. I can't keep up with one mobile child, never mind THREE.
Send gin.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Sardines
Happy Easter!!!
Logan spent the past week on a much needed vacation to Grammy and Grampy's house. It was fabulous for all of us. Logan got some one-on-one attention that he has been sorely lacking since the girls' arrival. The girls were able to roll around on the floor without fear of being kicked in the head or body slammed. Steven and I actually slept in a few mornings and found ourselves doing crazy impulsive things like leaving the bathroom door open and *gasp* throwing our keys onto the kitchen table with no fear of a certain curious 2 year old getting into everything. Hell, even Gus was enjoying himself since he spent the week out amongst us instead of hiding in our closet until Logan's bedtime.
The theme for the week around Chez Maynard was relaxation. We moved the girls out of our bedroom and into Logan's bedroom for the week. And it was bliss. Steven converted Logan's toddler bed back into a crib and for the first time ever Molly and Emma actually had enough room to sleep and roll over without being on top of each other. You see, and this may be sort of shameful, they are still using a portacrib. There just isn't a lot of room in our bedroom and up until now the portacrib has been fine. Things are starting to get a little cramped now though. And after seeing how well they slept all week in a "real" crib, we can hardly wait to move them into one permanently. We were going to bring the crib my parents have at their house back up with us today but, sadly, it would not fit in our minivan - 3 kids in car seats plus all their crap does not leave room for things like cribs and mattresses. Darn.
I have just spent the past hour trying to get them to settle down in their portacrib and stop rolling and kicking each other. They have been howling for an hour straight. Clearly, they do not approve of this downgrade. Luckily, my parents have offered to drive up with the crib sometime this week. Thank god for my mom and dad!! To the rescue, AGAIN!
Logan spent the past week on a much needed vacation to Grammy and Grampy's house. It was fabulous for all of us. Logan got some one-on-one attention that he has been sorely lacking since the girls' arrival. The girls were able to roll around on the floor without fear of being kicked in the head or body slammed. Steven and I actually slept in a few mornings and found ourselves doing crazy impulsive things like leaving the bathroom door open and *gasp* throwing our keys onto the kitchen table with no fear of a certain curious 2 year old getting into everything. Hell, even Gus was enjoying himself since he spent the week out amongst us instead of hiding in our closet until Logan's bedtime.
The theme for the week around Chez Maynard was relaxation. We moved the girls out of our bedroom and into Logan's bedroom for the week. And it was bliss. Steven converted Logan's toddler bed back into a crib and for the first time ever Molly and Emma actually had enough room to sleep and roll over without being on top of each other. You see, and this may be sort of shameful, they are still using a portacrib. There just isn't a lot of room in our bedroom and up until now the portacrib has been fine. Things are starting to get a little cramped now though. And after seeing how well they slept all week in a "real" crib, we can hardly wait to move them into one permanently. We were going to bring the crib my parents have at their house back up with us today but, sadly, it would not fit in our minivan - 3 kids in car seats plus all their crap does not leave room for things like cribs and mattresses. Darn.
I have just spent the past hour trying to get them to settle down in their portacrib and stop rolling and kicking each other. They have been howling for an hour straight. Clearly, they do not approve of this downgrade. Luckily, my parents have offered to drive up with the crib sometime this week. Thank god for my mom and dad!! To the rescue, AGAIN!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Please, Sir . . . Don't Give Me Any More
I don't know why, but for some reason pasty gruel is the first food you have to feed your baby. I guess it's easy to swallow and easy to digest and yadda, yadda, yadda. But, it tastes like crap. I know. I tried some. I suppose a baby has nothing to compare it to and might be fooled into thinking it's something tasty. Not our babies, though.
For the sake of fairness, the photo up top is Molly and this video is Emma.
*That noise you hear in the video is our dryer. Sorry!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Awwwwwww
Emma cried for an hour straight. The kind of crying that makes you want to bash your head against the wall. The kind of crying that keeps your already difficult to get to sleep 2 year old from slumbering in the next room. The kind of crying that wakes her momentarily angelic twin sister up and makes her start screeching in unison. And then, just when you think you can't take it anymore and you can feel the brain aneurysm coming on . . . this happens . . .
Sorry for not posting lately. I find I am busier than I ever imagined possible. I'm going to make a concerted effort to post more often - I hope. I have the best of intentions with a great many things in my life, but I never seem to accomplish much.
Also, sorry the video is so dark - it was supposed to be bedtime!
Sorry for not posting lately. I find I am busier than I ever imagined possible. I'm going to make a concerted effort to post more often - I hope. I have the best of intentions with a great many things in my life, but I never seem to accomplish much.
Also, sorry the video is so dark - it was supposed to be bedtime!
Monday, February 4, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Sorry I've been out of touch for so long. I started back to work in the middle of December and things have been sort of crazy since then. Everyone's fine but we're all tired and a little cranky and the holidays damn near killed us all. It was hard enough to adjust to our new routine of me going to work and Steven caring for all three kids solo during the day, but then a 4 day trip to my parents' house for Christmas really threw things off kilter. There were endless visitors and parties and missed naps and I felt like I had to be up Logan's butt 24/7 to make sure he didn't break anything or set anyone's house on fire. Or steal anyone's keys. Or eat the plastic decorative fruit. Or chug-a-lug someone's abandoned cocktail. Or climb someone's Christmas tree. Or jump on someone's glass table. Or hug-tackle any of the other children. Or manhandle all the bowls of nuts/candy/eggnog.
Christmas was stressful this year.
And then, with Christmas almost over and visions of piling everyone and everything into the minivan and taking off for New Hampshire dancing in our heads, Logan had to fall on the stairs and bust open his lip. A split lip makes a lot of blood. And an overtired and oversugared little boy who has just split his lip makes a lot of noise. But the bleeding stopped fairly quickly and something shiny or furry or bouncy caught Logan's attention and he was fine again. Of course, I nervously retraced his steps and wiped up the bloody fingerprints he left on my aunt's walls and floors. And then I think I had a glass of wine to calm myself and in that amount of time Logan managed to completely drench himself by sitting in the bathroom sink and turning on the water full force. Yes. He is such a buzzkill.
So, we changed him into dry clothes and threw all our loot and all our kids into the minivan and headed out on our long trek home. I insisted we use my phone's GPS to get us home - and I will never use that goddamn thing ever again. It took us through the heart of Boston and we did not get home until midnight. We left at eight. It should take about an hour and half . . . you do the math. Yeah. Steven was LOVING me and my crappy GPS while we were sitting at a standstill in Boston for two hours on Christmas night. Good times, good times. Logan cried and screamed. Emma cried and screamed. Molly cried and screamed. Steven peed in an old Dasani bottle. I quietly wept in the front seat.
Isn't Christmas magical?
Saturday, December 8, 2007
But Do They Come In Leopard Print?
So, remember my last post when I talked about the glasses I ordered? They came today and they are FABULOUS!! I am so excited. The frames aren't as large as my last pair (bought in 1998), so that is taking some getting used to, but they are lovely and stylish and I can see so much better with this newer prescription.
I think I'm kind of obsessed with these cheap eyeglasses. Who wouldn't be? You can have a pair for every mood. You can get multiple colors. You can have a pair for work and a pair for play. You are not paying $300 a pair, you can have as many pairs as you want!! The ones I bought were $29 with a coupon code, but I just ordered two more pairs from a different store for $8 and $10. Can you believe that? FUN!!
I think I'm kind of obsessed with these cheap eyeglasses. Who wouldn't be? You can have a pair for every mood. You can get multiple colors. You can have a pair for work and a pair for play. You are not paying $300 a pair, you can have as many pairs as you want!! The ones I bought were $29 with a coupon code, but I just ordered two more pairs from a different store for $8 and $10. Can you believe that? FUN!!
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Mmmmmm . . . Muffin Top
So, I will be returning to work in less than two weeks. I am freaking out. My husband works from home and will be taking care of all three kids by himself while I am at work. He is an excellent father, but my god. I cannot imagine taking care of all three of them by myself. If anyone can do it, he can, but I just hope he doesn't go completely mental in the process.
I am also worried about something much more trivial and selfish. Dude. What the hell am I going to wear to work? I have major stomach pooch. And twin skin. I look maybe 4 months pregnant. I can force myself into some pre-pregnancy pants but the muffin top I get is horrendous. I can wear maternity pants but who the hell wants to do that. And I'd be sort of embarrassed if anyone saw that I was still wearing maternity clothes. I thought I could get away with that after having Logan and one of my co-workers exclaimed that my pants were "too big in the butt." Granted, she's about as mature as this year's Beaujolais Nouveau, but still. Nothing really fits. I just placed an order with Old Navy for some el cheapo post-pregnancy clothes but I have no idea if I bought the right sizes or not. Probably not seeing as how their stuff seems to be made for anorexic 12 year olds.
Also, I bought a new pair of glasses! It was kind of an impulse buy. I saw this little blurb about cheap online glasses and I thought "hey, why not?" and I quick as a bunny found my OLD, OLD, OLD prescription and ordered me up a pair. Hey, I've had my current glasses since 1999. Yes. They are 8 years old. I bought this new pair from 39dollarglasses.com . . . and they were $29. How can that be? Well, I found a coupon code for $10 off. Now I ask you, who can beat that??
I am also worried about something much more trivial and selfish. Dude. What the hell am I going to wear to work? I have major stomach pooch. And twin skin. I look maybe 4 months pregnant. I can force myself into some pre-pregnancy pants but the muffin top I get is horrendous. I can wear maternity pants but who the hell wants to do that. And I'd be sort of embarrassed if anyone saw that I was still wearing maternity clothes. I thought I could get away with that after having Logan and one of my co-workers exclaimed that my pants were "too big in the butt." Granted, she's about as mature as this year's Beaujolais Nouveau, but still. Nothing really fits. I just placed an order with Old Navy for some el cheapo post-pregnancy clothes but I have no idea if I bought the right sizes or not. Probably not seeing as how their stuff seems to be made for anorexic 12 year olds.
Also, I bought a new pair of glasses! It was kind of an impulse buy. I saw this little blurb about cheap online glasses and I thought "hey, why not?" and I quick as a bunny found my OLD, OLD, OLD prescription and ordered me up a pair. Hey, I've had my current glasses since 1999. Yes. They are 8 years old. I bought this new pair from 39dollarglasses.com . . . and they were $29. How can that be? Well, I found a coupon code for $10 off. Now I ask you, who can beat that??
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I'd Be "Little Miss Sleep Deprived"
We have many Christmas traditions in my extended family. One of them is that all adults buy presents for ALL the kids. You are considered an adult when you have been graduated from college for a year. I suppose the thinking is that you'll have a kickass job by then and can afford to buy a boatload of presents for all your cousins/nephews/nieces. There are a lot of kids. My grandmother had six children and they all got married and had children and those children are having children. This year there are nine children eagerly awaiting the Christmas present deluge. Luckily, three of those kids are mine so I only have six to buy for this year.
It's tough to know what to purchase for them. I can't afford anything too extravagant and I know most people just give them money or gift cards (which I LOVED when I was on the receiving end oh so many years ago) but everyone else is giving at least $50 to each kid and I just can't swing that. In years past I was able to save some money by making my gifts - one year I knit hats and scarves for everyone, one year I made sock monkeys, and one year I made t-shirts from old photographs of the family. That was all before I had three kids. Now, I'm lucky if I even get time to take a shower. The idea of knitting anything is such a joke to me right now . . . I sold 3/4 of my yarn last month on Ebay. Anyway - I don't have time for handcrafted presents and I don't have the money to keep up with the rest of the family. I've had to become creative in what I choose to buy. I figure maybe if I find something really cool for the kids they won't care that I didn't go into debt for it.
So, this year everyone is getting t-shirts with the Little Miss/Mr. Men characters on them. These are cute, right?
Well, I hope they like them.
On a completely unrelated topic, here is a completely ingenious way to swaddle your baby. We use Miracle Blankets and love them, but if I had known of this method we probably never would have spent the big bucks for them. I predict that the next time I fall behind on laundry I'll be trying out this method.
It's tough to know what to purchase for them. I can't afford anything too extravagant and I know most people just give them money or gift cards (which I LOVED when I was on the receiving end oh so many years ago) but everyone else is giving at least $50 to each kid and I just can't swing that. In years past I was able to save some money by making my gifts - one year I knit hats and scarves for everyone, one year I made sock monkeys, and one year I made t-shirts from old photographs of the family. That was all before I had three kids. Now, I'm lucky if I even get time to take a shower. The idea of knitting anything is such a joke to me right now . . . I sold 3/4 of my yarn last month on Ebay. Anyway - I don't have time for handcrafted presents and I don't have the money to keep up with the rest of the family. I've had to become creative in what I choose to buy. I figure maybe if I find something really cool for the kids they won't care that I didn't go into debt for it.
So, this year everyone is getting t-shirts with the Little Miss/Mr. Men characters on them. These are cute, right?
Well, I hope they like them.
On a completely unrelated topic, here is a completely ingenious way to swaddle your baby. We use Miracle Blankets and love them, but if I had known of this method we probably never would have spent the big bucks for them. I predict that the next time I fall behind on laundry I'll be trying out this method.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Christmas! New and Improved!!
I have no idea how much lead it takes to harm a small child. And would owning half a dozen toys decorated with lead paint be enough to seriously hurt Logan? I don't know. Maybe. But the more I think about it, the less time I spend pondering the Chinese toy-making debacle and the more time I spend considering how refreshing it would be to simply avoid all the brightly colored plastic and opt for something a little more rustic and a lot better made.
This Christmas we are spurning Toys R Us and Wal-Mart in favor of small, non-chain retailers. We are lucky that Logan doesn't watch TV (he's just not interested) and is not yet infatuated with Elmo or Diego. He isn't asking for the latest and greatest toys - he probably still won't even understand Christmas. I know for many parents this would be next to impossible and I'm certainly not criticizing anyone for their choices. I have to admit though, that it does warm my heart to think that I'm supporting mom and pop retailers (many of them local, too) and thumbing my nose at the corrupt big businesses while simultaneously purchasing some really beautifully made toys for my kids. And these toys will last. There aren't a million small pieces to lose in the sofa cushions. They're not cheap plastic that breaks the first time mommy trips over a carelessly strewn toy on her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
The only downside is that they're more expensive - and rightly so - the materials are top notch and they're handmade in America (some are from Europe), so we had to pick only a couple of things. Lately, I've come to the realization that I'd rather have a few really nice things than hundreds of pieces of crap. I hope little boys feel the same way. I know the twins don't care just as long as I keep shoving my boobs at them every 3 hours or so.
So, here's what we got:
The stacking rings will be for the twins and the jumbo lacing beads and the work bench will be for Logan.
Logan's really into vehicles right now and I think he'll have a blast with this school bus and the little people inside it.
I found these blocks for Logan that I LOVE. They're like Legos, only they're wooden and they're made by the residents of Camphill Village.
Emma and Molly are each getting one of these wooden bowl and spoon sets - I'm trying to move away from the plastic bowls we used for Logan.
They're also each getting a maple teether.
Oh, and this parachute toy for Logan. I remember playing with an el cheapo plastic version when I was a kid and loving it.
I also bought him a SIGG water bottle for taking in the car and to the park. We had been using a Nalgene bottle until we read how dangerous they might be.
And of course, everyone's getting pajamas and clothes and other boring things like hats and socks.
I know what you're thinking, and no I haven't become some sort of tree hugging hippie, but I have to say, it makes me feel really good to be buying quality products for my kids instead of mass produced pieces of junk. And I'm sure the time will come when they will be begging for some heinously crappy Made in China doo-dad, but this Christmas I'm going to enjoy simplicity.
This Christmas we are spurning Toys R Us and Wal-Mart in favor of small, non-chain retailers. We are lucky that Logan doesn't watch TV (he's just not interested) and is not yet infatuated with Elmo or Diego. He isn't asking for the latest and greatest toys - he probably still won't even understand Christmas. I know for many parents this would be next to impossible and I'm certainly not criticizing anyone for their choices. I have to admit though, that it does warm my heart to think that I'm supporting mom and pop retailers (many of them local, too) and thumbing my nose at the corrupt big businesses while simultaneously purchasing some really beautifully made toys for my kids. And these toys will last. There aren't a million small pieces to lose in the sofa cushions. They're not cheap plastic that breaks the first time mommy trips over a carelessly strewn toy on her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
The only downside is that they're more expensive - and rightly so - the materials are top notch and they're handmade in America (some are from Europe), so we had to pick only a couple of things. Lately, I've come to the realization that I'd rather have a few really nice things than hundreds of pieces of crap. I hope little boys feel the same way. I know the twins don't care just as long as I keep shoving my boobs at them every 3 hours or so.
So, here's what we got:
The stacking rings will be for the twins and the jumbo lacing beads and the work bench will be for Logan.
Logan's really into vehicles right now and I think he'll have a blast with this school bus and the little people inside it.
I found these blocks for Logan that I LOVE. They're like Legos, only they're wooden and they're made by the residents of Camphill Village.
Emma and Molly are each getting one of these wooden bowl and spoon sets - I'm trying to move away from the plastic bowls we used for Logan.
They're also each getting a maple teether.
Oh, and this parachute toy for Logan. I remember playing with an el cheapo plastic version when I was a kid and loving it.
I also bought him a SIGG water bottle for taking in the car and to the park. We had been using a Nalgene bottle until we read how dangerous they might be.
And of course, everyone's getting pajamas and clothes and other boring things like hats and socks.
I know what you're thinking, and no I haven't become some sort of tree hugging hippie, but I have to say, it makes me feel really good to be buying quality products for my kids instead of mass produced pieces of junk. And I'm sure the time will come when they will be begging for some heinously crappy Made in China doo-dad, but this Christmas I'm going to enjoy simplicity.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Even My Eyelashes Are Tired
Logan had a good time at his birthday party.
I don't know why it says the date is January 18th. This photo was taken today with my dad's camera.
I don't know why it says the date is January 18th. This photo was taken today with my dad's camera.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Factory Closed
Dad, don't read this.
Okay guys, I need your help. I just remembered that at my six week checkup after having Logan the doctor wanted me to choose a birth control option, so I'm assuming I'll have to pick one tomorrow. Damn. I've been trying to figure out what method I'd go with but I see pros and cons to them all. I came so close to just getting my tubes tied while I was having the c-section, but I read that some women have truly horrific problems after such an operation. So, there's the pill, but I'm breastfeeding and the only one I could take is the mini pill which isn't really as effective as the full blown pill. And I'm really not too thrilled with the idea of putting hormones into my body. I was on the pill for a few years and when I went off it I had severe mood swings and heart palpitations and it was not much fun. Then there are IUDs but they can puncture your uterus sometimes and I think they hurt to put in and they make your period worse. The patch and the shot are just more hormones . . . the sponge is too hard to put in and take out (remind me to tell you one day of the time Steven had to "deliver" a Today Sponge that I could not remove myself). Condoms are icky and too much trouble. Has anyone heard of this Essure thing? Seems kind of wacky.
Why won't Steven just get a vasectomy? Men!
Okay guys, I need your help. I just remembered that at my six week checkup after having Logan the doctor wanted me to choose a birth control option, so I'm assuming I'll have to pick one tomorrow. Damn. I've been trying to figure out what method I'd go with but I see pros and cons to them all. I came so close to just getting my tubes tied while I was having the c-section, but I read that some women have truly horrific problems after such an operation. So, there's the pill, but I'm breastfeeding and the only one I could take is the mini pill which isn't really as effective as the full blown pill. And I'm really not too thrilled with the idea of putting hormones into my body. I was on the pill for a few years and when I went off it I had severe mood swings and heart palpitations and it was not much fun. Then there are IUDs but they can puncture your uterus sometimes and I think they hurt to put in and they make your period worse. The patch and the shot are just more hormones . . . the sponge is too hard to put in and take out (remind me to tell you one day of the time Steven had to "deliver" a Today Sponge that I could not remove myself). Condoms are icky and too much trouble. Has anyone heard of this Essure thing? Seems kind of wacky.
Why won't Steven just get a vasectomy? Men!
Go, Go, Go
Tonight, I am exhausted. We had a full day of food shopping (our first time taking all of our one million children with us) and errands and cleaning and cooking and present wrapping. Tomorrow, we are having Logan's 2nd and my mom's 40th (you can thank me later, mom) birthday party. My parents were coming up anyway to watch the kids while I go to my six week checkup so we figured we might as well do the birthdays too.
Did you know that Veteran's Day was being celebrated today? Because I didn't and we went to the Town Hall to register our new minivan and relinquish my entire paycheck to the state of New Hampshire and the town of Merrimack and no one was there. That was fun.
Yes, we have a new minivan! It's sort of a bittersweet new addition to our recently grown family. We're very excited to have it because we could not all leave the house at the same time before. We had a Honda Civic - there was no way in hell. But, we're also kind of bummed since we had bought the Civic brand new two years ago and we had strong faith that it would last us forever and not leave us stranded on the highway or having to replace random doodads every couple of months. Our minivan is used. And while it's a year newer than our Civic, it's not a Honda and who knows what might go wrong.
Anyway - whatever. At least I can leave the house now. I spent the past six weeks trapped in the house and I don't think I've ever gone that long without going somewhere, even if it was just to work. Oh, and the minivan has power door locks and power windows, which is a step up from our Civic. I bet you didn't even know they made cars with manual door locks and crank up windows anymore, did you? Well, if you want to save fifty cents a month on your car payment that's the model you go with.
Well, I have presents to wrap and my grammy's famous baked macaroni and cheese to make for tomorrow and a bathroom to clean and a dozen balloons to blow up before I can call it a night, so I better get off the computer and get to it. Thank god I took the lazy mommy way out and bought a Carvel ice cream cake instead of making my own.
Did you know that Veteran's Day was being celebrated today? Because I didn't and we went to the Town Hall to register our new minivan and relinquish my entire paycheck to the state of New Hampshire and the town of Merrimack and no one was there. That was fun.
Yes, we have a new minivan! It's sort of a bittersweet new addition to our recently grown family. We're very excited to have it because we could not all leave the house at the same time before. We had a Honda Civic - there was no way in hell. But, we're also kind of bummed since we had bought the Civic brand new two years ago and we had strong faith that it would last us forever and not leave us stranded on the highway or having to replace random doodads every couple of months. Our minivan is used. And while it's a year newer than our Civic, it's not a Honda and who knows what might go wrong.
Anyway - whatever. At least I can leave the house now. I spent the past six weeks trapped in the house and I don't think I've ever gone that long without going somewhere, even if it was just to work. Oh, and the minivan has power door locks and power windows, which is a step up from our Civic. I bet you didn't even know they made cars with manual door locks and crank up windows anymore, did you? Well, if you want to save fifty cents a month on your car payment that's the model you go with.
Well, I have presents to wrap and my grammy's famous baked macaroni and cheese to make for tomorrow and a bathroom to clean and a dozen balloons to blow up before I can call it a night, so I better get off the computer and get to it. Thank god I took the lazy mommy way out and bought a Carvel ice cream cake instead of making my own.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Old-Fashioned Fun
I am so sick and tired of huge baby toys with flashing lights and annoying music - the kind that take 8 D batteries and require half the real estate on your living room floor. My god. The babies are 6 weeks old, they don't need 8 different lullabies in 5 different languages with 12 recline options and 3 removable toy bars. All they need is a place that isn't their crib that they can be blobs in. I mean, that's what they are right now. Blobs. And I'm certainly not complaining. When Logan was teeny tiny I remember I couldn't wait for him to start moving around and playing. Yeah. Not so much this time. They can remain immobile for as long as they want - god knows how I'll handle it when I have three small children running around like rabid monkeys.
Anyway, I searched high and low for something mildly entertaining that the girls could use for more than six months that didn't run on batteries and didn't threaten to give us all lightshow induced epileptic fits. Bonus points if it wasn't hideously ugly and/or plastic.
This is what I ended up with:
If that's too fancy for ya, you can remove that totally not obnoxious toy bar and you are left with this:
Ahhhhh . . . I can breathe again.
We haven't received it yet - it's being shipped - but, doesn't it look simple, refined, dare I say elegant?
Anyway, I searched high and low for something mildly entertaining that the girls could use for more than six months that didn't run on batteries and didn't threaten to give us all lightshow induced epileptic fits. Bonus points if it wasn't hideously ugly and/or plastic.
This is what I ended up with:
If that's too fancy for ya, you can remove that totally not obnoxious toy bar and you are left with this:
Ahhhhh . . . I can breathe again.
We haven't received it yet - it's being shipped - but, doesn't it look simple, refined, dare I say elegant?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Tick Tock Method
In my last post I mentioned researching the best way to burp a baby. Here is a video of Steven performing the Tick Tock Method on Emma.
Friday, November 9, 2007
No Storks Allowed
When we were in the hospital after the birth of Emma and Molly we were cautioned not to place a birth announcement in the paper or put up signs in our yard or balloons on our mailbox to herald the twins' arrival. They said it was just asking for trouble - practically inviting wackadoos to show up on our doorstep to steal our babies and announcing to all the pedophiles that there was "fresh meat" in the vicinity.This seemed like a really paranoid overreaction to me, but then I did some research at home and found that these warnings were actually justified. I do not consider myself a naive person and I consider myself to be more wary and cautious than many people I know, but this seems like a really bad soap opera plot (worse than the time Marlena became possessed on Days of Our Lives). How sad is it that you have to put a lid on your happiness and must think twice before sharing your good news with the neighborhood?
This all reminds me of the stories you hear of firemen starting fires so they have something to do or those people who read about funerals in the newspaper and then go to the grieving family's home and burglarize them. These are the things people might call unbelievable in a work of fiction, but they are infiltrating our everyday realities at an alarming pace.
It saddens me that such an innocent, joyful practice has become so dangerous, however, I am really hoping it means we won't be seeing much of these around anytime soon.
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