East Bay MomParenting
Sibling Strife
I remember calling my mother when Jack and Molly had their first hand-slappy, indignant-shrieky, all-out-bawling fight. "I thought had YEARS," I said, stricken. "YEARS before they started fighting!"
My mother just the laughed the laugh of the Been There, Done That, Oh Listen To Silly Ignorant You mother.
Do You Follow the Baby Food Rules?
There are all kinds of rules for introducing solids to babies. You're supposed to do it in a certain order. Some things should not be introduced before a certain age. Your baby should show certain signs of readiness before you hand her a sirloin steak. You should always cut the blue wire, never the red.
Stuff.
Preston's at a point now where he can almost play independently, now that he's sitting up on his own, thank GOD. See, all that worrying for nothing -- you were right, Moms! He still can't get himself up to a sitting position from lying down, and he'll topple over occasionally, but much less than he was when I wrote about his developmental stages. Thanks for all the encouraging words.
Enough.
Her name was Aiyana Jones and she was only 7 years old.
The dimples in her chocolate cheeks and that hand on her hip tell a story. Maybe she was a little joker, all giggles and big on fun--inquisitive, energetic, and a bit of a smarty pants, with a tip of nutty thrown in for good measure. I can almost see those fancy twists flying in the wind--hear her colorful barrettes clacking and dancing to the rhythm of her little girl dance. She reminds me of my Lila, who, also age seven, is all of these things and then some.
Aiyana could have easily been my child.
Cracking the Nightly Showdown
Because I know you all are just dying for an update: Jack still doesn't eat. I know! Phillip and I are still not sure how this happened. To produce a child so wholly uninterested in delicious food must have required every recessive gene in our bodies.
Literally Children
Sometimes I forget that my kids are not mini-adults, they are actually literally children. This has a few implications. First -- they like chocolate milk… a lot. Second -- they believe sleep is a punishment. Third -- they take everything very very literally.
That Mommy Smell
My God, when Mari was born, I was mesmerized by her scent. I mean, I'd find myself just burying my nose in her neck and her belly and her shiny little toes and inhaling and thinking that she was absolutely delicious. I don't know if it was the baby powder or the baby lotion or the baby soap or the Dreft or just the baby or a combination of all of them together, but it was an elixir--an addictive, yummy elixir that would send me swooning.
If the Other Moms Jumped off a Bridge, I Would Too
I've recently decided I need a double jogging stroller. No, really! I now live within walking distance of a super popular running and biking trail, and I can just see my Selling The House weight melting off as I pound the pavement in my Lululemon running pants, my ponytail perfectly in place, shoes gleaming white, my shiny Bob Duallie gliding ahead of me. Can't you? I really love to sit on my couch eating chocolate chips and think about how glamorous I'd look, especially how awesome my butt would look in those pants.
Breakup Weight Gain
I do not want to let myself gain weight this time around. At 8 months, Wanda has begun the process of letting me know we're through, at least where my breasts are concerned. She still humors me with a couple of feedings a day and unbeknownst to her I'm still feeding her breast milk disguised as rice cereal but the end is nigh and my butt is making room for major expansion.
Do you believe in miracles? Watch The Dr. Oz Show Tomorrow!
As many of you know, I’m a leukemia patient/survivor. I say patient slash survivor because I am still in treatment. I always will be. My disease is chronic (chronic myelogenous leukemia) and I manage it with a pill I take every day. I had to go off that pill while I was pregnant with both Alex and Nora, which was a little risky, but obviously completely worth it.
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