There Goes the Neighborhood

My dogs are annoying.  For that reason, I have a sign on my front door that pleads with the postal workers to leave our packages at the door without notifying us.  And, as big fans of Amazon Prime, boxes are frequently arriving with this baby supply or that.  Frankly, the only time they used to knock was when I had just gotten baby to sleep.  If I was actually waiting on a package, they would leave it without a word.  Or leave one of those horrible "we tried to deliver this package today, but you were gone, so we'll be back again later, and we probably wont knock then either" notes.  So the sign went up and has been successfully saving naps one delivery at a time for a few weeks now.

Today I opened the door to find this:

I laughed out loud, looking up and down the street as if it was some kind of prank.  What was this suppose to accomplish?  And why?

I picked up the box and saw that it was Baby's Healthy Times Oatmeal Cereal.  Hubby ordered it online because we are having such a hard time finding it in the stores here.  And that's when I noticed the website's name printed on the box: iHerb.com.

That sound kind of shady.  Wait... does our postman think that we are trafficking drugs?  I couldn't stop laughing.  Is he trying to hide our stash under the welcome mat so that our neighbors don't see?  This is just great.  Every morning and night we are in the kitchen with a pile of white powder that we are splitting into packets because our health insurance won't cover the exact dosage and number of packets that Baby needs for her reflux medications, and now we are receiving suspicious, albeit very carefully hidden, packages on our front porch.  We might as well put a sign up that reads "Mr. & Mrs. Shakes Drug Emporium."

That's a terribly appropriate name for a Drug Emporium.

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You can use my referral link to iHerb.com to save $5 off your first order, or $10 off an order of $40 or more!

Shut Up and Eat

This weekend has been a bit of a rough ride.  Baby and I were finally starting to get over this cold, when Hubby traded in his cold for a stomach bug.  Then Baby traded in her cough for hardcore teething.  And this mama traded her cold in for pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

Sometimes when you have a rough few days / weeks / months, you just want to sit down and eat a nice meal.  You want to cut into some delicious comfort food that tells you everything is going to be A-OK via your full, happy tummy.  But, when your baby has a milk soy protein allergy, that's not very easy.  If you're me, comfort food involves cheese.  It involves chocolate and cookies and all sorts of soy ridden junk food.  And that is why, after an exhausting 2 hour attempt to get baby to bed, I'm sitting down on the couch with a plate full of bacon.

DON'T YOU JUDGE ME.

The days have been long, the nights have been short, and this plate of crispy bacon is telling me that if I eat just one more piece, everything will be fine.  Why, I don't mind if I do...

Hubby is sitting nearby trying to explain to me that if I eat all the bacon, I will most assuredly get sick, but all I can hear is crunch.

crunch.

crunch.


PS If you need a great, easy way to fix excellently crispy bacon, look no further.

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If you know of a dairy-free, soy-free indulgence that is less likely to make me vomit, please--for the love of god--leave your suggestion below.  My stomach will thank you.

Thank You, Drive-Thru

It's 8PM.  I'm sitting in the drive-thru of CVS waiting for my prescription while hubby is home trying to get the baby to bed.  They always seem to be busy, and so I wait...

It's 80 degrees out, but I pull my baggy sweater closed.  I hope that he will not notice that I'm wearing my pajamas.  Are they still pajamas if I've been wearing them all day?  My trusty sweater camouflages this nursing tank top into a conscientious fashion choice; layers are always in.  That is admittedly my go-to wardrobe right now, which explains why the sweater is stretched to oblivion.  Luckily, that extra billow hides the ice packs that I tucked into my top right before I left.  Breastfeeding has been a war zone lately.

I look to the window for a sign that he's found my prescription so I can be on my way.  I notice that Sick Baby has slimed my left shoulder.  I dab it with a wet kleenex and make a mental note to drop the sweater in the wash when I get home.  Ah, finally, there he is.  I reach for my credit card, and I am reminded that Baby spit up on me after her last feed.

He hands me my card back and smiles.  Not a pity smile, not a "why is this stinky homeless woman picking up prenatal vitamins" smile. Just a regular smile.  For a regular customer.  This feels like victory.  It smells a bit like spoiled milk, but it certainly feels like a victory.

Babies R US September Bargains

I don't usually blog about bargains, but this week has been full of them so I thought I would share.

About a week ago, Babies R US sent out a flier with two coupons: one was for $10 off a purchase of $35 and the other was a $10 gift.  Not too shabby!  I received a tip on twitter that they were also offering $10 gift cards with any purchase of clothing totaling $35 or more.  The math was starting to look pretty good.

On my first trip to Babies R US, I purchased 3 Carters Layette sets at 40% off, received my $10 gift card, used my $10 gift coupon and my $10 off $35.  Score!  I was so focused on the goal, I didn't even notice that the clearance clothes were marked $3 or less.

Yes, you read that right.  All clearance clothing at Babies R US is $3 or less right now.  (This deal is excluded in the $10 gift card promotion, by the way.  Don't get greedy.)

I had stopped by today to pick up some BabyGanics products which are on sale for BOGO free.  That by itself is a pretty good deal, folks.  The most I've seen them discounted before now was BOGO half off.  Anyway, there I was stocking up on some germ fighting tools for the cold and flu season I noticed that the clearance section said $3 or less.  I started to flip through, found the marked tags to be too high, and started to wonder off when my sleep deprived mind said: "HEY! Doesn't that say ALL clearance clothes are $3 OR LESS?"  Good point, brain!  A quick trip the price check revealed that it was true: everything was ringing up $3.  This is nuts.

Flash forward 45 minutes, I am standing at the check out with clothes lining the handlebar of my stroller.  Baby is making a fun game of kicking them off one hanger at a time.  I watch the screen as each rings up.  A $40 FAO Schwarz winter coat? $3.  A set of 5 long sleeve onesies? $3.  An adorable dress and bloomers? $3.  You are noticing a pattern, aren't you?  My husband noticed one too as I unloaded one outfit after another and quoted him both the full price and the sales price.  You forgot didn't you?  THREE DOLLARS!

So there you have it, my dear mommy friends.  Check out Babies R US to get some great deals on clothing, including winter coats, giant snow suits, swim suits, onesies, dresses, you know... whatever.

Happy Shopping.

Avoca-NO

It has been over a month since we tried out a new solid with Baby.  The infamous Banana did nothing for my motivation to introduce Baby to new foods, and it all but killed my sense of culinary adventure.  To make matters worse, we recently spoke with a new GI that suggested even the oatmeal could be bothering her tummy. That knocked my mom-fidence down to zero, and mealtime down to once a day.

Thinking back to when I previously attempted to feed Baby avocado, I determined that she had eaten enough of it that we would have seen a reaction if one was going to present itself.  I started to feel brave enough to give the 'ol avocado another chance.  So, this morning I fixed her oatmeal up as usual, but I also mashed up some avocado.  I cut a few small pieces up to let her squish around on the off chance she might even want to attempt some finger foods.

The first bite was met with a suspicious squint.  The reaction slowly evolved to dislike, and the last bite I offered her ended with what can only be described as a pre-vomit face.  I decided to quit while I was ahead.  I gave her the pieces of avocado to examine, which she found intriguing but did not attempt to eat.  We continued with oatmeal.  She probably ate about a tablespoon of the avocado, which is what the GI recommended for new foods.  

Deep breath.  Here we go.  Universe, please be gentle.

Deliciousness Score: Oatmeal > Bananas > Avocado

Reflux Score: D

What Does the Fox Say?

This video does a great job of expressing the complex and difficult issues that a parent faces on a daily basis.

Okay, pretty funny and impressive production quality, but it really does remind me of story time with Baby.  How many times do I find myself making this stuff up because I just don't know the answer?  Sure, I can fake my way through some fish sounds, but what about the fox? Or the hippo?  Or the zebra? Or a giraffe?

I just don't know, and that is troubling.

The Bite Heard 'Round the World

Today I had a not-so-mommy moment. 

While nursing, Baby engaged both full erupted teeth and then whipped her head back.  You know how they dub loud opera music over a sitcom character when they go a cussing rampage?  Unfortunately, there is no budget for a soundtrack to Mrs. Shakes' Crazy Adventure, so those words crisply burst through the silence--and they just kept coming. I said things I'm not proud of. I said things I wish had been auto corrected.

Baby's mouth fell open.  We both just stared at each other for a while, me trying to remember what I just said, her wondering what on earth kind of game that was.  

She smiled.  I picked her up and plopped her across the bed.  I needed a safe distance to assess the damage without her trying to vacuum seal her way back on. 

Luckily, everything was still attached, and she had been winding down anyway.  I kissed her on the cheek and sweetly explained that she should avoid doing that again because I didn't want to accidentally shot put her across the room.

Too bad we can't get a snap shot of that moment for a Breastfeeding with Realistic Expectations Campaign.  Something like "Breast is Best (if you're able), but it's not always Beautiful," sponsored by Nipples.  

Nipples: out there taking on friendly fire simply because teeth are assholes.  

Hey, "Teeth are Assholes" sounds like an excellent sister campaign.  I don't think we'd have to do much work to drum up support for that one.

Yeah, My Dog is Sophisticated.

Almost a Nightmare

Baby had her 9 month well visit today--though I think it's safe to say that no one in this family is feeling well. That's one of the reasons I was really hoping this visit would just be a vitals / measurement check--no funny business with needles.

Baby woke up from her afternoon nap feeling emotionally fragile.  She was tired, fussy, and wanted to be no less than cuddled at all times.  I packed her up, grabbed the diaper bag, tripped over hubby's shoes, tripped over a package for work, and slammed my car door into the new miter saw that he got for his birthday.  I'm not including this rundown as a passive aggressive attack on my dear husband, I'm including it because, no matter how on top of things I seem to think I am, we are always literally or figuratively tripping out the door.  Luckily, this was our best time ever--only 2 minutes late!

When the doctor looked in Baby's ears, she started sad crying.  So when I found out that she would be getting a couple of shots and a finger prick for blood tests, I knew this was going to be a long visit.  Big. Heavy. Sigh.  She screamed.  She cried.  Big fat tears streamed down her face.  Baby stifled her sobs just long enough to cry out "Mama."  I think I hate these visits as much as she does.

Mouth Spit

Because of a lot of the issues we had with reflux etc, Baby was well into 6 months old before we really started taking day trips.  At this point, I was seriously feeling the cabin fever and desperately wanting to make some other stay-at-home-mom friends.  I connected with a local moms group and decided to attend a meeting / play date they were having at a local indoor playground.

Of course, that morning Baby also decided it was time to adjust her nap schedule and the chances of socializing were looking increasingly slim.  So it's a good thing she took a terrible nap and refused to go back to sleep (sarcasm), which put us right in time for the meeting.

The playground is at a local church.  It's all very hush hush... you go to the back, press a buzzer, mummer your request, and the door unlocks. Walking down the hallway, I could hear what can only be described as complete and total chaos.  The scene unfolding before my eyes as we made our way to the infant/toddler section can be summed up in four words: Lord of the Flies.

Baby pulled in close at the sheer noise.  I reassured her that no one would be roasting her over an open fire.  A little girl wandered over and pulled at my sleeve.  "Hi," I smiled at her.  She solemnly showed me a tattoo on her hand.  Great, we're in gang territory.  I quietly nodded my head in understanding, and she permitted us to remain near the play wall.

Slowly a few moms trickled over our direction for the meeting.  Their children were off fending for themselves at the slides while we made polite conversation.  Baby pulled up near the play wall to look at a little wooden toy with animals on tracks.  She squealed with delight.  I tried not to think about all the tiny hands that had touched said toy.  It's fine. We have to get out of the house eventually.  I can't keep her hidden away forever.  I took a deep breath.

Baby took my hand and we walked over to a large, round fun-house kind of mirror.  She squealed and slapped her hand down on the surface.  My heart stopped.  Her hand. was. in. spit.  My baby's hand was in another baby's mouth spit.

mouth spit.

mouth spit.

I smiled while one of the other moms continued to tell me about her vacation, but the world had gone silent.  All I could hear was the deafening sound of my baby's fingers splashing around in someone else's mouth spit like a puddle on a rainy day.  The room was getting hot.  I started to sweat.  It was a New Mom's Choose Your Own Adventure.

Do you sweep baby up, run over to your diaper bag, and disinfect her hand immediately?  And then disinfect the mirror... and the wooden toy... and your hands...

Yes ->  The room falls silent.  All eyes are on you as you feverishly attempt to clean the playground one sani-wipe at a time.  The other moms are whispering, giggling at the fool you are making of yourself.  What a new mom, they must be saying.  How ridiculous is she being, it's just a playground.

No ->  Your baby puts her freshly spat upon hands in her mouth, assimilating someone else's mouth spit with her own.  The stranger's mouth spit wreaks havoc, spreading all sorts of plagues around your baby's internals.

You think you know what I picked, don't you?  Well, I overpowered every instinct and voice in my head so that I could just sit there. I sat there, and I nodded at the other moms, and I watched on in horror as, despite my best attempts, baby managed to get her hand into her mouth.  My skin was crawling off my body.  She smeared her dual spit hand across my face, and I knew I had made the wrong decision.  I smiled, averted my eyes, and wandered over to my diaper bag.  I blocked the view with my body as I frantically wiped her hands, then my hands, then her hands again, but I knew it was too late.  The mouth spit had invaded.  The damage was done.

Baby was getting pretty fussy, and I knew nap time was approaching.  Honestly, I didn't need much of an excuse to flee the scene.  Once in the car, my anxiety reached an all time high.  My husband called to see how the play date had gone. "HORRIBLE!" I responded.  "There were a million of kids there, screaming and pushing each other and running everywhere!  It was loud and overwhelming!  AND THEN THE BABY PUT A STRANGER'S MOUTH SPIT IN HER MOUTH."

"What."

"SHE PUT A STRANGER'S MOUTH SPIT IN HER MOUTH.  IN HER MOUTH.  IN HER MOUTH.  A STRANGER'S MOUTH SPIT IS IN OUR BABY'S MOUTH!"

"I'm sure it's fine, sweetie."

"IT'S NOT FINE.  SHE'S GOING TO GET SICK NOW.  WHY DID I LET HER DO THAT? WHY DID I LET HER PUT ANOTHER PERSON'S MOUTH SPIT IN HER MOUTH?!"

For the next several hours, I was essentially wandering around the house twitching and chanting "mouth spit."

BREAKING NEWS: Dishwasher LIVES!

It seems we reported on the murder / suicide of Kitchen Floor and Dishwasher before we had all the details.  We go live to the scene where Sears Repairman is reporting live. Sears?

Yes, I'm here in the Kitchen now, where many have been shocked to hear that Dishwasher is, indeed, alive and well after risky diverter motor replacement surgery.

Kitchen Floor, however, was not so lucky.

Dishwasher has been sentenced to a lifetime of Kitchen Arrest doing hard time with no chance of parole. 

Single File Line, Please

Baby has been teething since she was 4 months old, but the first tooth didn't break through until 4 months later.  It was barely through when another tooth was trampling all over it, trying to wedge it's way in. Now we seem to be working on yet another.  It's as if someone spread a rumor that Baby's mouth is the set for Ellen's 12 Days Of Christmas and seating is limited.  

Poor Baby can't catch a break.  Pretty soon we are going to have a mouth full of discontent because there are no free trips to Hawaii hiding here.  It's just a mouth.  It's the cutest mouth I've ever seen, but I'm not sure that will satisfy these teeth.  And, I, for one, am not looking forward to disappointing a mouth full of angry teeth.

Ouch.

---

Any tips for nursing a baby who is getting used to her new chompers?

Live Now, Laugh Later

It was a rough week that bled into a rough weekend, and that bled into another rough week.  As I mentioned yesterday, my mom's birthday is always a rough time for me.  In additional to all this emotional tension, Hubby has been working non-stop--late into the evenings and all weekend as well.  I've been mom'ing full-time without many breaks and what would have normally been a challenge felt like nothing short of impossible during this time of the year.  The isolation and exhaustion was exceptionally daunting on my heavy heart.

Perhaps Baby suspected my fragility, and that's why she woke up every 45 minutes last night.

HEY MOM.  YOU OK?  YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED SOME CUDDLES.

In reality, I think that she just doesn't sleep well when she doesn't get to see her daddy.  And as sweet as that is... please go to sleep now.

I'm happy to announce that we are officially on the other side of this Work-a-Thon, and hopefully we will get a bit of a break before the next one.  Now that things have calmed down a little bit, I've had a chance to go back and visit the fruits of our sleep deprived conversations.

This Saturday in particular, I was feeling extra defeated and extra exhausted.  Hubby was texting with me while he worked, helping me try to piece together a dinner plan.

And, of course, my voice-to-text was no less forgiving on the way out of Chipotle.  Here is the tweet you almost saw on your feed.

Here is the tweet you did see.

The next day was less eventful in terms of auto-corrects... right up until I was desperately trying to get the baby to go to bed without daddy... again. 

You can bet all that laughter had Baby's eyes cracking open to asses the scene.  Oh well, totally worth it for a little levity after a long week.

Both Baby and I are grateful and excited to have our favorite man back at the house. It is amazing how much I depend on those little breaks throughout the evening to keep myself balanced and sane. Sane-ish.

A Mom Without

Being a mom is more than a full-time job; it's a state of being.  It doesn't stop because you're tired, or because you've had a bad day.  Being a mom doesn't politely wait by the wayside while you recover from an illness or heal from an injury.  It doesn't stop when your house floods, your car breaks, or your husband goes out of town.  It doesn't wait for you to mourn the loss of someone you love.  Most days, you're a mom because you want to be.  Other days, you're a mom because you have to be.  Regardless, there is now someone in your life that will continue to need your comfort, love, and support for the rest of their life.

I think it's impossible to think about that lifelong bond without thinking of your own mom.  The relationship you had/have, the ways you want to be like her, the ways that you swear you wont.  A lot of the decisions you are making now are decisions your mom made, and a lot of your childhood experiences may now make sense from a whole new perspective.  Mom is a palindrome, which seems so appropriate, because everything about being a mom is so cyclical. My daughter needs me, and similarly, I need my mom. I may be grown, I may have a child of my own, but you never outgrow a mother's love.

New Toy of The Day

I feel like I should start a segment here that is called "Baby's New Toy of the Day."  And, as you might have suspected, it is rarely anything that is sanctioned for baby use.  Yesterday, the popular item was a Kohl's Survey receipt that baby pulled off of the couch.  She promptly stuffed the whole thing into her mouth.

THEY ASKED FOR FEEDBACK, DIDN'T THEY?

So I'm adding receipts to the list of things that I need to be more careful with.

Today, it was the stack of DVD boxes and loose DVDs sitting on top of the TV stand.  At first, the boxes were perplexing books that mommy was hoarding and seemed to have no pages.  But her eyes really lit up when she stumbled upon the lose DVDs. She sat there, mesmerized, as she turned them left and right, holding one hand in front of the DVD as she tried to catch the light.  Being the clever mom that I am, I took these away before she tried to get them in her mouth.

Previous Toys of the Day include:

Camera charger plugged into the wall (Tsk Tsk, I know.  It is now gone and both plugs are baby proofed.)
Straw out of my water glass
Capris (Yes, I am 4 years old.  No, you never really have all the juice out of those things.)
Straw wrapper from my Capris (Another item added to the list of extra attention.)

I know this list is much longer, but I'm too tired to remember anything beyond the previous 48 hours.

--
What unintentional toy is your baby's favorite way to pass the time?

Dump the Frump :: Review & Giveaway

As a stay at home mom, the fact that I don't have many nursing tops hasn't really been an issue.  A trip out of the house here and there lends itself to recycling a few good shirts most of the time.  When I'm at home, I practically live in a nursing tank and light jacket.  Maybe it's being accustomed to this level of comfort and ease that raises my expectations when it comes to what I'm looking for in my wardrobe.

I'm not looking for a shirt that needs a manual to operate.  I don't want to circumvent a maze of layers while my fussy, hungry baby is clawing at me.  I don't want to lift my shirt up and flash my tummy to the world.  I don't want my boobs hanging out because--after one use--the shirt is all stretched out.  I just want to look like a person, and feel like a mom who is prepared for her 24/7 job of feeding baby.  You wouldn't think that's a lot to ask for, but from my experience so far, it is.

So what options does this leave me with?  Well, sometimes I leave the house wearing a "regular" shirt on top of my nursing tank top.  I've even tried wearing a maternity shirt on top of a nursing tank.  I don't know if you've ever worn maternity clothes when you aren't pregnant, but guess what? Not flattering.  All this in a desperate attempt to expand my wardrobe and feel like I'm not wearing something that screams "BOOBS OUT IN T-MINUS 5 SECONDS!"  No, instead I leave the house looking frumpy, or questionably pregnant, or just downright ridiculous.  I can feel Tim Gunn's eyes burning into me as he shakes his head in disapproval.

This concerns me.

Imagine my excitement when I saw that 1 Hip Mom, a mom-owned small business created by Caragh McLaughlin, has come out with a Nursing shirt that--wait for it--looks like a T-Shirt!  I couldn't wait to try it out.  This original T-Shirt features a mom friendly design with ample fabric to cover that postpartum tummy without looking baggy or frumpy.  The fabric can be easily lifted to nurse your little one, even cover a nursing newborn, but a lower "shelf" fabric is left behind so you are not baring your belly to the world.

Options and Sizing
First things first, when you visit 1 Hip Mom you will be faced with two standard decisions: color and size.  Available in 6 colors, choosing your favorite is only as difficult as you choose to make it.  Which is to say, I had to email my hubby to ask him to choose a color, because yeah, I'm that bad with decisions.  Plum was the victor.

Sizing, however, was a much more challenging obstacle to clear.  Sure, I'm 9 months out from delivery, and I shouldn't be able to hide behind the "I just gave birth, I don't know what size I am anymore!" argument, but here I hide despite your arbitrary rules.  Far pre-dating my pregnancy, I have been trapped in the eternal battle of Medium vs. Large.  So, I tried both.

On first glance, the Medium seemed to be the clear winner.  The shirt was fitted enough to look flattering, but loose enough to cover any insecurities.  I'll admit, I don't have much of a tummy left over--and before you start to hate me, I will tell you that this is due to the extremely difficult several months of reflux battles that resulted in never being able to sit down and frequently missing meal time.  I've always felt self conscious about my tummy though, so I was very happy to hide it away and pleasantly surprised to find that I didn't even notice the under panel at all; the fit was comfortable and I practically forgot it was there until feeding time. My only concern was the length of the shirt, which fell just a little shorter than I would have preferred at a height of 5'11.  The Large was definitely longer, but it was also much looser in the chest, which gave it more of a baggy boys shirt fit rather than the fitted effect that the Medium achieved.

I washed the Medium per the care instructions (cold, tumble dry low) and found that the shirt did shrink a little more than I expected with the 95/5 Cotton/Spandex materials. At this point, the Medium was definitely too short and the shirt no longer hung properly.  Instead of looking like a "regular" shirt, the outer flap was now pulled to a strange tension that make it look apron-esque.  I chalked this up to my particular height / build / bust--I'm trapped in The Dreaded In-Between Size.

Concept / Design
I still felt like the shirt had a lot to offer design-wise and took it for a test drive.  I was not disappointed.  This nursing T-Shirt is very easy to navigate and accomplished what my nursing tank / shirt layering did without making me look like I was hesitantly dressed for strip poker. Rather than just "testing" it for one nursing session, I happily wore the shirt all day long.  The outer fabric pulled up and over easily without making me uncomfortable or pooling up over Baby's face while she nursed.  The split design made it super easy to access my nursing bra and get Baby latched on in a timely fashion, which she greatly appreciated.

Now, Baby has never been complainant to nursing under a cover and is drastically larger than a newborn, so I can't vouch for how this shirt would have allowed for discrete nursing other than keeping most of my torso covered during the big event.  However, as I think back to my first panicked and uncertain "nursing in public" moment, I do think that the ease and comfort of this shirt would have at least made me feel a whole lot less awkward and ridiculously obvious.

Summary
I think this T-Shirt would make a great "new mom gift," and has the added bonus of supporting a small mom-owned business, as well as supporting and encouraging breastfeeding.  I'm saddened that the fit didn't work for me, but I hope that it will work for other moms and make their breastfeeding journey easier. That's why I'm excited to announce that Caragh of 1 Hip Mom was kind enough to offer up one of her remarkable Nursing T-Shirts (a $36 value) for one of our readers!

The Giveaway
One lucky momCorrected reader will receive a 1 Hip Mom Nursing T-Shirt, a $36 value.  Color and size to be selected by the winner.

How to Enter (up to 3 entries/comments per participant):

1. Comment below and tell us how old your little nurser is (or you may put pregnant / gift).
2.  Share this giveaway on Twitter and tag @momCorrected.  You MUST tag us and comment below letting me know you have done so.
3. Like 1 Hip Mom on Facebook and comment below letting me know you have done so.

Contest is open to US citizens only.  Prize will be shipped directly from 1 Hip Mom.  Contest will end at midnight CST on September 19th, 2013.  Winner will be announced and contacted by the end of the following day.  Please check back so you don't miss the announcement!

AND the winner is... handmadeholly!  Holly, please email me at momcorrected@gmail.com to claim your prize.  If the prize is unclaimed after 72 hours, a new winner will be selected from existing participants. 

Products for review and giveaway were provided by 1 Hip Mom.  The opinions stated in this review crawled out of my head.

I Dream of Dairy

Last night, I had a dream that my dad came over and wanted to fix us dinner.  This is always a special treat--he is excellent in the kitchen--and he always fixes a great, nostalgic, meal from my childhood.  I was sitting at the table playing with Baby when he brought over a bowl of freshly shredded American cheese mixed with ice.

"What is that for?" I asked.

"Dinner." He responded plainly.

"But, I can't eat dairy." I was puzzled.

"I know." He just stood there, staring blankly at me.

"Okay...?"

"Okay.  There won't be any dairy."

"But that's a bowl of shredded cheese..."

"And ice." He added proudly.

And then I woke up.

Going dairy free for Baby wasn't as hard as I thought it would be--thanks to my husband, who happens to be an incredible and thoughtful cook.  He has made sure there is always something yummy for me to eat, but I still dream (literally) of my beloved cheese.  Most dreams end with me realizing--in horror--the mistake I've made.  I awake filled with panic and regret.  I guess my brain is in mommy mode 24/7.

But, I just can't stop chuckling at the image of my dad standing there, proudly basking in the glow his iced cheese.

Special Delivery

Mr. Shakes sent me flowers today.  Beautiful flowers on what he knows is a difficult week for me (more about that if/when I feel up to it).

The card he wrote was really sweet, but do you know what was even sweeter?  The card the delivery man was holding that read: "Please deliver between 1 - 3 to avoid baby naps."

Husbands are heroes.

--

What do your hubby do to support you in your mommyhood?

Not Even Close

I'm not surprised to report that there was no Magic Sleeping Baby repeat performance last night.  Sleeping Baby visited a few times, but was quickly replaced by Diaper Leaked Baby, who showed up demanding a middle of the night wardrobe change and fresh linens.  Diva.  I suppose our compliance was not up to her standards, which she expressed in the form of relentless pinching.

During the following Baby Party, I made myself a reminder for today's blog post.  It proved to be less helpful than I anticipated. 

I really have no idea what Antwerp has to do with anything, but I'm fairly certain that the last line declared our previous sleep success "a big fat sleep lie." A big fat sleep lie to get our hopes up so that they could be stomped into submission like Sophie the Giraffe. Though, I've got to admit, this Donohue fellow sounds intriguing.  Who knew Sophie had a gentleman caller?

Bad Day to be a Giraffe

Baby is slamming her stuffed animal giraffe's face into one of her favorite toys.

LOOK AT THIS, GIRAFFE! ISNT IT AMAZING?  YOU DON'T LOVE IT? LOOK CLOSER! I FEEL LIKE YOU AREN'T LOOKING CLOSE ENOUGH.

Update: Baby was later spotted circling the coffee table when she accidentally stepped on Sophie the Giraffe. The powerful and loud squeak Sophie emitted on impact was so thrilling, Baby is now stomping on Sophie over and over again.

WHAT'S THAT, SOPHIE? YOU FELT IGNORED? WELL, YOU HAVE MY UNDIVIDED ATTENTION NOW!

A Difference You Can See!

When Hubby got home tonight, I confessed to him that I was trying my best not be (extra) neurotic.

"I'm not going to go nuts and try to replicate everything we did last night."
"Why?"
"Hoping that we might get a second night of sleep. Because it's just not going to happen."
"Oh, so she did sleep?"
"Oh, so she did sleep?"
"Oh, so she did sleep?"

There, my friends, is the fundamental difference between Mom and Dad.  He's not sure if she slept or not, and I can tell you that she slept for exactly 5 hours and 58 minutes.  Here's how that difference might be represented visually:

photo credit

That's 2 minutes short of "sleeping through the night," but it's the closest we've been since she was 4 weeks old, so I'm giving it to her on a technicality.  I'm also casting aside all expectations, sleep jinxing myself by posting this, and telling myself that I should just appreciate the gift.  But we all know that I am secretly crossing my fingers and toes, praying that this Magic Sleeping Baby decides to stay for a while.

aBOBmination

We are using less harsh chemicals in the house these days.  It started while I was pregnant and now it's just preference.  Well, with the exception of the occasional and necessary bleach bombing of the shower, which usually takes place immediately before vacating the house for a few hours.  We have lemon-y cleaners and organic cleaners, and Hubby recently filled an empty bottle with white vinegar and water for some every day cleaning.

Today, I was in the kitchen grabbing some pump parts when I spied an ant expedition leading to the sink.  I should mention that our dishwasher recently committed suicide, and unfortunately, took our hardwood floor with it.  On a daily basis, all of our dirty dishes gather around the site of the accident, leaving bits of food and table scraps around the counter-top in remembrance.  As you can tell, the loss has hit us all pretty hard.

Today, when faced with the decision of washing dishes by hand (oh, the horror!) or doing some work online, I choose work online.  An hour later, here I am, in the kitchen gathering up some pump parts, when I spy this parade of ants descending upon our mourning dishes.  I grab the cleaner and spray the disrespectful looters, only to realize that ants are wholly unaffected by vinegar water.  I bent down to get the lemon cleaner out from under the sink, and what I found upon my return was unbelievable.

It was as if one of the ants had shouted, "Hey, you guys!  Bob's having a party over here.  I don't know what kind of drinks he's serving, but they smell AWESOME.  Seriously, you guys, forget about that dried okra over there and come check this sh*t OUT!"  And then an entire colony of ants poured out of... somewhere... and filled the kitchen counter.  Like all good parties, things escalated quickly.  And listen, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I don't think ants even have law enforcement.  So, there was no one to call to get this scene under control but... LEMON CLEANER.

I'm not sorry to report: it was a massacre.

I'm not sorry because we just lost two very important members of our Kitchen Society, and this is no time for a damn party.