RookieMoms Blog

I used to fancy myself an adventurous woman, never really dangerous though. Oh sure, I always wore my bike helmet and my seatbelt, but I also ate food from questionable sidewalk vendors and debuted white water rafting on class five rapids. Heck, I went to Thailand for three weeks as a first date with one lucky guy. In fact, before I knew I was pregnant, the embryonic Holden jumped from a bridge in Slovenia with me and Alec on our honeymoon. Then again, I was also obsessed with only drinking bottled water and not going into any sketchy neighborhoods looking too much like a clueless tourist. So, that’s me: A lover of risk-taking and full of contradictions.

My baby son is sleeping on me right now in my striped pink Moby wrap. He is a pudgy-cheeked angel and I can’t imagine him as a man. My older son is also napping. He wears a fleecy dress, cuddles a lovey, and uses a pacifier for sleep. But it is getting easier to imagine this willful toddler as a crazy teenager.

I frequently debate myself (and Whitney) about the merits of fostering independence vs. slavishly adhering to safety restrictions we’ve come to follow over the last twenty or thirty years. How much of my hovering is legitimately based in safety concerns and how much is just holding on too tightly? I try to remember to let Holden fall sometimes so he can learn to get back up. I admire parents that can “let go” enough to stop looming on the playground (until they carelessly allow their son to kick or punch my kid, and then I think they suck!)

I love this laugh-out-loud promotional video for the Dangerous Book for Boys and all that it suggests about raising our sons to be adventurous and curious. I also love that the dad is such an active participant in fostering these attitudes. The early baby stuff can be so darn mom-focused, so seeing this helps me look forward to the future. As a mom, I hope I get my share of the fun too.

Let’s get a little dirty, be a little spontaneous, learn how to explode ants with a magnifying glass. I’m still afraid to think of the risks my children will take. Luckily, I also believe that the ones that I worry about are not the same as the ones they’ll actually think of themselves.

> Read more from the Mother Talk Blog Bonanza
> Order The Dangerous Book for Boys from Amazon.com

At this point in my life, watching TV often goes hand in hand with nursing a baby so I find Notes from the Underbelly extra hi-larious. The girl from Kissing Jessica Stein (also crazy funny in my opinion) is pregnant with her first baby, one friend just had a baby, and one is not interested in babies.

The dialog and topics are squarely set in our parenting generation — I feel like these people could be my friends (my husband even likes it because he recognizes his own friends in this) — and, of course, there’s the hormones.

In fact, the last episode we watched was about deciding to breastfeed. Awesome.

I honestly can’t imagine what’s gonna be so funny once she has the baby, but this pregnant bit is priceless.

Some of you might know that I’m a bit infertile. So yes, I have a biological child and currently a lovely pregnant belly, and yes, it took some prescription drugs and lots and lots and lots of sex and maybe even some other stuff that’s none of your business to arrive at this point of motherhood. My point is that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to conception.

One of the first things you’ll read if you are looking for tips and tricks to get pregnant is that you should stay in the horizontal position, with your hips lifted, for some number of minutes after intercourse. I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, but an upward-tiled pelvis is not the key to getting pregnant (or not getting pregnant.) There are hormones and fallopian tubes and other complicated things at play.

(Perhaps putting on a one-piece black unitard after sex will help you conceive?)
Let’s just consider how many people throughout history have successfully achieved pregnancy without sliding a couple of pillows under their butts. Some of you probably got pregnant in an entirely vertical position. At least one of you did jumping jacks after you had sex, specifically hoping not to get pregnant. And some of us will have our hips raised as high as our hopes for twenty-five consecutive cycles and not get pregnant at all. And this is why I find this product hilarious:

Conception Curve, the Positioning Pillow

From the Conception Curve web site:

The Conception CurveTM Positioning Pillow is a contoured pillow cut to fit the shape of a woman’s body. It is made of sturdy polyurethane foam and can easily support women of all shapes and sizes.

The satin soft cover is hypoallergenic and easy to keep clean. There are convenient side handles that make it simple to pull the pillow under your buttocks.

My favorite part is this excellent benefit-oriented copy:

NO MORE MESS

Why soil your good linens every other day? Pillows are meant to support your head, not the other end! Conception CurveTM Positioning Pillow is lined in a water resistant material so you can wipe stains away without worrying about getting the foam portion wet.

So order yours for just $85.00 at ConceptionCurve.com.
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OBVIOUSLY this is not a paid product review.

Ann Dunnewold, a therapist specializing in moms and postpartum depression, has written Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box in response to what she has identified as the current mommy paradigm, one in which moms are not allowed to focus on their own needs and instead feel compelled to “overparent” and overprotect their children. Although this book is filled with so much good stuff that I wanted to underline every single sentence, I actually don’t relate to the assumption it’s all based on, one in which I supposedly think I’m not a good enough mom. Dr. Dunnewold wants us to embrace the mantra that we are “perfectly good” mothers, and I do. I am a perfectly good mother. So there. Yay for me and my self esteem.

This doesn’t mean I love every minute of it. I am indeed comforted by Dunnewold’s reminder that one doesn’t have to love the daily acts of mothering – diaper changing, playground loitering, lice extraction – and can still love her child.

Similar to the raison d’etre for RookieMoms.com, Even June Cleaver encourages mothers to give themselves permission to pursue other interests and satisfy their own needs for fulfillment, whether through work, socializing or private time. By placing her own needs last, Dr. Dunnewold explains, a mother sends the message to herself and her children that “Mothers do not matter.” Yikes. I don’t want to be a part of that. Note to self: Give kids plenty of opportunities to see that Mommy can be busy with other priorities.

Even with just two and a half years of parenting under my belt, I can feel the draw towards overparenting. I am indeed the modern housewife who is not all that interested in the housekeeping, not obsessed with pleasing the husband, but instead is completely child-centered. This is what housewife-ing has become. It’s not that I think my son should be enrolled in karate, figure drawing and violin lessons all at once, but that I feel an internal pressure that goes something like, “Hey, you chose to have these kids. You better give them 110%.” So unlike Dr. Dunnewold, I don’t blame a media’s portrayal of mothers; I blame my own temptation to channel my achievement and intellectual energy into parenting the way I previously channeled it into my job.

After reading Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box, I consider myself warned against this tendency toward extreme parenting. The potential risk of having kids who cannot solve their own problems, make their own happiness, or control their own impulses is too great. We have to back off.

A truly helpful philosophical approach the author provides is to substitute black and white, all-or-nothing thinking with rational thinking based in reality. The irrational thinking with which we sometimes punish ourselves includes a great deal of “shoulds”, the author suggests. Thinking “I am sick of the playground” (and feeling badly about that) implies that one should love the playground. “I forgot the juice boxes for soccer practice” implies the ridiculous absolute that “good moms never forget.”

Dr. Dunnewold shares a story about a mom named Julie:

Every night Julie tossed and turned, stuck on what remained on her list from that day, rather than what she did accomplish. For mothers, the tunnel vision is full of value judgements about which activities are important, too… I should get it all done…She felt better when she stopped fretting and took credit for the time she had spent with her son. Her perfectly good mantra become “Look what I did do today.”

As an activity on RookieMoms.com, my partner-in-crime Heather recommended that we focus on did-do lists rather than to-do lists. Based on the comments, this suggestion seems to have resonated really strongly with readers, probably because it’s a way to practice the “perfectly good” mantra. This has actually become a daily routine for me. I keep my datebook next to me and add things in that are accomplishments, not just requirements. So hang on for a second, I have to write down that I just wrote this perfectly good sentence.
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> See what other Parent Bloggers have to say about this book
> Buy the book on Amazon.com

“Is today your due date?” a woman called across the park this morning.
“No,” said my husband, laughing.
I chose to ignore the exchange, instead helping Julian with his sand toys.
“Must be soon,” she concluded.
“Not really,” said Ryan. “Two months to go.”
“Wow,” she said. “Oh, wow.”
I just stood there like the stunned whale that I am.

Happy Mother’s Day to me!

Picture taken at 32 weeks 0 days, aka 7 months for you non-birth-mothers.

Public breastfeeding can be stressful even under the best circumstances. Maybe the temperature is not ideal, your outfit is awkward, you need some extra pillows, or you’re afraid baby will boot all over your shirt.

The first time I tried to nurse in public, we took two-week old Holden to a wedding. I awkwardly nursed in the car on a popular walkway in front of the restaurant — I was wearing a wrap dress, sweating, and banging into the steering wheel and then the carseat. It sucked.

Later that same evening, I asked the venue manager if there was an office I might use for the purpose. Even asking him was mortifying and I turned red (and likely sprayed milk) just having the conversation. When he let me into the office, I had to completely undo my fancy outfit and pray that nobody would enter the room. Now, almost two years later, I have a few lessons learned the hard way that I’d like to share.

My top six tips:

1. Wear something comfy that allows you to lift up from the bottom. Wearing a tank top underneath can shield your floppy belly and back. Having a zippy-hoody or other cardigan will further protect your modesty.
2. Have a little blanket or Bebe Au Lait (aka Hooter Hider) to cover yourself and protect the little one from the sun.
3. Try to start feeding before a major meltdown occurs.
4. Position yourself as discreetly as possible during the latch. After that part, you can pretty much relax.
5. Go out with some supportive pals like a moms’ group or your husband.
6. Just go for it! Let it be part of your Fearless Friday to try it if you’re nervous.

Here’s a video on the topic for some extra pointers:

Finally, I’ll say that it’s not illegal in any US state and it’s specifically protected in many of them. More details about breastfeeding and the law are on the La Leche League website.

We had an unseasonal Berkeley heat wave earlier this week causing us to sleep with all windows open, the fans on, and the baby unswaddled. We all slept like crap… a total backslide… up every two hours or less.

But then! The thermometer went back to normal and we reintroduced the swaddle. Nine freaking hours in a row!! Sure, my boobs turned into pumpkins, but that’s a price worth paying. The next night, we had a mere six, but I’ll take it.

[and I can't jinx myself if I don't expect it to continue, right? knocking wood, fingers crossed, and spilling salt over my shoulders just in case!]

Nobody has paid me to review or love this Amazing Miracle Swaddling Blanket. Nobody has ever sent me a free one, though I would gladly take it. My husband can wrap a fierce receiving blanket but our babies are too big. And do not accept an imitation with velcro. I beg you. Velcro is not the same!

A few months ago, I was the audience of Heather’s constant complaining that no shirts were long enough to cover her pregnant belly. She, however, has a tattoo that peeks out from above her pants’ waistband, so her final months of pregnancy are a nice opportunity to show that off. She is also in possession of that peaches and cream skin thing, so her hard, round belly looked like a delicious scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I don’t have a cool tattoo, and I have a map of the Los Angeles freeway system rendered in blue veins across the sides of my stomach, so the fact that my shirts are no longer meeting my pants is now irritating to me. This is not a view of myself I want to share with the world.

Before I file a lawsuit against Motherhood Maternity for portraying themselves as sellers of maternity clothes that last through a full pregnancy, not just until seven months, I might consider giving myself a humorous temporary tattoo. I think these are quite funny, and so is pretty much everything else sold at perpetualkid.com.

(Thanks GoodyBlog for the tip)

The Diaper Valet is a snazzy little piece of ingenuity.

It’s cute like a small purse that you could keep with you on the dance floor and not worry that someone is rifling through your goodies (from back when I could carry a small purse and find myself on dance floors). So I was curious, would it fit the bill of something my husband would (proudly) carry? I tested it out on our first trip to a Baby Brigade movie with Milo by handing Alec the poopy baby and our new Diaper Valet.

He returned with Milo in a new outfit and the Diaper Valet tucked in between some paper towels.

“So, how was it?” I asked.
“It’s very absorbent,” he replied. Not the answer I was expecting, but good feedback nonetheless.
He continued, “its so convenient and so small that I had it near Milo’s feet and he peed all over it. Now, it’s soaked. But apart from that, it was very easy to use and another dad in the restroom asked me where I got it”

Ah hah! I thought, another dad liked it too. This is not just Alec saying nice things, this is validation from the external world. We are cool, hip, bright parents. We are attractive and liked (Too much? we don’t sleep much these days, my emotions are quite volatile).

And that pee thing sounds like user error to me.

Bottom line: If you’re in the market for a small diaper bag that carries just the essentials in an easy to use fashion, you may have met your match with the diaper valet. But don’t let your baby pee on it.

If you like chocolate, music, and photos of your kids, you’ll want to check out this iPod nano giveaway on 5minutesformom.com.

The same gift set can also be purchased at Best Buy and includes a silver or hot pink nano, milk chocolates (not the best tasting, but will work in a pinch), and a cute gift box for $214.99.

For iPod rookies, read Whitney’s tutorial to put photos on an iPod.

I think the contest ends May 13th so just in time to be a happy mother’s day gift for yourself. And if my husband is reading this, I like the dark chocolate from Scharffen Berger.