Archive for the ‘ Babies ’ Category

Hard Questions

Yesterday we went to Babies R Us to buy a baby gift for my friend, Brittany, who’s adopting a baby next month. Annabel, my five year-old, helped me to choose a bouncy seat and a set of newborn onesies in shades of brown and pink. While at the check-out, Annabel looked at me and scrunched up her mouth. “When’s Brittany having her baby?”

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What to say to a new mother?

Before motherhood appeared on my resume, I dreamed of rocking my babies to sleep. I dreamed of nursing them, feeling a rush of natural oneness from feeding my children. I dreamed of nose-to-nose cooing, sweet and powdery one-on-one time that lasted for hours.

Of course, I knew my babies would cry once in a while, and I knew that they woke up sometimes. But idiot that I was, I think I figured that MY babies would sleep through the night within the first two weeks of life. I thought breastfeeding would be easy. I thought I’d fit back into my size 4 jeans within a month, a la Heidi Klum walking down the Victoria’s Secret runway.

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Stumbling Through Breastfeeding

I sensed there would be a problem the moment the instructor of my breastfeeding class showed video footage of various mothers nursing their children: clip after clip of babies latching onto perfectly protruded nipples. My nipples didn’t do that.

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Unplugging the Monitor

My children are screaming upstairs. Wait. The baby was screaming but is now either laughing maniacally or doing that fake cough she’s learned by listening to her sister’s asthmatic cough for the last four weeks. The asthmatic sister is showing no signs of asthma if her full throated screams are anything to judge by. They’re [...]

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Baby Names

I was at the park with my kids the other day and overhead another mom calling to her children. “Khalin, Kellin, Callie, it’s time to go!” she called out.

I turned in surprise as 3 separate children followed in tow. Her three children’s names were so similar that I could barely audibly tell them apart. I saw the spellings on their backpacks, so I can SEE that in theory, the names are different, but then I thought, “What was this lady thinking?”

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What do you mean, “He doesn’t like LOST?”

At nine months, we definitely limit Xen’s TV exposure, and I try and use it strategically during the day to get things done. I figure if I’m going to take advantage of the magic box to hold his attention while I get his bottle ready, it should at least be a kid’s show that’s got him hypnotized, right? I mean, he’d be quite happy to watch CNN all morning, he loves the flashy graphics and sound effects of The Situation Room, but I worry about his attention span development. Barney is probably more appropriate for his age but that is one line daddy will not cross – I refuse to leave Barney on the TV screen any longer than it takes to click him away with the remote.

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Who’s your daddy? Oh, right… me.

My wife is at home feeding the baby. I’m sitting at the laundromat down the block from our apartment, white MacBook open on my lap like the dozen SpeedQueen top loaders lined up in front of me. At 9pm on a Tuesday night, the place is pretty dead. Two weeks worth of my clothes are dancing hypnotically in the dryers. Easy listening rock drifts from the tiny speakers in the water-stained ceiling panels and the place smells like one giant, warm, dryer sheet. If the seats were actually comfortable, this could be heaven.

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That Ancient Librarian

old lady

The first time I went to my local library with my then 9 month old daughter, they made me cry. Seriously. Great big snotty sobs at being kicked out of the children’s reading room. My crime? Reading a book.

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Everybody Stop and Panic!

My throat’s choked up. My shoulders are tight. There’s a panicky feeling in my stomach. And I’m feeling the beginnings of a headache just behind my eyes. All this tension and no child in sight. What gives? Swine flu!

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Hate Tummy Time? Try This

If you’re reading this blog and you have an infant, you’ve probably already discovered some tummy time tricks by doing a web search. Unless you’re like me that is, and it just never occurred to you that there had to be a better way besides just plopping your kid on her belly and letting her scream for 15 minutes. (Okay, the longest I actually could stand to let my first born scream was 5.) Having gotten sooo much wiser with baby number two thanks to the web, I thought I’d share.

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