All Relative

Like every parent out there, the Hoos and I think that our kid is pretty darn smart.

For instance, just a few minutes ago the Hoos was upstairs getting her ready for bed. He called down to me, "Hey Aim! Is D-O-G down there?" "Dog" is LP's pink floppy dog that she has taken to sleeping with.

Before I could respond there are footsteps over my head and LP calls out, "Mom, D-O-G isn't up here!"

Now, I don't really know why the Hoos felt the need to spell out "dog". But it was pretty funny to hear LP yell it back. Even if D-O-G was in her room and she just didn't know what it meant.

And for every breakthrough moment like that, there are some moments that make you go, "huh?"

Earlier this evening we were all in the car. LP was chatting away about her cousins, which some how segued into this conversation about her friend, JM:

LP: Mommy, what do JM's cousins look like?
Me: I don't know.
LP: MOM! WHAT. DO. JM'S. COUSINS. LOOK. LIKE.?!
Me: I guess like JM.
LP: No, mom. What color are their faces? Are they green?
Me: Umm...no. I think it is safe to say they aren't green.
LP: Are they yellow?
Me: They are probably the same color as JM.
LP: They are black?
Me: No, the same color as JM.
LP: Okay, black.
Me: Is JM black?
LP: He has blue eyes.

Well, at least some of her facts are straight. Here she is with JM.

The Fashion Plate

Calling All Elves

Where have all the little elves gone?

You know, the ones that do my dishes while I am sleeping?

Or how about the ones that comfort my 9-month old so I don't have to get out of bed FOUR times between 4:15 and 6:30?

I know that elves exist. How?, you ask.

Because they are frequently working their magic making my laundry multiply.

Reinstitute the Siesta?

If as adults we took just one short nap a day - how would that change our lives?

Would we be:

• Happier?
• Healthier?
• Better rested?
• More likely to be night owls?
• Energetic?

Or would we be:

• Stressed because we had less time to get stuff done?
• More overweight because we were less active?
• Unable to fall asleep at night?
• More likely to take multiple naps?
• Even able to turn our minds off and take a nap?

Death By Carbs

I love bread. In fact, I took on a new project of trying to make bread from scratch. I was inspired by a recipe, Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. It seemed simple enough.

But apparently I spoke too soon when I set my Facebook status earlier this week to "making bread. A first...I have never heard of homemade bread hurting anyone, yet."

On Monday, I mixed the flour, water, salt and yeast, let it rise, and then put it in the fridge to chill. I also took AK to Bed, Bath and Beyond and bought pizza stone, the one piece of required equipment that I did not yet own.

That evening I arranged the racks in my oven appropriately, carefully placing the stone and required pan for water in it. I also got other items ready on my counter so that I would be ready to go yesterday when I got home from work.

My plan was to get the dough relaxing on the counter and set the oven preheating while I fed the girls. Once they were done I could just pop my dough in the oven and the house would be filled with the wonderful scent of fresh baked bread in no time. The Hoos would be wowed by my homemaking skills and I would be in bread nirvana.

I should have known.

The girls were out of sorts when I picked them up. AK was starving since they had started her on a new schedule giving her snack at 2:15 instead of 3:15; she was also exhausted since I forgot to send in a pacifier and she only took one nap and had been awake since 11:45. LP also did not nap and ran out of her classroom door with a few other kids when another mom was frozen in place holding the door open.

When we got into the house I quickly removed the bread dough from the fridge and placed it on the counter to relax. I then set about calming LP and AK, mostly by giving them a slightly early dinner (it was 5:30 and they usually eat at 6).

Once they were set up, I got the oven preheating to 450 and shaped my dough. At 6:15, I decided it was time to get the dough in the oven. After spilling cornmeal all over the floor (it kept the dough from sticking to my cutting board, but nothing kept the cornmeal on the board), I finally got the dough on the stone. It looked beautiful.

I then got hot water out of the tap and prepared to pour it into the pan in the oven. Apparently this provides steam which makes your bread nice and crusty.

As soon as the water hit the pan, I knew I had a problem. My problem - I forgot about the properties of GLASS. A Pyrex pan, heated to 450 degrees, does not take kindly to having hot water poured in it. It immediately cracked into a million pieces in my oven.

I spent the rest of the night cleaning glass out of the oven. And cleaning corn meal off of the floor without the use of a vacuum (I tried, but it wasn't very helpful in keeping my girls calm). No one was hurt. But no one got any homemade bread either.

We still have a loaf worth of bread dough in my fridge. I think I will wait to try again until the weekend.

Big Mouth

If you are a parent, try to think back to when your child was an infant. Recall, if you will, how you desperately awaited his or her first word. Leap ahead two or five or ten years and think about how your child will soon be wielding the power of words against you.

Yesterday, LP's teacher was telling me about how LP didn't flush after peeing on the potty. When Miss Keica asked LP why she didn't flush, LP told her that she was waiting for someone else to pee on top of her pee, "like we do at home."

OMG. Miss Keica told me this and I was mortified.

First of all, I only do this when I have to pee at the same time as LP. Usually I say I have to pee, I walk into the bathroom; LP is right on my heels, telling me she has to pee and that she has to go first. I let her go while telling her not to flush so we don't waste water. And THEN SHE FLUSHES. Ignoring me! And yet, there she goes, sharing this with Miss Keica as if it is a common practice. To add insult to injury our quarterly water usage has doubled since LP was potty trained. Not saying it is just because of her toilet use but still...

Another LP conversation from yesterday:

Scene: LP and AK are laughing, playing and whooping it up in the living room, I am in the kitchen. LP comes running in.

LP: Mommy, I don't feel good.
Me (skeptical): What's wrong?
LP: My ears hurt.
Me (still skeptical): Okay, let me see.
LP kneels down next to me and I pretend to look in her ears and pull on the lobe watching to see if she flinches. Nothing.
Me: What does it feel like?
LP: Umm...it feels like...summer.

So Far, So Good

After the little sister attacked big sis, and still smiling...

Let Sleeping Bunnies Lie

AK is quickly learning how to antagonize her sister. I know this is just the beginning of my life as an arbitrator.

The Magic Elixir

Several of my friends are in the process of "Ferberizing" their infants. I always felt so lucky that AK would just go to bed without a fuss. Sure, sometimes she falls asleep while nursing, but more likely that not, she just gets a nice buzz going from it and lays quietly in her crib until she falls asleep.

And then there is nap time.

When at day care, it is unusual if AK, the amazing crawling wonder, takes more than one nap. And typically her one rest is in the morning (10:30-12:15 or so). This is so strange to me, especially since she wakes up at 8.

On Mondays and Fridays it doesn't seem possible that she will nap that early. If we are out running errands she might fall asleep in the car around that time, but at home she will just freak out if I put her down at 10:30.

What ends up happening is that I attempt to put her down after lunch. She wants none of it. Screaming, crying, etc. Which is really unlike her. So it kills me a little bit every time.

I know that if I nurse her for just a few minutes she will calm down and go to sleep. But if it isn't time for her to nurse, I don't want to get her into the habit of only getting drowsy at the boob. Today I tried to ignore her cries, I really did. But after 15 minutes of listening to her cry and 15 minutes of holding her until her eyebrows stopped being bright red and her tears dried up, she was still exhausted and still not sleeping.

So I whipped out my magic elixir (also known as baby crack). Less than a minute later her eyes clouded over and I transitioned her to the crib.

I should totally sell my stuff on eBay.

Pump It Up

As of today I am approximately 11 weeks away from initiating the weening process. At AK's 9-month well baby visit, the pediatrician advised me that AK should be transitioned to whole milk when she has her 1-year appointment.

For many women, the thought of this brings on tears. In fact, while infants may begin drinking whole milk around the one-year mark, many women continue to nurse before bed or in the evenings until their children are much older. Sometimes this is because the child insists on it, but I would wager to say that a lot of the time it is the mom who doesn't want to give the experience up.

I am not one of those mothers.

There are many different approaches and perspectives on breastfeeding even among those that take on the task. (There are many reasons people choose not to breastfeed, I blogged on this topic before and won't rehash). For example, a woman I share my office lactation room with also exclusively gives her son breastmilk (in addition to solids, etc.). However, she only nurses him once a day. Even when she is with him, she pumps and gives him a bottle. It is more important to her that her production levels stay consistent so she can nurse as long as she wants, than to feed him directly at her breast.

I nurse for the convenience. And for the cost savings. But most of all, I nurse for the bond. There is nothing quite like looking down and watching a well latched on baby eat (at least after the first six weeks and the pain subsides) and knowing that you are providing her with nourishment. It feels amazing. It is empowering. It makes you feel strong and womanly. At times it also makes you feel like a cow. Like a slave. Like your body is not your own.

Don't get me wrong, I relish the time I have spent (and continue to spend) nursing AK. But I am also hopeful that she will take to whole milk as easily as LP did back in the day (please, please, please pray for me) and she will be off of the boob by the time her first birthday rolls around. Sure, I will miss seeing her suckle, but I can still hold her close. I am still the person primarily responsible for satiating her thirst and hunger (if you don't count LP plying her with Cheerios and cheese). I am still her mom.

But I will also be a free woman. A woman who will be able to go an overnight trip without her children.