Recovery in progress

Last night was rough. Z had a temperature above 103 degrees, and she was so miserable she was reduced to a pitiful little whimper-cry. At least I was able to provide her with some comfort. About every hour or so. All night long.

Josh took the morning shift of watching DVDs on the couch with our little hot potato, and I made it home around 2pm to take over. By late afternoon, Z was able to hold her head up and keep liquids and a few bites of food down. She still has pretty loud, frequent and frightening diarrhea, but I think we're over the hump. Her fever is way down and she's taking an interest in the world outside. We even ventured onto the back porch to watch the neighbor kids run around.

I'm sad we missed out on having a Passover seder with our friends Julie and Steve and their kids, but we had a nice traditional meal while Z watched Alice in Wonderland for the second or third time today.

Tonight I'm going to go to bed early to make up for last night's fitful rest. I guess women who space their children really closely are pregnant before their first is sleeping through the night, but I'm not cut out for it.

Things fall apart

Yeah, it looks like the rotavirus has made itself at home in our house.

Z woke up feverish, listless and thirsty, and she threw up the apple juice-Pedialyte cocktail I prepared for her shortly after we made it downstairs. But in a big improvement over yesterday, she barfed in the plastic basin I'd given her and not all over the couch.

As the morning went on and Cinderella turned into Calliou, vomit made way for diarrhea, which has been plaguing her all morning, but she has been able to keep down successive doses of the Pedialyte cocktail as well as some Infant Tylenol lemonade I mixed up. That and two bites of a bagel and maybe six squares of Life cereal. The kid is pitiful. She can barely stand up, and if I put her down for a moment, she sinks down on the floor. She whimpered through my 10 minute shower in spite of Josh's efforts to soothe her. I guess when you're that sick, only Mama will do. Mama and a stack familiar DVDs.

Unpleasant but manageable, right? Wrong. While I was tending to the nasty liquids spewing forth from our daughter, Josh was stuck dealing with our vomiting kitchen sink. I don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's involved lots of plunging, a little cursing and virtually all of the pipes removed from under the sink. Hopefully the friendly folks at Ace Hardware--together with some advice from our friend Eric--will keep us from having to call a plumber tomorrow.

If we're out a functioning sink, we may need to downgrade our Passover seder plans yet again. I already backed out of my friend Julie's seder on account of this virus, but if the sink isn't working, I'm not sure we'll be able to cook anything!

At least our washing machine is still going strong...

Regurgitating my plans

Even the best-laid plans can by thrown off by a kid with a nasty stomach bug. Our first indication that something was wrong came when we were four blocks away from a Ravenswood pizza place we'd been meaning to try. We heard a gagging sound coming from the backseat, and Z had her fist in her mouth. Seconds later, the first stream of vomit arched over her pink jacket. Then the second wave.

We don't pack spare clothes anymore, so Josh turned the car around and headed toward a more commercial strip to look for a place to pick up a new outfit. I immediately spotted an upscale kiddie boutique and we pulled into a parking space nearby. Baby wipes and coat removal got rid of the biggest chunks, and I carried Z into the chi-chi clothing store where I made a beeline to the sale rack. Forty-seven dollars later (gulp!) Z was freshly dressed in a brown corduroy dress and cream-colored tights and we made it to Spacca Napoli, where one of Josh's freelance friends was waiting for us. Z didn't want to eat the unfamiliar-looking pizza, but she happily munched on cheese and animal crackers.

My lovely green couch and I got the chance to wear said snacks, plus a full sippy cup of milk a couple of hours later.

Then, after one hour and two sippy cups full of watered-down apple juice, my loveseat got the upchuck treatment.

Two hours after that, Z demanded a peanut butter and honey sandwich and milk, which I reluctantly gave her. Then, when my doula stopped by to say hello and drop off a book and CD, Z blew chunks all over the front porch.

Needless to say, we sent Josh to the Chavurah party alone. My evening was a dance of laundry, paper towels, rags and cuddles. And the Peter Pan DVD.

On tap for this weekend

We've got a babysitter lined up and date night reservations at Sweets and Savories. Then there's the Mexican Food and Pinball Fiesta with our Chavurah. Add in my yoga class, a free prenatal massage (I'm going to be a "model" for a certification program downtown) and prep work that needs to be done for my friend Julie's Passover seder, and I'm not sure I'll have time for two other hoped-for activities: Baby Loves Disco and a trip to a garden center for some landscaping advice and inspiration.

I've never been to a BLD event (it is inexplicably held at naptime), but I've heard good things. And this is the last one at the Park West, one of my favorite concert venues.

What are your weekend plans?

The kid can talk

Over the past month or so, I've stopped asking Z leading questions. No more "Did you go to Adriana's house today? Did you have lunch? Was it beans and rice?"

Instead, I can ask her an open-ended question like, "How as your day at Adriana's house?" I might hear about yesterday's lunch or get a fanciful answer that involves her buddies, zoo animals and "Daddy Monsters," but we're having genuine conversations. And we can finish library books with reading comprehension questions like "What did Angelina do to her china dancer? Why was she so mad?"

Adriana tells me Z is similarly fluent in Spanish, asking to watch Jorge el Curiouso (Curious George) and requesting for a Kleenex for her mocos.

Pet food's "dirty little secret"

Last week I asked if the Menu Foods and Peter Pan recalls would lead to consumer mistrust of brands. I hadn't seen any mainstream media outlets reporting on how suspicious it seemed that premium dog and cat food brands were rolling off the same production lines as store brand pet food.

I still haven't found any good articles in newspapers or on TV, but Ad Age ran a story (subscription required) that's been recounted in other outlets. Here's a choice little excerpt from Monsters & Critics.

The scandal has revealed the shameful secret of pet food manufacturers. The same stuff is repackaged and sold at a higher price.

"Branded companies for years when they used co-packing arrangements have tried to keep that their little shoppers' secret," said Burt Flickinger to AdAge, principal with the consulting firm Strategic Resource Group. "But now this whole scandal can dismantle the pricing architecture for branded products when consumers can see that branded is essentially the same stuff with a higher price point."

"Most consumers will give them the benefit of the doubt that they must have separate formulas for expensive Eukanuba," said Laura Ries to AdAge, president of marketing consultancy Ries & Ries. "In many cases you know with private labels that those products are coming off the same belts as the branded products, and in some cases there is very little difference. ... But most people want to believe in brands, buy brands and trust brands."

Whole Foods crosses the pond

My expat sister-in-law Bethany sent me this article from The Guardian on Whole Foods' arrival in Britain. Apparently the golden aisles, mini cafes and abundant fruit displays are seducing the English as well as they have affluent Americans. Much of the article is dedicated to the company's now familiar back story, but it touches on the current backlash and the impact the store has had on more mainstream grocery store offerings. Nothing new, but it is interesting to hear it from an outsider's point of view.

Speaking of backlash, a copy of Michael Pollan's expose of Big Organic, The Omnivore's Dilemma, is on hold for me at the library. I'll report back soon.

Are you an Alpha Mom?

Even though I know they're mostly marketing shorthand, labels like "Alpha Mom" rub me the wrong way. I was irritated by the Soccer Mom and NASCAR Dad names applied to previously "hot" target markets in years past, but there is something even more offensive about the term "Alpha Mom."

According the this USA Today story, "Alpha Moms are educated, tech-savvy, Type A moms with a common goal: mommy excellence. She is a multitasker. She is kidcentric. She is hands-on. She may or may not work outside the home, but at home, she views motherhood as a job that can be mastered with diligent research."

The article goes on to say that Alpha Moms are influencers, driving the tastes and purchases of other mothers. I don't dispute this. There have always been connectors and mavens and plenty of marketing books describe them in great detail. So why do we need to describe these plugged-in Gen Xers as Alpha Moms? Are you a Beta Mom if you haven't got a blog? If you trust your instincts or your in-laws instead of the experts? Can we arrest the Gamma Moms for hiring a neighborhood teen instead of buying a SitterCity membership?

The media has already tried pitting working moms against stay-at-home-mothers. The last thing we need is another label that separates and elevates one group of moms above the rest. What do you think? Am I being too sensitive?

Eco-Saturday

I almost forgot to report back on our Saturday adventure at the FamilyFarmed.org Expo. We eco-consciously took the Blue Line into the city and walked the four or five blocks from stroller-unfriendly (no elevator) station to the Chicago Cultural Center. There, we got to sample lots of delicious local cheeses and yogurts as well as a smattering of honey, granola, baked goods and organic chocolate.

Z got her face painted by a seven year old girl and gamely ate everything offered on a toothpick, surprising us as she asked for more salsa and a second cayenne dark chocolate. Chipotle was there as a major sponsor, and even after many samples of cheese, Z put away an entire bowl of black beans and rice. Most impressively, she carried it through two rooms and up a ramp while eating it with a fork. We eventually found a spot of carpet where she could sit down and finish it.

Josh and I also grazed our way through the show, picking up brochures, product samples, coupons and CSA sign-up sheets along the way. We're weighing the benefits of joining a CSA this summer.

In favor: lots of fresh, organic produce delivered to our neighborhood weekly might inspire us to try new vegetables and eat more healthfully. It is an economic and social model we really believe in. We want our daughter(s) to feel connected to the food they eat and the farms where it is produced.
Against: Each delivery is enough for two vegetarian adults or four non-vegetarian adults. Unless our next-door neighbors want to split a share with us, there's no way we can put away that much kale. Most of the farms offering CSA shares also sell at the Oak Park Farmers' Market. Aside from salads, I have to admit I'm not the best vegetable-eater. I'd much rather subscribe to a fruit CSA, but they are not all 100% local and organic.

Saturday night we watched The Real Dirt on Farmer John, which said next-door neighbors loaned to us. It's a very well done documentary about the eccentric farmer/artist/hippie founder of southern Wisconsin's Angelic Organics, one of the more popular local CSAs.

If you missed the FamilyFarmed.org Expo, be sure to mark your calendar for the much bigger Chicago Green Festival, scheduled to take place at McCormick Place over Earth Day weekend.

Best day ever

75 degrees and sunny. Brunch with playgroup. Two park outings. And dinner ruined by soft serve custard from the Hole in the Wall. Pretty much perfect for a two-year-old. And I loved it too.

The power of onesie

It's not my state, but it's a start. Washington is thisclose to passing a paid family leave law, and MomsRising.org is inviting members to help create a chain of onesies designed to convince officials that paid family is for real children, real mothers and real families. It was easy enough to decorate an old onesie with the message. This week I will mail it to MomsRising in Washington, where it will join hundreds of others in a chain that can be displayed--clothesline style I'm guessing--in Olympia and elsewhere.

It's easy to join the effort. Send your onesie to: MomsRising, P.O. Box 19596, Seattle, WA 98109 or make a donation online.

A scandal for branding?

It looks like rat poison contamination is behind the kidney failure and related pet deaths associated with wet food processed and packaged by Menu Foods. As an animal lover, I am shocked and saddened by this news story, but I think there is a bigger consumer marketing story that isn't being covered by any of the media organizations.

This recall, together with the E-coli peanut butter recall of a few weeks ago, has demonstrated to the American public that many of the brands they see as differentiated are actually prepared and packaged by one manufacturer. That wet pet food from Wal-Mart and Kroger private labels ("the cheap stuff") to more premium food like IAMS are essentially the same stuff should be shocking. After all, there are major price differences among the 100-odd brands listed on the Menu Foods recall list.

Will these recalls raise consumer questions about who actually makes their favorite consumer packaged goods? Will they start asking precisely who is manufacturing the detergent, body lotion, breakfast cereal or mascara they pay a premium for? Will they be shocked to learn a budget brand rolls off the same production line as a more expensive product? Are the ingredient lists that different? How will we feel about ourselves if we learn that the upscale brands with which we associate ourselves are little different from their private label cousins?

How are you reacting to these recalls? Do they change how you think about brands, or have you always been a skeptic?

UPDATE 3/26/07: P&G sent this message to their Pet Care email list on March 21, "You may wonder why some 'wet' food was produced at Menu Foods. In fact, virtually every pet food company commonly uses outside partners for special or small volume items. Nonetheless, the different branded products made by Menu are not "the same". Our Iams and Eukanuba pet foods have unique recipes and important ingredient differences that distinguish them from other pet food brands."

The sailor dress

I bought Z this sailor dress at the Parenthesis Consignment Sale last weekend ($9 for a beautifully knit dress, made in England), and she has been clamoring to wear it every day since. The weather has warmed up slightly and her white tights were clean, so I let her put it on today. And you know what she said?

"I'm wearing my new sailor dress! I'm Captain Hook!"

My mother has a well-documented weakness for sailor dresses (even on adult women--yikes!), so this should be a big hit with her.

Downtown on the farm

We'll be at the FamilyFarmed.org Expo 2007 Saturday morning. The event is at the beautiful Chicago Cultural Center and it promises to be a feast of information and organic food. On the schedule are presentations on healthy eating for families and urban agriculture, exhibits from local family farms and CSAs and demonstrations from top area chefs like Rick Bayless, raw foodie Karyn Calabrese and Bruce Sherman from North Pond. Plus, I'm hoping to graze/shop my way through food samples at the farmer's market. It's too early for a ton of fresh produce, but there will meats, cheeses, breads, honey, nuts and handmade soaps, I'm sure.

Not sure what it is, but they're also promising an "Organic Kids Activity Corner." Kids under 12 are free and adult tickets are two-for-one if you purchase them in advance on their website.

"I'm a mommy"

This morning as we were enjoying our breakfast, Z demanded "hot chocolate" and further requested I serve it to her in my ceramic coffee mug. I told her that we were all out of chocolate, but I would be happy to warm up her milk. She settled for warm milk ("just like Mommy's coffee"), but insisted I serve it to her in a grown-up mug. What the heck, I thought, grabbing a stained promotional mug from the cabinet and dumping the contents of her sippy cup into it. I warmed the milk in the microwave for a 20 seconds and served it to her, letting her stir in two teaspoons worth of my coffee.

The kid was as pleased as punch, sipping with grace and saying, "I'm a Mommy. I need to finish my coffee and go to work! I work on the computer and go meetings! I'm a Mommy. I have a coffee mustache!"

A gutsy move for P&G

Now this is a brilliant move. P&G is going after a much younger audience for its fiber product by pitching it like a beauty brand. With colonics on the verge of going mainstream, I suppose its only natural for a mainstream supplement to try making an entrance through the exit door. The tagline, if you can't read it here, is "Beautify your inside."

Doing it all

I was listening to NPR this morning and heard a story about how working moms today are spending the same amount of time with their kids that stay-at-home moms did in the 1970s. How is that possible? Two main reasons: One, moms in the 1970s were more comfortable with letting their kids play independently; they could run down the street, entertain themselves in the backyard or head to the playground without direct parental supervision. Also, these 1970s moms were doing a lot more cooking and cleaning than working moms are doing today. We've outsourced dusting and mopping to cleaning services and cut back on the time spent preparing meals with take-out, convenience foods and simpler dinners.

The good news: today's working mothers are getting in the same amount of quality time they enjoyed from their moms (about 11 hours a week). The bad news: we're doing it by sacrificing our own sleep and leisure time. And we're probably eating way too much fast food. But that's a different story.

More free coffee

On the heels of Starbucks' national coffee giveaway, Dunkin Donuts is offering up free iced coffees all day tomorrow. Starbucks only gave away a cuppa joe from 10am-12 noon. Advantage: Dunkin. Now if they'd only let me customize my drink myself...

Stranger than Fiction

Josh and I watched Stranger than Fiction on DVD this weekend, and while I enjoyed the movie, I was distracted by all of the setting inconsistencies. I think I was driving Josh nuts with my observations since he was much more irritated by the film's supposed plot holes, but heck, what's my blog for if I can't air a few grievances?

So here we go. The movie was obviously shot in Chicago, but no references are made to Chicago...just "this city." Will Ferrell catches a CTA bus every day, but he says to a fellow rider, "Don't you just love the MTA?" He uses a pay phone in the "6th street station," which appears to be under Daley Plaza. I'm pretty sure it was the Jackson tunnel; there's definitely no 6th street downtown. And I'm pretty sure the IRS doesn't have a major office in Chicago anyway. We send our returns to St. Louis.

What else? Ferrell takes the bus to Euclid Avenue, which is west of the city--a very long bus ride from what looked to be Michigan Avenue. Emma Thompson's character, the author who is narrating Farrell's life, appears to have a studio overlooking the State Street Sears store (not likely), and Farrell's hospital room has a magnificent view of the Wrigley Building--something you can't see from Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Maybe he was recovering at Swissotel?

Amped, the guitar shop where Ferrell buys a Stratocaster appeared to be located in the financial district (um, maybe Wicker Park or Lincoln Square would be more likely). And then there's the professor played by Dustin Hoffman. I'm quite confident his scenes were shot at the modernist concrete creation that is University of Illinois Chicago, but no signs or flags identified the school.

Nissan embraces nontraditional marketing

Here's an example of a great, very inexpensive word-of-mouth marketing campaign Nissan launched to promote its keyless ignitions to African-American consumers. Not sure why this is an "ethnic" campaign since it seems like it would build buzz in any community, but I'm guessing that the most ethnic element is the locations where the keys are dropped.

Taco triumph

Last night we watched Z build, wrap and eat an entire taco. First she spooned the taco meat from a small bowl onto her soft corn tortilla. Then she sprinkled on some shredded cheddar. Finally, she folded it into a shape not entirely unlike a burrito, crammed it securely in her tiny fist, and ate the entire thing. Not a speck of meat fell out. I was couldn't take my eyes off of her. And needless to say, everything fell out of my tortilla.

Potty update!

It was a perfect storm. New Tinkerbell underpants that I picked up at a rummage sale this morning. Add a week's worth of viewings of a new potty movie (which I will be reviewing here in the next couple of weeks) and an afternoon visit with her best friend Lia, who is potty trained. The result? A bona-fide tinkle in the potty chair. Z actually hopped out of the tub during bathtime and said, "I need to go potty."

Sitting on the pot and talking the talk is nothing new. Actual production of pee? Now that's worth blogging about!

Dinner in the nude

I considered not posting this story since it is more than a little embarrassing, but I just can't help myself. Why blog if not to expose myself and my family to national ridicule?

You see, Z was a bit of a pistol last night. From the minute I walked in the door, she was all over the place, showing me her Cinderella underpants...then insisting I change her into a diaper in the middle of the kitchen floor...while Daddy was cooking. And then heading upstairs unsupervised while I was washing vegetables so that she could fetch a clean diaper for her doll.

In any case, when she found out we were having salmon and potatoes for dinner, she pitched a royal fit for macaroni and cheese. It went on and on, but I wasn't budging. I told her she could try the fish and mashed potatoes, and if she didn't like them, she could have cereal. Under no circumstances would there be mac and cheese tonight!

She cried in the corner. She cried in my arms. She snuffled tears and snot onto my shoulder as I sat down to my dinner. And then, realizing that her crocodile tears weren't moving us, the crying stopped. She said, "I need to get down. My pants are wrong. I need to take them off."

Z slid off my lap and proceeded to remove her pants. And her socks. And her shirt. And her diaper.

"Why are you getting undressed?" Josh asked.
"Because I want to to take my clothes off," she replied.
"Why do you want to take your clothes off?"
"Because...I want to be naked!"

And then she climbed, naked as a jaybird, back onto my lap. Now I'm no prude and I'm glad my daughter is comfortable with her own body, but there is something just a little disturbing about eating a green salad while a 2 year old girl walks her hands over herself and says, "Look, my 'gina, my legs. I got all kinds of parts of my body!"

The good news is that Josh and I were able to suppress our giggles as we shot looks across the table at one another. And the table dance ended as quickly as it began. Yes, she did spend the rest of the evening in the nude, but I'm happy to report she ended up in her own chair. She tried 3 bites of mashed potatoes, declared she didn't like it, and polished off a bowl of Grape-Nuts instead.

I know the naked toddler is a cliche, but I'm not sure how other parents deal with it. Is any inside nudity okay, but outside nudity discouraged? Am I a complete freak for letting my daughter eat dinner in her birthday suit?

Free coffee

Get your free cup of joe Thursday at any Starbucks location. Just choose a less-trafficked location (unless you like waiting in long lines) and show up between 10 and 12am.

Fun on the front porch

It's likely it won't be 73 degrees when I arrive home from work today, but yesterday was simply glorious. Z had lots of fun telling me that I was the baby and I "needed to go to sleep and stay in my bed." She would head for the door and say, "I'm going downstairs!" Then, seconds later she'd say, "What's wrong? You thirsty? You want some water?"

I guess I'm really pregnant now

I've gained 15 lbs, my belly's out to here, and this week I started feeling pregnancy symptoms for the first time. I'm one of the lucky ones who never felt suffered from morning sickness, and I couldn't feel the baby move until just last month. I consider myself one of the lucky ones for whom pregnancy is pretty "easy." I'm youngish, low-risk and healthy.

So while I'm still answering my co-workers' "How are you feeling?" questions with a "Just great, thanks," it's more because I don't want to regale them with my tales of below the belt suffering. The acrobatic backflips baby's performing in my belly. The way she's pushing down on my bladder so that I find myself running to the bathroom only to squeeze out the tiniest tinkle. The, er, extra fiber my diet requires. And the waking up with my leg completely immobilized by calf cramps. The next 17 weeks should be fun.

I need your help

Once in a great while my work life coincides with my personal interest in blogging, and this is just such a time. I know I've stumbled across a couple of mommy bloggers famous for their crafting-with-kids ideas, and I am sure there are other moms out there who are great resources for coming up with activities and projects appropriate for grade school kids. Can anyone point me to some great sites/blogs?

Two Dystopian Futures

I guess I'm a sucker for movies and literature set in the future. I loved The Handmaid's Tale and I couldn't even bring myself to hit pause on our DVD copy of Children of Men--I sat through the whole film simultaneously thirsty and having to pee. So I was delighted by Speak Up's clever entry on Idiocracy, the movie nobody saw (excepting me and Josh, perhaps). What I love is all of the screen shots of all of brand names, (d)evolved as they have in a society where the lowest common denominator dominates. Yes, in this bleak future our country is governed by a porn star, our crops are dying because we're watering them with a Gatorade-like sports drink and Costco stretches on for city block after city block.

Weekend highlights

In no particular order...

1. Seeing Jon Brion with Josh at the Steppenwolf Theatre Friday night
2. Seeing Z's face light up when the babysitter arrived
3. Sharing a mess of barbecue from Robinson's Ribs with our friends Julie and Steve and their kids Saturday night
4. Watching their daughter Ania and Z play nicely on their own while we licked BBQ sauce off our fingers
5. Finding Josh a pair of snazzy pants and a shirt and sweater to match at Banana Republic
6. Discovering that BR has a bathroom with a changing table
7. Breaking out Z's red wagon
8. Hitting the playground for the first time in 4 months
9. Taking advantage of the extra hour of daylight by staying there until dinnertime
10. Having breakfast cereal and toast for dinner

Why

It's a cliche, so I knew it was inevitable that we'd hear the question sooner or later, but the whys have hit our household full force.

"We need to stop at the gas station to get gas."
"Why?"
"Because the gas light went on. The car needs gas."
"Why?"
"The car is hungry for gas. It's saying 'feed me.'"
"Why?"
"Because cars need gas to run."
"Why?"
"Because that's how they work. Without gas, they won't go."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"Oh. Because."

Spring cleaning

Chicago's long, cold freeze finally broke and today it is absolutely glorious. And with spring on the way, my front porch will no longer be a mere pass-through on the way into our house.

So I decided to spend Z's naptime giving our more-two-than-three season room a thorough cleaning--no easy task considering it is all windows. Old-fashioned tiny paned windows covered by soot-filled screens and gritty storm windows. All so old and warped that nothing quite fits together. And since it is about 10 steps off the ground, I had to use a bucket of vinegar and water, a mop and a ladder to clean the outside.

Anyway, getting my porch cleaned would have been rewarding on its own, but I was doubly delighted to see all of my neighbors emerge from hibernation and take to the streets with their much-grown babies, toddlers and dogs. This area may suffer from some miserable winters, but the snow and ice is worth seeing the broad smiles as everyone heads back outside in the springtime. We do not take good weather for granted, that's for sure.

Speaking of folks out for a stroll, Josh walked to Walgreens and reported that I wasn't the only Oak Parker with a yen for spring cleaning. Apparently the entire block smells of cleaning supplies.

No patience for being a patient

I'm home sick today, feeding a vicious cold with hourly trips into the kitchen. I think I would be a cow if I was home full-time.

Anyway, after finishing up a presentation deck and emailing it off to the office, I've been busying myself with the production and consumption of the hot water/lemon juice/honey mixture first prepared for me by the British nanny of some family friends when I was about twelve years old. My sister and I had been staying at their home in Islamabad, Pakistan while my dad was medivaced to Germany with acute pancreatitis (my mother accompanied him). I'm always impressed by how well this hot lemonade soothes a sore throat.

I'm less impressed with network television's daytime viewing options. Seriously, after Oprah and The View, there is nothing on but low-budget soaps and hour after hour of court shows. Cristina's Court, the People's Court, Divorce Court, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Mills Lane...even the logos for these shows are virtually identical!

Bookshelf: Ice cold winter reading

I just finished two completely different books, Miracle in the Andes: 72 Days on the Mountain and My Long Trek Home and Jodi Picoult's The Tenth Circle. The former is an OMG-I-can't-put-this-down first person account of a horrific plane crash and the suffering that followed as the survivors scraped out an existence high in the Andes, while the second is thoroughly middle-brow contemporary tale of family secrets and revenge. Yet both included very vivid descriptions of freezing nearly to death.

Now I'm reading Anita Diamant's The Last Days of Dogtown, which I chose because--like seemingly every woman I've ever met--I'm a big fan of The Red Tent. It's pretty good, but not so riveting I can't push it aside for a fresh issue of the The New Yorker.

Red in the face?

I'm a big proponent of cause marketing. We live in a branded culture and most consumers don't mind one bit. I think big companies are uniquely positioned to champion causes that make sense for their brands and connect with their consumers. We spend all day with our favorite brands, so why not learn something from the back of a cereal box, save those soup can labels for our schools or reach for the coffee brand that invests in growers' communities? There is a real opportunity raise awareness and funds for worthy causes, and plenty of companies have done quite well doing good.

But what if a brand spends a whole lot more money talking about all the good they're doing? How will consumers react? Ad Age raises the possibility of a consumer backlash against the Red campaign, which is supposed to be raising money to battle AIDS in Africa. Powerhouse brands like the Gap, Motorola and Apple have spent over $100 million pushing Red, and it's not just Bono behind the effort: celebrities from Oprah to Chris Rock to Christy Turlington have promoted the cause.

You'd expect the cash raised to be pretty significant, right? Well, according to Ad Age, just $18 million has been raised worldwide. Kind of a drop in the bucket. Do consumers care? They're not going to stop consuming altogether, but will they become more cynical, losing respect for companies who treat cause marketing as more campaign than commitment?

I'm curious, do you shop for brands that claim to give back? Which brands do you believe have a real commitment to a cause? Is there a particular cause that connects with you?

Cool to a tee

Chicago-based Threadless is having a $10 "Spring Broke" tee shirt sale, making now the perfect time to stock up on tees you won't see anyone else wearing. I love the Threadless business model: let anyone who wants to design a tee shirt, ask the public to vote for their favorite, and print up limited runs of winning designs on high-quality tees.

Personally, I've got my eye on Nineteen Seventy Five.

21 weeks!

You'd think a belly like this would earn me a seat on the CTA this morning, but no such luck.



One advantage of a growing a baby--I've got a built-in perch for the soon-to-be big sister. Can't get enough pregnancy photos? Check out Adventures in Babywearing.

How to kill your brand

The LA Times has a great article on how once beloved brands expand too quickly, losing the very quirky uniqueness that attracted customers in the first place. First on the list companies that have overreached and lost their way is Starbucks. As most people know by now, an internal memo penned by CEO Howard Schultz went public after being anonymously posted to a Starbucks Gossip site. In the memo, Schultz admits that Starbucks has cut too many corners and become too sanitized, too corporate. It is in danger of losing its cultishly loyal devotees, in spite of their caffeine addition.

Of course, for every once-loved Krispy Kreme or Snapple, there are Chipotle and Trader Joe's, companies that have slavishly held tight to their brand personalities while expanding nationwide. How will other brands fare? Will Potbelly Sandwich Works still hire cheerful workers behind the line and tolerable singer-songwriters to serenade us from above the booths. Will their milkshakes get watered down into "shakes," a la Mickey D's?

In my experience, Cold Stone Creamery, Cosi, Jamba Juice and Maggiano's Little Italy/Corner Bakery seem to be doing a good job keeping their USP (unique selling proposition) in sight as they grow. Will Whole Foods Market?

Weekend highlights

The Saturday morning Ralph's World concert at HOB was a huge hit. Z seemed a tiny bit overwhelmed by the sell-out crowd on the floor and by our fairly crowded VIP balcony (we're spoiled by Josh's connections). However, she wasn't too shy to pipe up with this gem when asked her name by one of the other parents: "I have a baby sister. She's not here yet. She's in Mommy's tummy. She's coming later."

The woman looked up at me, her gaze shifting over my baggy maternity blouse. I nodded that yes, I was expecting. And yes, it was a girl.

After her afternoon nap, Z was delighted to have two of her best buddies over. And Josh entertained all three girls, treating us moms to an hour or so of virtually uninterrupted conversation.

Saturday evening I put Z in the bath with her "naked baby," a water-friendly plastic doll. She was giving her baby a bottle, when she looked up at me and announced, "I got to give baby a bottle. I put it in her mouth. It's got milk in it. It's not for you, Mommy. You can't have it. It's got hand prints on it. It's got blue hand prints."

Today Z again raided my closet for "Mommy dress-up clothes," settling on an apricot maternity tank top over a silky half slip. The whole ensemble was held up with hair clips and a pink sparkly belt.


We also used our webcam for the first time, "videoconferencing" with my in-laws on Skype. It was pretty cool to see Z performing for her grandparents as she looked at them on our computer. But since she's got the attention span of a flea, she kept asking us to "go to pbskids.org...let me check my e-mail." And no, my 2-year-old does not have an email account.

Come crash my party

The lovely ladies at 5 Minutes for Mom dreamed up a brilliant way for us time-pressed, pants-not-so-much mommy bloggers to socialize--The Ultimate Blog Party So help yourself to the half bottle of wine in your own fridge, grab a handful of broken animal crackers and pull up a...never mind.

Anyway, let's mix, mingle and meet a few fresh faces. If I'm new to you, feel free to pepper me with embarrassing questions. While you're thinking, here's a Q for you: who among your non-blogging friends knows about and reads your blog? How willingly do you pass out your address?

Itty bitty rock show

Tomorrow morning we're headed to the House of Blues for a Ralph's World concert. I've been to shows sponsored by beer brands, liquor companies, cigarettes and mobile phone makers, but I've never been to a concert "presented by Rice Krispies."

I know Z will have a blast, and I'll have a great time watching her dance around to "Dance Around."

The Saints are Coming

I realize that by posting yet another video it looks like I'm being lazy. But I think this U2/Green Day collaboration is worth sharing. The end of the video brought tears to my eyes. Yeah, I'm hormonal. But still.

Robot has a bad day

Proof that great TV advertising still exists.

Some will find this even funnier than SNL

This morning, Z surprised me and Josh both when she walked away from the Berenstain Bears broadcast and announced, "I'm going to get dressed for for work upstairs." Even though I'd barely had a sip of coffee, I told her I'd come with her to help and I grabbed the jeans and long-sleeved tee I'd brought downstairs just minutes prior.

At the top of the stairs, she made a hard left into my bedroom and said, "I'm going to get ready for work in Mommy's room. I take off my jammies by my self...Now, I need a bra." With a little help from me (I could barely contain my giggles), Z wriggled into a lovely beige cotton number that no longer accommodates my knocked-up knockers. It hung down to her waist like two very saggy old-lady boobs. One shrug and the whole contraption slid down to the floor, where she stepped out of it.

But she wasn't done. She grabbed a shirt from one of my drawers, slung it over her shoulder and said, "I'm going to work in Mommy shirt!" I grabbed the white shirt before it could swiffer up all of the cat hair on the floor, and Z demanded a boost up onto my dresser. There, she tried on all of my necklaces. Then it was onto makeup. I let her go to town with my eyeshadow brush and a still-sealed loose powder. She made painting strokes all over her face and neck while singing, "I'm making myself pretty like a Mommy!"

As the mini glamorpuss hour stretched on, I realized we needed to get the girl dressed for daycare. So I tossed her onto "the big bed" (aka our bed) where she abandoned all pretensions of grown-upness and proceeded to jump up and down, clap her hands, stick out her tongue, shriek like a banshee and evade my attempts to dress her.

And once I finally got her dressed? She peed in her pants. But I was strong. I got her a fresh pair of cotton training underpants and told her she'd have better luck at Adriana's house.

Your daily funny

Fellow fans of "The Office" will find this hysterical. Everyone else will be very confused.

Tell me again why this cause is just

I watched Bob Woodruff's special report To Iraq and Back last night on ABC. It was the most powerful piece of TV journalism I've seen on commercial news in a really long time. In addition to following Woodruff's long, painful--and apparently quite miraculous--recovery from a devastating brain injury (the left side of his head was blown right off), the show introduces us to a number of the soldiers and families Woodruff befriended while in the hospital.

Returning to normal life after a TBI (traumatic brain injury) is a slow, frustrating process, and many of the soldiers will never be the same again. Many will recover speech and re-learn the use of their limbs, but others will remain drooling, diapered men, too disturbing for their former comrades to see.

By revealing this heretofore unpublicized consequence of the wars with Iraq and Afghanistan, Woodruff compels us to question our governments intentions with both of these conflicts. Are these really worthy wars? Because unless we believe that these young guys and their families are suffering for a just cause, their pain and anguish is for nothing. It is an empty sacrifice--and all the more sad.

It's not delivery...

It's da restaurant! DiGiorno Pizza is celebrating its new Ultimate line of "superpremium" pizzas with a pop-up pizza parlor on Michigan Avenue. I think pop-up retail is one of the most exciting areas of marketing, and I'm excited to see such a typically stodgy company (yes, one I've worked on) embrace a big idea.

"Ask me how's my day, Mommy"

I've made a point of asking Z about her day pretty much since she started talking. It used to consist of lots of leading questions that I was confident she could accurately answer with a "yes." I didn't learn much, but I enjoyed building the foundations of her conversational skills.

Oh how things have changed in a year. Now Z volunteers lots of specific details of her day to me. Today I asked her if she had fun with Daddy.

"Yes," she replied.
"What did you do together," I asked.
"Gymnastics! I bounced on the teddy bear balance beam. I got a stamp. I'm not going to wash it off!" (Apparently this makes sense in context. Josh does take her to gymnastics on Monday mornings and she did excel on the balance beam and trampoline today. She washed the hand stamp off in the bath since I'd cooed over it sufficiently.)

"Did you and Daddy also go to Sam's Club?"
"Yes. I lost my brown hat. We couldn't find it. We asked a man for my hat, but he didn't know where it is!" (Also true. Josh said she must have dropped it somewhere in the store, but retracing his steps and asking about it at the customer service counter proved futile.)

"Daddy said you also went to Jewel and you ran into some friends there. Who did you see at the grocery store?"
"Leo was there. And Sharon and Oliver. Leo was in the cart and Sharon was pushing him."
"Were you a good girl at the store or did you cry?"
"I cried for a new sippy cup." (Z and Daddy had a disagreement over which sippy cups were appropriate for her and ended up leaving empty handed.)

"What else did you and Daddy do today?"
"We made chicken and cookies!"

Josh and I had the chicken for dinner. And while it was delicious, Z opted for her typical evening meal of cold cereal. The cookies? Apricot hamentaschen. Happy Purim, everyone!

Baking with and for toddlers

Z and I have made mini muffins together nearly every weekend for quite some time. It's a great project to do with a 2-year-old since there are lots of opportunities for her to "help" and the results come quickly (and deliciously). By making mini muffins instead of the standard size, we not only cut down on the baking time, we end up with a perfectly sized snack for small hands and tiny appetites.

Typically, we make blueberry, banana or bran-apricot muffins (made with Fiber One), but I was in the mood for something a little different this morning. So I decided to make apple muffins and improvised this recipe around the Basic Muffins recipe in How To Cook Everything, which has recently joined the Joy of Cooking and America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook as a go-to reference in our kitchen.

Marketing Mommy's Apple Mini Muffins

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 pinch cake spice (optional)
3 tbsp canola oil
1 egg
1 1/4 cup lowfat plain yogurt
2 small apples, peeled and chopped


Mix together the dry ingredients in one bowl. Beat together the egg, milk and oil in another bowl. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and fold to combine. Fold in chopped apples. If the batter is too thick, add a splash of milk. Spoon batter into mini muffin pan and bake at 400 degrees for 12 minutes. Standard muffins will take 20-25 minutes.

And now for a different angle

Behind the Counter may be my new favorite blog. From what I can tell, it is written by a British expat working at a Wal-Mart Customer Service counter, probably in Miami. Droll and funny as hell.

Bookshelf: Sweet and Low

Looking for a good book, but can't settle on a genre? Consider picking up Rich Cohen's Sweet and Low: A Family Story, which manages to marry a dysfunctional family memoir with the history of Brooklyn, the history of sugar and sugar substitutes, a business history of Cumberland Packing and an overview of New York City Jewish life. But that's not all. It's also a story about the mob, crooked businessmen, smooth-talking politians and a pre-Enron corporate corruption scandal of magnificent proportions.

You see, Cohen is the disinherited grandson of Ben Eisenstadt, founder of Cumberland Packing and the inventor of both the sugar packet and Sweet & Low sweetener. Cut off from the business and the fortune that went with it, Cohen has a major bone to pick with rest of the family.

His bitterness comes through like saccharin's aftertaste, but the cast of characters (nearly all of whom are Cohen's relatives) is so colorful, the storyline so unbelievable, I couldn't stop turning the pages.

It's a...

Today's 20-week ultrasound points to another girl (my intuition was on target again)! Z is going to have a baby sister and we're thrilled.

20 week belly

There's a story here

I saw this just outside the Wells and Lake entrance to the Blue Line today. Was someone evicted from the upscale apartment building upstairs? Did an angry girlfriend or boyfriend junk a significant other's property in the midst of a lovers' spat? I wonder if this sidewalk display had any effect on business at the leasing office just through the windows on the left (barely visible in my photo)...

Cheers for World Market

Seth Godin and Consumerist have been writing a lot about customer service. Seth Godin takes the perspective that today's underpaid, untrained staffers are ill prepared to deal with I've-been-taken-advantage-of-so-fix-it-now consumers. The kind of consumers who have educated themselves online using websites like Consumerist. Consumerist has built a loyal following by outing corporations' sleazy policies and publishing the direct phone lines and email addresses of company presidents.

So I'd like to counter all of the online negativity with a positive customer service story about World Market. As I've mentioned on this blog, Josh and I have been searching for ways to contain our toddler's clutter while not letting our living space turn into a plastic play land.
We've stashed smaller toys in these brown leather storage ottomans from Overstock.com, but we needed a place to hide Z's larger playthings: a basket of books, a barn, a vintage Little People house, etc.

And we found it in this lovely cabinet from World Market. We stopped into the store on Sunday, but couldn't fit the furniture into our car with Z still in the back seat. So we asked a store employee to put it on hold for us until Tuesday. Josh returned to the store, CR-V cargo space at the ready, paid for the furniture, and drove it home.



Once he'd unwrapped it, he discovered a long crack down the back, hidden part of the cabinet and called me for advice. He didn't really want to wrap it up and drive it back for an exchange, and he stressed that it was hard to see the crack unless the doors were open and the toys were out. So I suggested he call the store and ask for an additional 20% "damaged goods" discount. If they weren't willing to accommodate, we'd bring the cabinet it to exchange it. Sensing a difficult call with a front line cashier, I also stressed that he should ask for a manager right away.

Well, low and behold, the manager trusted us and gave us the requested credit!



As you can see, Z's toys fit perfectly. And the cabinet fits our decor perfectly! Go World Market!

Convenient Truths

Treehugger and Seventh Generation are co-sponsoring a video contest that invites regular folks to come up with "convenient truths" for living a more eco-friendly lifestyle. I was particularly inspired by the videos pushing cloth diapers ("An Inconvenient Poop")and composting with worms ("The Other Black Gold").

My sister is going to do the cloth diaper thing with her baby, due in May. If it works for her, I may just give it a shot with number two.

Parenting from the dark side

If there's one thing I've learned about being a Mom, it is that most of the high-minded notions I had before actually getting into the trenches and raising a kid have floated right away.

No TV before age 2? Thanks, I'd like to take a shower and empty the dishwasher once in a while. And I kind of like Curious George, anyway.

Only organic dairy products for my precious one? Er, I still look for rBGH-free jugs, but I'm not about to demand my daycare provider go organic.

Only lovely wooden playthings--and no toys that makes noise? What am I, Cinderella's evil stepmother? We keep the toy clutter to a minimum and we try to buy stuff from yard sales (plastic is easily decontaminated), but there are only so many wooden puzzles and train sets a kid needs. We do draw the line at toys that talk, though. Because while those heavy talking dolls can play back plenty of inane phrases, a $9 regular baby doll can say anything Z wants it to. And it can likely take a dip in the bathtub or stand for a run through the washing machine.

Anyway, I finally broke yet another self-imposed taboo: the ban on themes and licensed characters in our daughter's room. Z is now the very proud owner of a Disney Princess bedding set.

Bookshelf: Fake cakes and entertaining the elderly

I'm going to keep this book review short and sweet, because unlike Amy Sedaris and her more famous brother, I'm not particularly funny--at least not intentionally.

Gosh, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence is one weird book. Weirdly compelling... but do I trust a yummy-sounding recipe if it comes from a humor book's tongue-in-cheek chapter on cooking for a funeral? Do I dare make her chicken dishes, all of which seem to require at least a full stick of butter?

And it isn't just recipes. Amy offers up pointers for paranoid hosts ("A good trick is to fill your medicine cabinet with marbles. Nothing announces a nosy guest better than an avalanche of marbles hitting a porcelain sink"), bizarro craft ideas (including her famous fake cake) and tips for dealing with the grieving, pot-heads, drunks and children.

With page after page (over 300!) of collage-like eye-candy (retro-style pinup shots of Amy, stained recipe cards and unappetizing food photography straight out of 1968), I Like You offers days--even weeks--of browsing pleasure. But is it an entertaining guide? A cookbook? Is it just for laughs? I'm not entirely sure.

Meaningful marketing

For every friend or family member who has ever accused my industry of just "telling me to keep buying crap," I present this summary of what people find meaningful and how successful brands have tapped those insights to create meaningful marketing and meaningful brands. It is from Idea Sandbox's review of Making Meaning: How Successful Businesses Deliver Meaningful Customer Experiences, and it's great inspiration for me as my agency heads into planning for 2008 for so many of our brands.

Pop goes my heart!

I expected a diverting bit of romanic comedy fluff when I went to see Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore in Music and Lyrics Saturday night. But I loved it. Really, I did. And I'm only a little embarrassed to admit I want the soundtrack.

One way of looking at it

I was nibbling on some cheese as we headed out to run some errands and, coming across a tiny bit of crusty rind, I decided to crack my window and toss it out (yeah, not setting the world's greatest example, but hey). Anyway, nothing gets past Z, who promptly piped up with, "What you just do out the window, Mommy?"
"I opened the window a little bit and threw a yucky bit of cheese out," I replied.
"The window was hungry, Mommy? I wanna feed the window, too!"

Think you know what's safe to eat? Go fish!

Don't eat fish. Definitely not sushi. Chunk light tuna's okay. Chunk light tuna's higher in mercury than we thought. Don't eat swordfish. Do eat shrimp and salmon. What about smoked salmon?

Figuring out which fish is safe to eat during pregnancy is so difficult, many moms-to-be avoid seafood altogether. But apparently cutting back on fish can be bad for baby, too. BBC News quotes Professor of Nutrition Robert Grimble as saying, "The idea of fish being toxic has been around for a long time but this study seems to be saying that is a minor problem compared with the benefits you get from fish."

Apparently, low fish and seafood intake during pregnancy is associated with increased risk of poor behavior, motor, communication and social development scores.

Me, I'm a member of the everything-in-moderation camp, but I don't think I was hitting anywhere near the recommended 12 ounces of fish per week. Perhaps I'll indulge in a tuna melt this weekend. I've been wanting one for weeks.

Toddler bed update

Z's spent four nights in her new "big girl" bed, and we haven't had any drama. No climbing out of bed. No tantrums. No tears after night one.

But. She still asks for her crib. Every night, as we're finishing up the toothbrushing and story telling, Z looks at me and says, "I don't want to sleep in my big girl bed, Mommy. I don't like it." Yesterday she even pretended to cut the mattress with imaginary scissors and said, "I'm cutting my bed. Let's put it away."

It breaks my heart a little bit, but I've tried to stay gentle and consistent, asking her to lie down on her bed, and soothing her reluctance with a back rub or a tummy tickle. And last night, as I said goodnight and left her room, she said, "Okay. I can tickle my tummy by myself."

It's interesting to see which parts of babyhood children are anxious to shed and which they long to cling to. I think my daughter would have happily slept in a crib for another year or two. And if a baby sister or brother wasn't coming this summer, I surely wouldn't have forced the issue.

Which brings us to toilet training. Still no interest on Z's part. She wants to wear diapers. So I'm not going to push the potty -- at least for a few more months. There's no hurry, and from what I've heard, most girls will tell you when they're ready.

Bookshelf

Talk about a fast read. I started Nora Ephron's I Feel Bad About My Neck on the train this morning and finished it on the way home. It's a breezy collection of humorous, largely autobiographical essays, one of which (The Apartment) I'm pretty sure I read in the New Yorker in the last year.

If toddlers went to work

Working Moms Against Guilt as a pretty funny post about what life might be like if we pulled our toddlers' stunts in the workplace. If I was to behave like Z at work, my coworkers would likely be irritated by my rapping randomly on my keyboard while repeating "I'm just checking my email," over and over again.

And some would find it obnoxious if I copied their every move and announced "I'm working just like Walter. I can put on my coat by self, just like Walter. I am going lunch. Just like Walter.

But they would be outright horrified listening to me utter such ladylike gems as, "Do you hear me farting?" or "I'm not done pooping" (said after I'd spent 5 minutes glowering red-faced in the corner).

Winter in Chicago, dusk

The partially frozen Chicago River looked even more beautiful at day's end.

Winter in Chicago

We received a foot of snow yesterday, but the city that works worked hard to get the streets clean in time for today's morning commute. Oak Park did a pretty great job, too. Here are some pictures from my commute and one from my office (cubicle) window.

Bookshelf

I just finished Birth: The Surprising History of How We are Born, and I can't recommend it highly enough. Author Tina Cassidy takes the balanced approach of a journalist--a rare thing in the highly-charged world of birthing--to describe the cultural history of how we bring babies into this world. She offers some terrifying, eye-opening anecdotes about birth practices in the 1800 and early-to-mid 1900's, an era when science and medicine in general was making great strides. It was a time when birth moved from bedside to hospitals, but modesty and misinformation among the male doctors (midwives were going out of fashion) led to some truly barbaric practices.

It's refreshing to read something that shows us how far we've come--but reminds us that the birthing trends of the present are likely to seem outmoded and quaint by the time our daughters get pregnant. And most of all, I was impressed that this book doesn't seem driven by an agenda. So much of the pregnancy and birth literature out there is driven by a particular camp--be it the home-birthers, epidural-lovers or C-section-By-Choicers.

I'm a top momma

I wasn't a cheerleader or high school prom queen, but I'm a contender in this online popularity contest. Check it out at TopMomma.com.

It's all about me, me, me

Mere masstige isn't good enough anymore. Now consumers can personalize the most mundane consumer goods. From sneakers to M and Ms, companies have realized it isn't enough to have a premium product. It needs to be unique--ours alone. So parents can shop for personalized pacifiers at MyPacifier.com and sentimental nose-blowers can design their own Kleenex box. What's next, toilet paper customized with images of things and people we dislike?

Pop up retail courts the anti-Valentine's Day vote

I'd seen an ad for Altoids Anti-Valentine's Day shop, a pop-up retail concept that will be sampling their new dark chocolate covered mints to those cursing Cupid on florists' favorite holiday. The Chicago location is on Armitage, about a block from from Ethel's Chocolate Lounge.

Another milestone

Josh disassembled Z's crib yesterday and I tucked her into her "big girl" bed. The evening wasn't without drama--Z cried pitifully for her crib for about 15-20 minutes. But when she realized it wasn't coming back, she put her head on her pillow and slept soundly through the night.

I don't know if it helped, but an hour or so before bedtime, I took Z upstairs and we spent a few minutes instructing her stuffed animals on "the magic rules" (Z's words, not mine). Each of the animals had the following drilled into his or her furry skull, "Rule number one: stay in bed! Rule number two: go to sleep!"

Now I need to do something about those big, empty walls behind her.

Craving order

Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but my nesting impulse is on. This time around, instead of wanting to look at cribs and mobiles (been there, done that), I want to organize toys. I fantasize about all of Z's playthings hidden away in colorful cubes, bins or baskets. I've got some of her toys stashed in our living room storage ottomans and another pile in a wicker laundry basket nearby, but having 2-3 big bins of toys means all the Little People, blocks and doll accessories just filter down to the bottom of the container and don't get played with at all.

So I've been surfing around the web looking for the perfect solution. I even took a solo field trip to Target last night, only to find the kid storage aisle completely picked over. I like this unit, which is a Target.com online exclusive, but seeing as it might end up in our living room (we don't have a separate play room), I need to decide how I feel about the bright primary colors.

Idi Amin scares the crap out of me

I went to see The Last King of Scotland Friday night, and damn, what a great movie--I think I held my breath for the last 30 minutes.

I'd seen General Idi Amin Dada, the 1974 documentary about the blood-thirsty Ugandan dictator, and Forest Whitaker completely embodies him--much the way Helen Mirren had me convinced she was The Queen.

I'm was a little disappointed to learn that our guide through this account, the magnetic Scottish doctor Nick Garrigan (played by James McAvoy), is a completely fictional character. But they way he is used is genius. His intoxication with exotic Africa, with the benefits that come with being Idi Amin's personal physician and "closest personal adviser," lead us to forgive Amin's excesses for too long. And soon it is too late.

Speaking of dictators, this week's Parade magazine counts down the top 10 living dictators.

The toddler bed transition

We picked up a hand-me-down toddler bed and mattress from a co-worker of mine yesterday morning. Z was over the moon with excitement as she watched her mommy clean it and her daddy assemble it. But come naptime, she just couldn't resist her newfound freedom and spent the full 2 hours hopping in and out and generally making mischief. When I finally called off the nap at 3pm, she was standing on the rocker-glider, changing CDs in her boombox. All of her toys were out of the toy basket and books were piled up willy-nilly.

"Z," I said, "What's the rule for your new big-girl bed?"
"Stay in bed," she replied sheepishly.

Now what's amazing is she didn't act like a kid who missed her nap. In fact, she was a complete angel as we left her with a brand-new 15-year-old babysitter, offering us each a smile and a kiss bye-bye.

And if you're wondering, we didn't leave the toddler bed in her room for the babysitter to have to deal with. She slept in her crib. We're going to take down the crib and replace it with the toddler bed Monday night, before she goes to daycare on Tuesday. That way she can sleep in it in the dark for a few nights straight and hopefully establish some good habits before she's again faced with the temptations of an unchained naptime.

Yes, she's rather articulate

My toddler that is, not Barack Obama. Who's totally not a girl anyway.

I'm in the shower, and Z's standing in the bathroom doorway. "Mama," she says, "I've got snot. On my shirt." She's standing frozen, arms slightly raised so as not to touch the globby green slime on the front of her sweatshirt.

I step onto the bathmat, grab a piece of TP and wipe her nose and shirt. I can do this with one foot still in the tub because my bathroom is that small.

"Thank you," says my angel. Then, "I have boogies in my nose."

Z says

Me: "Hey Z, since Daddy's back, he can give you a bath tonight!"
Z: "No, I want Mommy give me a bath. Only Mommy can put me night-night. I want Daddy stay downstairs and work."
Josh: "Can I come upstairs and help?"
Z: "No! I want Daddy go to the basement to work and stay down 'dere."

Way to give Daddy a warm welcome, kiddo!

When mama's happy, her employer makes money

According to MSNBC, more and more companies are bending over backwards to accommodate (and retain) the best and brightest as they bring babies into the world. And the most encouraging thing about benefits like lactation rooms, breastfeeding support and on-site daycare: these perks end up improving the company's bottom line.

Truthy? Looks to be!

Rumors have been, er, swirling for days, and it looks like there really will be a Stephen Colbert flavor of Ben & Jerry's. (Via BoingBoing and NoFactZone)

Single mamas, this one's for you

The end is in sight. Tomorrow Josh returns from his bachelor-like existence in NYC (rock shows, the Met and endless take-out food).

In the meantime, let me take this opportunity to bow down before all single parents. I don't know how you do it. I don't know how anyone can work full time, parent a toddler and still find the time and energy to prepare meals, clean the house and get the nine million other household tasks accomplished in a mere 24 hours.

I'm pretty proud I managed as much as I did. Because let me tell you: I've been spoiled. This week I learned how much I appreciate Josh. I managed to fill in, cooking (well, sort of), loading and unloading the dishwasher, washing pots and pans, doing laundry, taking out the trash (and lugging it to the curb), feeding and watering the cats, scooping cat poop, and cleaning up (particularly since our cleaning lady called to say she couldn't make it on Wednesday). Plus, I dealt with a few surprises, shoveling and sweeping the walk and fixing the upstairs toilet. Oh, and I lugged around some furniture and reorganized Z's toys since our new storage ottomans arrived today.

Blogging in the fast lane

To say that I am flattered GM reached out to me and invited me to be their guest at the Chicago Auto Show would be an understatement. I first learned of the car company's leadership in the blogosphere (check out GM Blogs) at the first Word of Mouth Marketing Conference (2005), and seeing them reach out to bloggers from the perspective of a relatively new blogger is really quite impressive.

Anyway, I felt a bit like an impostor among all of the full-time bloggers in attendance at today's reveal of the Saturn Astra. Unlike the rest of them, I was playing hooky from my paid gig, and I had to get back in time for a late morning meeting. [Thanks Renee for letting me sneak out!] And since Josh is still in NYC, I'm having to forgo the free schmoozy-poo dinners with GM designers and marketers.

So what was it like? The Auto Show, like always, is completely overwhelming. But this morning I was blown away by just the sheer scale of it--no crowds, no music, no cacophony (the show opens to the public in two days)--but acres and acres of highly-polished chrome.

The Saturn Astra, as you can see here, is a pretty euro-sporty compact car--not exactly a family vehicle, but very appealing in a VW Rabbit/Golf kind of way. It's basically the Opal Astra rebranded for America.

I was more turned on to the redesigned 2008 Saturn Vue, which as been given an extreme makeover. No longer the ugly SUV, the Vue has the sleek, curvy appearance of the new Honda CR-V and Toyota RAV4. And it will be available as the Vue Green Line hybrid late this year (Franny, are you reading this?)

How not to reward loyal customers

Yesterday I received an email from Cold Stone Creamery inviting me, a valued customer and member of their mailing list, to take a customer survey. In return for my time, Cold Stone promised me a free Like It (small) ice cream treat. I took the survey, which was a quite a bit longer than I expected, and a few hours later an email arrived titled "Survey Reward for Cold Stone Survey." I clicked on the link to get my certificate, and a web page opened with my confirmation code pre-populated into the appropriate space. Only when I pressed enter, I was told that my code had already been used. No ice cream for me.

So now I've given Cold Stone Creamery 15 minutes of my time and oodles of thoughts on what I think various sizes of ice cream and cake creations should cost. I've done everything asked of me, but their reward system is basically accusing me of certificate theft. I've responded to the survey email address letting them know about the problem. We'll see if I'll get my cake batter (or do I want coffee?) ice cream with Health bar crunchy bits.

UPDATE 2/8/07: Apparently I wasn't the only customer locked out of a reward. CSC sent me a generic apology ("We're sorry if you had difficulty accessing...") and a fresh link to the free ice cream coupon.

UPDATE 2/12/07: Now here's the customer service I was hoping for! A fairly personal letter from CSC arrived in the mail today. In it, they thank me for bringing their website problem to their attention and they attach a certificate for a free Love It (large) ice cream creation.

The Not-So-Secret Society of Parents of Young Children

Membership: Extended to all parents of children aged 2 months to 4 years. Junior Membership is available to expectant parents and parents of newborns. Junior Members receive all of the benefits of membership (namely advice, friendship and second-hand baby gear), but are forbidden from volunteering even well-meaning advice and opinions to more experienced parents. Members with more extreme approaches to parenting (Jesus freaks, attachment parents and future home schoolers) may wish to join a sub-sect of the Not-So-Secret SOPOYC that caters to their particular belief set.

Benefits:
Emergency baby supplies: If you ever find yourself short a diaper or wipes, Baby Tylenol or a Band-Aid, find a Member and request assistance. Members will help in any way they can because karma dictates they do so.

Gear: Both a lender and a borrower be. No one needs a baby bathtub, Exersaucer or swing for more than a year. We’d rather have the space. And that goes double for baby clothes.

Friendship: You haven’t made friends this fast since summer camp. Look around the playground, grocery store, pediatrician’s office. Find a parent with a kid roughly the same age as yours. Fifteen minutes later you’re exchanging phone numbers. One month later you’re wondering how you survived before meeting your Mom friends. Enjoy this time, because once your kid starts making friends on his own, you lose total control of your social life.

Advice: Put away those parenting books and health manuals. Everything you need to know about eating, pooping, sleeping and potty training you can learn from your fellow Members. Those growth charts and developmental scales? Interesting, but you can always compare Johnny to your friends’ kids. And you know you will.

Membership Fee: Priceless, but you won't pay a penny

Salon outs Annie's

Okay, after reading Salon's The bunny vs. the blue box the mommy in me feel a little less wholesome. But the marketer in me is awestruck. Why? Because Annie's products, from the ubiquitous white-not-orange mac and cheese to the cheddar bunnies and salad dressings, are in every one of my friends' cabinets. And mine. Annie's mac and cheese and nitrate-free hot dogs are the fall-back kid food at many of our get-togethers, last night's Super Bowl party included.

Not an auspicious start

8:10am Monday morning. Standing on the El platform. I've managed to shower, get myself and Z ready and eat breakfast without Josh (he's in NYC). Dropped Z off at day care and bundled myself up in a down coat, hat, gloves and 6-foot-long wool scarf.

It's -9 degrees F and the train doesn't come. Apparently when it gets this cold, the CTA train doors start malfunctioning. So I wait. And wait. And at 9:40, when the train finally pulls alongside the very crowded platform, I get on. But even a 30 minute ride downtown isn't long enough to thaw out my frozen feet.

I hate the bitter cold.

Photos from Akumal

There are a few more photos here.

Donald Duck has landed

We made it back safely, but Z landed in Chicago without pants. How? About 30 minutes into our flight, she threw up all over herself. A rather unsympathetic American Airlines flight attendant finally came over after I'd rang the call button a few times and gave us a fist full of napkins--not exactly the hazmat equipment necessary to mop up a quart of milk, fast food pizza, fruit snacks and orange juice.

After I'd stripped her down to a diaper and stuffed the offending clothes into vomit bags (graciously provided to us by the grandmother behind us), the flight attendant volunteers to bring us a blanket so that our darling daughter wouldn't have to sit directly back down onto her soggy, disgusting-smelling seat. Gosh, thanks miss, but since the flight was no where near full it might have been even nicer for you to find us a new seat!

Fortunately two-year-olds aren't as squeamish as their pregnant 30-year-old mothers, and Z was happy to watch Cinderella for the 9000th time while clad in just a diaper and perched atop a none-too-fresh-smelling airline blanket.