BlogHer download

So, what was BlogHer like? It wasn't the exclusive gathering of hipper-than-thou bloggers I feared it might be. While there were a couple of celebrity mommybloggers on hand, most of the women I met were there for the same reasons I was: to meet the faces behind the writing on our favorite blogs and learn a little bit about how we can improve our game. And it was a lot more diverse than I anticipated. Instead of a bunch of hipsters with red hair and cute laptop bags, there were women from 16-65. Some were professional bloggers, some wrote crafting or cooking blogs. At least two blogged on behalf of nonprofits. Still others hadn't even started a blog yet!

I attended a few sessions on the Business of You and learned that while I'm probably not going to make a fortune from online advertising, I'm too ethically driven to head down the pay-per-post route.

But I learned about other professional opportunities available to bloggers. Some are freelancing as corporate bloggers, some are parlaying their expertise into speaking gigs, and others are expanding their blogs into books. I also heard again and again that the best bloggers--like the best brands--are micro-targeted, covering a particular subject or intersection of subjects in depth.

Which has me thinking. I started this blog as a reflection of myself: a marketer and a mommy. I didn't do it to advance my career, but it has given me insights I've been able to apply to my work and my clients. Do I continue in this line, flitting from product review to customer service rant to birth story, in spite of what I've learned at BlogHer? Do I start a more professional blog that focuses exclusively on marketing to moms and cultivate my reputation as an expert in the field?

Tough questions to wrestle with, huh? Good thing I've got great swag to distract me. Two enormous bags of swag, half from the conference and half from my connections at the Chicago Moms Blog. My favorite items? Chicago Moms Blog and VOX t-shirts (neither of which will likely fit until I quit breastfeeding), The BabyCenter Essential Guide to Your Baby's First Year, FLAVORit medicine flavoring kit, CleanWell natural hand sanitizer, Jif Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter, Innobaby's Packin Smart baby snack stacker, the BusyBodyBook calendar/organizer and a ScrapBlog onesie for A.

I'm stuck on Mabel's labels

Z starts Montessori preschool this fall, and her supply list arrived in the mail along with a snack list and a stack of medical and dental authorization forms. In addition to requesting specific brand name colored and #2 pencils (sharpened please!), a box of tissues (white Kleenex brand!), 2 pocket folders (make sure they're blue!), slippers (Crocs are okay!) and two sets of extra clothing in marked boxes, we have been instructed to make sure everything is labeled indelibly with her name.

Easier said than done. I've discovered that masking tape is a one-day deal and Sharpie marks disappear when you run a sippy cup through the dishwasher. And in this age of tagless t-shirts, where am I supposed to write my daughter's name?

Enter Mabel's Labels. The company, founded by four equally frustrated Canadian moms, makes a variety of different personalized labels. They sent me a sample of their classic sticky labels, which I pasted onto Z's sippy cups and sent along to daycare. Two weeks of daily trips through the dishwasher, and none of the labels are any worse of the wear. Even our daycare provider is impressed!

Mabel's also makes classic iron-on labels for clothing, as well as a stick-on clothing label for the parent too time-pressed for pressing. Container Store fanatics will go nuts for the household label packages; there's a set for crafters, one for cord control and neat freak kit that lets you put a colorful, cute label every last one of those spice jars and 30 gallon plastic tubs.

I haven't caught the cutesy labeling bug, so I'll leave my storage bins marred with masking tape. But I will be ordering clothing and shoe labels before September comes.

Not without my doula

Check out my Chicago Moms Blog post on how Tricia has got me singing the praises of doulas to everymommy.

It's blogtastic

It's going to take me a little while to comb through my swag bags, digest everything I learned at the panel discussions and check out links to the all bloggers I've met, but I'm happy to say I made it BlogHer with a newborn and a mild case of bronchitis!

One week old Baby A was a super conference attendee (and by far the youngest one there). With her on my lap, there was no possiblity of live blogging the event, but I think she successfully igniting baby lust in all the women who came over to admire her. Perhaps we'll see a BlogHer baby boom in 9 months?

Anyway, check out Beth's pics from last night's Chicago Moms Blog/Silicon Valley Moms Blog pre-BlogHer party.

Gasp, BlogHer's almost here!

The world's coolest female bloggers are descending on my fair city for the BlogHer conference tomorrow, and honestly I'm a little bit panicked. It's intimidating enough to see my favorite bloggers in the flesh and potentially talk to women I've only communicated with via comments sections and email, but socializing and attending panel discussions just one week after giving birth? It feels crazy.

Baby A is a boobaholic and we've given the old Over the Shoulder Baby Holder a dry run, but neither of us has that cool nursing on the go know-how that comes when the kid can latch on by herself and--I don't know--hold up her own head! I'm afraid all anyone will remember of me from BlogHer is my nipples. Plus, do I bring a stroller? It seems like too much bulk, but I'm afraid I'm going to look like a bag lady if I try to juggle an infant, a sling, a diaper bag full of clothing changes and try to collect business cards, product samples and tchotckes. (There will be samples and tchotckes, right? It is a conference after all.)

But before the conference gets going, I get to have dinner with my fellow Chicago Moms Bloggers as well as many of the contributors to the Silicon Valley Moms Blog. I'm sure I'll look really cool and put together what with my poochy postpartum tummy and enormous, leaky breasts. What am I wearing? Whatever fits and camouflages spit-up.

New baby pictures

Who does she look like?

She looks like herself.

Entirely edible piggies

See even more pictures by clicking on my Flickr link.

Boppy for big sister

I'm sure hundreds of parents have figured this one out before, but I discovered a fantastic way to help big sister Z hold her new baby sister. I place a Boppy pillow around her waist while she is seated on the couch. Baby A nestles perfectly on her big sister's tiny lap and I don't have to worry about my two-year-old providing adequate head support for the newborn.

Z loves using the Boppy because she sees me using it so frequently for nursing. In fact, if Baby A starts to fuss, Z runs and fetches me the Boppy and a tube of Lanisoh ("purple cream") and demands I feed the baby right away.

Book review: Body, Soul and Baby

What happens when Parent Bloggers Network asks a heavily pregnant woman for her take on Body, Soul and Baby: A Doctor's Guide to the Compete Pregnancy Experience, from Preconception to Postpartum? You get a personally invested book reviewer who skims over the first half of the book before delving deeply into the chapters on the third trimester, labor and the postpartum period.

Pregnancy--and childbirth in particular--is an intensely personal experience, and I'm writing this just days after delivering my daughter. So my perspective on Dr. Tracy W. Gaudet's book is definitely colored by how close I am to the subject matter.

As the Director of the Duke Center for Integrative Medicine, and Dr. Gaudet approaches the pregnancy experience holistically. Unlike so many pregnancy guides--be them books or online resources--she doesn't treat pregnancy as merely a physical condition. Instead, she offers insight into the emotional journey of pregnancy, childbirth and the postpartum period. While she covers the physical aspects of pregnancy and fetal development in great detail, her focus is always on the expectant woman, and she reminds us at every stage to tune into ourselves, to check in on our feelings and expectations.

But that's not to say Body, Soul and Baby glosses over facts in favor of feelings. Dr. Gaudet thoroughly covers every part of the pregnancy experience with the authority of an experienced physician and someone both knowledgeable and accepting of alternative and complementary therapies like acupuncture and hypnotherapy. It's an exhaustive resource book with information on everything: nutrition, prenatal screening, potential complications, childbirth options, pain management, you name it. Every option is presented respectfully, a refreshing alternative to both the overly medicalized approaches to pregnancy and the scolding, holier-than-thou tones marring the alternative birthing movement. Still, as someone who birthed with a midwife, I felt the author was somewhat dismissive of midwife care, and I personally disagreed with how quickly she writes off water birth and eating food during labor (thanks, but I don't think popsicles and ice chips would have kept me going during my 25 hour drug-free labor).

I read the postpartum chapters through the fog of my own hormone-fueled tears, and I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate her reminders to own my birth, committing the occasion to memory and reflecting on the accomplishment. Dr. Gaudet doesn't treat the period after birth as a mere footnote--she dedicates a good portion of the book to this sensitive time in a new mother's life. When everyone else has shifted their attention to the new baby, she helps moms continue to focus on caring for themselves.

See what other moms had to say about the book and leave a comment for your chance to win an autographed copy!

Five days old

I've avoided writing because I'm not sure from minute to minute what I want to say about these first few days as a mother of two. Sleeplessness, hormones and a feeling of being completely overwhelmed conspire to keep me in tears at least a few times a day, but I'm fortunate to have the support of Josh and my friends (who've all been there before).

And some of the tears I've shed have been tears of joy. I feel like my heart is exploding with love for both of my children. I worried that I couldn't love another child as much as my firstborn, but I can and I do. Just looking at Baby A leaves me with a powerful lump in my throat.

I look forward to spending the next month or so figuring out how to be a family of four.

She's here!

After 25 long hours of labor, Ada Lorraine arrived Tuesday night at 10:18pm. She weighed 8 lbs, 1 oz at birth and she measures 20 inches long. She's got brown hair, gray-blue eyes and she's absolutely perfect.

And because so many people are dying to know the details, here's the birth story. (Feel free to skip it if birth stories aren't your thing.)

I felt my first surges (contractions) shortly after going to bed Monday night around 9:30. They were coming every 10 minutes for half an hour, but I was worried it might be more false labor so I ran a hot bath and poured myself a glass of wine. By 11pm it was clear this was the real thing, so I headed downstairs to call my doula. I couldn't get through to her for an hour, but I was managing all right alone. I woke Josh for support around 12:30 and Tricia came over close to 2am, at while point my surges were 7-8 minutes apart and harder to manage.

I put myself in Tricia's hands, asking her for position suggestions and having her help me breath through the pain. Most of the night passed in a blur. Josh and Tricia called the midwives at 4am and Julie advised us to come into the office at 9am to check the baby on the monitors and see my progress. Low and behold, when we made it to the office I was 6cm dialated and ready to be admitted to the hospital's Alternative Birthing Center.

But that's where things got tough. I made use of the labor tub, the birth ball and a variety of different laboring positions, but from 10am to 5pm my surges got stronger and stronger but I wasn't making much progress. I was only 7 1/2cm dialated. I hadn't slept since Sunday night, I was tired of Gatorade and cheese and crackers, and I was getting discouraged. I was beginning to think I wanted to throw in the towel on natural childbirth, get an epidural and go to sleep. But fortunately Josh, my doula and my midwife conspired to keep me on track, and we all agreed that if breaking my water bag and nipple stimulation didn't result in any additional progress, we could talk interventions.

Fortunately, they worked. By 7pm I was 9 1/2 cm dialated, reinvigorated and ready to move Ada into the world. I hopped back into the laboring tub and breathed her down (kind of a soft pushing) for a couple of hours. When the tub water got cold and the pressure increased, I asked to use the birthing stool. Sitting on the stool felt right; gravity was going to help me birth my baby. And indeed, after some manageable contractions I felt a big surge and an enormous need to push. And one huge, animalistic push was all it took. Ada came out wailing and Julie caught her and immediately placed on my chest. She earned perfect Apgar scores and Josh held her as I delivered the placenta, Julie took cord blood for donation and checked me out for collateral damage (I needed a few stitches). Ada nursed shortly after birth and we headed to the maternity ward for some much needed sleep around 11:30.

I'm thrilled I managed to have the drug-free VBAC I wanted, but I couldn't have done it without Josh and the support of the midwife, nurses and my doula, Tricia Fitzgerald. Doula services and Tricia in particular will be the subject of a future post.

In labor

Eleven hours of labor at home, heading into my midwife's office shortly.

Who me, late?

Fashionably late is not my style. I'm not a procrastinator. I never put off to the last minute what I can accomplish far ahead of schedule. I don't miss deadlines, planes or the best food at a cocktail party. I only pulled one all-nighter in my collegiate life, and it was because I didn't feel like knew the material well enough--not because I hadn't read the book yet.

So sitting around pregnant two days after my official due date is torture. Not because I'm big and swollen and I can't roll out of bed without assistance. Because I feel like I'm letting everyone down. It feels like by not having this baby "on time" or early, I'm missing some important deadline. I've come to dread hearing the phone ring because I know the first words out of Josh's mouth are going to be, "No, not yet." Like somehow we went ahead and had the baby and forgot to let anyone know!

Well I've got news for you folks: I'm not officially post-due until two weeks after my due date. The question is whether my midwives will let me go that long before inducing or scheduling a repeat c-section.

Rockin' my due date

Yesterday came and went without the arrival of number two, but it wasn't for lack of effort. I decided there could be no less convenient place to go into labor than a rock show, so I packed Z into our new stroller and took the El to meet Josh at the Pitchfork Music Festival in Union Park.

Pelvic pain had me waddling around like a caricature of a heavily pregnant woman, but I was lucky enough to get to stay in the VIP area, which offered room to spread out our blanket and free Chipotle and ice cream to eat. What it didn't technically offer is flush toilets, and Z refused to "go potty on the poo-poo" in a port-a-potty. Fortunately Josh's connections won us an escorted trip into the Field House where artists could enjoy the luxury of modern facilities.

On the way home, I hoped that one of the other riders might help me carry the stroller down the steep train station steps while I helped Z down. But the only person who paid us any mind was a certifiably crazy old lady who berated me for not asking her for help. She started yelling something about how I wouldn't ask her because she was Black, but little did I know she's "married to a white doctor" and her name is "Laura Bush."

Anyway, I thought all the stress and exertion might have paid off when I started having contractions around 2am last night. But it was false labor that went away after I'd walked around, used the bathroom and had a snack. But maybe today will be the day; I'm feeling pretty crampy and sore this morning.

BP isn't doing a little better here

BP (formerly British Petroleum, now Beyond Petroleum) has done a great job of pitching itself as an environmentally friendly oil company. But if their behavior in our backyard is any indication, I think their efforts are looking suspiciously like greenwashing. The Chicago Tribune today is reporting that Indiana is allowing the company to dump even more toxic chemicals into Lake Michigan:

"The company will now be allowed to dump an average of 1,584 pounds of ammonia and 4,925 pounds of sludge into Lake Michigan every day. The additional sludge is the maximum allowed under federal guidelines." Ammonia--in addition to smelling like death itself--promotes algae blooms that can kill fish, while sludge is full of concentrated heavy metals.

Ick.

Which formula company loves me best?

Those who know me well may be surprised to find I gave my name and due date to all three major formula companies. After all, I'm a dedicated supporter of breastfeeding. Heck, I returned to work with a pump over my arm and nursed Z for a full year.

But the marketer in me knows that no one's mastered direct mail and relationship marketing quite like the baby milk manufacturers. By signing up for their "clubs,' I get to see their techniques up close and personal. And I get free coupons and samples which I can pass along to friends or put to use when I eventually start supplementing!

To even the playing field, I signed up for Similac's Welcome Addition Club, Enfamil Family Beginnings and Nestle Good Start's Very Best Baby in the same manner, online. I joined each program on February 3rd, and I honestly answered their surveys (second child, breastfeeding with some supplementation, due date of July 14...)

All three programs sent me periodic emails on pregnancy and baby's development, most of which I dutifully ignored. Then the good stuff came. Nestle was first to my mailbox with a cardbox mailer containing two high-value formula checks and a DVD on baby care. I passed the checks along to a neighbor since I've never used Nestle and they didn't have generous expiration dates anyway. But my two year old likes nothing better than to watch the somewhat clinical film's chapters on diapering, bathing and soothing baby. Go figure!

A month or so later I got package from Similac containing more formula checks and two small sample cartons of Similac--regular and soy. I'm sure I'll end up giving the soy formula away since I never used it with Z.

But the best came last: today Enfamil delivered two full size canisters of Enfamil Lipil along with a formula check and the requisite pamphlet on feeding.

So I'm going to have to conclude that Enfamil loves me best. At least until I check into West Suburban Hospital, which has a contract with Similac. Meaning I'll likely get more samples and an ugly diaper bag upon checkout.

And if last go round was any indication, the love doesn't end with birth. I can expect to receive formula checks in the mail for a year!

So green you could puke?

Emily Bazelon's Slate essay Is our family annoying because we own a Prius? is mostly a humor piece, but it raises an interesting issue: by instilling green habits in our children and explaining the very real reasons behind why we reduce, reuse and recycle, are we in danger of creating children as irritatingly self-righteous as those raised in ultra-religious or--G-d forbid--racist households?

No one wants to hear a lecture from a kid on a high horse, be it on how he is headed for an eternity of hellfire because he hasn't accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior or how we're headed for a hellish future on an overheated planet because she drinks bottled water shipped in from Fiji and doesn't even recycle the containers.

So far I haven't managed to mold my 2-year-old into an eco-snob. She knows where we put our recyclables, but turning on the lights and the water at the tap is simply too much fun. And while I've read about the Bisphenol-A in clear plastic baby bottles, when the time comes, I feel it is just as eco-conscious to reuse Z's old Avent bottles than invest in fresh mess of Born Free or glass baby bottles.

Which makes me wonder, does feeding your baby from a Born Free bottle or dressing her in an organic, unbleached bamboo onesie have the same badge appeal driving a Prius? It certainly advertises your eco-mama mindset better than hand-me-downs. But the second-hand goods leave a much smaller environmental footprint.

I'm still here

I visited the midwives again this morning. I'm one more centimeter dilated and my cervix is pretty thin, but Julie refused to guess when this baby might arrive. She gave me a worksheet full of natural tricks for inducing labor but warned me that none of them will work unless the baby is ready to go. Still, we stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some Evening Primrose Oil and Red Raspberry Leaf tea.

I'm not going to get impatient until my due date (July 14) passes. Until then, I'll just keep busy with household projects and get back into the kitchen again. I'm a little rusty behind the stove since Josh took over cooking duty a year ago.

I take some consolation in knowing I'm not alone. The author of the VBAC Adventure blog is four days overdue and going a little crazy.

Not our one and only for long

Dear Z,

You're going to be a big sister soon. You know that, at least on some level. But do you know how much your baby sister is going to rock your world? I know you'll love hugging and kissing her, helping with the baths and the diapers and examining all her tiny little features. You'll want to show her off to your friends and ride together in our new double stroller.

What you won't want to do is share Mommy. I see the green flash in your eyes when I've got another child in my arms or on my lap. You've started pretending to be a baby and you even asked yesterday, "Is it okay if I say I don't want a baby sister?"

You're going to get extra special Daddy time (over and above what he already dedicates to you), and I fear you're not going to relish it. Instead, I worry my heart will be wrenched in two. I'll have your younger sister attached to the boob while you scream "Mommy do it!" as Daddy or Nanny run the bath/cut your food/take you to the park.

But you'll adjust, and it will ultimately be good for you. Having a sibling is a lifelong exercise in learning to share. Take it one big sister to another: your little sister will steal Mommy's attention. She'll steal your toys. Your diary. And your friends. Sometimes she'll be your worst enemy. But more often she'll be your best friend. Your built-in playmate. Someone who admires you (but will never admit it).

So remember to think of all that stealing as sharing. Because chances are you'll be sharing your lives together long after your parents leave the picture.

Yes, I'm still pregnant

I'm afraid to pick up the phone and call anyone for fear they'll assume I've given birth. Yes, I know I'm disappointing friends and family by not going into labor, but this time baby's coming on her own schedule.

Are you ready to pop?

If you're asking whether I'm ready to have this baby, the answer is yes. Particularly now. Three months ago? Not so much.

Besides, laboring women don't pop out their babies. Even a lightning fast c-section requires some serious preparation and equipment. My stomach might be big, but there's a baby, fluid and a whole lot of gunky stuff in there. I don't want it to pop. Unless, of course, that means my stomach would instantly deflate.

There are dozens of annoying questions people ask us when we're pregnant or pushing around a new baby.

"Is the nursery set up?" No.
"Does Z know what's going on?" Yes.
"Is she sleeping through the night?" What matters is whether I'm sleeping through the night. "Don't you just love being a mommy?" If I didn't, do you think I'd tell you?

It's enough to make you wish you could just hand them this.
This entry is part of a Parent Bloggers Network's Blog Blast. Hear what other moms had to say by clicking here.

I'm a Freecycling fiend

I joined the Oak Park, Illinois mailing list for Freecycle, one of over 4000 loosely organized groups dedicated to giving away and getting free stuff. Imagine an even more intimate Craigslist without any profit motives.

I've been giving stuff away on Freecycle for a few months now (everything from a too-tall dresser to a six-pack of Pedialyte), but I never seemed to have the quick trigger finger necessary to nap someone else's goodies. Until now. I was second in line for a Boppy pillow and a bag full of nursing bras, and when the first Freecycler failed to show up, I scored. Surprisingly enough, the bras are in good shape and they fit, saving me somewhere in the neighborhood of $100!

While many Freecyclers give away items of value, it is also a good way to find takers for stuff you might otherwise place in the trash. Think about it--there's no reason foam packing peanuts and moving boxes can't get a couple more uses before they're destined for the dump or recycling center. And plenty of folks use Freecycle to find the materials they need for hobbies and craft projects. I've seen offer and wanted postings for clean baby food jars, plant cuttings and leftover wood, sand and mulch.

It's sites like this that demonstrate the community-building powers of the internet and reinforce my faith in humanity. Hurray for Freecycle!

Maternity leave

Today is my last day in the office for at least three months, maybe four. I had planned to work through Friday, but with labor seeming somewhat imminent, I think it's prudent to wrap things up and head home to stock up on sleep. Besides, it seems I've lost my mind and my productivity has taken a nose dive. Maybe that's my brain pressing down on my pelvis?

I'm really looking forward to this maternity leave. I feel like the timing couldn't be better. I'll get to enjoy my two children and all that Oak Park and the greater Chicago area have to offer in the summertime, and I'll be around for Z's transition into preschool this September. But best of all, I'll get to enjoy the company of two other working moms whose maternity leaves coincide with mine! It's a far cry from my first maternity leave. Z was born just as winter settled in. The neighbors were inside, the parks were empty, and until I attended a new moms group at Parenthesis, I didn't know any other women in my position.

I feel lucky that we can swing a couple of months of unpaid leave. Plenty of women head back to work shortly after giving birth because they can't afford not to. As I've mentioned on this blog before, I hope paid family leave becomes an issue in the upcoming election. As it stands, the U.S. is one of only five countries out of 173 in a McGill University survey that does not guarantee some form of paid maternity leave. The others are Lesotho, Liberia, Swaziland and Papua New Guinea.

Tick-tock, tick-tock

My midwife predicted I'll be having this baby within the next week. Hurray!

Weekend update: Morton Arboretum

Four playgroup families met up at the Morton Arboretum for some splashy fun in their amazing Children's Garden Sunday morning. Z had a blast and actually conked out in the car on the way home, something she never does.

Kidnapped kid hits close to home

Our tightly-knit community was abuzz yesterday afternoon as word quickly spread that a 6-year-old blond girl had gone missing from her backyard about three blocks from our house. By this morning we'd heard through the neighbor grapevine which girl it was and that she'd been found about 7 miles away, in Northwest Chicago.

She had indeed been taken by a stranger, but she appears to have been unharmed. The news I'd heard this morning was that she escaped from his car when he pulled into a gas station and found a mailman, asking him for help. But this report in the Wednesday Journal tells a slightly different story.

A truly frightening story, particularly in a village where parents feel comfortable letting their children run up and down the street with minimal supervision. I'm so thankful our backyard doesn't face an alley.

Looking for an answer to a sticky situation

Will someone please invent a fruit sticker adhesive that doesn't leave a sticky residue behind or--worse yet--rip the fruit's tender skin right off?

What I've been reading

Three weeks ago I checked three books out from the library. On the surface, they couldn't have been more different. One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding chronicles the enormously profitable bridal industry, Infidel is the memoir of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a Somali refugee who finds success and political clout in the Netherlands, and in The Feminine Mistake: Are We Giving Up Too Much?, journalist Leslie Bennetts argues that working women who give up their careers for their families are sacrificing their financial and emotional independence.

Yet all three of these new releases share a rather empowering feminist message, a warning against letting women quietly slip into the roles expected of them by society--be it the princess model of the bridal industry, the patriarchal expectations of a tribal society or the right-wing fueled sanctimommy madness of today's culture of extreme parenting.

If you've already tied the knot, you can probably skip One Perfect Day (although it's an interesting read). Infidel offers a rivetingly critical glimpse of Islam from within and The Feminine Mistake is a must read for any woman. Leslie Bennetts has caused a lot of controversy--particularly among women who haven't actually read the book--but her work is well-researched. Her words are comforting to those of us who've felt guilty about being working moms and her advice to women who are taking time off from their careers is solid.

Lose the heat, catch the beat

Temps in Chicago have fallen dramatically. Calm, cloudy and cool weather has replaced the icky, sticky heat and afternoon downpours of the last couple of days. Which means I just might have to pack a sweatshirt for tonight's free concert at Millennium Park.

We're packing a picnic for an Afro Beat show at the incomparable Pritzker Pavilion. Fela Kuti's son Seun will be playing with Egypt 80, the same 22-piece band that backed his dad in the 1970s.

We'll be keeping Z up past her bedtime for this special event. Good practice for July 4th, when she just may get to see her first Independence Day Fireworks display.

External Cephalic Version: It worked!

After trying everything under the sun to get my second breech baby to turn head down, I went to the hospital this morning for an ECV. A lot of people aren't familiar with this procedure, so I thought I'd relate my experience for family, friends and all the pregnant women out there who are researching their options.

My midwife advised me to spend the weekend and Monday drinking lots of water so that I would have plenty of amniotic fluid, which I did. I had my last meal and drink before bed last night on the off-chance baby wouldn't tolerate the procedure and I would need to have an emergency C-section.

At 8am, I checked into the labor and delivery ward at West Suburban Hospital. There, I was told to get naked under a hospital gown and pee in a cup. The nurses attached me to fetal and maternal monitors, took my temperature and blood pressure and drew some blood. I was also hooked up to an IV. After about an hour, the staff determined baby was happy and healthy and I was having a few mild contractions.

Dr. Tong ordered a shot of a uterine relaxant, which made my heart race (and undid the relaxed state I'd managed to get into by listening to my Hypnobirthing script), but Josh helpfully massaged me back to a calm state. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Tong took a look at baby's position on an ultrasound. He predicted turning baby toward my right side would be most successful and they got started. Dr. Tong's hands did most of the pushing, pulling and prodding, with some assistance from Hillary, my midwife. Or so I'm guessing. I was focusing on relaxing my belly and breathing through the discomfort, which wasn't unbearable by any means--more like a really rough massage.

After every quarter turn, Dr. Tong would pause to check the head's position on the ultrasound and the baby's heart rate with the heart rate monitor. After a few checks, it became clear to all of us that this was really going to work. I opened my eyes and grinned at Josh through the last few motions.

Hillary and one of the nurses put on an abdominal binder (a post-natal support belt I'd purchased at Babies R Us) to help keep baby down, and Josh and I stuck around for an additional hour of monitoring.

As we were leaving, a nursing assistant said to me, "So, did baby turn?" I answered yes and she replied with, "Really? I've never seen one work before."

So that's it! We're keeping our fingers crossed that baby stays vertex and we're able to have the VBAC we've been hoping for.

Southwest Airlines: I think I'm in LUV

Apparently customer service is not dead, even in the much maligned airline industry. Quite the opposite. You see, on June 18th, Southwest Airlines took a poor customer experience, one which was due to a situation out of their control, and made the best of it. A thunderstorm threatened the Chicago area and air traffic controllers put a stop to all north and westbound flights, including our Chicago to Omaha route. We boarded our plane at 3:15pm for a 3:30 flight, but we ended up sitting on the tarmac for a full three hours.

Now a three hour delay for an 80 minute flight is exceptional, and since I was 36 weeks pregnant and traveling with a 2 1/2 year old to a funeral, it wasn't fun either. But my husband and I appreciated the crew's attitude. Every 15-20 minutes, the pilot would update the passengers on the situation and give us a revised estimate of when he thought we might take off. The flight attendants handed out water, peanuts and pretzels and did their best to entertain the unaccompanied minors across the aisle.

But while the behavior of Southwest employees on 2081 kept me from swearing off flying the discount airline ever again, the letter we received from Southwest has forever cemented my loyalty to the company. You see, they sent us unsolicited apologies along with a $75 travel voucher for each traveler.

Here's an excerpt from the letter, which was dated just three days after the flight:

"[W]e truly regret you had this unfortunate experience, and we would like to have another opportunity to provide you with better memories of Southwest Airlines. In this spirit, I have enclosed a LUV Voucher that we invite you to apply toward the purchase of a future reservation with us. Of course, this goodwill gesture may not offset the total amount of each person's inconvenience, but I hope it will be accepted as our acknowledgement of the frustrations created by this situation."

Did every passenger get this treatment or did we qualify because we're Rapid Rewards members who purchased full price tickets (the only fares available on one day's notice)? I don't know, but I hope we aren't the only ones feeling the love.

And there you have it. Thanks to Southwest's unexpected, authentic gesture, I'm spreading positive word-of-mouth for a company that I could just have easily been complaining about.

Stroller lust

We've found the ultimate double stroller.

The Phil and Teds Sport Buggy can work as a single stroller for an infant or a toddler, a double stroller for a toddler and a baby or a double stroller for two toddlers. Yet it's no bigger than a regular jogging stroller. It does cost a pretty penny (at least $425). But I want it. In lime.

A crazy morning on the El

I board the Blue Line at Oak Park, which means that just north of the platform there are six lanes of expressway traffic whizzing by, three in each direction.

This morning a teal colored Dodge Neon pulled onto the left shoulder of the westbound traffic. A young olive-skinned man in an American flag t-shirt, shorts and a black cap with flaps hopped out of the passenger side and bounded over the fence separating the westbound lanes from the eastbound lanes. Then he dodged cars and trucks headed into the city and scaled the fence between the expressway and the El tracks. Hopping over the tracks, he hoisted himself up onto the platform, jumped onto a series of benches and took off his shirt (he had another one on underneath). He waved his t-shirt triumphantly for a minute as a train pulled into the station.

Then he retraced his steps, jumping off the CTA platform, skipping over the third rail, scaling fences and dodging cars before getting back into the passenger seat. At which point his female driving companion pulled back into traffic, giggling.

Was it a dare? Did he just feel like doing some crazy sh*t at 8 o'clock in the morning? I have no idea. And the conductor of the westbound El train who witnessed most of his antics? He didn't give a damn.

Have the terrible twos arrived?

Z threw one hell of a tantrum at nap time this afternoon. Apparently limiting her to merely three library books was completely unacceptable. When I came back and offered one more book, she triple freaked out--crying, throwing herself on the bed and on the floor, hugging me and pushing me, all the while screaming "No one book. All the books!"

It took her a full half an hour to realize I wasn't budging. I read her one last book and she closed her eyes.

Why, oh why do they have to make life so difficult? So dramatic? Most of us grown-ups would give our right arm for a daily siesta.

Please excuse me

I received a jury summons from the Circuit Court of Cook County yesterday. They would like me to show up at the Daley Center on July 13 at 9:30am. That's one day before my due date.

Last time I received a summons I ended up finding a man guilty of murder for killing his neighbor over a $20 drug deal gone bad.

This time I asked my midwife to write me an excuse note.

Sheer exhaustion

Traveling to a loved one's funeral on one day's notice is hard enough. But doing it 36 weeks pregnant in 90 degree weather with a newly potty-trained, non-napping toddler in tow...now that's a recipe for exhaustion. Add in a 3 hour flight delay, wickedly swollen feet and sleeping on an air mattress one night and a couch the next, and you'll understand why I went to bed last night shortly after putting a tearful, overtired Z down at 7:30.

In spite of my grief, it was wonderful seeing my family come together to celebrate Grandma Lorraine's remarkable life. She was the magnet that has keep us connected all these years, and I hope her absence won't mean seeing a lot less of my aunt, uncle and cousins.

And speaking of cousins, Z couldn't get enough of her 8-year-old second cousin Lindsay. She shadowed her every move, picking up good things (like dressing herself and letting me put her hair up) and bad (Bratz dolls).

Book review: Garage Sale America

One man's trash is another man's treasure. It's a cliche, sure, but it's true. Even within our throwaway culture, many of us are happy to pick through someone else's belongings in search of something we could use.

I'm a moderately avid yard saler. I'm not hardcore enough to hit distant estate sales with a fanny pack full of ones, but I do circle a handful of listings in our local paper's classified section and stop by a few on the way to the farmers market in search of baby clothes and kiddie toys, books and gear. Every week there's at least one block sale in Oak Park. And every block sale has at least one family with a highchair, bouncy seat and baby swing parked on the front lawn.

So when Parent Bloggers Network invited me to take a look at Bruce Littlefield's Garage Sale America, I was happy to pick up a few tips from an real expert. What I found was a photo-packed brag book of super scores and kitchy collectibles with a handful of helpful hints thrown in. I liked his tips for getting a good deal and the too-short section on how to host your own sale. And I loved the chapter on the World's Longest Yard Sale, if only because it was a trip down memory lane.

I actually shopped about 150 miles of the 450-mile-long U.S. 127 Sale in 2004. For work, no less. I was the creative brain behind a partnership between Suave and the Style Network's The Look for Less, so I got to watch four women compete for the title of America's Smartest Shopper (by creating outfits exclusively from yard sale finds) and I was given a huge pile of cash to spend on prizes for a related sweepstakes. It was an unbelievable event: mile after mile and table after table of stuff, priced from a nickel up to $5000. Old baby clothes, farmhouse furniture, guns, tools and vintage cars. Everything was for sale and every car held shoppers. I don't think traffic ever picked up beyond 30 miles per hour.

But back to real life. I probably won't become a collector of vintage anything (sorry Bruce), but after reading Garage Sale America's section on design, I am going to try to keep my eyes peeled for unexpected items can be worked into our decor.

That, and a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe.

Goodbye Grandma

My Martini Grandma passed away this morning. It's sad news to start my birthday with, but it's what she wanted, so for that I'm relieved. We'll be in Omaha for the funeral.

My Martini Grandma

That's what my friends call Grandma Lorraine. She earned her nickname for her particular love for martinis--not the trendy vodka 'tinis of my generation, but the old school gin and vermouth martinis. Served in a stem glass. And garnished with olives. Wait staff who got it wrong got it sent back.

She expected a martini at 4pm (cocktail hour), and if you let her have more than one, you'd better stay out of her way. I don't think I ever saw her drunk, but I've seen her get feisty and belligerent about the issues she cared about (she's a fierce defender of liberal politics and Israel).

Grandma Lorraine turns 88 today, but it's looking like this will be her last birthday. She's dying of cancer and has been in and out of hospice care this week.

Growing up, I celebrated most of my birthdays with Grandma L. Our birthdays are only two days apart, and we spent a lot of summers visiting relatives in Omaha. Birthdays with Grandma Lorraine meant dressing up for a restaurant dinner (usually in an over-cooled Italian restaurant with a salad bar) and a shared cake. The parking lots were always blisteringly hot.

I know she's ready to check out, but I can't quite get my head wrapped around the fact that Grandma likely won't meet her latest great-grandchildren. But like the brown cigarettes she used to smoke (were they Mores?), she's forever burned into my memory. And I'll share those memories with my children.

She drove tank-like American cars (although her last car was a Toyota). She favored leisurewear, clip-on earrings and chunky necklaces. Her homes were decorated with original art, which ranged from strikingly contemporary to pop-art to clown sculptures. For many years she rode motorcycles with her husband, my Grandpa Bob. She campaigned for Governor McCarthy and spoke out against the Vietnam war. When Grandpa was dying from prostate cancer, she shocked the preteen me by telling me now much she missed their "very active sex life." After he passed away, she had boyfriends, no easy feat when the women outnumber the men 10 to 1.

She didn't just play bridge, she won at bridge. She kept her brain engaged with crossword puzzles and Sudoku. She was into yoga long before it was trendy, and I doing headstands on beach towels next to her king size waterbed.

Grandma Lorraine wasn't a milk and cookies grandma. In fact, I never liked her cooking. But I have many fond memories of playing cards with her or letting her give me a manicure (she had an enormous toolkit of polishes, files, cuticle potions and lotions).

Happy Birthday, Grandma. And cheers!

Grab a Kleenex

I'm not the Chicken Soul for the Soul type, but my eyes welled up for this truly inspiring bit of television.

Gifts for new parents

My sister finally updated her blog and reiterated what most new mothers know: the best baby visitors come armed with food. But there are other nice things we can do for bewildered and sleep-deprived moms and dads: just check out the comments section of this Ask Moxie post.

Personally, I'm not the most creative gift-giver. But I am practical. Most of my friends have received a bag of newborn diapers, a hot meal or two and toy or activity to occupy the older sibling. Hospital visits warrant a plant or footie pajamas.

But the Ask Moxie suggestions have me feeling more inspired. Why not replace that mac and cheese casserole with a variety of sandwich fixings or a fruit salad? What parent wouldn't love it if you'd run to the grocery store and pick up a week's worth of necessities? We were thrilled to shop the farmers market for our friends Deb and Andy when their daughter arrived last August.

So what do I wish for come next month? Delivery of healthy, wholesome munchies that are quick to prep: good breads and cheeses, fresh fruit and juices. An outing or focused playtime for my toddler. A pair of arms to hold my newborn while I get stuff done around the house. A friend to accompany us on those first big outings: to Scoville Park to see a concert, to the Brookfield Zoo, to the pool. And diapers. You can't have too many diapers.

Parent and hacker

I'm a huge fan of Asha Dornfest's Parenthacks, and I contributed my own parenting tip to her site ages ago, back when we were moving Z from a crib to a toddler bed. But I'll enjoy my moment of fame anyway. Check my very own Parenthack.

I'll try anything

Headstands in the pool? Check. Lying on my back with a bunch of pillows under my butt? Check. Listening to Hypnobirthing scripts? Sitting on an exercise ball? Chiropractic's Webster Technique? Check, check and check.

At 35 weeks pregnant with my second breech baby, it seemed the only thing I hadn't tried was acupuncture, so on my midwife's insistence, now I'm giving that a go too. See the picture of the needle in my pinkie toe? We're complementing the professional poking with moxibustion at home, which means all of our neighbors think we've been lighting up a bong at sunset.

I'm really hoping this little girl decides to get with the program and turn head down. I really don't want another C-section.

If I'm still presenting as breech in a couple of weeks, I'll let them attempt an external version. And if that doesn't work, I'll settle for the section, knowing I've done everything I possibly could to avoid it.

Welcome Baby Abby

Our friends Gloria and Eric welcomed Abigael to the world early Wednesday morning after only 3 hours of labor!

Abigael is a real beauty and the spitting image of her big sister Lia (Z's BFF). Visiting Baby Abby was the highlight of Z's day, and I think she's really excited about the arrival of her own baby sister.

And the timing couldn't be better for me and Gloria! We'll have two daughters with playmates less than 2 months apart in age.

Potty training boot camp, day 10

Success! We haven't had an accident since Wednesday and Z happily tells us when she needs to use the potty. She's #1 with number one and will manage number two, albeit with much more trepidation and reluctance. She's peed inside, outside, in our house and at a friend's house. She's used her little floor potty and big toilets with a kiddie seat insert. She hasn't yet managed to go the bathroom while we're out and about, but she's very interested in checking out the toilets at restaurants and grocery stores.

Sometimes she asks for a reward (she's back to preferring candy to nail polish), but most of the time she doesn't. She's even learned the importance of going to the potty before we go somewhere.

Like sleep training and the transition from a crib to a toddler bed, I felt like this was as much of a milestone for us as parents than it was for Z. And, just like those previous milestones, this one doesn't seem like as big a deal/ordeal as it when it was still looming. Sure, the first three or four days were frustrating, but like everything else we've learned, tailoring your approach to your kid's personality helps a lot, but consistency is absolutely key. It's been tempting to put her in a Pull-Up for outings, but we've resisted giving her one for any time but sleepy time. Instead, we started out carrying about lots of underpants and a few changes of clothes. Now the bag formerly known as diaper has a Ziploc bag with a complete change of clothes in it. Which--knock on wood--we haven't needed yet.

I love Millennium Park

It may have cost Chicago millions of dollars in cost overruns and opened a few years after the millennium, but Millennium Park brings together fine public art, music, food and kid-friendly fun. I played hooky for a couple of hours today and I think Z had a blast.

Who has time for hobbies?

Not me, that's for sure.

ReadyMade editor Tina Barseghian's Get a Hobby: 101 All-Consuming Diversions for Any Lifestyle has succeeded in making me feel woefully inadequate.

Potty training? Not a hobby. Reading library books on the El? Not a hobby. Making my own ice cream and topping it with melted peanut butter and Hershey's syrup? Somehow it didn't make the cut. But--wait a moment--blogging is included as a hobby! I have a hobby!

I used to have plenty of hobbies--artsy-craftsy stuff like drawing, knitting and pottery. I've even tried mosaics, silk-screening and sculpture. But reading about them makes me feel all the more guilty for abandoning them in favor of Deadwood marathons and that most precious of all pursuits, sleep.

But while full-time employment and early mommyhood has put a damper on my free time, I know it's only temporary. I plan to get back into knitting during my maternity leave (although I'm not promising to finish niece Eliza's b-o-r-i-n-g baby blanket), and I think I can find time to try out some of the smaller, low-investment ideas like olive oil infusing and beading.

Better yet, I can look forward to revisiting this book with my girls as they grow older. I'd love to involve them in composting, candy making, decoupage and rubber stamping.

But I'm definitely going to give falconry, fantasy sports leagues and model shipbuilding a pass.

See what other bloggers had to say about Get a Hobby and see how you can win a copy of the book plus a $100 Michael's gift card at Parent Bloggers Network.

But before you leave, I'd love to hear about your hobbies, past and present.

34 weeks pregnant

I haven't posted a belly shot for awhile, so feast your eyes on my hugeness!

Major potty training breakthrough

While Z didn't use the potty at day care yesterday or today, she's tinkled 3 times in the past 2 1/2 hours at home. The trick? Rewards she actually cares about. M&Ms weren't doing it. Cookies weren't doing it. Promises of a trip to the Aquarium weren't doing it.

But nail polish and the opportunity to watch Alice in Wonderland? Now that's some serious motivation. We're painting one toe or finger nail for each successful trip to the potty. OPI's I'm Not Really A Waitress, in case you were curious.

A little marketing magic

The online 'zine West Virginia Surf Report's Fast Food: Ads vs. Reality features an entertaining side-by-side comparison of fast food meals as shown in the advertising and actually served.

It should come as no big surprise that professional photographers and food stylists can make even mediocre food look appetizing. And while some might complain that making McDonald's burgers extra appealing for the ad is misleading, it is no more unfair than the equally common practice of styling and then retouching models after a photo shoot. You've probably seen how different celebrities look without makeup and advantageous lighting. And let me tell you, even the best skin cream can't give you the invisible pores a skilled digital artist can.

Early on in my career I remember learning why the best, most appetizing photos of pizza (think of that cheese pull) didn't show the whole pie. Turns out it isn't ethical to add extra cheese to a frozen pizza, but you can use a pair of tweezers to arrange all of the included cheese on the small area of the pizza you're shooting. And then it's on to blotting grease off the pepperoni!

Hungry yet?

Marketing Mommy sings the blues

Tired of potty training posts yet? I am, and I haven't even updated the masses on day 4 and the remainder of day 3.

Plus, I haven't had much chance to react to the news or post comments on my favorite blogs lately. With potty training taking up 100 percent of my brainpower at home and an enormous, time-sucking pitch taking up 125 percent of my time at work (goodbye work-life balance), I'm just sapped. Tapped dry and 34 weeks pregnant. And on top of everything else, baby's still breech.

The good news is that the end is in sight. I'm working for Wednesday.

Baby names

No, I'm not telling. In fact, Josh and I aren't 100 percent decided anyway. So don't ask.

Instead, head over to Nymbler, a new baby name website that lets you type in your top choice or choices and receive a list of alternate names you might like just as much. It's at least as much fun as looking up name popularity trends on Baby Name Voyager.

Potty training boot camp, day 3

The bad news is that every morning we start over again. The good news is that after Z's had an accident, she starts volunteering to use the potty.

Here's what I mean:
6:20am: wake up in a damp Pull-Up. No interest in using the potty.
8:30: Starts acting like she needs to go. Occasionally agrees to sit on the potty, but mostly whines and clings to me. Wants to be carried around.
9:30: Really acting like she needs to go. Sits on the potty for 15 minutes, but she's holding it in.
10:00: We leave for a playgroup brunch at Deb's house. Z still hasn't peed or had an accident. I line her carseat with a beach towel and she asks if she can "pee on the blanket." I say no, let's pee at Sammy's house.
10:15: We make it to the brunch without incident, but Z's not acting like herself. Super whiny and clingy with her legs crossed like pretzels.
10:20: Z slides off my lap and pees in her pants. We don't make it to the potty in time.
11:00: Z shouts "potty, potty" and we race toward it, but she slips in her own pee on Deb's kitchen floor. We make it to the potty in time to get a little bit in.
11:30: Z tells me she needs to go to the potty and this time we make it in time. Perhaps 2 drops are in her cotton training pants and the rest goes into the pot. Success!
No successful potty visits or visible accidents (although she is in her swimsuit for an hour) until naptime, when we put her in a Pull-Up.
3:15: She wakes up and tells us her Pull-Up is dry, which it is.

I think we're making progress, but this potty training thing? Not so much fun.

Potty training boot camp, day 2

Let's just say that by 10am this morning I was very tempted to throw in the towel on the whole potty training shebang. But Josh and I had promised each other we'd stick it out this time. We'd said goodbye to diapers and we meant it this time!

Despite being plied with juice and chocolate milk, Z refused to pee (even though it was obvious she needed to) from her 6am wake up until 9:30 in the morning. Tired of listening to her whimper, wail and refuse to sit on the potty without crossing her legs, we loaded the potty into the trunk and headed out to the farmer's market (we couldn't ignore the siren call of charity doughnuts any longer). Z refused to use the potty in the trunk, but as we were halfway home, she said, "Can I change into my Tinkerbell panties when I get home? Because my white underpants are wet." She'd had an accident in her car seat, but at least she wasn't holding it in any longer.

Josh left Z and I in the backyard for some pants-free running around (with her potty nearby) while he ran errands at Trader Joe's. He hadn't been gone 30 minutes before she said, "Diaper, diaper..." and grabbed her crotch. I told her to go ahead and sit on the potty, and she filled it right up! While I was on the phone with a friend, no less.

Then, about 45 minutes after our first success, Z started murmuring "diaper, diaper" again and looking uncomfortable. I guided her to the potty and this time she pooped and peed! Big, big success. She wasn't even interested in reward M&M's or stickers. She just said, "My body feels better now," and asked me if we could save the contents of her potty to show Daddy.

I don't think Josh has ever been so pleased to be faced with a bowl full of excrement.

Date night? Not tonight!

The last time Josh and I went on a date, we headed to La Piazza for dinner. And there, just as we'd finished our salads, my mobile phone rang. Z had just thrown up on the stairs. We got the rest of our dinner to go and headed home, where a feverish Z was already falling asleep in her bed.

Now we've got six weeks--give or take--to go on another date. Because once we throw a nursing newborn into the mix, going out to eat isn't going to be as simple as leaving Z at home with one of our two wonderful teenage babysitters.

That's why I want to win the Parent Bloggers Network's latest Blog Blast, sponsored by eHarmony's new marriage program. They're giving away $100 for a fabulous date night plus an additional $100 for babysitting. You've got until the end of the day to participate.

Today is the day

No more diapers day, that is.

We were off to a pretty good start this morning. Z got a large envelope in the mail from her friend Lia and promptly changed into the Dora underpants Lia sent her. She helped me package up the remaining diapers with wrapping paper and tape. And she sat on her potty...once.

But, as I was getting ready to leave for work she'd started whining, "Diaper, diaper..." Josh gets major props for being the parent in charge of potty training boot camp, day one. I'm anxiously awaiting an update from him.

UPDATE at 12:30pm

After peeing on the kitchen floor and twice watering the lawn, Z peed in the potty of her own accord!

Now this makes sense

Fancy restaurants in San Francisco and New York City are taking the local and sustainable foods movement seriously and banning bottled water. As one restaurant owner tells the NY Times, “Filling cargo ships with water and sending it hundreds and thousands of miles to get it around the world seems ridiculous."

I couldn't agree more.

Who doesn't love a parade?

Imagine the ultimate home town parade. Now imagine that home town is an upscale suburb full of multi-million dollar homes. And there you have the River Forest Memorial Day Parade, an hour's worth of floats sponsored by local businesses, high school marching bands, community groups in matching t-shirts and youths representing their tumbling classes, Little League baseball teams and scouting troops.

There were vintage and current fire engines, ladder trucks and ambulances (with sirens blaring), antique cars, motorcycles, custom bicycles and a unicycle. There were stilt-walkers, jugglers, dogs and horses. Oh, and because apparently money is no object, there were planes flying in formation overheard! Z was utterly, completely enraptured, particularly with the drill team/cheerleaders ("Look Mommy, ballerinas!") and men on horseback ("Can I pet one?").

And the cherry on the sundae? A local homeowner is a train enthusiast who built his very own miniature railroad around his yard. And he was offering all the kids free rides.


Click here to see even more parade pictures.

Website review: Light Iris

Have you ever Googled "sore nipples" and come up with on overwhelming list of possible links--with maybe a few kinky sites thrown into the mix? I haven't. In fact, while Google periodically sends freaky searchers to my blog, I've never had any trouble finding answers to my parenting, baby care and personal health queries using everyone's favorite search engine. That said, when Parent Bloggers Network asked me if I'd like to check out a new search engine for expectant and new moms, I (both expectant and a new mom) jumped at the chance. Light Iris uses the Google search engine, but it optimizes the results for the swollen and sleep-deprived, providing users with a culled-down list in a clean, well-organized layout. And its pink and green! Because we're girls!

So I put Light Iris to the test, comparing its results with my old-standby Google's results. I didn't brainstorm possible searches, I just remembered to check in with Light Iris with I was doing a mommy-related search (sticking with Google when I needed to look up a restaurant address or find a Shoebuy promo code). Here's what happened.

Search: "Repeat Breech"
I've been borderline panicky as week after week ticks by and baby number two refuses to turn head down. My midwives and the OB who supervises their VBAC patients all assured me there was no reason to believe I'd have a second breech baby, but what mother can resist the pull of the Internet when it comes to medical self-diagnosis and treatment?
Results: Both Light Iris and Google results focused on repeat c-sections following a breech birth. Both included a couple of links to ways to turn the baby (yes, I've tried 90 percent of them) and highlighted a blog post from Life of an Albuquerque Mommy that reads "4% of women have a breech baby. The chances of having a repeat breech baby increases," an interesting tidbit that contradicts what I've heard and was unfortunately not backed up links to any study.
Winner: Light Iris by a hair; its results were better organized on the page

Search: "Potty training boot camp"
We've circled June 1 on the calendar, and we've spent the second half of May telling Z how many days are left until we say "bye-bye to diapers." Having determined that reverse psychology wasn't working with 2 1/2 year old daughter, we're under plenty of pressure to get her using the potty. Baby sister arrives in July and Montessori preschool starts in the fall. And yes, the school requires that kids be toilet trained.
Results: Again, the results were fairly comparable, with both search engines placing Sesame Workshop - Toilet Training as the lead result. Unfortunately, the article's "don't worry about it, maybe the preschool will accommodate some accidents" attitude wasn't what I was looking for. I found better results with some mommy bloggers' first-hand accounts, including a tip I plan to use: letting the kid play with a bowl of warm water with a special toy in it while sitting on the potty!
Winner: Google, for finding me an inspiring blog post.

Because Light Iris and Google are both using the same basic search engine, you aren't likely to find substantially different results. What Light Iris does is cull down the returns and organize them in a clean, less-overwhelming layout. Which is probably very welcome when you're looking up "projectile vomiting" at 3am. If you're hysterical, hormonal and sleep-deprived, it makes sense to turn to Light Iris. If you're an information hound with a few more minutes available to analyze Google's results pages, you'll have more to choose from.

See what other new and expectant moms are saying about Light Iris here. Or click here to learn how you could win a free 2-day pass to the BlogHer Conference right here in Chicago.

Just half of our Memorial Day weekend fun

I posted to the Chicago Moms Blog about our adventures at the Garfield Park Conservatory and Chicago Antique Market. What I left out was that after the antiques market we headed to Crust, the Midwest's first certified organic restaurant. When we arrived in Bucktown, we noticed a leak on our back left tire. We called USAA Roadside Assistance, which arrived to change the tire for our spare just as we were finishing lunch.

Josh planned on getting our tire repaired on Tuesday, but wouldn't you know it? Today, as we were leaving a BBQ at our friends Stacie and Bob's house, our spare was completely flat! What are the chances?

Anyway, with Bob's ability to change a tire and Eric's portable air pump, we were able up get enough pressure in the tire to make it home. I guess we'll be getting two tires repaired tomorrow.

Update 5/29/07: Turns out we're just plain unlucky. Flat #1 was from a big piece of jagged metal. Flat #2 was from a nail. Just so happened that they were 2 days apart after years of no flat tires.

Consumer generated drivel

I've blogged before about how I think consumer-generated advertising is a flash in the pan, and it looks like the venerable NY Times is ready to back me up. In today's article, The High Price of Creating Free Advertising, Louise Story reports on the Heinz ketchup contest currently running on YouTube.

Shockingly, the American public is not creating the caliber of advertising brand managers are used to seeing from their ad agencies. The average joe with a camcorder is on a mission to amuse his friends and hopefully score a cash prize, but he doesn't have access to the high-end equipment, lovely models, food stylists and location shoots that make traditional commercials look good. Never mind throwing strategy to the wind.

Instead, Heinz is spending an arm and a leg promoting a contest that is netting them images of consumers brushing their teeth and shaving with the famous condiment. And now they've got to wade through the drivel and find a few entries worthy of showing on TV (which will cost money too).

Want to see exactly how bad these entries are? Check it out.

Countdown to number two

Someone at Rookie Moms is reading my mind. Today's post, Prepping for Baby #2, lists the must and nice-to-haves on hand before the arrival of a second child. Here's her list, with my comments in italics.

• Car seat: cleaned and installed (Due Date - 4 weeks) Check! We'll just need to pull it out of storage and strap it into the car.
  
• Breast pump: parts and bottles cleaned, pump assembled, tubing replaced. I've got to order some new valves and tubes for my trusty Ameda Purely Yours. Plus, I'll probably want to get new parts for the Medela PIS a friend is loaning me so that I don't have to tote the Ameda pump back and forth to work every day.
• Baby clothes: cleaned and installed (DD - 4 weeks); I liked knowing that all the mini clothes were in their proper size designations so I could see if there were any gaps in coverage. We've got the holes plugged, thanks to a generous bag of hand-me-downs. Now I just need to wash 'em...Oh, and buy a dresser to put them in!
  
• Newborn diapers: (DD - 3 weeks); [This] was something else that I felt like I really needed in order to be prepared. I asked Josh to pick up some newborn diapers at Target using the Huggies coupon from the Sunday paper, but I don't think he feels any urgency whatsoever.
  
• Stroller for two: purchased and on hand (DD - 2 weeks); I would now hold out as long as is humanly possible. A pregnant woman cannot possibly evaluate a stroller properly, largely because she can’t fold and lift it well. Now I completely agree with Rookie Moms' advice here. I'm going to borrow an aging Graco Duoglider and shop for a double stroller when I'm up and about and looking for an outing (something tells me we'll be running to Target and/or BRU once or twice in those early months).

Me again. My other must-have is a bassinet or bassinet-equipped pack-and-play so that #2 can sleep in our room for a while and/or nap downstairs where I can keep an eye on her. Nice-to-haves include a new, lightweight sling, Avent bottle nipples, pacifiers, Infant Tylenol, diaper rash cream and more burp cloths.

Say what?

Z: When I grow bigger like a big boy to be a Daddy, I’m going to have brown eyes.
Me: Do you think you’re going to grow up to be a Daddy or a Mommy?
Z: A Daddy.
Me: Um, OK. What are you going to do when you are a Daddy?
Z: I’m going to start the bath!
Me: Your Daddy usually starts the bath, doesn’t he? What else are you going to do?
Z: I’m going to pee with my Daddy penis.

Rosie vs. Elisabeth

Although it is amusing to see lame-duck Rosie and lame-o Elisabeth lose their tempers on The View, this clip also worth watching for Joy Behar's litany of outrages our President has committed since coming into office.

What kind of Playground Parent are you?

MetroDad has a hilarious post up called The Eight Types of Playground Parents, in which he details the stereotypical behavior of The Executive Dad, The Peter Pan Dad and the Crazy PTA Mom, among others. As many of the comments have pointed out, he only forgot one major group--the vegan/anti-vaccination/LLL moms.

My husband spends a lot more time at the playground than I do, so I'll have to see how accurate he thinks these personas are. I suspect the female stereotypes aren't as accurate away from the coasts. Midwesterners are just a lot more chill. But I think the male stereotypes are right on target. And I I'm going to go ahead and say that Josh is about equally divided between Hipster Dad, Peter Pan Dad and The Hoverer.

I've got something new to read

Check out Gawker's new blog for women, Jezebel. It's like Cosmo without the lobotomy, US Weekly without the copious drool and BUST without the self-righteousness.

So many calendars, so little coordination

I've got my work calendars. One's on the cube wall. And one's electronic, hooked into Lotus Notes. I've got my Crackberry, which is connected to my Lotus Notes calendar. None of my work calendars correspond to the kitchen wall calendar. And it has no relation to the wipe-clean "countdown to no more diapers day" calendar outside of Z's room. Which makes me an excellent candidate for the BusyBodyBook Calendar giveaway announced on Chicago Moms Blog.

Digging for diamonds

Z figured out how to pick her nose this week. I've caught her with her finger up a nostril a few times in the past few days. The first time, I tried sounding casual, "Hey sweetie, what are you doing?"

"I'm just taking out boogers, Mommy," she replied, wiping one on my husband's side of the bed.

"But we don't put our fingers up our nose. You can get the boogers with a Kleenex."

"It doesn't work as well," she said, pointing out the obvious as her finger headed back upward.

Waiting for the train

After a week of working late, I left the office right at rush today. Naturally, my train was delayed. But I had fun playing with my camera in the Clark & Lake Blue Line station.

Is this the life?

Only until Z wakes up from her nap. Even our bed is no longer a safe haven for our 10-year-old tabby Silver. The birds on the wall are from Blik. Real birds, like the ones outside our now-open windows, are much more exciting.

Yahrzeit

My father died five years ago yesterday. I remember receiving the call from my mother. She dialed me from a satellite phone from a fairly remote area in Albania, the country where my dad was serving as the U.S. Ambassador. I was shaken by the news--he was only 55 and seemed to be in good health--but I didn't grieve, not just then. Like so many others in shock by the loss of a loved one, I was distracted by the work that needed to be done. Family members needed to be called. A memorial service needed to be planned. My mother's life was suddenly without direction; while she usually managed to stay employed full-time, she'd uprooted herself (and us) every few years as Dad's assignments took us from place to place.

As it happened, my mom stayed in Albania to oversee a local memorial service (Joseph Limprecht was something of a celebrity there) before accompanying Dad's body home to Washington. My sister and her fiance flew in from Australia, and I helped the State Department coordinator plan a memorial service in D.C. We ended up choosing to have the service at the DACOR-Bacon House, where I'd been married just 2 years earlier.

It wasn't until a few months later that I really came to grips with my Dad's death. I was never terribly close to my father--if anything, I regret we didn't have the chance to deepen our bond. But I often wonder what Grandpa Joe might have been like.

Z says

Z was looking over my shoulder at the NY Times website, where there was an inset photo of Shrek.
"Do you like Shrek?"
"No," she replies. "I just like sprinkle cookies."

I guess licensing pays off even when the kid doesn't care for the property.