Book review: The Little Black Book of Style

Dear Nina Garcia,

Let's just get this out of the way: I'm in awe of you. As Fashion Director of ELLE magazine and a judge on Project Runway, you define fabulousness. You ooze it.

So when Parent Bloggers Network invited me to preview your new book, The Little Black Book of Style, I salivated. I knew that if I could absorb just one-one hundredth of your fashion savvy, I would be--by far--the coolest mom on the block.

It wasn't long before your cute little hardback (adorably illustrated by Ruben Toledo) arrived in the mail, I knew right away it would fit perfectly in one of today's It bags. The problem is, I don't own an It bag.

You see, Nina, I don't need inspiration, I need direction. Fashion fundamentals. Reading your little black book is like taking French composition before passing French 101. Like trying to master the high dive before learning how to swim. Since I don't have the time or inclination to read the fashion magazine prerequisites for this guide book, I am completely out of my depth.

Sure, you drill us on a few basics, but they're so elementary even I've heard them before: invest in a great little black dress, a cashmere sweater and a white button-up shirt. Don't buy something just because it's on sale. Spend more on a few timeless pieces. Got it. But between working in an industry where image matters and dealing with the reality of being a mom to two very young children, I need you to spell out exactly what should be in my wardrobe. And I'll be passing on the fur, thank you very much.

I want a book that takes the "Girlfriend, here's what you need for your flat ass and poochy belly," attitude of What Not to Wear and pairs it with the catalog-like shopping sense of Lucky magazine (the Lucky of a few years ago, before they went all $500 pants on me). Oh, and can we keep the price-points at an H&M level? Cool.

I want you to take me shopping, Nina. Show me what will disguise my figure flaws, wash out spit-up and chocolate ice cream stains and require little to no ironing. Take my credit card and charge a few key pieces I can mix and match to create a week or two's worth of outfits. Don't tell me Michael Kors thinks every woman should own a pair of crocodile stilettos. Help me pick out a fabulous pair of Michael Kors trousers.

I don't trust my instincts, and a book full of mini interviews with fashion designers and a guide to finding style inspiration from famous films isn't going to get me to start. The Little Black Book of Style is the perfect primer for someone who's already halfway there, a glam gal with money burning a hole in her clutch. That said, reading your book as got me feeling that I need to inject a little bit of fabulousness into my daily looks. So today I changed out jeans and a tee shirt and put on a cute little nursing-friendly aqua dress. And I paired it with... a classic white button-up shirt.

Want to win my copy of The Little Black Book? Leave a comment telling me about your greatest fashion faux pas. Really want to win big? (We're talking $250 Coach bag big!) Participate in today's Parent Bloggers Network Blog Blast by blogging about the one item in your closet you are most ashamed of.

A mother of an invention

This baby countdown clock doesn't count down to baby's due date (something Josh actually programmed an Armageddon promotional item to do before Z arrived). Rather, the Itzbeen Baby Care Timer ($26), which I discovered at a fellow Chicago Moms Blog contributor's review site Mom Views, counts up from the last diaper change, feeding or nap. Genius.

Marketing Mommy hits the gym

After a year-long hiatus, we're members of the Y again. I made my first trip to the gym today, hitting up the cardio machines for 15 minutes before heading upstairs to focus on my core and legs. I only exercised for about 35 minutes, but hey, I'm easing back into the whole fitness thing. Something is better than nothing, right?

My goal is to tank up Baby A, strap my boobs into a double layer of sports bras, and run off to the gym 3 times a week. I don't want to subject her to the nasty germs and lackluster care that is the babysitting room, but I'm sure Z will be delighted to play with their toys and climbing apparatus.

And did I mention I'm also enrolled in post-partum yoga through the park district? Healthy living, here I come!

Who wants my vote?

Hillary, Barack or John...I'm not on a first name basis with any of you. But that could change if Illinois Senator Barack Obama responds to the Chicago Moms Blog call for a face-to-face meeting with Chicago's best-read mommybloggers. We want to meet with you and tell our corner of the world all about it.

So far the Democratic candidates are in about a dead heat for my vote. None has come out strongly enough in favor of the issues that matter the most to me: universal health care (preferably modeled on the Canadian or French system), paid maternity leave and strengthened environmental protection.

Lady and Gentlemen, I'm all ears.

Baby Photoshoot!

I undressed Baby A, turned off my camera's flash and snapped this photo of her on our bed. See more here.

Parenthack: Drop light up ice cubes in the bathtub

I'm going to have to credit my husband for this ingenious idea for luring our toddler into the tub. He saved some of the light up ice cubes he's been given at music festivals (apparently they are the promo giveaway of the summer) and kept them in the freezer. When it's time for Z's bath, he pulls one out and pops it into the tub for her to play with. Liquid activates the light source, so we turn off the bathroom lights and watch her experiment with the cube.

You can buy light up ice cubes online at places like this or check your local party supply store.

Products I love: Boudreaux's Butt Paste

I can't believe it's taken me two babies to find a diaper rash ointment that really works, but I finally gave Boudreaux's Butt Paste a try. It costs twice as much as other diaper creams, which is why I was initially hesitant to purchase it, but it is worth every penny. It cured Baby A's very painful looking diaper rash in one day. And unlike Desitin Original, it doesn't smell like old man.

Up to no good at naptime

There have been a couple of occasions in the past week or so that my almost three year old daughter Z hasn't wanted to take a nap. I've told her that if she plays quietly in her room she doesn't need to sleep. But she should stay put until nap time is over.

It worked well, for a short while. Then she started asking that her door be left open. Makes sense, seeing as we've taken her Pull-Ups away during afternoon nap; she needs access to the potty.

So today was a "quiet play" day. But things were particularly quiet toward the end. Suspiciously quiet. Then Z shows up at the top of the stairs with two crayons in her fist.

"What were you doing upstairs?"
"Drawing."
"What were you drawing on, paper? Is there paper in your room?"
"No. I was drawing on the wall."

I race upstairs and see scribbles all over the hallway wall.

"Oh, no! We don't draw on walls. We only draw on paper. Is this the only place you drew
pictures?"
"No. There's more in my room."

She shows me the scribbles on her wall, her floor and her sheets and apologizes, looking genuinely remorseful. I grab us each a damp washcloth and we get to work cleaning up the mess.

It turns out to be a cinch. Because those crayons? Tub crayons. They're made of soap! Which teaches us parents a valuable lesson. Like maybe we shouldn't encourage behavior in the bath that isn't acceptable out of the tub.

We got a new camera

Baby A is too cute to go for long without a replacement camera. We bought the latest version of the Canon Powershot Digital Elph that we've loved for so long.

More photos here.

Mommy's night out

I hit Emilio's Tapas with five girlfriends last night, my first time away from Baby A and the first time we've gotten together ever that no one's been pregnant (two pitchers of sangria were drunk to that!).

I thought WWIII was going to erupt before I left the house at 7:40. I nursed A until five minutes before leaving and I knew both she and Z would be asleep within the hour, but our eldest was on a tantruming rampage due to an action-packed, no-nap afternoon. Tears and snot poured down her face as she cried for Mommy to wash her hair, Mommy to put her night-night, and not Daddy [insert blood-curling scream here]!!!

But veteran mother that I am, I was not about to miss out on a night out with friends. So like ripping off a Band-Aid, I said my goodbyes quickly and hightailed it out of there before anyone could suggest otherwise. I offered to Josh that a walk around the block in their jammies might wind everyone down, and apparently it did. I got a text message around 8:30 saying that Z was an angel and A was as easy as pie (she usually is).

Let's go with the ads that don't work

That seems to be the direction the US Government gave advertising creatives after the politically connected formula companies got wind of a startling ad campaign designed to highlight the risks associated with not breast-feeding. According to this Washington Post article:

"Officials met with dozens of focus groups before concluding that the best way to influence mothers was to delineate in graphic terms the risks of not breast-feeding, an approach in keeping with edgy Ad Council campaigns on smoking, seat belts and drunken driving. For example, an ad portraying a nipple-tipped insulin bottle said, 'Babies who aren't breastfed are 40% more likely to suffer Type 1 diabetes.'

Gina Ciagne, the office's public affairs specialist for the campaign, said, 'We were ready to go with our risk-based campaign -- making breast-feeding a real public health issue -- when the formula companies learned about it and came in to complain. Before long, we were told we had to water things down, get rid of the hard-hitting ads and generally make sure we didn't somehow offend.'"

So instead of getting mothers to sit up and take notice (and potential raise our country's dismal breast-feeding rates (estimated to be 30 percent at 6 months), we're spending lots of taxpayer dollars on ads we know will be ineffective.

Now I can see how the images in the proposed campaign might make moms who have chosen to formula feed (or tried unsuccessfully to breast-feed) feel bad about their choices. But good, effective advertising is never milquetoast--it needs to grab attention and start conversations. It's sad (but not surprising) our current administration is kowtowing to industry lobbyists on issues of women and children's health.

Click here to see the proposed campaign and let me know what you think.

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

That's why they call it a pacifier

I didn't use a pacifier with my first child. I'd read too many breastfeeding advocacy articles that claimed pacis could cause nipple confusion and make nursing more difficult. At one point I bought a pacifier and offered it to my fussy baby. She spit it out and we figured she didn't care for the thing.

So I became the human pacifier, having to lift my shirt or offer a freshly Purelled pinky finger whenever Z became inconsolable. Which was at least an hour a day. Not having the binky available to me, I fell into the bad habit of nursing her to sleep. Which meant that every night I'd have to oh-so-carefully pry my infant off of my breast and sneak her into her crib. Then I'd creep out of her room while carefully avoiding all the creaky floorboards for fear of waking up the baby and having to start over again. We'd even find ourselves standing over her crib as she sucked our pinky fingers numb.

So when my next-door neighbor Sharon (my primary source of parenting advice and a champion breast-feeder to boot) started singing the praises of the pacifier, I paid attention. She encouraged me to give my second child a paci right at the very beginning--in the hospital, preferably. She also stressed to me that you can't just offer the plug once and give up. Instead, she demonstrated her patented hold-in-the-paci and pat-the-bum trick for encouraging paci love in a newborn.

It took experimenting with a few brands, but now we've got a pacified baby on our hands. And let me tell you, it is so worth it. I can offer a paci when I'm done nursing and Baby A needs a little non-nutritive sucking. When we're in the car and she starts to fuss, even our 2-year-old can pop a paci in her baby sister's mouth. When she's hungry and I need to buy myself a couple of minutes before I can feed her, the pacifier keeps her happy. She doesn't usually need it to fall asleep, but she does like to suck on it as she is winding down toward a nap.

I know I'll have to take away the pacifier eventually (I hate seeing 3 year olds with a paci!), but I don't care. If baby's pacified, I'm happy.

Smiles

Baby A started smiling a week ago, but thanks to our friendly neighborhood burglar, we've been without a camera. I captured these images with Josh's mobile phone.

Alpha Moms on Madison Avenue

It's been some time since I last blogged about Alpha Moms, but it seems the definition of the term, which initially rubbed me the wrong way, has been tweaked to be a little less "cool mom with the Wii" and a little more "working momma with her shit together."

This week's US News and World Report cover story "The New Mommy Track" details how working mothers are pursuing the careers they want without sacrificing family life, and this related article "The Age of the Alpha Mom" shows that advertising creative is starting to reflect this new approach to balancing motherhood and a fulfilling job. Instead of feeding us images of the stressed-out minivan mom of the 1990s and early 2000s, we're seeing a new vision of motherhood: one in which the woman is in control, ably balancing work and home life with the help of her supportive husband and flexible employer.

While I'm thrilled we're stepping away from the frazzled mommy stereotype in the media, I hope to see more evidence that companies really are pursuing talented women with the lure of flextime, telecommuting and job sharing. Selfmademom has done a great job of blogging about the difficulty of on-ramping for SAHMs and the rarity of part-time positions like the one she currently holds.

What do you think, is Alpha Mom a pejorative term or should we take it as a compliment?

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

Live blogging my haircut

My hair's on my dining room floor and Michael's moved onto the blowdry and flat-iron portion of my haircut. Yes, I get my hair cut at home. For $30. By a married father of three who also DJs loal events and works the night shift at UPS. Beat that!

Now if I could only figure out to to capture a picture with my iMage webcam, I could show you the work in progress...

Rockin' the block party

My brief history with our neighborhood block party...
In 2003, we'd just moved into our house. We were the new kids on the block: young, childless and known largely as the replacements for the previous owners.

In 2004 I was the really pregnant one.

In 2005 I brought my smiling, crawling baby to the block party. She didn't do much but gurgle and giggle, but she won some admirers.

In 2006 Z was finally able to enjoy the block party. She was too frightened to go in the bounce house, but she ate a hot dog and helped build the world's largest ice cream sundae.

This year we brought two children to the block party. Baby A dozed in the Hug-a-bub (the manufacturer should thank me for selling the wrap's benefits to an army of moms), and Z strutted around like she owned the place.

She did both bounce houses. She participated in the water balloon toss. She swatted at a pinata and snatched up all the candy she could get. She won a bag of goodies by pitching balls into the Bozo Buckets (kid's got an arm!). And she piloted ride-on toys down the middle of the street. She can boast of friends up and down the street, but it was particularly exciting to see that there are three other three year old girls within a block of our house.

For my part, I really enjoyed talking with so many neighbors. There are a lot of people I only see at the block party, but there are a fair number of people I see regularly at the park or on the train. And with plenty of wine, margaritas, appetizers and pizza, I seriously sabotaged my post-baby diet.

Baby bottle update

I know you're all on pins and needles, waiting to hear what I've decided to do with my BPA-contaminated Ameda breastmilk storage bottles and my big collection of Avent bottles (apparently the best-selling brand in America). Well, I mentioned the baby bottle controversy to my friend Gloria, who hadn't heard much about it. But, conscientious parent that she is, she did her research and immediately tossed all of her toddler's sippy cups and replaced them with Born Free cups. She also bought two Born Free bottles from Whole Foods for her 3 month old. She would have bought more, but there is a major run on the brand.

Here's the part where I get rewarded for biding my time. Gloria had a stash of Playtex Nursers she wasn't using because of a suspected latex allergy in her infant. She gave them to me and A's taken to them just fine. As an added precaution, I'm pumping into my Ameda collection bottles, but immediately transfering the milk into a Playtex Nurser or a freezer bag.

And I have one less thing to worry about: the Gerber NUK pacifiers A's adopted are BPA-free.

I love electricity

There's nothing quite like a 25 hour blackout to drive home how much I depend on modern conveniences. The kind that plug into the wall. Sure, there's the obvious electric stuff like the lights, microwave, TV and air conditioning. But there are also so many little things that make my life easier: the garage door opener, the cell phone charger, the cordless telephone, the Internet.

There are devices unique to parenting like the baby monitor, the breast pump and the white noise machine. And since I'm a the mother of a toddler who likes everything just so, I had to deal with a bedtime freak out when my 2 1/2 year old found out we couldn't play her bedtime music and her night light wasn't working. "But I can't seeeee," she cried until we gave in and joined the worst parents ever club, placing a votive candle on a high shelf in her room. The headlines flashed before my eyes as I fell asleep, "Unprepared for disaster, parents leave a candle lit, burn down house."

Other highlights of our night without power included changing diapers by flashlight and cleaning up not one but two massive spit-ups by blindly patting the floor, feeling around for warm, sour-smelling puddles. When we woke up, we couldn't call on Curious George or Clifford, our a.m. babysitters. But I was able to call up a friend who didn't lose power and beg her to find room in her freezer for cuts of meat and bags of breastmilk.

We spent the morning at the Original Pancake House and the library, where we ran into crowds of neighbors in the same situation. Apparently everyone was looking for a place to take the kids and score some free wifi.

By afternoon nap time I'd gotten accustomed to our new, camp-like existence. The cooler in the kitchen was packed with ice. We'd stocked up on batteries, candles and a battery-powered night light, and the block was hopping with neighbors exchanging stories and guessing when the power might be restored.

Then, at 5:15 p.m., I heard the most wonderful noise: the sound of dozens of window units kicking into gear at once. And from the street, cheers of glee.

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

Hurray for electricity

The lights just came on after 25 hours. I'll write more about our suburban pioneer experience after I do some damage control on the fridge and freezer.

Multitasking while breastfeeding

Breastfeeding. Sure, it's a wonderful, close moment between mother and child. But I'm spending hours of my day feeding, burping and wiping spit-up out from between my boobs. I can't dedicate every minute to gazing lovingly at my baby. So here's how I milk that time for all its worth.

Surf the Internet one-handed. This is frustrating because I have to decide if it is worth the trouble to peck out a comment with my left hand. And with the iBook balanced on the couch off to my right or my left, I'm tempting eye and neck strain. Then the battery runs low and I forget to go plug in the machine.

Read a book. I usually only make a couple of pages of progress before A needs to be burped or Z runs in to ask me a question. Right now I'm slowly reading I Heart My In-Laws which I won from MumsTheWurd and Without a Map, a memoir by Meredith Hall. I also read Z stories while I nurse if she holds the book and turns the pages.

Listen to the radio. There's only so much NPR a girl can take, which is why my new favorite thing to do while breastfeeding is...

Books on tape! Books on CD, actually. I checked out Snowflower and the Secret Fan from the local library and I get through one or more of the nine CDs each day. It's wonderful to listen to someone else read the story because I can burp, change diapers, put away clothes and pump milk for A's daily bottle. Freedom!

Eight things about me

I'm tickled to be tagged by Whitney from Rookie Moms for the “8 Random Facts About Me” meme. I love her website and blog--not only because it is well-written, funny and full of great ideas, but because we're in the same boat, having had our kids at the nearly the same time and in the same ways: C-section followed by VBAC.

First, the Rules:

1) Post these rules before you give your facts

2) List 8 random facts about yourself

3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) people and list their names, linking to them

4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they’ve been tagged

And now… my facts:

1) I am a Foreign Service brat, but aside from three years in Islamabad, Pakistan, I didn't live in terribly exotic locations while growing up.

2) I learned to knit five years ago, and I'm most proud of the queen-sized, cabled blanket that took me an entire winter to put together. Now that I've got a baby on my hands, I am on knitting hiatus.

3) In 1997, my boyfriend, now my husband, was so appalled I'd never been to Disney World or Disneyland as a child that he insisted we take a trip to Orlando. It was OK.

4) When my first daughter was 11 weeks old we took her on vacation to Hawaii for a family reunion. People thought we were crazy, but there is no easier travel companion than a tiny, nursing baby.

5) I always put a spoonful of peanut butter on my breakfast bowl of Cheerios.

6) I never thought I would be the primary breadwinner in my family, but I am completely comfortable with our situation. (And liking my job helps a lot!)

7) I love movies, books and music, but I can never remember the titles of anything I've enjoyed. This amuses my entertaiment critic of a husband to no end.

8) I played varsity softball for two years.

And I tag you:

Franny at Minding Mizz

Meagan at Equilibrium

Christine at Firefly Mama

Shannan at Mommy Bits

Eleanor at Little Bigfoot

Emily at Gabby's Gab

Lasik or forget it?

I had my yearly eye exam today and I asked my eye doctor how long after weaning I would have to wait to get Lasik. I've had a lot of friends (and a few family members) get the vision correcting surgery and rave about the results, so it is something I've long considered doing. She told me I should wait about a year after I finish breastfeeding for my hormones to stabilize (how exactly this affects my eyes I'm not exactly sure). When I said that would mean I'd be able to get surgery about two years from now she seemed a little confused...I guess she hadn't met anyone who wanted to nurse for a year before. In fact, even though I mentioned again the length of time I intended to breastfeed, she tried to book me back for a follow-up eye dilation "in 3 to 6 months, after you've finished breastfeeding."

I came home to find this frightening article in the Chicago Tribune. Apparently I should be thankful I've got some time to think about Lasik.

5 weeks and growing

Baby A went to the doctor today and scored in the 75th percentile for weight and the 90th percentile for height! Mommy's milk: it does a body good.

Kidcentric day

Most days are pretty kidcentric these days, but in light of the rainy weather, Z and I tried a couple of new activities.

First thing in the morning I wrapped Baby A in the Hug-a-bub and we took a walk through the neighborhood. Z monologued the whole time, observing everything and creating an exhaustive running commentary: "That car looks just like our car, right Mommy? Is that a toy someone lost on the ground, Mommy? Who lost that toy squirrel, Mommy? Was it a little boy or a little girl lost that wet squirrel? It was a child and not a grown-up lost that squirrel. Did they drop it and lose it, Mommy? Why? Why weren't they being careful and they dropped they's squirrel? Is now that squirrel is crying, crying for its Mommy. Right, Mom? Mommy? Why's that tree have red leaves? We're going for a walk around the block. Children always hold hands when they cross the street. Right Mommy? To be safe. We always hold hands. We don't run into the street!"

At 10am we attended Miss Tracey's Storytime at the Brown Cow with Gloria and her daughters (also 2 1/2 and brand new). It is a very popular event, and it soon became apparent why. Miss Tracey had all the kids completely entranced. She didn't read from books, as I expected. Rather, she engaged the under 4 crowd with silly antics and lots of audience participation.

This afternoon we headed south to Berwyn's Toy Trains and Models, an old-fashioned toy store with a heavy emphasis on trains (from Brio and Thomas to the big-deal, super-realistic model trains hobbyists go nuts over). Z spent about 5 minutes at a wooden train table before discovering the dolls (so much for gender neutrality). I was delighted to find an aisle dedicated to Playmobil and Ravensburger toys, both fabulous German toy brands I remember from my childhood in Berlin. We bought Z a little Playmobil set (a nursery with mommy, baby, a changing table, crib, and a few teeny, tiny accessories). I had as much fun assembling and setting it up as Z did playing with it.

What me, worry?

I am not the worrying type, so it's unusual for me to find stuff to fret about. But I've got my eyebrows knitted and my panties in a twist today.

First of all, while none of the toys in our house were on Mattel's list of 19 million recalled toys, I'm starting to freak out a little bit about the whole BPA in baby bottles issue. I pump breastmilk into clear plastic bottles and all of the bottles I saved from Z's babyhood are Avent--one of many brands that may cause everything from early puberty and developmental problems to cancer. I may just bite the bullet and buy glass or Born Free bottles. There aren't a lot of safe options out there.

My other big worry? We were the victims of a home burglary Thursday afternoon and it took us two days to figure out we'd been robbed. After spending parts of Friday and Saturday trying to figure out how both our digital camera and my Blackberry could have disappeared from their designated spots, it occurred to me that the Blackberry charger was missing too (it had been plugged in). When we realized some DVDs had vanished and I reminded Josh that the back door had been unlocked when we returned from some errands on Thursday, we decided to call the Oak Park police.

The cops pointed out some signed of forced entry on the back door, further demonstrating that our belongings probably hadn't just up and walked away. It's unnerving knowing someone was in my house. And now they've got a camera full of pictures of my kids and full access to my email (although I just changed the password on my personal account). And naturally Josh is working tonight so I'm alone in the house with one sleeping kid and one hiccupping, spit-upping baby.

There are other, smaller worries eating at me too, but they all involve issues of time management and balance--something that I can control, I hope. I need to figure out how to juggle two children, household responsibilities, volunteer duties and family obligations with my own needs and wants (a flatter tummy and more time to surf the internet would be nice). And I need to figure it out before throwing a 40+ hour work week in the mix.

Take your baby to work day

One of the great pleasures of maternity leave is the pilgrimage to the office to show off the baby. Josh and I took Baby A to the Green City Market this morning, and on the way there it occurred to me that while in the city I should stop by work to say hello. Never mind that my face was bare and I hadn't bothered to put my newborn in anything fancier than an old white onesie.

It was great seeing so many familiar, friendly faces. I'm lucky to work with really wonderful people, all of whom were delighted to squeeze baby cheeks and ooh and ahh over her tiny size.

And how often do we get to breeze into work at 10:30, socialize for an hour or so, and breeze right back out the door without so much as flipping on our desktop machines? (I couldn't anyway, IT seems to have taken my computer away!)

While I can't imagine returning to work before my baby's a little older, my stomach's a little flatter and everyone's sleeping a little better, I got a taste for the good stuff I'm missing when I stopped into a new business pitch meeting. I love the challenge of solving marketing problems in creative new ways, and the product being pitched was one that interests me. But for now I'll have to exercise my creative muscles by coming up with new and inventive ways to make a delicious, nutritious dinner while nursing a baby and entertaining a wound-up 2 year old.

Happy blogiversary to me

I've been blogging for one year today.

A lot has changed since I wrote my first post. I was on Oprah, I bought a new car, got pregnant, celebrated Z's second birthday and had a second baby. For the first time since we've owned our house, I had the windows washed and the yard landscaped. I traveled to Portland, Omaha, Mexico, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. At the office, I achieved resident expert status on the subjects of word-of-mouth marketing and blogging. And I attended the BlogHer conference and learned how much I still don't know.

I've used my blog to brag about the trials and joys of pregnancy and parenting, but I'd like to think I'm more than "just a mommyblogger." I write about consumer marketing, customer service, and them products and services I love. And I try to do it from my dual perspective as a marketing creative and as a consumer. Because I'm a mom. The consumer with whom brands big and small want to connect.

As a blogger and a mom, I've been given fabulous opportunities, attending the Chicago Auto Show as a guest of GM and reviewing books, DVDs and other products for Parent Bloggers. I even scored a spot on the Chicago Moms Blog!

Most importantly, blogging has connected me with some really wonderful people, mostly women. I've shared the challenges and joys of balancing a career and home life with other working mothers and I've learned a lot from marketing blogs like Seth Godin's.

I love blogging so much I've convinced my best friend and sister to start blogs of their own, and as a result I've benefited from regular peeks inside their lives (and plenty of photos of their kids).

Anyone care to guess what the next year will bring?

Another Mattel recall

Apparently Mattel is set to recall even more Chinese-made toys later today. Stay tuned and keep an eye on your kids' toy boxes.

Her first face

Z drew a picture of her baby sister today, the first drawing she's made that's recognizable as a person. And the one she did after this one was even better!

Pretending she's backsliding

We've been warned that older siblings are likely to backslide on potty training and resent the new baby, but so far Z's reactions, all of which have happened as we cuddle before bed, have been all talk...and remarkably inconsistent.

Z: Who did we give my diapers to?
Me: Mari and Leo.
Z: And Vi-Vi too?
Me: I guess so.
Z: I want them back. Let's get my diapers back.
Me: But you're potty trained. And you're going to go to school. Besides, I'm sure they've been used by now.
Z: I don't want to be potty trained and go to school. Let's ask Daddy to buy me some diapers at the store.
Me: I don't think so.
Z: I need to go pee-pee. In the potty.


Z: I don't want a baby sister anymore.
Me: Baby A is here to stay. We love both our girls.
Z: I don't want her to be here.
Me: What do you want her to go?
Z: I want to throw her away.
Me: But just minutes ago you were giving her hugs and kisses.
Z: Let's go give her night-night kisses!

CPGs pretty up for sales

I've always been a sucker for great packaging (Method cleaners, I how I love thee), and now consumer packaged goods companies are taking their product packaging seriously in an attempt to drive sales. Check out this article in the NY Times.

She's a keeper

I'm almost afraid to write this for fear of jinxing myself, but Baby A slept all night last night. And not just the five hours that some baby care manuals define as "sleeping through the night." No, she slept straight through from 10pm until 5:45am. In her crib. In her room.

Bliss, baby, bliss.

Could it be the perfect baby carrier?

I have a love-hate affair with both my baby carriers. The Over the Shoulder Baby Holder padded sling is cute but my back hurts after wearing it for more than 30 minutes. Franny loaned me her Baby Bjorn Active, which is an improvement over the classic Bjorn but not entirely perfect.

Enter the Hug-a-Bub. I'd seen my friend and ubermom Deb wear her daughter in it for hours, so I dropped her an email asking if could give it a try. Later this afternoon it was sitting on my front porch. I put A down for a nap in her crib and popped in the instructional DVD. Low and behold, just as the movie gets to the part about putting in the baby, A cries out (I guess she wanted in). I placed her in the carrier and she's been sleeping peacefully in it ever since.

More importantly, I'm comfortable wearing her. Perhaps this will be our sanity tonight. Last night an overtired, distraught A fussed and refused to fall asleep until close to 11pm.

Just a garden variety malapropism

Said Z this morning, "Can I bring my swimsuit that's a zucchini to Adriana's house? My zucchini is kind of like underpants."

You can't stop the beat

Gloria and I took our babies to a showing of Hairspray today. It's the first time I've taken a baby to the movies and only the second time I've taken a child (we took Z to see Ratatouille a month ago).

Relatively speaking, it was a piece of cake. I left the car seat and stroller in the car and put her in the sling for the walk to the theatre. Once inside, I loosened the sling so she was cradled in my lap. She wanted to nurse through the previews, but slept through 95 percent of the film. I missed one song-and-dance number to change a diaper, but otherwise I was able to enjoy the movie from my seat. My friend was not as lucky: her 2 month old wanted her up and moving so she spent most of the time standing in the back of the theatre.

As for the movie, it was pretty good. Cheesy as expected, but enjoyable. I really liked the art direction and costumes. And John Travolta? That man has no shame.

It's hot...

And the humidity is no picnic either. Stay cool everyone.

Postpartum fashion: What I'm wearing right now

It probably isn't a lot of fun to design clothes for the postpartum gal. We've got massive breasts, saggy stomachs and our hips and asses are wider than ever. We need quick and easy access to said breasts and with piles of soggy onesies, you better believe we're not prepared to deal with dry cleaning or ironing. And since spit-up a daily--sometimes hourly--occurrence, our clothes must be wash and wear. If they can disguise stains with ease, all the better!

And did I mention we don't want to look like whales any longer? At three weeks postpartum, I've still got 15lbs to lose, but I'm down 25lbs from my delivery date and I don't want to look at my maternity clothes any more, much less wear them. I don't want to be mistaken for knocked up, thank you very much!

So last week I packed my new addition into her stroller and walked across Oak Park to Majamas (909 S Lombard Ave., 708-524-9668), maker of cute clothes for new moms. They've expanded into maternity wear, but what really distinguishes this local gem is their nursing clothes. They make cute tank tops, shirts and dresses with built in flaps and support that make nursing bras redundant. You can breastfeed discreetly without worrying about positioning a blanket over your kid's head and, best of all, the poochy stomach stays under wraps. I wear my Majamas gear--particularly my three dresses--more than anything else these days. They're comfortable, stylish and effortless. And they're built with the new mom's body in mind.

As Baby A grows, I trust I'll continue to shrink. And perhaps then I'll have the guts to try on regular clothes in a regular store. Until then, I'll just thank my lucky stars that this cool company is headquartered in my home town.

Second time moms weigh in

I posted about my weekend as a Lollapalooza widow on the Chicago Moms Blog and solicited advice from more experienced mothers of two. Check out all the great advice from women who've BTDT.

What a mom wants

Nearly all of my mom friends had their second baby before A arrived, so they really know how to treat a new mom the second time around. Last weekend Gloria let Z spend the afternoon at her house so I could attend BlogHer and last night Julie saved my sanity by taking her to a concert in the park for an hour and a half with her daughter. During which I made dinner and jiggled a fairly fussy baby without whiny interruptions. And then, when the hot, sweaty, overstimulated girls returned, Julie held baby A while I bathed Z.

Lollapalooza is over, so the next few days should be a piece of cake.

Welcome to the witching hour

With Josh pressing the flesh at Lollapalooza all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I'm learning what it's like to take care of two kids at once--all by myself. During the day it isn't so bad, but last night's bedtime routine was a disaster. Baby A fussed continuously from 7:15 until 9:45, and I had to squeeze Z's bath, tooth-brushing, pajamas, stories and cuddles in between the screams. By the end of the evening my breasts and all stores of patience were sucked completely dry.

Another massive recall

Cheap jewelry, Thomas the Tank Engine trains and now this. Mattel is recalling nearly 1 million popular toys due to lead paint. I'll bet you can guess where the dangerous toys were manufactured.

Check this list of recalled toys and make sure none of the Dora, Elmo or Cookie Monster playthings are in your home.

Can we say enough already?

Feeding on demand

My 2 week old daughter is on a feeding schedule. Not one I've imposed, mind you. Rather, she's ready to eat when I'm...
a) Sitting down to any meal, preferably a hot one
b) About to accomplish a task with my older daughter, be it giving her a bath, reading her bedtime stories (which can be done with a nursing baby), or taking her to daycare
c) Pulling onto the highway or stuck in traffic in a sketchy neighborhood

But when I hear her grunt and fuss in the middle of the night and I turn a light on and feel my boobs start to leak as I sneak over to her bassinet? Then she's fast asleep.

Sisterly love

While we've had a few "Mommy, pretend I'm a baby" moments, Z is already showing real tenderness for her baby sister.

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?