After

Apparently somebody finally got the message. One week after I posted about the cell phone store with Verizon spelled "Varizon" on the front window sign, the sign came down. Now the sign is back up, with black tape not-so-artfully covering up the offending typo.

UPDATE on 11/15/06: The sign is down again!

Before

What I did on my lunch break

It is a stunningly beautiful day in Chicago. Temps in the 60s and unlimited sunshine. And since I didn't pack a lunch for the first time in weeks, I had the perfect excuse to get out of the office. I walked south on Wells to Hannah's Bretzel, which has been receiving raves since in opened. The line was short, and I had my Bretzel Sandwich with Bousin Herb Cheese and homemade black pepper and salt potato chips in no time. Hannah's is Chicago's first organic carry-out eatery, and reading the menu you can't help but notice that every meat and cheese is prefaced with the place where it was grown or produced. I'll be back for one of their more elaborate sandwiches in the future.

Interestingly enough, on the way to and from Hannah's, I passed two Subways (the sandwich shop, not the CTA) and two Dress Barns! Obviously Loop office workers have a pressing need for cheap rayon dresses and Jared's favorite food.

I also passed by a Lavazza coffee shop, and I was tempted to try the Espesso, a mousselike espresso sprayed straight from a can. It was just nominated by TIME magazine as one of the best inventions of 2006. I resisted the temptation, for now.

Hello 1979!

Not only does my little girl get handmade sweaters from her one and only Mommy, she gets to model sweaters hand-knit by her Grandma for her Aunt Bethany about 27 years ago!

Doctor says what?

We took Z to see Dr. Hutton last night for her 2 year physical. She passed with flying colors, naturally. She's up to 24.7 pounds, putting her in the 25th percentile for weight and the 10th percentile for height. Dr. Hutton praised her verbal skills and dropped a bombshell on us.

"I think she's ready for potty-training."

The good doctor advised picking a long weekend and putting the girl in cotton training pants (as opposed to the diaper-like Pull-Ups). She recommended feeding her bran muffins so she "can't hold back her stool" and lots of liquids ("Buy twistie straws, fun cups, whatever it takes."). She also said we could plan to spend "a lot of time in the kitchen" and that we should "make a really, really big deal if she can produce a few drops in the potty chair."

I'm thinking Thanksgiving weekend might be a good time to try, but Josh thinks that might be a damper--so to speak--on his parents' visit. I say that, with two doting grandparents in the house--grandparents who also happen to be pediatricians--the timing couldn't be better.

In the meantime, I let Adriana know this morning, and she's promised me Z will be accompanying the almost-3-year-old Lily to the potty all day. Plus, there will be a showing of "the potty video."

I'm also preparing a Target shopping list for Potty Weekend, whenever it should happen. I'm thinking plenty of training pants, a new cup or two, flushable wipes and a bag of M&Ms. If things go well I may have to add a travel potty since we'll have to leave the house eventually.

Hurray

I woke up this morning to find my faith in the political process and the American people partially restored. The Democrats swept Illinois and didn't do too shabby elsewhere. We've regained control of the House and Democratic control of the Senate isn't out of the question yet.

Now I can only hope our elected representatives take action on the issues I care about most: limiting greenhouse gas emissions and promoting renewable energy; repealing the No Child Left Behind Act; and withdrawing U.S. troops from Iraq. I'd also like to see the leadership take real, intelligent steps against terrorism rather than reactionary, pointless ones (e.g. banning water bottles and hand cream from airplanes).

I voted

None of the candidates I voted for were in much danger of losing since I live in a strongly Democratic district in a strongly Democratic state, but I felt good about voting in the referendums to pull out of Iraq, raise the minimum wage to $7.50 an hour and ban the assault weapons.

Also had a pleasant lunch with Josh today. He's reviewing coffee shops around the city for Time Out Chicago, and I got to weigh in on two of the top contenders in Pilsen. We shared a tasty chicken tamale and beef flautas as well as a mug of cafe con leche at the socialist/activist Cafe Mestizo, and followed that up with Mexican hot chocolate and an enormous peanut butter chocolate chip cookie at more traditional, welcoming Cafe Jumping Bean.

Work is quiet after the craziness of the last few days. Hopefully I'll be able to sneak out a few minutes early since Z's got her 2-year doctor's visit scheduled for this evening.

Birthday party report

Everyone in Z's playgroup came to her birthday party, and she had a wonderful time surrounded by her favorite people. I lined up all 8 kids on the couch for a photo only to misplace my camera at the crucial moment. I'm waiting for a friend to forward the snapshot, but in the meantime, here's a picture of Z "tending" to Julie's four month old son, Reid. Julie, knowing Z's reputation as the paci police, brought her a baby doll that cries until you pop in its pacifier. But Z preferred the real thing.

And as a side note, that's the green and yellow sweater I just finished in time for her birthday. It fits!

Importance of a 5-Point Harness Carseat

Wow. I'm working on a cause marketing plan for a major food company, and one of ideas I sold in was a contest inviting consumers to create their own PSA (public service announcement). And only days later I come across the most moving user-created PSA I've ever seen. Get the Kleenex ready.

Happy 2nd Birthday!

Dear Z,
You turn two tomorrow. You're not a baby. Well, you'll always be my baby, but you're barely a toddler anymore! You're a little girl. A running, dancing, galloping, hopping little girl who can speak in full sentences, sing a dozen nursery rhymes and count past 10. You can say your ABC's, drink out of a big girl cup and help take your clothes off. You can build a Lego tower 15 pieces high and help assemble a wooden train track. You're mastering more each day, "reading" me stories from your favorite library books and putting together puzzles. You can help in the kitchen and you love to play pretend, taking me on adventures "to the grocery store" and "to the library."

When you want something, you have an engaging way of asking for it. You cock your head to the right, raise your voice an octave and say, with rising intonation, "You wanna go to the park with me?" "You wanna a drink of my apple juice?" or "You want me brush your hair, make it pretty?" When you want other children to bend to your will, you'll occasionally treat them to the cocked-head question, more more likely you'll turn to the closest adult and say something like, "Leo wants water, Mommy. He wants me feed him water from his cup."

You still don't have lovey, instead giving affection to a rotating cast of dolls and stuffed animals. You play with all of your toys, but your vintage Little People house, Aquadoodle, markers and Play-Doh dominated this year.

Your Daddy's daughter, you absolutely love music, and you can identify "rock 'n roll," "pop," "lullaby," and "reggae" accurately. Today we took you to see Justin Roberts and the Not Ready for Naptime Players at a concert at FitzGerald's, and you've refused to listen to your nursery rhymes CD before today's nap or bedtime, instead demanding "Justin Roberts," which we don't yet own. I'll download some songs from iTunes tonight, I promise.

You're a social butterfly. You remember names better than either of your parents and you ask after your friends frequently. You like it when we tell you a story about one of your friends before bed.

Speaking of which...you're a decent sleeper, going to bed between 7:35 and 8pm and rising between 6 and 6:30am. You've only missed two or three afternoon naps this whole year. Usually you're down for two hours in the early afternoon.

Since you turned one, you quit eating fresh fruit. You'll only stand for dried fruit or applesauce. Bananas are the only exception to the rule. You like vegetables, particularly corn and french fries. For breakfast, you'll have milk, diluted OJ and frozen waffles or most any breakfast cereal, but Cracklin' Oat Bran and Weetabix are your favorites. You love spaghetti, mac and cheese, quesadillas, hot dogs, chicken, ketchup and lasagna. For snacks, you like yellow cheddar cheese, peanut butter off a spoon, cereal bars, animal crackers, dehydrated strawberries and dry cereal. Juice boxes have not ceased to thrill you with their unadulterated sweetness. And you'll never forget a business that hands you a lollipop.

You're not toilet trained, not even a little bit, but you can tell us what you're doing and when. And watching Mommy use the toilet, heck, that's even better than "Caillou!"

Z, you're the cat's pajamas. The cherry on my sundae. The reason I go to work every weekday and wake up early every weekend morning.

Yes, it really is like that

AdVerbatims, a new website I came across thanks to AdFreak, is collecting actual moronic quotes from real agency life. It's kind of like Overheard in the Office, only it hits so much closer to home. My favorites:


#143- "Quit asking smart questions and just do what the client says."
(Agency, Account Executive to Copywriter, discussing idiotic changes to an ad)

#196- "We should not aim to be conceptual or creative."
(Agency, Account Executive on the brief)

#145- "We are a small company. If we were a big company we would worry about what is best for the brand. Since we are small, we need to worry about the budget."
(Client, Marketing Manager)

#153- "I like it, but I just don't think a multinational company should be doing ads in felt tip."
(Client, on first presentation of a line drawing concept scamp)

Borat

I wish my Dad was still around to see Borat.

The former DCM to Uzbekistan, he was very familiar with the swarthy, leather jacketed, mustachioed men of Central Asia in the late 1990s. And his diplomatic side was tempered with a healthy respect for the politically incorrect. He'd appreciate the cheap shots at Kazakhstan as well as the statement Sasha Baron Cohen is ultimately making about globally-ignorant Americans.

I can't wait to see the movie myself.

This is scary

Scientists are predicting that, in just 50 years, there will be virtually nothing left to fish in our oceans. And what are we doing about it? Not a damn thing.

Slate Green Challenge

My family's annual carbon emissions are 24,705 lbs, the equivalent of 2.43 passenger cars. That's a little over half of the U.S. average of 44,312 lbs. What's yours? Find out at Slate Green Challenge and see what you can do to lower your output. (Thanks Eleanor for sending. I expect you to be the first to comment!)

Seeing pink and blue

Mazel tov to my little sister Eleanor and her husband Simon -- they're expecting a baby in June! I'm going to be an aunt! Yipee!

Eleanor and Simon will make great parents. But I wouldn't be a big sister if I didn't start in with a few pieces of advice--for her and any first-time mother.

1. Buy an electric breast pump and plenty of disposable milk bags. Lansinoh makes the best ones. If you're going to pump a lot, get a hands-free halter.
2. Accept any and all offers of help for the first month. You'll want to hold your baby at all times, so let someone else cook, clean and shop.
3. Don't worry about putting baby on a schedule for the first two months. Take him with you everywhere and let him nap in the carrier, car seat or stroller. But after that, hold sacred the naps!
4. Take a lot of pictures and write down memories and milestones every month for as long as you can. The first year is a blur.

But most importantly, lay off the Internet (the new Book of Fear) and enjoy your pregnancy! Your hair will never again be as thick, your skin as radiant, or your boobs as voluptous.

That's my girl

Franny took this photo of Z when she was in town a month ago. It so perfectly capture's my almost 2-year-old's blossoming personality!

And here's the Pepto spot

Nothing reinforces your street cred like rapping about stomach ailments.

I'm not dialing Domino's

I think this ranks as the most repulsive ad I've seen in a long time. Even more icky than the Pepto-Bismol spot where the dancers point to their butts and sing "Diarrhea!"

Happy Halloween!

We're taking Z treat or treating for the first time late this afternoon.

UPDATE: Gloria and Eric brought over Lia and the girls treat-or-treated together up and down our block. They were really cute, screeching with glee and saying "Trick or treat," "Thank you," and "Happy Halloween" with some consistency. Josh wanted to come along, so we placed a bowl of candy on our stoop, expecting our neighbors to respect the honor system. Unfortunately, we'd only gone down about three houses before we bumped into a group of ill-mannered boys who weren't from our block or in costume. Our neighbor chastised them for trick or treating without a get-up, and they practically knocked Z off her porch as they reached into her candy bowl regardless. (Z said, "I want those boys go away.") Anyway, they headed to our house next and ripped off all of our treats. Nice.

On a more positive note, a few of my neighbors brought back memories of my childhood's "best Halloween houses." There's the guy who gives out full size Hershey's bars, but also the family making fresh cotton candy and the guy with margaritas for the chaperones.

Our friends stayed for dinner, much to the girls' delight.

And by 6:30 all of our back-up candy was gone.

Another post about Omaha

This is for my Omaha relatives. Aunt Susie, feel free to share it with your friends at the Omaha World-Herald.

Calling customer care

This morning I dialed Chase's customer care line and pressed 0 until I got an operator.

"Hello, I'm calling because the ATM at the Merchandise Mart has said 'Unable to dispense cash' virtually every time I've checked it for the past 6 weeks."
"Does the supermarket have a branch bank?"
"It's not a supermarket. It Chicago's Merchandise Mart. One of the biggest buildings in the country. It has its own zip code. And it doesn't have a Chase bank branch in it."
"Oh, and what city and state is it in?"

To her credit, she did ask for the zip code and said she'd "make a note of it."

Hail to the purse

The NY Times has a great story reiterating what we marketers have been saying for years: women make purchasing decisions. Still, it's gratifying to see so many companies sit up and pay attention (even if it is in their own self interest).

Did I really gain an hour?

We "fell back" last night as Daylight Savings Time came to an end, but no one told our toddler. She awakened at her usual hour, but instead of it being 6:20am, it was 5:20. And since we'd been out for almost 8 hours for a wedding near Lake Forest Saturday night, we could have used the sleep! It was J. Niimi's nuptials, and the gathering was thick with indie rockers. At our table of eight, six were musicians either currently or formerly in bands. And how often can Josh and I go anywhere and find at least three other music critics?

Julia babysat, and Z escorted her around the Halloween block party where apparently some of the neighbors I don't know very well thought she was the mommy. Did I mention she's in high school? Anyway, it must have gone well because the first thing Z said when we came downstairs this morning was, "Hey! Where did Julia go?" Then she asked where Fred and Jeff went. They, plus one other former Aden bandmate, crashed here Friday night and Z got plenty of time to bond with the guys--Fred in particular.

Speaking of which, Fred brought Z one of the cutest, most thoughtful gifts she's ever received. Fred, who is a single guy in his early thirties who writes print ads for Howard Stern, picked out a tiny plush backpack with butterfly wings. Z was enchanted.

Lots of other stuff was packed into this weekend too: I braved chilly winds to march with Z in the block's Halloween parade. I don't know if it was the weather or the bad night of sleep she'd had the night before, but she proved to be a very cowardly lion! I finished Z's green and yellow striped cardigan. I hit the Oak Park Temple Rummage Sale and scored a bed rail, an extra booster seat, a spare umbrella stroller, two kiddie books, a pair of children's sneakers and a Little People barn (which is short a few animals) for a grand total of $12. I ate delicious barbecue at Sweet Baby Ray's in Wood Dale. And I endured a napless Sunday.

The perfect cup of coffee

As I mentioned, Flavia and Keurig would be nice improvements to the coffee situation at work, but I get a real fine cup of coffee every morning at home. I'm lucky enough to have married a budding coffee geek, one of the country's rare Chemex owners. For the last couple of years, I've indulged his love of good beans with a coffee of the month membership to Peet's or Intelligentsia, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I've benefited from my own largess.

Everyone should know how to make a great cup of joe. And now the LA Times has a great story on exactly that. Because you never know when we might come for a visit.

Barack Obama

I'm thrilled to see our country so excited about a presidential run by our junior Senator for Illinois and former Hyde Parker Barack Obama. I read (most) of his first autobiography, and untell someone can prove otherwise, I believe he's one of the rare politicians who is in this for the right reasons. He's a dyed in the wool progressive liberal, but because he can talk about Jesus he's willing to play nice with Republicans, conservatives don't hate him. Is he electable? Slate's Jacob Weisberg thinks so.

And while I last heard it before he was elected, I'll never forget his uplifting 2004 campaign theme song.

Over 100 posts

This week I passed the 100 post mark and yesterday I had more site visitors than I typically get in a week, thanks I'm sure to the Verizon story I shared with Consumerist. It's all making me feel a little like a genuine blogger. I love having this site as an outlet, and it makes me all warm and fuzzy knowing someone's out there reading what I have to say.

So, if you like what you've seen so far, share this site with a couple of friends. Let's demonstrate the power of word-of-mouth!

Just don't

Why is it cute to call Diet Coke "DC?" You're not saving any syllables. You and your Diet Coke-swilling friends aren't part of some secret society. It's the number one selling diet cola in the world!

Or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm harboring some underlying resentment that Diet Coke is the only beverage option at most of the working lunches I attend. Like, G-d forbid a woman in this industry drink anything else! Tap water, for instance. (Or, if I have any credit left on the Starbucks gift cards I'm periodically awarded, an IZZE soda. Mmmm.)

Something's brewing at work

This morning our office manager coordinated a taste test with our regular beverage vendor, and the kitchen with filled with art directors, web designers, account execs and accounting staff sampling coffee and teas from Keurig and Flavia.

Honestly, any single serve coffee machine will be miles better than the industrial sludge available in the seldom-washed, truck stop-style drip machines this agency has currently got, but I'm pushing for the Flavia since it offers so many tasty choices. I had a cappuccino this morning, but the machine can also make a decent latte, mocha, hot cocoa or tea (although they're scorchingly hot). The other major thing the Flavia's got going for it is that it includes milk pouches for the aforementioned espresso drinks. I'm not a fan of Coffee-Mate, and that's the closest thing we've got to moo juice right now.

Why I'm needed

I saw this point-of-sale poster at a cell phone shop in the Merchandise Mart. Did the agency (or in-house shop) that created it forget to hire a copywriter? A proofreader? An account executive capable of spelling his own client's name correctly? And the best part is that Verizon is misspelled right underneath the Verizon logo!

I realize this picture isn't the best quality, but I took it with my Samsung phone (from T-Mobile).

Ewww

As if the spinach recall wasn't enough, now Consumer Reports is telling us that avoiding bagged salad won't just save you a pretty penny--it could save you from serious gross-out. They surveyed "ready-to-eat" salads and analyzed them for brown, gooey leaves and icky odors. The percentage of inedible greens ranged from a low of .5 percent to a whopping 83 percent! I think I'll stick with washing and ripping up my own lettuce. It's really not that hard!

I want it

Blik, maker of the birds gracing the wall above my bed, are getting into car customization with their new Autographic line of decals. Can I tell you how much I want this for our new CR-V?

Are you a hot mom?

Well, I'd loathe to be seen in Mom Jeans, but I'm not sure I'm up to today's standards. And apparently I should be concerned. What with with Suave telling me to put beauty back on my to-do list and a new reality TV show searching for the Hottest Mom in America, it seems just looking presentable while juggling diaper changes, toddler mealtimes and a full-time job isn't enough. Now we moms need to stop traffic in the car pool lane. We need to push up our lactating breasts and squeeze our post-partum bellies in low-rise denim (hello muffin top!).

I'm all for looking my best--hell, cute clothes and a good hair day can make my day. But all this focus on MILFs makes me feel we haven't come very far in 30 years. Check out this TAB commercial for proof.

I've also come across the Hot Moms Club, but while it claims to be a website for "Moms who refuse to check their sense of style at the white picket fence," their content isn't beauty or fashion-focused in the least. In fact, it is kind of interesting, in an upscale, Cookie-kind of way.

A woman I admire

Glencoe, Illinois mom Lynn Romanek was so moved by An Inconvenient Truth, that she decided to start a grassroots campaign to reduce emissions in her suburb. She's posting signs at schools and temples asking drivers to simply turn off their engines, reducing the emissions caused by careless idling. And it's such a simple, painless change that drivers are doing just that.

My hat's off to her!

Baby likes books

Josh picked up some new books from the library for Z today, and I showed them to her about 45 minutes before bedtime. Surprisingly, she didn't care at all for Sandra Boynton's Doggies, but Pumpkin, Pumpkin and Lost and Found were big hits! So much so that after one Mommy read-though of each, my little girl decided she would read the books to me.
Here's her version of Pumpkin, Pumpkin: "Pumpkin, Pumpkin. Pumpkin seed. And it grow. And grow. And grow. And grow. The end!"
The sappy underpinnings of Lost and Found were largely lost on her: "Lost and found! Penguin at the doorway. There's the moon! Those are star brights! Do you wanna see the thunder? There's thunder! And rain! And a cave [iceberg]. The cave is where the penguin live. And water. The end!"

Getting back online

Sorry the posts have been few and far between these last couple of days. Having my mom and Rick in town, combined with having the only Internet-ready computer in the basement (the wireless connection on our iBook is on the fritz), has made updating my blog a low priority.

Anyway, everyone's asking "So, how do you like your mom's boyfriend?" And the answer is, honestly, we like him a lot! He's a laid-back, jolly sort of guy...intellectually curious and with varied interests. He's able to keep up with Josh in conversations about movies, music and comic art (my mother's interest level in those departments is sub-low), and he seems genuinely into Mom. In fact, the two of them are a little puppydoggish, which is a little weird to see in a parent, but heartwarming nonetheless.

I'm really hoping this relationship sticks since Rick seems to be really good for Mom. He softens her sharp edges. Also, since she's been with Rick she seems more comfortable in her own skin than I've ever seen her. Maybe it's easier to be at ease with yourself when you know someone else thinks you're the bomb.

21st Century Family

My mom and her boyfriend Rick are here for a weekend visit. I'm glad Z's young enough that I don't have to explain his relationship to Nanny (her grandmother)!

Green Chicago

A Fresh Squeeze is a new Chicago website and e-newsletter with ideas for healthier, more organic and less polluting living in Chicago. I've enjoyed their first few emails and I'm bookmarking the website.

What I believe

It is rare that I'm given the opportunity to do good as a marketer, but I am so excited about a program idea I've developed for a new business pitch. We were asked to come up with a cause marketing idea that would appeal to moms and focus on health and wellness for kids. I won't give away the specifics of the idea, but it is something I really, truly believe in. I'm hoping that the marketing muscle of this powerful brand can help start a movement for play. As I mentioned a few days ago, the AAP has released a study that says child-based, unstructured play is under threat from parents' desires to create superkids and the pressure schools are under to raise academic test scores. I read the report (click the PDF link within the press release), and I strongly urge every parent and educator to do so also. It reinforced my commitment to give Z the same long afternoons of creative playtime I enjoyed as a kid.

Science fiction?

An evolutionary theorist is predicting that humanity may split into two distinct sub-species in 100,000 years and that just 1000 years from now we'll be well over 6 feet tall. Our lifespan will have been extended to 120 years and everyone will be coffee-colored and better looking. The question is: will we survive that long or destroy or planet first?

More teddies!

In addition to the teddy bear, musical giraffe, sippy cup of water and book already in her crib, Z demanded "baby" (a plush Japanese-alien thing from Aunt Bethany that now wears a diaper), "another teddy" and "my elephant" (also diapered) before submitting to the nightly tuck in. This is getting ridiculous!

In the work-life balance, housework suffers

A new study reveals that married and single parents--even working moms like me--are spending more time on child care than women of previous generations. Since we're also working more outside the home something had to give. That something? Housework. We're either asking our husbands for help, letting the dust bunnies run wild... or we're outsourcing. Considering I only know one mom (working or stay-a-home) who doesn't have a cleaning lady, I see anecdotal evidence to support the study. Another interesting tidbit from the study, which is detailed in this NY Times article, "Many couples delay having children to 'a point later in life when they want to spend time with those children.' People who are uninterested in raising children can 'opt out of parenting altogether,' by using birth control."

The Evolution of Beauty

The Evolution Of Beauty

I'm a huge fan of Dove's Campaign for Real Beauty, but this video really takes the cake. I could point out that Dove is a beauty brand and it isn't like they never retouch their ads. Or that Unilever, Dove's parent company, is a major advertiser (and a client of my agency). But that doesn't keep me from loving this. Talk about forging an emotional connection to the brand!

Preschool puberty

Puberty has been moving up in children, and many people blame the hormones in dairy products. We try to limit Z's exposure to bovine growth hormone by choosing dairy products that are rBGH-free. But it looks like the increasing prevalence of certain drugs, cosmetics and endocrine disruptors are causing breast growth, pubic hair and other symptoms of puberty in children as young as five. This NY Times piece details one case in which doctors realized that, through normal skin contact with her father, a girl absorbed the testosterone from a topical skin cream her dad was using, elevating her testosterone level to 100 times the normal level.

Scary stuff.

She's got a point

A conversation Josh and Z had yesterday:
Z: Where did Silver go? Where is he?
Josh: Where did she go? She went downstairs to the basement. Silver is a girl.
Z: No, Daddy! Silver's a cat!

Bookshelf

Having finished The Overachievers and bailed on Irvine Welch's The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs halfway through (I hated all of the characters and I was tired of trying to decipher Welch's prose), I've started Alison Bechdel's Fun Home. I never considered myself the graphic novel type, but Josh got me hooked with Marjane Strapi's Persepolis books about growing up in Iran during the revolution0.. I also enjoyed Art Spiegelman's Maus, so I guess my growing appreciation for graphic novels is less of graphic novels than of graphic memoirs. Anyway, Fun Home is the rollicking recollection of a young lesbian raised alongside two younger brothers by a not-so-well closeted father and a tense, tight-lipped mother. The father, who committed suicide when Alison was 20, spends his days teaching high school English and his nights running the family funeral parlor. His spare time is dedicated to restoring to its ornate former glory the Addams Family-style gothic mansion which the family of five calls home.

The accidental artist

While we were finishing dinner (Penne with Tomato-Vodka Cream Sauce, garlic bread, a green salad with avocados and sundried tomatoes and a glass of Shiraz, in case you were wondering), Z grabbed some construction paper and markers and set to work. Minutes later she piped up with, "I drew picture of a horse, Mommy." You could have knocked me over with a feather, her picture looked that much like a horse.

Night-night

She keeps upping the ante. Tonight Z required the presence of two teddy bears, one music-playing giraffe, one sippy cup and one book before going to sleep. How she can hold on to so many items while sleeping facedown in the corner of her crib is beyond me. And I'm not so thrilled with her sleeping with a sippy full of water since it inevitably leaks into a giant wet spot and dampens her pajamas.

Now with pictures

I've added a link to my Flickr photostream on the right hand side. I've posted the rest of the photos from the Thompson family visit.

Old Friends

Today we reunited with old friends and the children they've had since we were all last together. See if you can keep this straight: I used to work at Newcity with Frank. Frank married Beth, who lived briefly on the first floor of our old condo building with her sister Laura. Beth moved out of the condo and Laura married John, who moved in. John, in addition to being Frank's brother-in-law, also happened to be his cousin. I left Newcity to work at my current job. Frank left Newcity to work at Time. John and Laura moved out of their condo, and then we sold ours to move to Oak Park. I bumped into Frank once or twice on the street (and it turns out we know plenty of people in common) and Josh would see him periodically at concerts, but we were largely out of touch.

By the time we could all arrange to get together for brunch, Frank and Beth had two girls, four and two, and John and Laura had a three year old girl and a newborn boy.

Needless to say, Z had a blast playing with the kids and we had a great time catching up with old friends. (I find it fascinating that you can throw any kids of approximately the same age together and they'll automatically become friends; at what age do outgrow that and why?)

Dinner by Design

Last night I got together with five friends for a private "meal assembly" party at Dinner by Design. For just over 100 bucks, I assembled 6 meals, each of which was then divided in two for a total of 12 dishes (each serves about three people). The ingredients seemed to be of good (but not great) quality, and the staff was very helpful and friendly. The proof, of course, will be in how the dishes taste. Most of the food is in our spacious new basement freezer, but I decided to leave the Tropical Cod and Apple Caramel Crisp in the fridge for tonight. (Most promising among the dishes I prepared are the Garlic Herb Chicken and Italian Beef Sandwiches). If we all agree the food is as good as the convience and companionship (envision six women chatting, snacking and drinking wine while putting together meals that someone else planned, shopped for, diced and cleaned up after), we'll be back for more.

UPDATE: The Tropical Cod was a B/B-; it was a well-seasoned, flaky piece of fish with a sauce that mostly tasted of mango puree (I may have added too much puree when I made it). Tasty enough to pass as home cooking, but nothing I'd serve to guests. The Apple Caramel Crisp gets an A-. It's delicious, but I prefer the heartier oatmeal-brown sugar crunch of the Moosewood Cookbook recipe I typically use. The crumble on this one was a mixture of oats, brown sugar, cinnamon, vanilla wafers and almonds.

Negative

The good news: I don't have strep throat.
The bad news: I might have a sinus infection.
In the meantime, I've got the standard advice to follow: rest and drink plenty of fluids. If it doesn't get better, get antibiotics.

Did I mention it is snowing? We put Z in the purple parka I'd found at a yard sale this summer, but the zipper pull popped off. Maybe I'll see what I can find at LandEnd.com.

Getting swabbed

Turns out Franny tested positive for strep throat. Given that we were in close quarters and my throat has been sore for three days, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow morning to see if I've been exposed. I'm not suffering nearly as much as Franny, but I would like to stop abusing the Chloroseptic spray.

Interesting...when I Googled strep throat, I saw on a few health sites that a rash with small red spots is a common symptom of strep in kids. And Z had just such a rash along with a fever, hoarse voice and lack of interest in food a week or so ago. Is it possible she had strep and we didn't even recognize it?

Mommy's new dress

Remember my last post about new clothes, when I went nuts at Ann Taylor Loft and scored a bunch of $25 savings certificates? Well, Franny and I bought a dress each at $79 and put those $75 in savings certificates to work. Which means our dresses were 50% off. And I still have the 15% off coupon that sent me in there in the first place (I fell in love with the draped front dress when I saw it on the direct mail piece)! Anyway, I wore my new dress to work today and scored a bunch of compliments, so that lifted my otherwise sleepy spirits.

Of red eyes and sore throats

I'm so tired I can hear my bed beckoning me from two stories up. Franny, Dave and Mizz left this evening to return to Portland. It was wonderful having her and her family here for a visit, but since this is life, not everything went exactly as planned. Sleep schedules were thrown off, Franny caught a debilitating cold, and our grand plans to see the sites (or at least the zoo) went out the window. Still, even though the sudden onset of Franny's illness cut our adults-only dinner short (we got the food to-go) and our outings were limited to local playgrounds, I got what was most important: face time with Franny and family.

The memories I'll cherish are of seeing Z and Mizz race around the house screeching with glee. Splashing in the bath. And bustling in the play kitchen. Of Z telling me all the things her little friend needs ("He needs milk." "He's hun-gee." "He wants to pay wif my toys." "He wants to go outside." "He wants to go on da swings." "He's all done swings." "He needs a nap."). And the moment when Z showed Josh the Dora sticker I'd given her for sharing nicely, saying "I got sticker from Mommy. For good sharing wif Mizz."

Get well soon Franny!

What I've been saying all along

The American Academy of Pediatrics has come out with a statement that what children really need for healthy development is not structured activities and educational gadgets and videos but "more good, old-fashioned playtime." As the article on CNN.com quotes Dr. T. Berry Brazelton as saying, "Children overscheduled with structured activities 'are missing the chance they have to dream, to fantasize, to make their own world work the way they want it.'"

Superego

One of my favorite parts of being a parent is listening to Z's internal dialogue. She doesn't just think things, she usually says out loud what's running through her head. And I love to hear her remind herself of the rules and guidelines Josh and I have set out for her. Here are a sampling of the ones currently in heavy rotation:

"You can share." (And I have to give the girl credit--she's doing a great job of sharing all her toys with her 15 month old houseguest.)
"We're gonna take turns."
"Dat's Mommy/Daddy's ___________. Don't touch it!"
"Gonna stand on dis? No, dat's not safe!"
And last but not least, "We don't hit anyone."

Down on the Farm

Playgroup hit The Children's Farm in Palos Park for a hayride to the pumpkin patch followed by a picnic and a visit to the farm, where they could pet chickens, pigs, goats, bunnies, ducks and a cow.

We have the footage

Is there any thing cuter than two babies taking a bath together? Z and Mizz (Franny's 15 month old) took their first co-ed soak together this evening. Naturally, the two bathing babes were accompanied by too many camera-toting adults (this in a bathroom about 4 feet by 5 feet).

And in case you're wondering if "What's that? That's his penis!" was caught on tape, it was. At least eight times. These kids are going to be so completely embarassed come the preteen years. I still haven't entirely forgiven my mother for reintroducing me to my high school classmate Brendan (whom I'd last known when I was three) with "You two used to go 'bump-bump' in the playpen."

After the bath, the kiddos raced around squealing in their birthday suits. Z got such a workout she sucked down 8 ounces of water before bed.

Pretty dress

I wore a dress today largely so that I could convince Z to put on this adorable polka-dot number that she received from Beth B. for her 1st birthday. It finally fits! And while Mommy's dress doesn't much resemble this one, we had some fun talking about how Z's wearing a pretty dress "just like Mommy!" Here are a couple of other images from our early morning photo shoot.

It's easy being green

The NY Times has a great article on the lazy man's guide to saving energy. Since I feel guilty every time I change a diaper or send another bag full of unread catalogs into the recycling bin, I'm going to adopt a few of author Andew Postman's suggestions. And I've already got him beat in the compact florescent lightbulb and programmable thermostat departments! Heck, we all sleep better in the cold (and our heat is programmed to kick in at 5:30, just in time to warm things up before we throw off our down comforter).

Now I just need to convince Josh to switch off the basement lights when he comes upstairs and help me remember to shut down all of our "energy vampires" before we head to bed.

Books

How good is Winter's Bone? Let's just say I started reading it on my commute home yesterday and I ended up at the end of the line. Yes, I missed my stop. And then I missed the stop after mine. Maybe I should stick with knitting on the train.

She gets it, sort of

I was reading Z one of her oldest board books before bed this evening, and as I pointed to the green frog she said, "Maybe in the pond. Maybe he live... maybe he jump in th' pond." We turned to the baby wrapped in a blue towel and she points out, "Baby all clean."

But just as I was congratulating myself on my bright little toddler, we came to the baby in the white overalls. Z points to her and announces, "I'm gonna pick her up." When I started to turn the page, she got really agitated and started saying "Take her out! Bring her here!"

To chill her out, I brought out Baby Faces, another of her very first books. This time she pointed to the crying baby face (it's always been a favorite) and said, "Baby needs a paci." Then she pointed to the African-American baby with a sudsy face and washcloth and said, "That's Z!" Yeah, the resemblance is striking.

The New Yorker on Childbirth

Atul Gawande has written an absolutely riveting article on the history of childbirth and obstetrics for The New Yorker. It balances the rhetoric that childbirth has become too medicalized with history and data that explain how much better off mothers and infants are thanks to obstetrical advances. I can relate to this story because I'd planned on having a natural childbirth with midwives and minimal intervention (but in a hospital, thank you very much). But because she was breech, I ended up with a scheduled C-section five days before Z's official due date.

I was disappointed that I was contributing to our country's unnaturally high rate of Cesarean births, but Z did well on her Apgar score and I was able to breastfeed without much difficulty. Plus, never having gone into labor meant my delivery and recovery were pretty easy.

That wasn't the case for Elizabeth Rourke, who says to the author, "'I felt like a complete failure, like everything I had set our to do I failed to do. I didn't want the epidural and then I begged for the epidural. I didn't want a C-section, and I consented to a C-section. I wanted to breast-feed the baby, and I utterly failed to breast-feed.'" Elizabeth "was so debilitated that her milk did not come in" after almost 40 hours of labor and a Cesarean section.

If and when I deliver again, I wonder if I'll be able to go the more natural, vaginal route. It's what I'd want--the more correct choice--but I'd risk a one in 200 chance of uterine rupture as well as every laboring woman's one in four chance of having an emergency C-section anyway.

This changes everything

I'm used to paying $60+ for a haircut. It pains me every time, but I'd sooner cough up the cash and be assured I'll look good for the next two to three months than spend $20 at a Hair Cuttery storefront and risk a chop job. There was middle ground when I lived in the city; I could get a slow-but-meticulous student haircut at the Aveda Institute in Lakeview or a punk-rock trim at Big Hair in Roscoe Village. But since having a kid and moving west, I've stuck with the high-quality, high-priced James Anthony Salon in River Forest.

Not anymore. Our friends Jody and Peter, Forest Park business owners extraordinaire, recommended Michael. A UPS driver by weeknight and DJ by Saturday night, Michael is also a freelance hair stylist who--get this--comes to your house to wash, cut and blowdry your hair. For $30! I'll post a picture soon, but trust me, it's a good cut.

Anyway, I was hoping that Z would be inspired enough to sit still for a bang trim, but she wouldn't let Michael near her. Good thing she's letting me put her hair in pigtails now since it is getting very long and straggly. She'll just have to look homeless on the days Josh is taking care of her, because, as our neighbor put it, "Josh does a lot of things with Z, but brushing her hair isn't one of them."

And there was Franny

There's a new addition to the blogosphere, and her name is Franny. My best friend since we first warily eyed each other during track practice in the 9th grade, Franny and I have had the good fortune of living our lives in lockstep and the poor fortune of living at least 1000 miles away from each other since we turned 18. And when I say our lives are lived in parallel, there's a certain truth to that. I entered the world five days after Franny, and we shared high school teachers, confirmation classes and silver Taurus wagons (the silver bullets) in Arlington, VA. After graduation, we met our future husbands while sophomores in college and married them two months apart in 1999. And when I was in the hospital delivering Z, Franny called me to tell me she was pregnant with her darling little boy.

But we're not exactly two peas in a pod. I help people buy more shampoo and cream cheese. Franny helps the mental unstable. I've got curly hair. Franny's got curly hair. And while I'd never hesitate to tell anyone exactly what I think, Franny is less sure of herself and wasn't positive her blog was worth sharing.

And you know what I think about that? She's wrong! Frannyland is a wry, funny take on motherhood, as sort of scientific observation of the species oneis yearoldus.

We got a new car!

Welcome home, Silver 2005 Honda CR-V EX! In typical fashion, I had done extensive research online and showed up at Continental Honda ultra-prepared: ready to write a check for the right price and walk if nothing worked out.

So with Edmunds' TMV prices on my top car picks (new and barely-used CR-Vs, Subaru Foresters, and the 2006/2007 Toyota RAV4) stuffed into my purse, we hit the showroom.

Our first test drive was the brand-new 2007 CR-V, which is a complete vehicle redesign. Wow, a really cool car in every way, but they're selling at sticker. So we checked out the used CR-Vs on the lot and I liked the fact that this one had very low mileage (13k) as well as premium features like sunroof, 6-CD changer, 6 speaker audio and more cup holders than occupants!

I told our saleswoman, Stephanie, that I'd be willing to buy the car for Edmunds' TMV ($20,500) a good $4000 under its "sticker" price. Naturally, we wasted at least 2 or 3 hours while she played the "let me check with my boss," and "well, if you want I can try to go over his head," game. Ultimately we settled on $20,995, and I only caved because the mileage was so low and it was a Honda Certified Used Vehicle, which means we get an extended warranty. As Josh will attest, I played pretty good hardball, standing up and saying "Thank you for your time," at least twice.

Buying a car isn't typically all that much fun, but I enjoyed knowing I was well informed and I feel pretty satisfied knowing I made a good deal.

And we couldn't have done it if my friend Gloria didn't let Z hang at her house for the 5 hours it took to get this accomplished.

Working Mommy guilt

I got home from work tonight at 8:30pm. I was helping put the finishing touches on a new business pitch, so there wasn't much I could do to get out of there any earlier, but like every working mother out there, I still felt pulled in two.

The Mommy: "Before you left for work this morning, your daughter said, 'No want Mommy go work. I want Mommy stay here wif me.'
The Marketer: "You have to work to take care of your daughter. You're the breadwinner, the provider of health, dental and vision care. Besides, you're setting a good example for her. The accomplished career woman. And one who enjoys her work!"
The Mommy: "You didn't give her a bath. You didn't read her a story. You weren't there to tuck her into bed."
The Marketer: "But you make it home in time to do all of those things 90-95 percent of the time. Tonight was the exception, not the rule."
The Mommy: "Children need your time most of all."
The Marketer: "I know. But I'm doing the best I can. At least I feel like my efforts contributed to a kick-ass pitch presentation. Not that I'll be there to see it. It's scheduled for Yom Kippur."

The new anti-Semitism

Victor Havis Hanson, a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution, contributes a powerful editorial on how the Left is increasingly legitimizing terrorist organizations like Hezbollah and Hamas.

New business

I'm in the thick of a new business pitch at work, which means lots of meetings, high anxiety and the stress of trying to be new and different and creative when it seems like everything's been done before. That said, I think our team is coming up with some kickass concepts for the consumer packaged goods company that will remain nameless (Hey, I don't want to get Dooced).

What's interesting about this particular pitch is that I am both the marketer and the target audience for the product we're trying to sell: the "Gatekeeper Mom." The woman who reads labels, monitors what her kids eat and tries to avoid the big baddies: sugar, trans fats and preservatives. I probably go further than most, choosing organics when possible and avoiding processed foods as much as possible.

Anyway, this process has got me thinking about the brands I do trust. The ones that not only make it past my gate but onto our plates again and again.

Brown Cow yogurts
I'm a particularly partial to their Low Fat Yogurt with Fruit and Whole Grains. No bovine growth hormone, no high fructose corn syrup, no artificial anything.

Yo Baby yogurt by Stonyfield Farms
The drinkable yogurts are perfect for on-the-go, the cereal yogurts include iron and even the regular yogurts combine great taste with organic whole milk yogurt. Z asks for them by name.

Annie's Homegrown Mac & Cheese
While all of Annie's natural and organic macaroni and cheese products are great (I like them almost as much as Z does), the individual servings of microwavable mac & cheese let us make just the right amount of food for our toddler's appetite.

Cheerios, Grape-Nuts and Weetabix
One of these three breakfast cereals is in my bowl every single weekday morning. I like peaches and berries on top, but if they aren't in season, I'll put peanut butter on my Cheerios and Weetabix and raisins on my Grape-Nuts. Yeah, the PB sounds weird, but I've converted others. Ask Franny (if she ever gets her blog up).

Edy's Slow Churned Light Ice Cream
It really doesn't taste lower in fat or calories. Even Josh agrees. I love this stuff even though my agency pitched it a while ago and didn't win the business.

Trader Joe's anything
'Nough said.

Vruit
The newest addition to my list of favorites, Vruit is a fruit and vegetable juice drink available in smallist shelf-stable cartons. Our family physician recommended it. We mix it with water for Z when she demands "juz."

I'm knitting again

Afghan
Originally uploaded by marketingmommy.

I finally completed a throw made exclusively of leftover yarn. Now I've started a yellow and green striped cardigan for Z.

What you do with liquids is your business

I was reading on CNN.com that the TSA has relaxed rules regarding liquids allowed through security. According to the article, "up to 4 ounces of a few items were permitted in carry-on bags: eye drops, saline solution, nonprescription medicine and personal lubricants." Um, I don't know if I want to sit next to the guy who keeps his "personal lubricant" handy at all times.

Parenting tip!

It's gonna be loud! on Vimeo

Once in a great while I figure out some little trick that makes me feel like a really smart parent. And this one is so easy every mom and dad deserves to hear about it. When Z starts whining/demanding something "right now" or refuses to do something I've requested, like sit down for dinner or head upstairs for a nap or bedtime, I simply break out the "moo cow" egg timer and set it for 1 or 2 minutes. I tell Z that when the cow goes "bzzzt," it will be time for X. She stops whatever she's doing to watch the cow, occasionally saying "It's gonna go 'bzzt' -- It's gonna be LOUD!"

And when the timer goes off, Z happily complies with my requests. How long will this work? I have no idea. But I like it!

O! for Omaha

Just one week after we returned from Omaha, the Chicago Tribune honored my favorite Nebraska city with a feature story on the front page of the Travel section.

Hypno-Mommy

Z has a clever little tic Josh has dubbed the "Jedi Head Nod." When she wants to get her way, she'll phrase a statement as a question (complete with rising inflection), lock eyes with us and nod her head. Requests commonly associated with the Jedi Head Nod include, "Go to the playground, Mommy?" "Play Play-Doh wif Mommy?" and "Go downstairs, have breakfast wif Mommy?"

A New Year

5767 is off to a good start. We attended Rosh Hashanah services at Oak Park Temple (which we joined about a year ago) on Saturday morning, and once again our rabbi gave an amazing sermon. So moving that the Temple President was reduced to tears, saying "I'm 63 years old, and I've waited my whole life to hear that sermon."

It was on the subject of the Rosh Hashanah Torah portion--the Bible story in which Abraham brings his son Isaac to the top of the mountain and prepares to sacrifice him to G-d. Only in Rabbi Gerson's interpretation, G-d was actually testing Abraham's ability to act ethically rather than on blind faith. He pointed out that Abraham tells Isaac G-d will provide a lamb when G-d actually provides a ram (a lamb's father) for the sacrifice. He goes on to emphasize that in today's world too many men--Muslims, Christians and Jews--are acting on blind faith, justifying horrible acts in the name of G-d, when they should really be acting ethically.

Another point of the sermon reinforced the Reform Jewish belief that the Bible is not infallible, but that it reflects the incomplete understanding of the people of its time. He says there are parts of the Bible (like those that state that gays should be stoned) that need to be measured against the more ethical whole of the book and put aside. I'm sure I'm not doing his sermon justice, but that was the jist of it. And, yes, I have New Year's resolutions, but I'm not going to print them here.

The rest of the weekend was relaxing and enjoyable. I babysat for Gloria's daughter L on Saturday night, and the two girls got to play together again on Sunday at the park. (Click here for more pictures.)

Josh and I decided we're ready to bite the bullet and buy a new car, so keep an eye on this page for updates. It's going to be a Toyota RAV4, a Honda CR-V or (less likely) a Subaru Forester or Outback. Brand-spanking new or just a couple of years old. We can't wait!

Speaking of High School

Stephen Colbert's shares his Sound Advice for high school students.

Bookshelf

I'm reading The Overchievers, Alexandra Robbins' take on driven high school kids, and every time I pick up the book I'm reminded me of Z's teenage babysitter.

The high school senior comes over to our house laden with 3 or 4 bags worth of textbooks (including an AP Art text that must have weighed 15 pounds), her cell phone, a graphing calculator and a laptop. I can't keep track of all of her extra-curriculars, but I know that in addition to whatever she's involved with at OPRF, she works with disabled kids and volunteers with her youth group. Her summer involved travel to Europe, building houses for the needy and camping in the woods for science credit.

I hope these teens learn that where you go to college isn't the be all and end all to life. Hell, there's your career, your family, and name-brand graduate or professional school if you really want to impress people.

I went to infamously nerdy (and highly-ranked) University of Chicago, which the Walt Whitman students Robbins profiles dismiss as a "safety," but I don't think the name of my college has had much of an impact on my career path. (Aside from the occasional, "Oh, you must be really smart.")

What's most interesting The Overachievers is that Robbins cautions against the media hype and government reactionism surrounding America's "failing students." She says that by emulating the more highly-ranked Japanese school system, we'll produce excellent test-takers with zero passion for learning and little ability to retain knowledge past the test date. Oh, and teen suicides will skyrocket!

All this makes me feel bad for my sitter since--as she's pointed out--her generation is huge. More echo boomers trying to squeeze into the same number of college classroom seats means she's up against a lot stiffer competition than I was. I can only hope that Z won't be part of a generational crush since I want her to enjoy her childhood and teenage years. And not spend them padding her resume.
Besides, state school is fine by us.

In a side note, I also read Robbins' Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities, a dishy page-turner compared to The Overachievers.

The ABCs

Z knows I can record videos with the still camera, and she loves to check out the results as soon as I've taped her. Here she makes it to the letter G before her curiosity overcomes her.

From the mouth of a babe, part 4

When Z and I arrived at daycare this morning, I talked with Adriana about her pregnancy (she's due around Xmas) and we reminded Z that her Adriana has a new baby in her tummy. Z told "Ajana" to "pull shirt up," so she could inspect/pat her stomach.

Then, Z pulled up her own shirt and said, "I've got a baby in 'ere. A baby!"

"Is it a boy or a girl?" I asked.

"It's...It's a baby!" she replied, rubbing her tiny toddler potbelly.

In the aisles

Since so much of what is sold in regular supermarkets is so remarkably uninspiring, I found this article in the NY Times particularly intriguing. The author challenged himself to find the best-tasting non-gourmet, non-organic food sold in regular supermarkets. In our quest for good food, Josh and I have found ourselves cherry-picking grocery items from a variety of stores. We shop Trader Joe's for pasta, cheese, canned goods, cereal, dairy, snacks, chicken, frozen fish and wine. Produce, deli items and fresh meat come from the somewhat chaotic but infinitely affordable Caputo's, and Whole Foods (Whole Paycheck) and Jewel suffice for last-minute runs.

I recently read that Jewel and Dominick's, the two grocery chains that dominate the Chicago market, rank near the bottom nationally in terms of value, service and freshness. I find myself wishing for a SuperValu, Harris Teeter or the new Sunflower Market, which just opened in Chicago (but isn't at all convenient to Oak Park).

What about you? How many stores do you shop? Do you seek out organic or natural items? Avoid processed foods?

Golden Smog

Josh and I splurged on a babysitter last night so that I could join him at the Golden Smog show at the Vic. I don't go to many concerts anymore ($40 for the sitter, hello?), so I'm glad this was the one I opted to see. Not only did they play all my favorite songs (well, except for "Pecan Pie"), they covered the Jayhawks (many of the bandmembers are from the Jayhawks), Eric Clapton and others. And Chicago's favorite alt-country superstar Jeff Tweedy was there! Josh was reviewing the show for the Trib, so even with the sitter we came out ahead. Check out his take on the show here.

Speaking of babysitting, Z didn't cry at all when we left her with Julia last night. Usually she puts up a 2-5 minute fuss when Mommy and Daddy leave, but she was happy to be handed off with the promise of "mac cheese" and "playing Little People."

Crazy cousins

Z goes bananas with her cousins in Omaha. This went on for at least an hour.



Crazy Cousins on Vimeo

Oh Omaha!

Josh, Z and I had a wonderful time in Omaha. Why Omaha? Because that's where my maternal grandmother lives, as well as an aunt and uncle, my first cousin Ann and her family. Grandma Lorraine was recently diagnosed with lung cancer, and her diagnosis prompted our visit, but she seemed to be in great shape, if a bit frail.

Z loved--LOVED--her weekend, particularly everything involving Ann's children Lindsay and Robbie, 7 and 5 respectively. Lindsay in particular doted on Z, and she imitated the big kids' every move, learning how to "be a hummingbird," among other things.

Another highlight of our stay was "Nebraska's #1 attraction," the Henry Doorly Zoo. We only scratched the surface of their many attractions, seeing the Desert Dome (the world's largest indoor desert!), the Aquarium and the Jungle. We bought tickets for the 3-D IMAX movie about underwater life, but mere seconds after the credits started rolling, Z cried, "I'm scared! This is too scary! Wanna go bye-bye!" We let Josh stay, and he said it was fantastic, but definitely not for little kids. (So much for the wisdom of the ticket seller.)
Check out a few more photos from our trip here.

Tornado!

We're in Omaha for a long weekend, and we got a real taste of Nebraska living last night. Around 9pm the tornado warning system went off and the weather reporters began describing "wall clouds" within a couple of miles of my aunt and uncle's house. We woke up Z and took her down into the basement as instructed. Oblivious to the danger, she hopped, skipped and jumped around in front of the weather map (occasionally pointing to the screen and saying, "We're here!" No damage was done nearby, but apparently a funnel cloud touched down about 6 miles away.

The craziest thing was how eerie it was outside. No rain, no audible thunder. Just complete quiet, thick, motionless air and a dull orange sky.

Pootlates

Said my Pilates instructer last night during our beginner class: "Pilates is a fitness program of farts and cramps." Funny, I thought the brochure said flat abs and correct posture.

Translating Z

What she said: "Where's my skeeze-this?"
What she meant: "Where's the turkey baster you gave me as a 'new bath toy' in order to convince me to take a bath?"

What she said: "More windy! Daddy windy and Mommy windy!"
What she meant: "I want Mommy and Daddy to huff and puff and blow cold air all over my wet torso while I stand in the bath. I like having goosebumps."

What she said: "Want butter. Right here. On a plate. With cackers. And knife."
What she meant: "Please put a glob of peanut butter on a plate in front of me. I want a knife and crackers since you put them out anyway, but I plan to eat all the peanut butter straight up. Like Mommy. And Nanny. Crackers will be removed from the plate, dotted with peanut butter and placed on the table."

So scary!

I'm going to get you on Vimeo

From the mouth of a babe, part 3

"I don't want soup! I don't want it!" Z repeated, over and over as we spooned out tonight's dinner, African peanut soup and fried plantains. She continued with her "I don't want it!" tirade between spoonfuls and forkfuls of soup, at one point saying, "I don't want it. I want...more, Mommy." She put away two (baby-sized) bowls of soup. And one bite of plantain.

I felt like going out of ice cream, so I said to Josh as I was packing up the leftovers, "Maybe we could go to the Brown Cow for i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m."

Z jumped in with, "I wanna go to the Brown Cow. I wanna go to the Brown Cow an' get ice cream." (That girl has a memory! We haven't been there in over a month!) This was repeated, ad nauseum, and with escalating whininess until I snapped, "Z! We're going to get ice cream. So stop whining and use your big girl voice. "

As we approached our favorite ice cream parlor (and the setting of my baby shower), Z said, "Z riding in the car. Z stopped whining."

"That's right. You're using a nice voice. You're a big girl," I replied.

"I'm a big baby," Z responded.

Josh had a dish of their new flavor, Mountain Berry, which was amazing. And Z and I shared a bowl of Vanilla Cupcake. But she quickly lost interest and headed off to their play area, which includes a toy cash register. A toy cash register (our daycare provider has two) may very well qualify as the most wanted toy for Z's second birthday (Grandmas and Grandpa, are you reading this?)

Truth In Advertising

This spoof of the world of marketing is really, really offensive. But, in spite of the crude language and depressing overtones (oh, to be so self-loathing!), it has its wow-I've-been-there moments. I'll admit it, I laughed. I'm always hestitant to complain about any aspect of my career since I'm lucky enough to be paid decent money to be creative. Plus, I've had the pleasure of working with some great teams, both at my agency and at various clients. But those "just make my logo bigger" assistant brand managers, this movie is dedicated to you.

Mom Friends

Friday night, as I mentioned in a previous post, was Moms' Night Out. Six of us left our kids with their dads and hit New Rebozo for a pitcher of margaritas and their "Oh my God!" tamales, burritos, enchiladas and guacamole.

I'm trying to come up with a good word for this group of women. They're the moms from Z's playgroup, sure, but they mean more to me than that. Should I call them my "mom friends?" It sure sounds dorky, but we're friends because we're moms. Or at least that's why we became friends originally; before Z was born, I didn't know a single one of these wonderful women. Now I don't know what I'd do without them.

So let me tell you a little bit about this lively bunch. We range in age from barely 30 to almost 40, and we hail from all over: New York City, Louisiana, Texas, Colorado, the Midwest and more. Two of us are marketers, two are social workers, one's a computer consultant, and one's a stay-at-home mom who's done both marketing and therapy. Three of us are Jewish, but one who isn't is sending her daughter to Jewish preschool. Unless someone's hiding her political beliefs (not likely), we range from just left of center to far out in left field. Our children (two boys and six girls) range from 2 1/2 years down to 1 month old, with another boy due in November.

Naturally, we talk about our kids a lot, but the conversation isn't all sippy cups, time-outs and poop. There's also our jobs, our husbands, our houses, our mothers-in-law (not mine) and Our Dumb President.

If you're reading, girls, thank you keeping me sane. And making me laugh.

Block Party

Today was our annual block party, and Z got right into the thick of things. I'm going to have a hard time keeping her from running into the street after today's excitement (a pancake breakfast, flag-making, bounce house, scooters, a cake walk, a raffle, pot-luck dinner, music and more). The festivities culminated with the "World's Largest Ice Cream Sundae" (Oak Park's largest, anyway). It consisted of 12 gallon-sized "scoops" of ice cream and assorted bottles of topping piled into a baby swimming pool. As soon as photos were snapped of the monstrosity, everyone on the block proceeded to scoop themselves a share.
A newspaper photographer came to get a group shot of all the kids eating ice cream on the curb. As the remains softened into a runny mess, Z and another little one year old located stray spoons and helped themselves. I wish I'd brought my camera, as it was quite a gluttonous sight.
We came home, washed off the day's stickiess and I tucked Z into bed. She asked for a story about her friend L, and after I listed L's parents, dog and favorite things, I ended the story with "L likes to play with Z. They play Play-Doh and draw pictures together."
And from the dark, Z piped up, "And they like to share babies."

New option for toddlers on planes

We're traveling by air next weekend as we've done over a dozen times since Z was born, and I'm not looking forward to shlepping the car seat onto the plane. Z's Evenflo Triumph 5 weighs in at a hefty 19lbs. That's why I was excited to hear that the FAA just approved a new airplane harness for toddlers that attaches directly to the plane's lap belt. I likely won't be buying one since it costs about $80--as much as a new car seat--but the manufacturer says they're hoping the device will be available for rent soon.

What we have purchased is the Pac Back, a compact backpack that makes carrying the car seat a reasonably comfortable (and hands-free!) experience. Each time we've traveled, another parent has stopped us and asked us where we found it.

Sleepless in the suburbs

Last night was not pretty. Usually I fall asleep the second before my head hits the pillow, but yesterday I was tossing and turning until about midnight, when I finally fell into a really vivid dream involving co-workers, Josh's old bandmates and an elaborate office dining hall where all the food on the menu was free.

Then, at 1am, all hell broke loose. Z awakened with a scream and the next two hours brought back memories of newbornhood. You know, the wee hours when the moment after the crying ceases you find yourself holding your breath, unable to relax because your worried it will just start up again. Josh and I took turns going to her and settling her down, only to have the wailing resume within 10 minutes. On my visits, she was weirdly talkative, speaking clearly but not making a lot of sense. ("My cheeks! Oh, now they're better. My feet are better too. Mommy read a story in the crib. My new diaper is fresh and clean. Daddy's having lunch downstairs. Mommy's hair.")

I don't know if it was night terrors or the same restlessness that was afflicting me, but she eventually whimpered herself to sleep. She caught up on missed sleep by waking up late (and much happier) this morning.

Oh, Josh called me on the train this morning to report the following conversation between Z and himself:
"What are you thinking about, Daddy?"
"I'm thinking about driving. Are you thinking, Z?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about Mommy!"

What I'm looking forward to

There's not much to report today, but I've got a busy couple of days coming up. Tomorrow night I'm getting together with coworkers, clients (former and current) and my colleagues at our partner agencies for a few cocktails at Sushi Samba. It will be the first time we've gathered since the news hit that our client would be cutting their marketing budget. And it will probably be the last time we'll all be in one place.
On Friday night I'm going out with the other moms in Z's playgroup for dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, and Saturday is our annual block party as well as my first day of Pilates, which I'm taking through the park district program.
As if that wasn't enough excitement, Sunday morning we're hosting the first meeting of my Temple's newest chavurah (and my first chavurah as an adult--my family was in one when I was a teenager). I hope we can keep the living room clean until then!

Retail therapy

After a self-imposed spending freeze, I finally gathered up all of the coupons I'd been saving and hit the mall. And as ridiculous as it may sound, my new clothes make me so happy! I got new underwear from Victoria's Secret using coupons for two free pairs of panties and $10 off a bra. I bought two pairs of shoes from DSW with help from a $25 Reward Your Style gift certificate, and I went absolutely nuts at Ann Taylor Loft, scoring two tops, one skirt, one pair of pants and a tunic-length cardigan for $175. Everything was on sale, in coordinating colors (black and tan), and further discounted with my "20% off any purchase over $150 coupon." And the store was running a promotion that awarded me with three $25 discount cards that can be used starting mid-month.
Josh and Z benefited from my spending spree too. I got Josh a pair of khakis featuring stain-resistant, wrinkle-resistant nanotechnology from Target and Z got two new outfits, a pair of shoes and a lion Halloween costume from Target and The Children's Place (using 15% off coupons all the way!). I tried encouraging her to go for the ladybug, witch or fairy outfits since the lion costume resembles one her friend wore last year, but she insisted, "I wanna be a lion. I wanna say 'roar!'"
All in all, a great haul. I'm sure I'll feel the pinch when my credit card bill comes, but I think a periodic spending storm is probably smarter in the long run than leaking cash on little things all season long.

Not a born architecture critic

Today Z pointed to a cement multi-level parking garage near Oak Brook Shopping Center and said, "Look at dat beautiful house!"

The perfect party

A social worker by trade, my friend Gloria is the Martha Stewart of children's parties. Her celebration of her daughter's 2nd birthday was the cutest kid's birthday party I've ever attended. The bugs-in-the-garden theme was extended from the invites to the cake to the sand table stocked with plastic bugs and silk flowers. There were stations for customizing your own straw cup with crayons, creating a leafy crown with stickers, and adding a segment to a paper "memory caterpillar" of warm wishes for the birthday girl.
Z had a blast, although I think she was a little disappointed to find her best bud too preoccupied to want to play just with her. Fortunately there were plenty of little babies to adore. And she does love babies. Check out all of my photos from the event.

Pleased to meet you

Before her nap today, Z picked up two stuffed animals--one in each hand--and said:
"Hi, I'm Elmo."
"Hi, I'm Teddy."
"Hi Elmo."
"Hi Teddy."

The pump room

The NY Times has a great article on the inequities facing new moms returning to work and trying to continue to breastfeed. While it is low on actual statistics, I tend to believe the article's anecdotal evidence that white collar, highly paid workers are more likely to find it possible to pump at work than waitresses, casino employees and Starbucks baristas.
My experience lands somewhat in between the tales of lactation rooms outfitted with plush lounges, internet connections and company-financed breast pumps and the horror stories of huddling in the bathroom at a restaurant or warehouse only to be ridiculed by uncaring co-workers.

I work for a marketing agency where moms were furnished with a private room within the women's bathroom. It was something I advocated for since the work space was being built out while I was on maternity leave and none of the glassed-in new offices would offer any privacy. The room is spartan, furnished with a chair, table and sink, but eventually the three of us pumping at the time managed to get management to provide us with a lock for the door and a sign that indicated the room's purpose (it was being commandeered as a dressing room, coat room and smoking lounge). We shouldered our own pumps and disguised our milk bags and bottles inside insulated lunch bags in the office fridge. I had to block off time on my calendar to ensure I wouldn't miss one of my twice-daily pumping sessions, but it worked out pretty well for me. My colleagues were understanding--although there were plenty of times I walked out of the office with my Ameda tote only to be asked where I was headed ("You've got a meeting at the client?" "Er, no...just off to milk myself...").

When my daughter was 9 months old, the pace at work intensified and I felt it would be OK for met to quit pumping and supplement with formula, nursing just in the morning and at night until her first birthday.

I'm really glad I was able to breastfeed my daughter for a year, even though I returned to work after 3 months of maternity leave. I felt connected to her and I liked knowing I was able to provide her with all of the emotional and physical health benefits of breastmilk. It saddens me that our society (private industry and government) doesn't show a greater commitment to women and children when there is so much evidence demonstrating the benefits of breastfeeding.

My heart, melted

Z reacted to my surprise reappearance this morning by saying, "I'm happy Mommy's back."