The American Dairy Association loves mommybloggers

On Wednesday night, the folks behind dairy's 3-A-Day campaign romanced me and about dozen other mommybloggers with drinks, dinner and dairy swag.

Make that dinners. The American Dairy Council's 3-A-Day event for mommybloggers was held Wednesday night at Super Suppers in Northbrook, one of those dinner assembly joints where you can throw together a "real meal" with pre-chopped ingredients and store it in your freezer for future enjoyment.

We sipped wine, nibbled on cheese slices and sampled some cucumber-yogurt dip with veggies. I got to reconnect with some of my fellow Chicago Moms Blog contributors, women I hadn't seen since BlogHer.

Then we assembled our "dairy-friendly" dinners. Six healthy entrees made slightly less healthy as the friendly Super Suppers foodies encouraged us to "go ahead and double the sour cream" or "throw a little more cheese on there!"

I actually walked out with 11 nights' worth of dinners since I was able to split all but one of the meals into half portions (three servings instead of six). I'm most looking forward to trying the Meatless (Spinach) Lasagna and Pan-Fried Ravioli with Tomato Cream Sauce. I couldn't bear the idea of warming up all of the tomato-cream sauce ingredients together, so I convinced the Super Suppers guys to let me individually bag the diced onion and red wine so I could saute the onions and create a red wine reduction before adding the tomatoes, seasonings and sour cream.

Thank you American Dairy Association for making us mommybloggers feel so special. We love you (and your adorable milk glasses), too!

Please hold, your money is very important to us

I’ve spent far too much time on the phone this week, dealing with incompetent people and clearing up screw-ups. In addition to dealing with the morons at the Professional Eye Center, I called the Social Security Administration to find out why we haven’t received Baby A’s card yet. Even though I’d filled out an application for her number while still in the hospital, the SSA had no record of her existence and Wednesday we trooped over to Hillside to apply in person.

And then there was the two hours I spent on the phone with the billing department for the hospital where I gave birth and my insurance company. Since today is Health Care Issues day on the Chicago Moms Blog (and our sister sites the DC Area Moms Blog and Silicon Valley Moms Blog), I wrote about how dealing with billing department and insurance company nonsense makes me long for universal, single-payer health care.

My little creationist

Z and I do quite a bit of talking during the 3/4 mile stroller ride to preschool. She picks the topics. Today she said "God made the world, right Mommy?"

"Right." Hey, I'm not about to try to explain the Big Bang theory to a two-year-old.

"Did God make words?"

"Words, like talking words?"

"Yes."

"Well, God made people and people talk words, so I suppose He helped."

"Does God make houses?"

"No, people build houses. But God made the materials like wood, stone and sand."

"And little children can help build houses, right mommy?"

"No, grown-ups build houses."

"But little children can build Little People houses!"

"You're right about that."

Guess who's been watching the Jungle Book?

Said Z as she leaned back to examine the contents of the potty:

"I made a mama and two man-cubs!"

Professional Eye Center: Not very professional

In this age of 1-800-Contacts, can you imagine waiting a month and a half for a couple of boxes of contact lenses?

I went to the Oak Park office of the Professional Eye Center for an eye exam and contact lenses fitting in mid-August. I chose them because they're a member of the VSP network (my vision insurance) and I'd had a good experience with their optometrist in the past. My exam--aside from the breastfeeding comment--was uneventful and I placed my order for 6 months' worth of contact lenses. Since the enhanced vision insurance I bought through work covers the cost of eyeglasses or contacts up to a certain dollar amount, my exam and order only totaled about $30 out of pocket. I was told my order would take about two weeks.

After wearing through my trial pair and an extra set of lenses I had lying around the house, I started to get antsy. A month had gone by! I called the office and was told my lenses weren't in yet, but it would probably come in the following week. I could stop by to pick up another pair of trial lenses.

Fast forward two more weeks and I still hadn't heard from The Professional Eye Center. When I called back today they told me they didn't know why my order hadn't come in, and they didn't know when it would. But I could stop by and pick up another pair of trials.

Compare this to the customer service at For Eyes, which is just down the street from TPEC. I bought my glasses from them a few years ago and I stop in about once a year to have them adjusted so they don't fall off my face. Every time I appear, the friendly staff help me immediately and don't charge me a penny. It's a shame they're not in my vision care network, but I'm guessing they don't need the extra business.

A future Sarah Silverman?

Said my almost-three-year-old daughter today:

"Mommy, do you smell something? What does it smell like? Does it smell like toots?"
[Big smile]

"Z, did you just toot?"

"Yes I did!"

No taste for wine

We had our daughters' shared Brit Bat yesterday afternoon. At one point in the ceremony, we touched a drop of kosher wine to Baby A's lips.

Z wouldn't even let us come near her with the Kiddush cup. I guess that's what you get for putting off a Hebrew baby naming for almost three years!

Still, it was a wonderful event and we were thrilled to share it with our parents and friends.

Sweet dreams are made of these

"Mommy, I can't sleep."

With tonight's premiere of The Office starting (yeah, we don't have Tivo), I wasn't in the mood to make a lot of repeat trips up the stairs to help Z fall asleep. So, in a moment of sheer inspiration, I told her I'd find some special magic to help her sleep. Without a plan, I opened the hall closet. I figured I'd find some baby powder I could call sleep sprinkles, but it wasn't there. I grabbed a never-used bath pouf and carried it into her room.

"This is a very special, very magical sleeping cloud. I'll touch your back with it and you'll fall right asleep."

"A sleeping cloud? Can I hold it? I want to keep it."

She cuddled the bath pouf to her cheek and shut her eyes. I ran out of her room, barely able to keep my giggles quiet. It took me a couple of minutes to explain to Josh what I'd done, I was laughing so hard.

We haven't heard a peep since.

The perks and perils of outsourcing

Last Saturday I hosted a Yom Kippur Break Fast for about 20 people, and this Saturday I'll be having 30 guests over as we give our daughters their Hebrew names in a shared Brit Bat ceremony. As part of my ongoing and largely unsuccessful effort to do a little less (this maternity leave has been jam-packed with activity), I decided I'm not going to cook or bake. With my mom, my in-laws and my best friend in town for the event, the last thing I need is more shopping, coordination of cook times and dishes to do.

So I called our local Cosi and ordered a mess of sandwiches, chips, salad and cookies for delivery around noon on Saturday. Imagine my surprise when they showed up today with the food delivery. Fortunately they acknowledged the error was theirs and promised they would still come as promised on Saturday.

With the cooking taken care of and my house cleaner scheduled to come on Thursday, all I needed to do was buy a bottle of Manischewitz. Right? Wrong. Isabel called to say she can't come this week, which means Josh and I are on deck to give the place a top-to-bottom scouring before folks start arriving on Friday.

The unpretty preschool drop-off

In general Z's been doing great at preschool, picking flowers to bring to her teacher and telling us about the "work" she's been doing. But things deteriorated at this morning's drop-off.

Instead of merrily skipping into the classroom, she clung pitifully to my legs. It was hot and humid both inside and outside of the building, so I waited for the rest of the children to enter the classroom as the baby in my arms heated up my upper half and the toddler around my middle warmed and immobilized my lower half. I could feel my hair frizz and visualize the damp circles forming under my arms. It was like being in the world's most unpleasant body wrap, except I wasn't just sweating out toxins. I was wearing them, too. My otherwise adorable gray capris sported a generously-sized smear of baby poop on the right pocket. Yeah, I was a real class act.

Cross-posted to the Chicago Moms Blog

Stroller review: Phil and Teds Sport Double

My reviews have gotten more mixed as time goes on. Don't forget to read the updates at the bottom of this post!

Before Baby A arrived I daydreamed about owning the New Zealand-made Phil and Teds Sport Buggy. Unlike most double strollers, this one is a single stroller that can be adapted to fit two children. You've probably seen it around town in this arrangement--the set-up for two kids over the age of 6 months.


It looks pretty cool and it's got an amazingly small footprint for a double stroller--really no bigger than any single jogging stroller I've seen. But since Baby A still lacks the head control necessary for an upright position, we're using the Phil and Teds set-up for a toddler and a newborn, which has the added benefit of keeping the newborn completely hidden away underneath the toddler's seat. She's away from the sun, wind and curious kids at the park.




Baby A seems really comfy and cozy down below, and I frequently glance down to see her looking straight up at me from her gently swinging bassinet. I've also taken her for strolls without Z's toddler seat on, and while the sunshade doesn't provide a ton of protection, with the addition of a blanket we're set for our long morning walks.


So what do I love about my $400+ purchase?

• Steers like a dream (allowing for one-handed pushing while holding a cup of coffee or a cell phone)
  
• Handles curbs, bumpy sidewalks, gravel and grass with aplomb
• Folds down small without requiring one to remove the extra seat
• Comes in fetching, eye-catching colors
• Comfortable for the parent as well as small children
  
• Handlebar is adjustable for adults of different heights

What don't I love?

• The brake is difficult to set and almost impossible to release using just your foot
• Placing your infant under the toddler seat and strapping her in feels awkward at first
• The stroller does not come with a parent organizer, cup holders or a snack tray. I purchased this handlebar organizer from carryyou.com.
• The stowage basket is difficult to reach with the seat completely reclined, as it must be for a newborn
  
• Because it doesn't accommodate a car seat adapter, we've opted to use a hand-me-down Graco DuoGlider for car trips to the library or museum. Pushing it is a chore, but even new it is a decent stroller for the price

Update 11/6/07: We switched to the "two toddler" positioning when our second child turned 3 months old. I noticed that placing the double seat on the back was very difficult and it didn't click in all the way. I called the US distributor for the company and they told me they knew of some problems with the frame. They promptly shipped out a new frame at no cost to us. But reassembling the stroller on the new frame was no cakewalk. It took my husband 3 full hours and a long chat with customer service to put it together. Getting the double seat off is still very tricky--and you need to take it off to fold the stroller flat.

Update 9/28/08: My frustration with this stroller has been mounting since May. The top (main) seat has folded in on itself so that instead of a flat sitting area, it looks more like an open book. I called the distributor in June, but because my one year warranty had passed, they would only offer to sell me a new seat for $90.

Where the dragon sleeps tonight

"Mommy..." I hear my daughter call downstairs for the third time since I put her to bed.

"Mommy, I'm going to let my baby sister A borrow my dragon."

"Um, okay. But don't go in her room. She's sleeping. Leave the dragon outside her door."

"But I want to put it in her crib." I hear A's door creak. A vision of my tiny baby getting bonked in the face with an oversized, not-particularly-soft stuffed animal flashes before my eyes.

"No, sweetie. She's too little for toys in her crib."

"Can I put it on the chair?"

"No. Leave it outside of her door."

"Okay, Mommy. Mommy? I'm going to let A keep my dragon. She can keep it."

I head upstairs to check on the dragon's location. It is sitting outside the nursery. "That was very sweet of you to give A your dragon." I tuck her in, again.

"Now go to sleep."

Seems like a lovely end to a post, right? Well, while I was blogging I got interrupted again. And again. And again.

"Mommy, I have to go potty." This was followed by my heading upstairs to wipe a truly toxic-smelling poop off her butt as it dangled precariously low in the toilet.

"Mommy, who put sunblock in my room? I'm going to put it away."

"Sockies. Sockies. I need sockies to go to bed."

Now she's crying. I'm giving up on this post and heading upstairs permanently.

Gridlock vs. Hell on the El

Not only is our transit system broken, our roads have gone from bad to worse. Check out my rant (and artsy photo) at the Chicago Moms Blog.

Now it's Daddy's turn

Today is Testosterone Day on the Chicago Moms Blog, an opportunity for the men in our lives to have a say. Check out Josh's contribution.

Moments like this

They say having a second child more than doubles the work, and I think there's a lot of truth to that. Now two-months-old, A is an angel baby, sleeping through the night (mostly) and hardly ever crying. Yet we're exhausted, short-tempered and not nearly as nice to each other as we should be.

So when I'm fed up with bedtime battles, sour spit-up down my cleavage, endless laundry, dinner dishes and a husband who's short on sweet words himself, I focus on this. Those fleeting moments of sisterly love that make me feel like our family of four is perfectly complete.

Her first day of preschool

"Noooo! I don't want to go to school today," Z cried this morning, "I want to go back to bed and sleep."

Who are you and what did you do with my daughter, I asked myself. Is this the same kid who has been talking about starting preschool since April? The one who responded to her daycare provider saying "I'll miss you," with "I won't miss you. I'll make new friends at school." The girl who's never slept in ... ever?

I started to doubt our decision to send our not quite 3-year-old to a Montessori preschool. A traditional, old-school Montessori where she's be doing "work" and going to the potty without grown-up assistance (I'm dreading the inevitable skid marks).

But since Z loves hearing stories, I decided to tell her about my first day at preschool. I have no recollection of it whatsoever, but I improvised. I told her about how scared I was at first, but how the nice teachers and new friends made preschool a lot of fun.

"Tell me again."

We were on a roll. Z got out of bed and headed downstairs where she ate a good-by-her-meager-standards breakfast. She watched an episode or two of Caillou (curse PBS for canceling it and forcing us to watch it on DVD) and got dressed without complaint.

We walked to her new school as a family and dropped her off without fanfare, as requested by the teacher. I picked her up an hour and a half later and she was ecstatic, jumping up and down with excitement. I didn't get much information from the teacher, but I gathered that she'd spent her phase-in morning working with an older girl on some "numbers blocks" and had cereal for a snack.

She seems to be looking forward to returning tomorrow.

Birthday wishes

Z knows that her birthday is approaching and that she will be "free" (said as she holds up three fingers). She's also started telling me things she would like to get as birthday presents. Random stuff, like...
Strawberry shampoo
Strawberry underpants
Another bear-bear, maybe a blue one
Dora sheets for her bed
A Dora cake
An Alice in Wonderland book

And my favorite, "shavers," like Daddy's!

She's also very sure she wants to be a princess for Halloween. "Because I love princesses!"

Ugh.

Shout out to Mr. Mom

You don't hear a lot about what happens when the woman who brings home the bacon stays home to fry it up. About how her work-at-home husband has to deal with her burning said bacon and setting off the smoke alarm.

Because that's kind of what's been going on at the House of Klein. I've stepped out of my agency life for a few months of breast-feeding, midweek playdates and household chores. I've picked up many of the tasks that I'd handed off to my man over the past couple of years, and while I can still grocery shop, sort the laundry and load the dishwasher with the best of them, I don't do it his way. The man has systems.

So while I'm not going to learn all his tips and tricks before I have to return to the working world, I'm tipping my hat to the guy I married. The man who will take back the diaper bag and take over preschool drop-offs and daycare pick-ups. Who will be warming bottles and scheduling playdates. Making dinner and texting me "WHEN WILL U B HOME?" "STATUS?" "SOMEONE NEEDS MOMMY."

Cough, sneeze, wheeze and cry

Welcome to the sick ward. While she seems fine during the day and she hasn't been hit with a fever yet, Z's got a nasty-sounding nighttime cough. She refuses to take medicine, but I'm contemplating spiking a cup of OJ with Benadryl. In the meantime, she's getting some relief from Vicks BabyRub and a humidifier.

What she isn't getting is this message: Please don't kiss Baby A's face while you have a cough.

"But I'm not coughing right now," she retorts. Which is literally true, even if the previous moment witnessed her coughing into her elbow (good) and wiping her nose with her hand (ick).

It may already be a lost cause because A is pitifully congested. And miserable. She cried nonstop for over an hour tonight. About 55 minutes longer than she's ever cried before. There were real tears, for goodness sake!

I'm hoping for a quick recovery on all fronts, but in the meantime I need to get a little something off my chest: I really like using the snot sucker on my baby. It is so satisfying to extract a ginormous booger from my baby's tiny nostrils.

Blog Blast: How do you FIT it in?

Parent Bloggers Network and the fine women behind Ryka shoes (those mary jane sneaks are mine) have teamed up to ask moms how we fit fitness into our busy lives. Perfect timing for me, since I just passed the 6-week postpartum grace period and I'm finally working out regularly (at least until I return to a regular work schedule in early November).

So what's on mommy's workout plan? I'm hitting the YMCA 2-3 times a week for 15 minutes of cardio and 20-30 minutes of ab work and free weights. I take my toddler along and drop her off to explore the toys and climbing apparatus in the free babysitting room.

My newborn is welcome at the weekly postpartum yoga class I'm taking through the park district, although so far that class is more nursing, rocking and talking about kegels than it is cobra and downward dogging.

But that's the structured stuff. I also get burn a few more of those Trader Joe's peanut butter filled pretzels by wearing Baby A for at least an hour a day and squatting down to pick up toys and fallen pacis. Plus, I push both girls all over Oak Park and Forest Park in my beloved Phil and Teds Sport Buggy (to be the subject of a future post). And I'm sure there's some benefit to hauling laundry baskets upstairs, pushing swings and carrying around that infernal infant car seat!

If I'm going to keep this up I'm going need some new (and very cute) athletic shoes. Good thing Ryka's giving away 50 pairs of shoes and 50 tees every single day.

Z takes on the Field Museum

Check out my review of the Field Museum's new exhibit for 2-6 year olds, The Crown Family PlayLab.

Happy Jewish New Year

5767 was a blessed year for me. May 5768 prove just as sweet. L'shanah tovah to all my Jewish readers.

Want to see what I had to say on Rosh Hashana last year?

Products I love: Innobaby Packin' SMART

If you're the parent of a toddler, chances are you don't go anywhere without packing a snack. I quit carrying the diaper bag I'd shared with my husband because the two years of accumulated sippy cup spills and snack detritus that filled every nook and cranny was grossing me out. (And my husband was notorious for forgetting to remove Ziploc baggies of sticky dried cranberries, half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and opened-but-unfinished cheese sticks. Ick, ick, ick.

But I'm happy to say marital bliss has been restored. We're both huge fans of the Innobaby Packin' SMART snack caddy I received in my Chicago Moms Blog swag bag before the BlogHer conference. But we call it the SNACK TOWER, which is a much better name, dontcha think? This nifty invention lets you pack a variety of portion-controlled snacks without having to worry about pulverized Cheerios, open Ziploc bags or the mountain of landfill waste that disposable bags and containers contribute to.

Each individual container is the perfect size for a toddler snack portion and it fits perfectly in Z's hand. You can bring as few or as many of the interlocking containers as you wish, but I find it's fun to fill all but one up with a colorful variety of snacks (Fruity Cheerios, Cracklin' Oat Bran, pretzels and dried fruit are our standbys). The last container is perfect for stashing an extra pacifier for the baby.

Z loves the snack tower as much as we do. She pulls it out to show to her buddies and sweetly asks them, "Which snack do you want? This one? Okay, I'll have my mommy open it for us to share."

You don't have to be a toddler snack-toting mommy to get a kick out of Packin' SMART. You could use the tower to transport pre-measured baby formula powder, hair accessories, grilling spices or sewing notions.

Reading, 'riting and riding to preschool

So much on this van confuses me. Number one, check out the spelling of occasion. Number two, why the long name? Are you a Montessori school or a day care? Is a kiddie garden just like a kindergarten, but easier to spell? And how exactly can a child care center be available for any occasion, anyway? What, are they hoping someone might want to rent out the space for a Bar Mitzvah party?

Remembering September 11th

Early this morning a plane roared low and loud over our house.

Awakened by the noise, I said to my husband, "That sounded scary." I glanced over at the clock radio. 5:30 a.m., too early to get up. Still, today is September 11th, and that made me even more anxious than usual about low-flying planes.I was tempted to reach over and turn on NPR--just to make sure all was well.

But then I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

"Something loud in my room scared me."

I pulled my my almost three-year-old into bed next to me and we dozed together for a half an hour or so. On the off chance that there had been another terrorist attack, I wanted to hold onto a little piece of closeness. To soak up her sweet innocence for a few more minutes.

As I type this all is well, at least in our country. Still, I can't get through this date on the calendar without feeling as though I'm holding my breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

And remembering. Because September 11th, 2001 was a beautiful, breezy day, just like today. I knew a plane had hit the WTC before I left for work. My husband texted me news updates as I rode the Brown Line. "ANOTHER PLANE." "THIS LOOKS BAD."

Usually my ride to work was silent. This time it was different. Commuters were longing for information, for a connection with others. By the time I'd reached my office, I couldn't shake the goosebumps. We huddled around a co-worker's tiny black and white TV for 45 long minutes before we were sent home. Home, were we sat glued to the coach, switching from channel to channel and seeing the same horrifying images over and over.

Before

A beautiful day at the Brookfield Zoo with our best friends. But it turns out we might have stayed there a little too long...

After

This was just the beginning of a one hour long tantrum.

Portillo's, are you listening?

It's been about 9 months since I published my correspondence with Portillo's, a Chicago chain of hot dog restaurants. I was concerned about trans fats and a little disturbed that they didn't make their nutritional information available on their website. Well, they admitted that they do indeed use the unhealthy fake fats and claimed they're too small a chain to afford to calculate their nutrition information.

Scared by what I don't know, I haven't been there since. But I've been tempted--there's always a long line at the Forest Park drive-through and their food, while probably about as bad for you as it gets, sure tastes good!

Anyway, it seems someone in the Portillo's marketing department needs to take note of this little thing called blogging. You see, I check StatCounter periodically to see what kind of search terms bring readers here, and I've discovered that at least one visitor every day arrives at my old Portillo's post by Googling "Portillo's nutrition info," "Portillo's transfats," or something similar. Which makes me a leading consumer voice for Portillo's. And I think it's plain to see I'm probably not putting out the kind of word of mouth they're looking for.

So I'm giving Portillo's a second chance. I emailed them again asking for comment and reminding them that I'm out here and my post is getting a lot of hits. I want to know if they'll reconsider their nutrition information policy and reconsider keeping trans fats on the menu. I'll be sure to share whatever I hear back here and on the Chicago Mom's Blog.

3/3/08: According to my site meter, this post gets between 10 and 50 hits a day-- proving that consumers want to know what's in their Portillo's meal. If you have a moment, please show you were here by leaving a comment.

3/11/09: Another year and even more daily hits (50-100) from folks looking for Portillo's nutrition information.

Stop in the name of bugs!

Z poses with her magnifying glass, which we took out in search of bugs and worms. She found an ant, which she squished between her fingers and dropped into the grass "so he could go back to be with his mommy."

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.