Supernanny in the exurbs

Is it just me, or do all of the Supernanny and Nanny 911 families live at the very edge of civilization? The hapless parents and their devil spawn dwell in homes so large they're half-devoid of furniture and so new they neighbor empty lots or farmland. I guess living in the ex-ex-exurbs is the key to owning a semi-luxury home on one garage door installer's income.

That's entertainment

I know I've been a bit lax about blogging lately, but but between a new job, two kids and icky winter weather that's had us trapped indoors, there's not too much to report.

But I do have a pile of recommendations to share! I just finished reading Love in the Driest Season and Choosing My Religion, both of which I'd borrowed from a friend and really enjoyed. The first is a memoir about race and adoption set amid the chaos of modern-day Africa and the latter is Freakonomics author Stephen Dubner's memoir of growing up Catholic only to reconnect with his parents' Jewish roots. His parents converted independently, married, and became very religious--cutting themselves off from their families.

Now I'm reading The World Without Us, a nonfiction book that proposes how the world might look should humans vacate the earth.

I'm also loving the eight o'clock hour as that means both children are in bed and Josh and I can crank up the DVD player. There are so many good TV shows on DVD that I don't at all miss having cable. We finished Season Four of The Wire and we're in the midst of watching a bunch of other great shows: AMC's Mad Men (about an ad agency in the 1960s), Human Giant, Flight of the Concords, and Battlestar Galactica.

Courtesy of SNL

Great send-up of the commercial for Seasonale, the once-every-three-months birth control pill.

Freecycling to weirdos

I started using Freecycle regularly to rid our home of promotional tote bags, outgrown kiddie gear and a plant too big to fit in our dining room. And I've picked up a few finds from other Freecyclers as well. (Just Saturday I scored a pair of new-to-Z toddler size 8 rain boots!)

But I have to wonder about one of the three women who emailed me about my offer of nursing bras, pads and this hands-free pumping bustier. She didn't want them for herself: she was requesting them for her pregnant daughter-in-law.

Because nothing says thank you for marrying my beloved son and giving me a grandchild better than a Menard's bag full of second-hand nursing bras that you picked up from a stranger.

It's not fair to compare...

But honestly, what parent can resist comparing her children? Baby A is now seven months old (holy crap, time flies!) and she now weighs what Z did at her 1 year checkup: 18lbs. Seriously, she's wearing clothes Z walked in. Since her Lands' End fleece bunting arrived yesterday, we're moving her out of her infant car seat and into a convertible one today. We lucked into a secondhand Britax Roundabout and I'm about to go outside and install it (or convince Josh to).

I was fretting a bit last month about how A refused to eat solids. But on my mother-in-law' s recommendation (she's a pediatrician), I officially quit stirring up bowls of nasty baby cereal and just put A in the highchair for mealtimes with us.

Well, lo and behold, she looked interested in real food, and I was soon sneaking her bits of sweet potato, banana and a bunch of other stuff that I never would have dared give my firstborn right off the bat. I know I'm risking hell from allergen-fearing mommies in the blogosphere by admitting this, but I'm feeding her nibbles of bagels, graham crackers, pancakes, pear--and she likes them! I guess if you wait long enough to introduce solids, you can skip right to the good stuff and skip the purees. Hell, she's got four teeth anyway!

Two dates with my daughter

It was a big weekend for one-on-one mommy-daughter time. On Saturday, I took Z to Millennium Park to see the Museum of Modern Ice.

She was more taken with the teenage ice skaters strutting their stuff on the rink and her favorite piece of public art, "the Big Bean" (better known as Cloud Gate).


There were family activities in a heated tent at the park, but we headed just south to the Art Institute of Chicago, which is free through the end of February and has a wealth of activities for kids (who knew?). We read books in their library, completed an American Gothic jigsaw puzzle, and stuck around for storytime at 12pm.

But it wasn't all for Z. I wanted to hit the AI because of this exhibit. Girls on the Verge is a photography exhibit that captures the physical and emotional lives of adolescent girls. I particularly liked the images of girls that demonstrated how much they can change in a year.

As we moved through the gallery, an obviously childless guy in his 40s took it upon himself to correct Z's observations of the prints and video installation:

Z: "Why is that girl sad, Mommy?"
Guy: "She's not sad. She's self-conscious."
Z: "Look, that girl is singing a song."
Guy: "She's not singing. She's lip-synching to the Bee-Gees."
Me: "Actually, that's not the Bee-Gees. That's the Backstreet Boys. The Bee-Gees for a new generation." Boom!

On Monday morning I took my fairy tale obsessed girl to a Chicago Kids' Company performance of Sleeping Beauty at the Beverly Arts Center on the far south side. I wanted to drop off a meal for a friend, so I was able to combine that errand with our outing.

We rounded out the weekend with playdates. On Saturday afternoon our four moms and seven kids from our playgroup met for pizza and playtime at Gloria's house and on Monday we hosted three kids here.

Z's first Valentine's Day

When I got home from work last night, Z upended her "goodie bag" onto the living room floor. Out spilled 32 valentines and an assortment of glittery pencils, heart-shaped note pads, candy and other Party City gewgaw. Now keep in mind that Z is only 3 and she can't read. Yet she knew exactly who gave her at least 75 percent of the cards and gifts!

The prize for most creative item surely should go to the boy (I'm assuming he is one of the 5 year olds) who constructed a bi-wing airplane out of gum, 2 Lifesavers, a roll of Smarties and a rubber band. "It's very fragile," Z kept reminding me.

I'm a lazy preschool mommy. I just sent Z off with a box of Princess valentines. Nothing homemade. No extras.

I'm hanging up the horns

Today I didn't pump.

I. Just. Didn't. Pump.

I'd planned to, I just let the hours slip by, thinking about the breast pump in my desk drawer, peeking at it, and closing it away. Part-weaning on a whim, you could call it.

Why? Well, I really don't care for the grimy, distant, sink-less mothers' rooms at my new place of employment, but I know women have pumped in much more undesirable locations (supply closets, airplane bathrooms, conference rooms).

But with a lousy place to pump and dwindling commitment (Baby A is almost 7 months old), I just said to hell with it. I want to stop shlepping. Stop cleaning parts. Stop planning for the break in the middle of the day. I want to start working out over lunch, and I'll feel less guilty about that if I'm not also breaking to pump.

So, no, I don't feel too guilty. After all, I nursed exclusively for six months. And now that I've found a brand of formula that Baby A will drink, I'm going to put away the pump for good and have the nursing relationship I enjoy (baby vs machine) in the morning, evening and at night.

Cross-posted to the Chicago Moms Blog

Book review: The Sky Isn't Visible from Here

I'd long held up Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle as the ultimate oh my God do these things really happen? tale of extremely bad true-life parenting, but she's got some competition from Felicia Sullivan, author of The Sky Isn't Visible From Here.

Sullivan recounts a Brooklyn childhood spent in the company of host of unsavory characters, most notably her mother: a drug addict who lies, cheats and steals her way through deadbeat men and dead end jobs while subjecting her daughter to verbal attacks and leaving her vulnerable to sexual abuse.

Not surprisingly, the author doesn't come through unscathed. She recounts her own struggles with drug abuse, alcoholism and unhealthy relationships. And you've got to give her credit: she comes across as a pretty unlikeable person in her very own memoir.

But it isn't all bitterness and sorrow, and the lack of a ghost writer credit on the jacket offers a clue. Felicia Sullivan triumphed over the bad hand she was dealt and achieved success as a journalist and essayist. Even as she watched her mother survive on life's fringes, homeless, sick and unrepentant.

Other Parent Bloggers Network members are reviewing this book...see what they have to say.

Date night drama

Think regular date nights are the key to a happy marriage? I did. But apparently it's not enough to book a babysitter and enjoy a simple evening out with your spouse. If you want to ensure long-term romance, dinner and a movie don't cut it. According to a study cited in the NY Times, married couples who get out and do something different, experiencing something novel and exciting, are more likely to rekindle their romantic feelings for each other.

It makes a lot of sense, and I'm going to try to plan a different kind of date (although trying new restaurants has always appealed to both of us).

So what should our next date night be? A cooking class? Stand-up comedy? We saw a play recently and concerts are out because that's what Josh does for a living. I'm open to suggestions...

Obama-rama

I am thrilled to read that Barack Obama swept all three D.C. area Democratic primaries.

My first day on the job

After spending the whole morning in a very thorough orientation with 10 fellow newbies, I got to spend a brief 45 minutes with my manager. She apologized profusely for not being able to take me out on a first day lunch as instructed by HR, but she did have a plane to catch. Since she and a few other team members will be traveling until Thursday, I've got a couple of days to familiarize myself with the office (we're spread out on multiple floors and there are at least two elevator banks) and the technology (always a treat).

But you don't want to hear about the good stuff. About how close my new gig is to the Blue Line stop and how I don't have to go outside to buy lunch or go to the bank. You don't want to know about the cheap private gym across the street and the lunchtime Pilates classes that are going to kick my butt into shape.

No, you'd rather hear about how I asked 5 different people where the mother's room was and they all said "We don't have one," even though I'd been assured at least two exist. Finally, reception pointed me to a small room 9 floors up marked "family resources" where I pumped in an armchair and hoped no one barged in (there was no lock on the door). There also wasn't a sink in the room, so I tucked my milky "horns" under my arm and figured I'd rinse them in a nearby ladies' room. Which I circled the floor twice trying to find! I'm just glad I don't know anyone who sits up there!

Then, at 2:15 I finally got a chance to grab lunch. I headed downstairs to a little sandwich shop and they must have misplaced my order because I waited over 10 minutes as everyone who'd lined up behind me picked up their food.

After those minor debacles, though, it's been smooth sailing. I spent the afternoon familiarizing myself with the work with one of my teammates and I'm actually excited about getting down to business.

Barely blogging

I've had two days as a SAHM, and I can't tell you how many times I wanted to answer the inevitable, "Hey, it's surprising to see you here in the middle of the day...why are you home?" with a sly "I'm between jobs."

Which is true, technically.

I start my new gig on Monday!

Someone's been showing my 3-year-old a world map

7:55pm
"Do you love Papua New Guinea?"
"I've never been there."
"What do they have there?"
"Um, they've got jungle. Monkeys, snakes, birds..."
"And spiders?"
"Yes, I think they have big spiders."
"Papua New Guinea is Evan's favorite place."
"That's interesting. What's your favorite place, Z?"
"Virginia."
"Why's that?"
"Because Nanny lives there. And I love Nanny. But I think I'm going to call her NAN-cy."

8:10pm
"Mommy? Where do you usually keep the Big Bean?"
"The Big Bean? It's downtown."
"In South America?"
"No, in downtown Chicago."
"Oh."

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Yesterday I had conversation-filled dinner with three fabulous fellow bloggers, the mommy guilt-free Devra Renner, fellow U of C grad and erotica author Mary Anne Mohanraj and MOMformation czar Kim Moldofsky. We met at the Moroccan restaurant Andalous, where I had a dish that resembled nothing so much as a giant chicken baklava. Seriously, it was a nutty chicken dish wrapped in phyllo pastry and dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Today I cast my vote for Barack Obama. While he and Hillary Clinton don't differ dramatically on policy, I feel strongly that Obama can provide the inspiration and leadership we're hungry for in this country. I also feel that electing a fresh new voice, the son of a Kenyan man and a Kansas farm girl, will help redeem America in the eyes of the rest of the world.

Tomorrow is my last day at Ogilvy.

Photo from Mary Anne's iPhone

If the Irish can do it, so can we

Motivated by a 33¢ tax, the Irish have cut their use of plastic sacks by 94% in a year. Let's get with the program, America.

My fabulous gay cousin

Doesn't every gal want a fabulous gay cousin? A swishy BFF who can swoop into town for a weekend of gourmet meals, sage interior decorating advice and shoe shopping? Someone who can cast a queer eye at my closet and pull together 10 adorable outfits with the clothes I already own?

Yeah, well I've got a gay cousin. Two, if you count Mike's husband/life partner, Dave. And while the two of them are the least fabulously-dressed gay boys you'll ever meet (think jean shorts, tee shirts and a fanny pack), they are fabulously funny, as they prove in their new column for a Lawrence, Kansas magazine.

And while I'm not letting Mike or Dave near my wardrobe, they can give my computer a makeover any time.

Still not pregnant, thank you very much

Here I am at Saturday's synagogue fund-raising event in the dress I was purchasing when the cashier asked me if I was expecting a boy or a girl. Thank you Assets for allowing me to visit (and revisit) the bar without getting any suspicious looks from the Sisterhood ladies.

The food and the silent auction were really impressive, but unfortunately I spent more time chatting than eating and I got outbid on every last thing I tried to win!

I broke in my new royal blue H&M dress today. We attended a neighborhood farewell brunch for a family that's moving off the block (but staying in OP). Imagine 30 adults and at least that many children in a house the size of ours. And we all posed for a photo in her living room. I'm surprised her couch didn't give way.

As a contribution, I made a quiche for, oh, maybe the second time in my life. It was a huge hit, not only because it was delicious (if I do say so myself), but because it was the only savory dish on a table full of sweet rolls, cakes and muffins.

Z drew her first family portrait

...And wrote her name!

A fresh marketing idea from Salad Spinners

Last Friday, evening commute. I finished my book just a few minutes into the trip, so I looked up to check out the train car's ads. I saw a cute one for Salad Spinners, a local chain of create-your-own salad lunch spots, but while the headline and visual were nice, what really intrigued me was ant copy underneath. It congratulated me for reading the fine print and offered a word puzzle. Solve the puzzle, the ad promised, and you could qualify for a prize.

The puzzle was pretty simple, and I emailed Rich Levy the answer from my Blackberry. Yes, the CEO's personal email address was listed on a subway ad.

Before the weekend was over, I'd received a reply from Rich saying that his marketing team would get me the first of my rewards early in the week.

True to his word, I received a reusable $1.00 coupon Monday morning. And today I got another email from Rich:

Thank you for solving our puzzle on the CTA. In doing so you have identified yourself to me as someone who is in the know and pays attention to whats going on in this city - and someone I would like to seek more advice from in the future.

This has been a very fun marketing experiment. So far we have had over 300 people that solved the puzzle and emailed us.

And in addition to the re-usable $1 bill that we sent you, I would like to buy you lunch. All I need you to do is complete this short survey and shortly thereafter (less than 3 days) I will email you a code that you can use at any Salad Spinners location for a free salad.

Warm Regards (especially this week)
Rich Levy
Head Tomato

Now, I've always liked Salad Spinners. They seem committed to American farmers and theirfood is fresh and tasty (although they've been known to get my order wrong on occasion). But I've never talked about their restaurants.

Until now. By adding a spark of creativity (and interactivity) to an otherwise standard transit campaign, Rich Levy and his marketing team have found 300 new brand ambassadors for their brand.

Kids say the darndest things

Last night, as I'm running the bath for the girls (yes, they bathe together now):

"Mommy, I picked out my clothes for tomorrow!"
"Good job. I like how well they match."
"I picked sparkawy pants and a sparkawy shirt."
"You like sparkles, huh?"
"Yes! And stars! But I don't...um...maybe when I'm bigger...when I'm older...Maybe then I'll like the Cheshire Cat... Did you know he takes his head off?"

I think it bears mentioning that Z hasn't watched Alice in Wonderland for at least four months.

The day the hair fairies came to school

"Mommy, the Hair Fairies came to my school today. They checked our hair for head lice!"

Can I just say how awesome it is that someone has created a business around going to preschools and peeking at all those tiny little scalps in search of nits--and then charging parents to get rid of said creepy crawlies? According to their website, they treat lice infestations with nontoxic shampoos, a far cry from the chemical Rid treatments I endured once or twice in my own childhood.

In case you're wondering, Z was (and is) lice free.

Great moments in customer service (not)

Okay, so the spending ban isn't working out so well.

But Josh encouraged me to shop for some new clothes to celebrate my new job. So I hit State Street over lunch today. Picked out some really cute stuff at H&M--I can't remember how long it's been since I bought something trendy! I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Then I hit Nordstrom Rack and found a dress to wear to our synagogue's gala event this weekend. I'm at the checkout and the cashier's bagged my dress, stockings and socks. As she swipes my credit card, she looks at my midsection and asks, "Are you having a boy or a girl?"

I guess I'm better make sure those stockings are control top. Sigh.

Dreading the dentist

Since she acted like she liked the experience last time, I haven't hidden from Z the fact that today she's going back to the dentist for her 6 month check-up. Every day for a week now she's asked me, "Is today Tuesday? Do I go to the dentist today?" No sign of fear. A few mentions of stickers and tattoos...

Until last night. After her bath, Z asked, "What day tomorrow is?" She was trying to figure out which Disney Princess day-of-the-week underpants to put on. When I said Tuesday, she said "Tuesday is Snow White." But no sooner had she put them on she realized that Tuesday=dentist and the water works began. "I wanna skip the dentist," she whimpered, as if a dental exam was negotiable as an evening bath. When she realized I wasn't budging, she took matters into her own hands:

She took off her Tuesday underpants and put on a different pair. Yeah, because apparently when you're a preschooler the whole world doesn't just revolve around you, the days of the week are determined by your underwear.

Update 1/30/08: Z was a total champ at the dentist. Excited, even. She got a bag full of stickers, toys and a light-up toothbrush. And now she lets me floss her teeth!

My momentary lapse of judgement

Or, the tale of the world's tiniest glass slipper.

I took my older daughter to Target Sunday morning. We had an enormous list and in spite of my best organizational efforts, we kept having to criss-cross the store in search of goods. I'd promised Z a coloring book and the opportunity to pick out a toy for her little sister if she was good, and she was really good. So good other moms were pointing her out to their rambunctious children and saying "See how she's walking right next to her mommy?"

Now early on in the trip Z reasoned that since she already had two coloring books, she'd rather have a package of Little Mermaid underpants instead. Fine, I said. They were cheap and you can't have too many Princess panties, right?

Anyway, after an hour or so of shopping and a cart so full of bulky items that Z had lost her seat, we headed to the dreaded toy section to pick up Baby A's present.

What was I thinking? You can't get to early childhood toys without first passing the dreaded Princess aisle. She was rapt. I tried to lure her out of there with a $2.99 Princess Jasmine jigsaw puzzle, but she was already transfixed by some $50+ castle playset monstrosity. Desperate to get the hell out of dodge, I agreed to a Cinderella dress-up set, not examining it closely enough to realize that not only was it phenomenally ugly (rubbery dresses with glitter that comes right off on your hands), but it came with four pairs of the world's teeniest, tiniest slippers.

See? I'm not kidding. At least this shoe is pink. The set also includes clear plastic shoes this size--not even a centimeter long!! If there was ever an argument for having your children young, it is so your vision can handle placing said minuscule slippers on tiny Cinderella feet and scouring the brand new basement carpet for lost, colorless doll shoes.

And worse of all, the Princess dress-up set from hell cost almost as much as this awesome baby overstimulation ball.

What toys do you most regret buying?

Cross-posted to the Chicago Moms Blog

Feed me processed food, Mommy!

I've tried feeding my six-month-old rice and oatmeal baby cereal mixed with breastmilk. No dice. I've tried spoon-feeding her lovingly prepared banana, sweet potato and carrot purees and she's choked down one bite out of five. But a graham cracker that she can feed herself? Two very slobbery thumbs up!

A more disgusting photo can be seen here.

Break a world record on Oprah?

According to her last-minute tickets page, Oprah's looking for Chicagoans to help her break a world record. I filled out the form and got a call from a producer a few minutes later. But when I heard I'd need to be at Harpo Studios by 5:30am next Wednesday? Well, that's kind of a deal-breaker for a mom who's still waking up twice a night to nurse.

But it looks like there are still spots available...and you'll get a set of audience tickets for a February taping if you participate!

Cross-posted to the Chicago Moms Blog

It's all about the Benjamins

Josh and I are really good about living within our means, but that has been more a function of our inexpensive taste than any smart system for tracking our spending. But I'm on a bit of a self-improvement/get-organized blitz (new baby, new year, new job), so I decided it was time to spend a little less and hold ourselves a lot more accountable. And with that in mind, Josh is helping me institute the following changes.

• Track wants and needs over the course of a week so that we can consolidate our shopping trips and avoid running to the store every day. (The chalkboard is quickly filling up!)
  
• Set up a money-management system to track income and spending. I'm using Mint, which is easy to use, web-based and free.
• Go on a financial fast: no non-essential purchases for a month. (I got a high chair from Freecycle, score!)

Having just finished finishing our basement and powder room, I'm itching to buy the accessories necessary to complete the spaces, so this spending freeze is tough on me. But while I'm not buying (at least not yet), I am shopping around. For the best items. The best deals. And printable coupons to make them an even better bargain. Having a mandatory cooling-off period is probably going to keep me from making impulsive, less necessary purchases when the time comes to finally buy the wastebaskets and closet organizers I'm dying to get.

Once I get a handle on the spending, my plan is to squirrel away one-half to two-thirds of the "saved" money into our savings account for practical expenditures (car and home repairs, for example) and the remainder into a fun money slush fund that we can use to reward ourselves for being thrifty.

Today I gave my notice

This morning I resigned from the agency where I've spent the last 7 1/2 years. I started here as a copywriter and I'm leaving as an Associate Creative Director. I've learned a lot, worked on wide variety of businesses and made great friends.

Leaving is bittersweet, but it's time to move on. I've been given an opportunity to work on brands that excite me and become an expert in a rapidly emerging field of marketing at another agency in Chicago.

I'm energized.
And terrified.
But I'm confident this change is good.

And since this is only the second job change I've made in my adult life, I'm curious: how long did it take for you to feel competent at a new job?

I've given birth to the Energizer bunny

Z's energy level is boundless. Nap or no nap, sunshine or bitter cold, she just keeps going and going and going.

Kind of like her baby sister's nose. It keeps running and running and running. We made it exactly three weeks between colds, which in my mind is not nearly long enough. The drippy nose, together with teething drool and the constant blowing of raspberries and sticking out the tongue mean that my baby girl's one very leaky faucet.

So yes, I'm exhausted. But I'm also a bit exhilarated. This weekend I saw a play, baked pretzels from scratch and started setting up our just-finished basement (IKEA and Complete Construction, I love you).

I've got more exciting news to share later this week, so stay tuned.

Now everyone knows what's in my pump bag

Two of my all-time favorite blogs have linked to my post about creating a terry bag for my breastpump parts. Thank you Rookie Moms and Parenthacks. I'm so tickled.

Happy half-year, Baby A

It's hard to believe you're halfway to one. I promised I'd write in your baby book every month, but blogging is going to have to suffice. You are the second born, I'm afraid. Anyway, let it be known that at six months you are:

The happiest baby on the block. Seriously, you've only had two tantrums ever. You fuss a little when mommy walks in the door and deigns to glance at the mail or wash her hands before ripping off her top and giving you the boob, but you don't cry when you're alone in your crib, when you're hungry, when you're chilled in the bath or when your big sister crushes you with her love.

Lunging, grabbing and putting everything in your mouth. Well, everything but baby food anyway. You're a bonafide milkaholic, but the few tastes I've given you of rice cereal, oatmeal, banana and pureed pears? Notsomuch. You do, however, enjoy gnawing on hunks of bread.

Almost sitting up. With the support of a Boppy, you can stay upright for about half an hour!

But completely uninterested in rolling over.

And currently obsessed with blowing raspberries.

1/25/08 update: At your six month well-baby check up you weighed in at 16lbs (50th percentile) and stretched 25 1/2 inches (30th percentile).

Badvertising: KaBloom thinks we're cheap

Those roses your sweetheart is getting you for Valentine's Day? According to this piece for KaBloom florists, it's just a keep ploy to get you in bed. In case you're having difficulty reading the headline, it says "Make her day. And your night." And you thought he really loved you.

Now, I'm not saying this isn't a compelling message for certain audiences. If it was a print ad in Maxim magazine or up on the wall in the men's locker room at Crunch, it wouldn't qualify as Badvertising.

But in the Merchandise Mart stairwell? Where thousands of workers and El riders walk by every day? Most of them women? (This is a building full of PR shops, ad agencies and furniture showrooms, after all.) Somebody wasn't thinking.

I'm curious, is an overpriced bunch of red roses all it takes or do you have a different set of expectations? And who wears skirts that short anyway? Tramp.

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

The youngest mom in the room

Now I'm no Jamie Lynn Spears, the Nickelodeon star knocked up at 16, but Josh and I did start a family earlier than most. I was 28 years old when Z was born, and according to the Washington Post, only 31 percent of college-educated women 25-29 have kids. The article interviews women in their late twenties and early thirties who feel alienated by older moms and shut out by their childless friends.

I don't regret starting motherhood relatively young. Conception and pregnancy were trouble-free and I've got the energy necessary to deal with sleep deprivation and hyper young children. And while there's always the danger of being mommytracked, I feel that motherhood at this stage is good for my career. By the time I'm promoted into positions requiring more responsibility and travel, my children will older and more independent. I won't be a VP with a newborn.

Still, I'm usually the youngest parent in the room. Unlike many of the other moms and dads at Z's preschool, I wasn't born in the sixties. I didn't plaster my bedroom walls with Duran Duran posters, and I don't have fond memories of my 20th high school reunion. But I do have a few very close friends in their forties. And for us our relationship is less about a shared history and more about our present: We can relate to each other because we have kids the same age.

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

Late-night parenting

"Uhhhhghh..."

I looked at the alarm clock: 10:50pm. Maybe Z's eyes crusted shut again? I pulled on my pajama pants and headed into her room.

But her bed was empty. She wasn't on the floor next to her bed either! I panicked for a nanosecond before my eyes registered her form against the chair in the corner. She was kneeling on the floor with her head resting on Tallulah, who was curled up in the chair, sleeping as she always does in Z's room.

I picked Z up and asked her if she needed to go potty (she's back in Pull-Ups after wetting the bed for a week straight, but that's fodder for a future post). She murmured no and lay limp in my arms as I carried her back to her bed and pulled a blanket over her.

Was she sleepwalking? Did she wake up and decide she wanted to read a book or visit the cat and then fall asleep mid-trip? I'm not sure I'll ever know, but she was still sleeping soundly when I got up to feed Baby A at 3am and get up for the day at 6. In fact, I had to wake her groggy, cranky self up at 7 so she could be dressed and fed before preschool.

Neither silent nor deadly

World's Least Threatening Ninja from almaklein on Vimeo.
Lest you think my daughter makes the world's worst ninja, she did at one point make a "bad guy face" and say "I'm swording you!"

I washed my sinuses today

After reading this NY Times piece on neti pots, I decided I had give this increasingly trendy form of nasal irrigation a try. I suffer from spring and fall allergies and with two small children bringing home viruses on a daily basis, it seems like I'm perpetually congested.

So I sent Josh out to CVS to pick up a pot. He came home with SinuCleanse, a cheap-looking plastic pot and little envelopes of nasal wash powder to mix with tepid water (you can also use table salt). It definitely looks freaky, but it works. I've never taken such clean, fresh, deep breaths! I can see why folks are so attached to their neti pots.

Los Angeles 2002 is calling...they want their clothes back.

No kidding, I saw a woman at Starbucks wearing a royal blue velour sweatsuit. Her pants were tucked into furry white boots that looked like small yappy dogs and she was wearing J.Lo sunglasses. She ordered--and returned--a grande green tea latte, which the barista let sit on the pick-up counter. After three minutes of staring at her lipstick stained to-go cup, I'd totally lost my appetite.

I'm so mainstream now

According to a Deloitte & Touche survey, half of American consumers now post content online. Obviously they're not all starting blogs, but sharing videos, photos and personal information is frankly ordinary now. Which may explain why I'm no longer getting sideways looks from clients when I suggest consumer-generated content be a part of their marketing plan.

Diaper Bag Giveaway Winners!

Congratulations to Launa, Lisa, Andrea and Noreen. Your Lands' End Diaper Bag Totes will be in the mail as soon as I get your addresses.


And here, as promised, is a shot of Baby A in her free Lands' End Baby outfit. The dress, long-sleeve shirt with Peter Pan collar and ruffled bottom tights are Lands' End, and while they also send an adorable pair of suede Mary Janes, the shoes don't fit yet so she's wearing her Vincents.

Lands' End Diaper Bag Giveaway: The Last Day

Today's your last opportunity to enter for a chance to win one of four Lands' End Diaper Bag Totes. Send an email to almaklein (at) yahoo.com and let me know if you'd prefer a navy bag with green frogs or a pink floral bag. Because heaven knows your diaper bag needs to herald your child's gender! You'll get an extra entry for mentioning my giveaway on your blog or emailing your friends about it (just cc me so I know).

I will randomly select winners and announce them tomorrow. Good luck!

More whoring for Jezebel

Wow, this video is perhaps the funniest thing I've seen all year. And I'd say that even if we weren't just on day seven. See what happens when normal chicks try to wear American Apparel.

A little connoisseur of milk

My daughter is nearly 6 months old and frankly I'm tired of pumping twice a day at work. I've resolved to drop a pumping session and provide just two 4oz bottles of breastmilk for her to enjoy while I'm away. I figured Daddy or her daycare provider can give her a bottle of formula once a day as a supplement. Sounds like a plan, right?

Not when your daughter can smell the Enfamil a room away. We've tried giving her bottles made up of half expressed milk and half formula, but she gags, bawls and pushes it away. Today my husband called me to report she'd refused a bottle made up of 3/4 breastmilk to 1/4 formula. I could hear her wailing in the background. We're dipping into my frozen stockpile of milk to get through this transition, but my hopes of part-weaning her at 9 months so that I can give up pumping altogether are fading fast.

Have any other mothers dealt with this? Do infant formula brands taste substantially different? Is it true soy formula is sweeter than the regular cow's milk stuff? I want to continue the nursing relationship, but on my terms. I don't want to be a slave to flanges, valves and cold packs--particularly as I'm finding it harder and harder to duck out of meetings to pump.

Cross-posted to Chicago Moms Blog

Can Clorox go green?

If you were outraged to hear Burt's Bees sold out to Clorox, read this article in the NY Times. Perhaps we should be encouraged that big consumer products companies are embracing eco-friendly practices. Personally, I think it's great that these big CPG organizations are stepping beyond greenwashing and focusing on the potentially profitability of sustainable products.

A well-loved fairy tale collection

I can not overstate how much my daughter loves this fairy tales book. It's not bordering on obsession. It is an obsession. She easily spends two hours a day "reading" this collection of classic fairy tales out loud to herself or badgering one of us to read a story to her.

The illustrations are horrendous third-rate Disney cartoons. The stories are simple and short enough for a young audience (about 10 pages long on average), but they differ enough from Walt Disney's movie versions that Z can point out all of the inconsistencies. And the illustrations are horrible: imagine third-rate cartoon images of Cinderella, Rapunzel and all the rest.

Z's copy of A Treasury of Fairy Tales is being loved to pieces, but we're not worried. It seems to be a permanent fixture in the Borders bargain books section.

Good news

1. My pink eye is gone and I've got contacts in for the first time since Wednesday.
2. We took advantage of the springlike weather for a trip to the zoo, Trader Joe's and Baja Fresh. No one yelled, cried, whined or threw a tantrum.
3. There are still two more days until my Lands' End Diaper Bag Giveaway ends. I've had a great response, but your chances of winning are still about 1 in 20. That's great odds!

Lowes, you're no friend of mine

I shopped at Lowe's for my bathroom remodel because I've had such terrible experiences with Home Depot. But now I don't know where to go for my big box home improvement needs.

You see, not only did they screw up my pick-up order by giving us the wrong toilet tank and the wrong vanity cabinet, they've treated us like criminals when we come in to exchange the items for the ones we actually purchase (with a receipt, mind you)!

Trying to make the exchange of the vanity go as smoothly as possible, I called ahead and was assured by customer service that the exchange would be approved. I talked to the plumbing department to verify that the correct vanity would be in stock. I arrive at the customer service desk with my return and my receipt and there's no line. Yet it still took them 40 minutes to process my exchange! An exchange that never should have been necessary since they gave me the wrong item!

I hate keeping secrets

Two friends, both fellow mommybloggers, have big big news to announce, but neither of them have updated their blogs yet. I'm keeping my lips sealed for now, but congratulations to both of you!

As for me, I'm miserable right now. I've contracted pink eye in both eyes. It's very fourth grade and not at all cool for a contacts-wearing gal who hasn't purchased new eyeglasses in five years. I'm taking solace in the fact that my inbox is crammed with entries for my little diaper bag giveaway!

Lands' End Diaper Bag Giveaway!

Maybe Santa and the Hanukkah Fairy didn't come through for you, but Marketing Mommy will! Lands' End has generously provided me with four, count 'em four, diaper bags to give away to my readers.

My very first diaper bag was a wide-mouth workhorse from Lands' End, a bag that still travels back and forth to day care three times a week. It's too ugly for me to be caught dead carrying, but Lands' End has made some progress on that front. The bags I've got for giveaway are these Pattern Diaper Bag Totes, but instead of a nautical look, I've got two girly floral totes and two boyish navy bags with little green frogs on them. They're decidedly not hipster cool, but they won't get you laughed out of Mommy and Me class like a Winnie the Pooh or free formula bag. They're just classically square. The mock turtleneck of diaper bags.

They're modeled after Lands' End's popular tote bags, but they've been pimped out with countless pockets and a changing pad. And let me tell you something about the Lands' End changing pads. They're awesome. They're big and long and they have hidden waterproof zipper pockets where you can stash a couple of diapers and some wipes. Just this week I put a diaper and some wipes inside the changing pad and headed off to the airplane restroom without the bulk of our snack and toy-filled diaper bag. And unlike the flimsy pad inside my old Skip Hop diaper bag and the sweaty plastic pad that came with my Pottery Barn diaper bag, this changing pad folds up easily every time.

To enter to win a Lands' End Diaper Bag, send an email to almaklein@yahoo. com with your name and style preference and "Diaper Bag Giveaway" in the subject line.

Get an extra entry for mentioning the giveaway on your blog (include the link in your email) or emailing 5 friends about it (cc me). Contest ends Tuesday, January 8, after which I'll post the names of the winners as well as a photo of Baby A modeling her new Lands' End Baby outfit.

Fake babies

Usually the snark on Jezebel is too much for even me to take, but this clip of a documentary about childless British women who buy realistic baby dolls and treat them like actual infants? As horrifyingly it's awful-but-I-can't-stop-gawking as a highway crash.

If Lars could just dump his real doll and get one of these sad sacks in the Spears family way, the world would be a little less creepy.

You must see this movie

This post is long overdue since I saw Juno on December 23rd, but I need to make sure that everyone I know goes to see this film. It is the most honest, touching and yes, even quite funny, movie about teen pregnancy you'll ever see.

Not only was it worth the admission price, it was worth the $20 we spent on the babysitter, too!

Said my daughter as dinner ended

"My arms are tired of eating dinner. My mouth is ready for chocolate."

Ending 2007 on a sweet note

After all the sickness and exhaustion of the past week or so, today offered a welcome respite. Z seems to have completely kicked her stomach bug and regained her appetite (small though it may be). And Baby A has perked up; she's smiling, babbling and much more alert and awake even though she's still got some lingering congestion.

A few other things made the last day of 2007 noteworthy...

As I pulled into our driveway around noon I saw a golden retriever on the loose. I jumped out of the car and approached the dog to see if it had any identifying tags. Since he didn't, I sweet-talked him into our backyard, which is fenced together with our next door neighbors. Their boys played with the friendly dog as we called the Oak Park Police (animal control was off for the holiday). Fortunately they couldn't get the animal control van to start and in the interim I figured out whom the dog might belong to. My hunch was correct and Buddy was reunited with a very relieved neighbor down the block. I only hope they'll put their phone number on his collar ASAP!

Just a few minutes later I heard a knock on our side door. Another neighbor was stopping by to try to lure our contractors to her house and I ended up spending an hour with her walking through her home, which she is hoping to update before she puts it on the market in February. She's lived there for almost 30 years and it was last decorated in the early or mid-eighties, so I advised her to strip off all the wallpaper (it's in every room), pull down the curtains to expose her art glass windows and update her bathroom, which is currently a vision in dark brown tiles (even the ceiling is tiled!). I also got to meet her daughter, a woman my age who lives in Texas.

Continuing a tradition we began last year, we joined our playgroup families for a fabulous early New Year's celebration (I contributed bacon-wrapped dates and spinach-artichoke dip). And just like every year since Z was born, I think I'll be asleep long before the clock strikes midnight.

Product Review: Disney Princess Sing-a-long Book

I'm going to be honest here. When Publications International asked me to take a look at one of their licensed character karaoke books, I had low expectations. As publishers go, they're pretty frickin' lowbrow and really, with 12 pairs of Princess underpants, does my 3-year-old need one more Disney Princesses item?

Need? Obviously not. But she loves her "princesses karaoke book" and has played with it every day for month, which is saying something as far as I'm concerned. It's decidedly not an "educational" item, but because she needs to enter in a 3-digit alphanumeric code to play each song, she's learned to read the codes on each page and type them into the keypad.

The book comes with a cordless microphone (batteries not included). We never bothered putting batteries in since Z is perfectly content with a mute mic. She simply picks up the microphone, holds it to her chin and wags her head in time with the music. And I think I know why: none of the songs are actually from the Disney Princess movies!

It bugs me that a Disney Princess Sing-a-long book wouldn't include the greatest hits of the Disney Princesses. Instead, they're just common domain tunes with new, more Princess-y lyrics printed on the book's pages. For example, "Where is Thumbkin?" is "Where is Flounder?" But since Z isn't reading yet, she has no idea. She just likes hearing the tunes and the follow-up encouragement from one of the princesses. In fact, she's convinced that Cinderella is going to sing a duet with her one of these days.

We're back

I'm still cleaning up after their snot, barf and diarrhea, but we made it home alive. Sick, but alive. I was so exhausted yesterday that I went to bed at 8 o'clock last night. The previous night I hadn't gotten more than 45 minutes of sleep at a time, so I felt positively jet-lagged. This trip may have us rethinking our decision to travel to Australia next winter.

This picture shows Baby A with her Grandma and Great-Grandpa Reuben (on his 96th birthday).

Wish me luck

Tomorrow we head home on a sold-out Southwest flight. Not only did I miss the "A" boarding window, I've got a teething 5-month-old lap baby with a major head cold (fever, weepy eyes, wet cough and nonstop nasal drip) and a 3-year-old who threw up everywhere just after our food arrived at a Lebanese restaurant tonight. We hustled her home wearing nothing but her little sister's onesie unsnapped under my coat.

And yes, since he's all "I told you so" anyway, I'll issue my public mea culpa here. Josh warned me we were in for trouble if we took the girls out to dinner tonight. Z had been pissy and whiny all afternoon and she hadn't had much of an appetite all day, but I thought worst-case scenario would be a whole lot of pouting--not a bucket full of puking. So I packed crayons and stickers instead of a spare outfit.

I think my mom and her boyfriend will be pretty happy to see us and go. We've stunk their car up with the smell of french fries, used up all their Kleenex and put their new washer-dryer through its paces with 5 loads of laundry in as many days.

Holiday travel

We arrived in Arlington, Virginia around noon on Christmas after what just might have been the easiest flight we've ever taken with Z. And this trip involved two kids. Two sick kids, at that.

First of all, a comment on Southwest's new boarding policy: I've read a lot of complaints about how folks miss Southwest's old "parents of young children board first" policy. Now families with A passes board with the A group and parents holding B or C group passes board after group A but before group B. Having printed out our boarding passes about 20 hours before take-off, we were at the tail end of group A, positions 52, 53 and 54 to be exact. And Southwest's new boarding policy is very exact. They lined up group A by position number (with the aid of some marked posts) and everyone boarded in the order they'd printed out their boarding passes. It seems a little anal-retentive, but I don't miss the old Southwest pre-board hustle and jostle for position. I sat with Z and Baby A (we were able to squeeze on her car seat even though the flight was nearly sold out) and Josh positioned himself across the aisle from us. While the baby was napping and Z was watching a video I even read 30 or 40 pages worth of a book!

Since arriving in Arlington, we've seen friends, family (including Josh's 96-year-old grandfather) and sorta-friends/family. What am I supposed to call my mom's boyfriend's grown children anyway? I've pigged out on Thankgiving-type food from my Mom's kitchen, which has enough food in the pantry to see a family of five through a nuclear winter and more open condiments in the fridge than your average Fuddrucker's. And tonight we picked up enormous burgers and fries from Five Guys.

I mentioned that the girls are sick. Z's getting over a run-of-the-mill cold, but it's hit Baby A with a vengeance. She's got watery, gummy eyes and terrible nasal congestion. Watching her try to nurse I think she'd have better luck holding her nose and drinking from a fire hose. I have to give the kid credit, though. In spite of her condition, she's been napping well and smiling at all of her admirers.

The no-nap kid crashes

After three straight days of skipping her nap, Z finally reached the end of her rope. We were wrapping up at two hour visit to the Shedd Aquarium this morning when the whining began. She spent the walk to the parking lot grumping, "No snow. No snow. I'm cold. No snow. I don't like snow. Harumph!"

The ride home wasn't much different, punctuated as it was with "My hat/carseat/traffic/Daddy/breathing is bothering me!"

I took her straight up to her room and she asked to have a story read to her in bed. Then she rolled over and closed her bloodshot eyes, looking completely strung-out and exhausted.

In other news...Baby A's first tooth broke through!

My cleaning lady loves my children

Really. I think she spent her entire Christmas bonus on gifts for my girls.

Isabel isn't the world's best cleaning lady, but I can't imagine ever replacing her. She showers Baby A and Z with hugs and kisses when she comes to clean (every other week) and just today she stopped by bearing gifts for all of us, including an over-the-top present for Z, the VTech Learning Laptop. I'm embarrassed by her generosity, but I don't know what do about it about aside from saying a heartfelt thank you since it's obvious she gets great pleasure from seeing them and spoiling them. (Last year she bought Z a princess doll.)

This year Isabel brought along her young son and I was able to reciprocate somewhat by giving him this SpongeBob Squarepants MP3 Player and Book from the same publishing company that makes the Disney Princesses Sing-a-long book (to be reviewed shortly).

Now if only there was a way to say to her that cleaning fingerprints off my windows and vacuuming under the furniture would make me far happier than a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

Is it really so hard to say "I'm sorry?"

Why can't my daughter just say "I'm sorry?" I don't demand apologies from her when she's spilled milk or accidentally jostled her baby sister, but if she says something hurtful or uses what we call "rude language" (shockingly blue words like "stupid" and "stinky"), I'll tell Z that those those words hurt people's feelings and she needs to say "I'm sorry."

"I can't say it," she pouts.

"Yes you can."

"You do it, Mommy."

"I'm not the one who used rude language!"

Tears ensue. She's obviously remorseful, but she's can't get her mouth around those two magic words, words so critical for survival in polite society. I'm glad she's not a pathological kid who for whom "I'm sorry" is an empty statement, but I sure wish she could express her apologies.

Product review: HP Photosmart Compact Photo Printer

Once upon a time we took pictures with our cameras. We looked through the viewfinder, located our loved ones and snapped a photo. We didn't know what the picture looked like until we'd finished a whole roll of film (35mm or disc--remember those?), packaged it up in a York mailer and waited for the pictures to arrive in the mail ("Didja get doubles?").

How things have changed. My 3-year-old daughter knows to look on the back of a camera to see a photo immediately after it's snapped, and she loves watching our desktop computer's photo slideshow screen saver. She's familiar with Apple's iPhoto books since I've ordered half a dozen since her birth, but actual photo prints? Not so much.

I'm typically too busy to stop at Wolf Camera or Walgreens to print out photos and it isn't worth the ink to print pictures out on our regular print only to screw them up while trying to trim them into standard print sizes.

Which means too many adorable pictures are hidden away on our hard drive, safe from toddler fingerprints but too rarely enjoyed. But hey, at least they make it to the computer. I've got friends with hundreds of shots still stored on their camera's SD card! So while I'm a pretty savvy amateur digital photographer and a flickr photo-sharing fiend, too often I've neglected to make prints to glue into baby books and share with older, less digitally-inclined relatives.

Enter the HP Photosmart A636 Compact Photo Printer. You don't need it, but let me tell you why you want it (and will get more use out of it than you might think).

• It's idiot-proof. Plug it in. Slide ink cartridge into place. Then insert your camera's memory card and you're in business. The large color touch-screen is as intuitive as any photo kiosk's. I haven't cracked open the manual yet.
  
• The prints are surprisingly good. While probably not heirloom quality, they stand up to drugstore photos and are only a hair worse than Wolf camera's pricey prints. You can print onto standard 4x6 or 5x7 photo paper (both widely available), so you won't need to mess around with scissors or an X-acto blade.
• Instant gratification, baby. My sister was in town, and while our cameras' USB cables weren't compatible, I could print my favorite photos right off of her camera's memory card with the HP. When I returned to work I wanted some snapshots of the kiddies for my office. Three minutes later, they were ready to hang in my cubicle.

The printer comes with stylus and a very basic suite of photo editing tools. The cropping and red-eye reduction were easy to use and worked well, but beyond that I'd rather edit my photos with iPhoto and print from my computer. HP's also included some really basic scrapbook-inspired functions. I liked the frames since they let me group two or three related shots on one print, but the caption fonts and clip art are cheesy with a capital C.

HP also sent me a couple of their photo books, which consist of a hard cover album and photo paper. You can create an album directly from the printer by selecting all the photos you'd like to include and an appropriate theme, but the software is far too limiting for even the modestly creative type. You can't even change the order of the photos within the book! And unlike all the other photo books available out there, this one only has images on the right hand side.

So the HP photo books are a bust, but I still like the HP Photosmart compact photo printer a lot. It's tiny (about the size of loaf of bread); it's easy to use. The prints look great and the ink lasts a relatively long time (you can further stretch your dollars by getting the cartridge refilled). My only complaint is that it doesn't come with a USB cable. After a nudge from Parent Bloggers Network, HP mailed me one and I was able to print directly from my iMac with no trouble, but I think it should be included in the box. That said, while USB cord-less I came up with an easy work-around. I saved photos I'd edited with iPhoto to a memory stick and printed directly from it.

Amazon sells the HP Photosmart A636 Compact Photo Printer for around $150 with free shipping. Save 20% on HP photo books at the HP store with coupon code AC8595.
Read more parent-tested reviews here.

Just feeding our babies...

I'm a lucky, lucky girl

Until about a week ago, I could honestly tell you that I'm never won anything from a sweepstakes, contest or giveaway.

Oh my, how my luck has changed! I won this adorable ModMum sling from MomViews, a Diapees and Wipees Diaper Wallet from MumsTheWurd and this cool Blik wall decal set (my third!) from GoodyBlog.

So it's official. Mommyblogs are the place to be for free stuff. Get your hands on some goodies here:

The bag's the thing

Check out this NY Times article on the rise of the indestructible shopping bag. No, not the canvas or string eco-shopping bag we're encouraged to take to the grocery store...

Apparently there is a parallel trend of mid-to-upscale specialty and department stores competing to offer the most save-and-reuse-worthy shopping bag on the market. Why? Because if you're toting your paperback and yogurt to work in a Sephora or Victoria's Secret bag (guilty!), you're a walking billboard for the store.

Hello snow

We've got about a foot of snow on the ground. Perfect for testing out Z's new snow boots and puffer coat from the Children's Place ($11 and $10, respectively).

Baby A's almost 5 months old

Josh took Z to a birthday party this morning, leaving me free to conduct a little baby photoshoot! If the slideshow photos aren't clear enough, click on my flickr badge.

I saw my colleague kissing Santa Claus

Top three ways Marketing Mommy knows the holidays have arrived at work...

1. Fattening food gifts begin arriving from photographers, sound studios, photo retouchers and other vendors. And 99 percent of the goodies goes to art directors.
2. No one's at work. Even though the whole agency shuts down from December 21-January 2, half of my coworkers will be out next week.
3. The agency's youngest, singlest girls don Santa hats and push a drink cart around the agency. Have a mudslide and benefit the Off the Street Club. How's that for guilt-free indulgence?

Kandoo damage to your plumbing

You know those lovely melon-scented flushable wipes designed for the newly potty-trained? Turns out they're not so flushable after all. At least not if you've got an aging sewer line full of Kadoo wipe-trapping tree roots.

$1000 later our line is as clean and free-flowing as can be (we got to view the proof via a live sewercam). And I have resolved that Kandoo wipes are joining Tampax ("white mice" in plumber parlance) as officially banned from the can.

Aging gracelessly

Not exactly hard news, but the Chicago Tribune has a fantastic slideshow of unflattering celebrity faces. Do these plastic surgeons have any training at all?

Must every sentence begin with "Pretend..."?

"Mommy, pretend you're the big sister and I'm the mommy and I just said 'you're going to be a big sister because there's a new baby at your house.'"

"A new baby sister! I love babies. Can I hug and kiss her, Mommy?"

"No, she's sleeping and you can't wake her up. If you wake her up I'm not going to be happy. Mommy? Pretend you're the big sister and you want to stomp around and wake up the baby."

"I'm stomping around and I wake up the baby. Oops."

"Big sister! You woke up the baby. Now I have to rock her and nurse her. Look! She's all better. But you shouldn't stomp around so time out. Time OUT. TIME OUT!!"

"I don't want a time out. I'm sad. You're a mean mommy."

[Big grin] "No, I'm not. Mommy? Pretend you're the big sister and I'm the baby and you want the baby's crib and Mommy says, 'No, that's the baby's things now.'"

"Huh?"

"No! SAY IT! Pretend you're the big sister and you want to the baby's crib because it used to be your crib and now it's the baby's and Mommy says, 'No that's the baby's crib now.' Now say it!"

Could my daughter have a future as a tyrannical Hollywood writer/producer?

Biting off more than I can chew

Selfmademom calls them the Hellidays, and I think she may be onto something.

I've always felt that one of the perks of being Jewish is getting to opt out of the insanity that is the run-up to Christmas. Sure, I'll send out some holiday cards, buy Chanukah presents for my nearest and dearest (I keep the list very short) and light the old menorah, but I get a giant star-of-David-shaped pass when it comes to hauling and trimming a Christmas tree, installing an electric Santa on my roof or assembling gingerbread houses for all the shut-ins in the neighborhood.

But still. Having kids does up the ante. Instead of just lighting the candles at home, I felt like I should take the girls to the Chanukah family service at Temple. After Baby A's bedtime. By myself. (Josh been at a concert every night this week.) What was I thinking?

Today we attended the holiday party at Z's Montessori school and our Chavurah's Chanukah party, where I ate way too many latkes. I volunteered to make cookies for both which meant three hours of my day was dedicated to rolling, cutting and glazing six dozen menorah, dreidel, star and hay-shaped sugar cookies. With Z "helping" (read: aggressively dumping blue sugar crystals, breaking the tops off of the dreidels and asking if she could eat more dough).

Tomorrow we've got two kiddie birthday parties, and next weekend there are two more. Is it just me, or are there a lot of December birthdays? (Mom and Beth, if you're reading this, happy birthday to you, too!)

Push presents? Oh, puh-lease!

The most e-mailed story on the NY Times website is A Bundle of Joy Isn't Enough, an article on the growing popularity of so-called push presents, sparkly baubles given by the father to the mother who has just birthed their baby.

Now I love presents as much as the next gal, but I never felt like Josh owed me a gift for delivering either of my babies. Whether I was cut open for a c-section or panting through 25 hours of drug-free VBAC labor, meeting my beautiful girls was reward enough.

Perhaps I would feel differently if Josh had to twist my arm to get me to want to have babies, but like 99 percent of the moms I know, I did the "honey, let's get pregnant" cajoling, and he finally acquiesced.

Let's talk about breasts, baby

It's breastfeeding topic day on the Chicago Moms Blog and all of our sister sites. See what I and all my mommyblogging sisters have to say about the joys and challenges of nursing, pumping, bottle-feeding and breastfeeding well into toddlerhood.

Ghetto mocha

Sometimes, when I'm craving a tasty beverage from Starbucks but I can't justify the $4+ price tag, I mix an envelope of Swiss Miss hot cocoa into a mug of office coffee.

Happy Chanukah!

We're marking the first night of Chanukah with 6 inches of snow here in Chicago.

Do you like my new look?

My new blog header's been up for almost a week... do you like it?

It was designed by my friend and former colleague Samantha McDermott, a designer who brings together amazing creativity with unrelenting perfectionism and ambition. She's a force to be reckoned with, for sure.

On sisterhood

I was saddened to read about one woman's inability to trust other women in this article in the NY Times Style magazine. The author was cruelly betrayed by her sorority sisters 20 years ago and to this day she feels the outcast among groups of women, be they other mothers or female colleagues.

In general I haven't shared her experience. I've found support from other mothers (as well as childless women) at the office and I am lucky to be a part of a playgroup full of moms I can call on for anything. I've also found that, for the most part, the women I've connected with through blogging have been welcoming and warm.

Is my perspective so different because I never considered pledging a sorority? Because I was one of the original two members of my playgroup? I think difficulty arises when women join a social group that already has an established culture. Looking back, there are sisterhoods I considered joining but ultimately walked away from. A book club at my synagogue where I was the youngest by 10 years. A Hadassah meeting of young women (this was years ago) where I was the only one who didn't grow up rich on Chicago's North Shore.

It's a shame female friendships are so charged. We can share an intimacy that men wouldn't dream of, but too many of us live in fear that we'll be betrayed by our secrets.

Google for giggles

Here are some of the search terms that have brought people to my blog this weekend:

Grandpa martini's I didn't drink it, I swear. Now learn some grammar.
Mommy changes my cloth diaper photo blog Wow, let me bookmark that one.
Personal lubricant dominick's Yes, they sell it. Or are you looking to buy generic?
Men thongs tulum I'm happy to report I didn't see any men in banana slings when I was in Mexico.
Nutritional infomation hanukkah gelt Something tells me it isn't high in Vitamin C
How much money is milk More than gas, less than wine.
Bah humbug Right back at you, baby.

Hungry for chicken?

This is an actual restaurant on Chicago's West Side. A customer went in as we drove by. Bon appetit!