Looking for an answer to a sticky situation

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

What I've been reading

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

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

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

Lose the heat, catch the beat

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

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

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

External Cephalic Version: It worked!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Southwest Airlines: I think I'm in LUV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stroller lust

We've found the ultimate double stroller.

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

A crazy morning on the El

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

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

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

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

Have the terrible twos arrived?

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

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

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

Please excuse me

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

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

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

Sheer exhaustion

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

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

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

Book review: Garage Sale America

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

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

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

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

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

That, and a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe.

Goodbye Grandma

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

My Martini Grandma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday, Grandma. And cheers!

Grab a Kleenex

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

Gifts for new parents

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

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

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

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

Parent and hacker

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

I'll try anything

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

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

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

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

Welcome Baby Abby

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

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

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

Potty training boot camp, day 10

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

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

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

I love Millennium Park

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