I SWEAR, the second after I shot this pic he looked up at me and said "danger"!! Yes, Man, danger... thank you for always thwarting my efforts at safety and now understanding how to verbally mock them as well.

What Do You Have in Your Mouth???

It seems no matter how hard I try, the house can never be clean enough for Man’s oral fixation.  I am constantly picking up bits of nothingness off the floor to make sure he does not put them in his mouth.  But let’s face it, those little tiny hands have a way of finding things that mommy doesn’t see, or that she does see but assumes he won’t want to put in his mouth.  I can always tell too, as he has this telltale chewing motion… sort of like a cow chewing its cud.  I find that I now utter the phrase, “What do you have in your mouth?” as least 1000 times a day. 

Here are the top ten items recently found in Man’s mouth (in no particular order):

1)      Scotch Tape

2)      A bird feather 

3)      A pebble

4)      A nickel (how did he even manage to get it off the floor?)

5)      The peel of a garlic clove and a dried broccoli floret at the same time (Maybe he wants to be a chef?)

6)      Toilet Paper (lots and lots of toilet paper)

7)      An old Band-Aid

8)      A piece of his birth announcement (I’m still trying to figure out how he got it off the fridge)

9)      The dog’s tail… and foot (though at different times)

10)    The memory stick for our camera

What are some of the strange things you have fished out of your little one’s mouth??

I Go Running For the Shelter

By no means is this blog meant to sound like a complaint. I understand how lucky I am to be able to stay home with my son.  This having been said, there is a fine balance between living in total bliss and feeling absolutely stir crazy.  In reality, my new job is to be at the beck and call of a ten-month-old every minute of every day… very fun and very challenging; but I admit that I need a little help sometimes.

The term “desperate housewife” is nothing new. It was popularized back in the early 2000’s with Terri Hatcher, right??  I never really understood it. How desperate could staying home and lunching with the gals all day really be?  I have a clear understanding of it now: To fill those hours when Man sleeps there are plenty of chores to do around the house, but when those are the only hours that I have solely for myself I tend to become selfish and shun the household responsibilities that are expected of me.  I choose to do other things like shower and eat in peace… and Facebook. 

You all know it; you see me do it; I see me doing it; my friends and family have casually addressed it…I Facebook too much!!  It has become the “mother’s little helper” of sorts for this desperate housewife.  There are many hours to fill when Man and I are not on the go.  We play and laugh and play and laugh and play and laugh.  Then I let him play and laugh and play and laugh on his own, of course keeping a close eye on his games.  So what I do to take the necessary mental vacation from being intensely focused on Man’s play sessions? I go “running for the shelter of [my] mother’s little helper…”

It’s quick and easy; it only takes a second to pop on and post or read some status updates.  If I’m lucky, I get the thrill of seeing someone comment on MY status update.  Then Man finds trouble and I’m offline… but oooh, I see I have an e-mail alert that someone commented one of my thousands of Man photos! Must get back on quick to see what was said!  And on and on the cycle goes.

I update my status; I do it a lot.  I post things about Man; I do that a lot too.  I’m a stay-at-home mom now, what else do I do all day other than follow Man’s wild urges?  I really do try to vary the posts to include other things I find interesting in the world around me.

Here however, is what I don’t do:  I don’t “check-in” or anything like that. No one needs to see that I have just arrived in my kitchen.  I don’t post those “today is Tuesday” or “it’s raining” posts: Great, thanks for the notification.  How about those people who just bought a tractor on Farmville?? I often get 20 of those status updates at one time.  (What is Farmville anyway? I know the company that makes it is worth about a zillion dollars; what I don’t understand is why people spend real dollars to buy “virtual” products.)  

Then there are the “You Tubers” – you know, the people who post 100 music videos or clips of dogs talking like humans.  I also love people who only focus on political posts: Yes, we know you hate Michele Bachmann. That doesn’t make you unique.  My personal fave, though, are the people who “look but don’t touch”; they read and see everything written on Facebook but NEVER post or comment.  That’s just plain stalker behavior people!!!

I understand that there are many out there who may think I post too often, but these people don’t understand that posting is both a break from reality and a connection to the real world outside of my playpen, echem, I mean my house.  And besides, wouldn’t the world fall off its axis if I stopped!?

Maybe my iPad is to blame; so slim with its glossy screen; so many apps to choose from, so easy to carry around the house…my preeeeeecious.  It enables Facebook to have the entertainment of TV* with the portability of crack cocaine.

In the end we all have a use for Facebook.  Why else would it have infected the entire world? Some of us use it; some of us abuse it… I know which category I fall into. 

*As a side note, daytime television lost its appeal after month 3…


Relaxing pedis and a bottle of Malbec on the deck in this (finally) lovely weather... that's what I call a successful mommies day off!


Mommy will be taking the afternoon off while daddy gets to hang with Man!!  Please, do not try to contact me at all, as I will be very very very busy doing nothing!

Time to Get Moving

Getting out of the house used to be quick and easy. I fondly recall the days where it only took 45 minutes to shower and be out the door…those days where you could blow-dry your hair whenever you wanted, not just while your child was sleeping.

Looking at the clock, I now think, “7:30 a.m.; great! We don’t need to be there until 10; just enough time to get ready.”

A new process to readying my family and myself has now developed. It involves extensive checklists—both actual and mental—and a detailed plan. Inevitably, despite my best efforts, some random unexpected event will arise and that plan will become obsolete. Like a soldier in battle I quickly regroup, my backup checklist already in the works; I am prepared for the counter attack on my day. 

It’s most important for me to be ready first. (And by “ready” I mean rinsed, brushed, and hopefully wearing matching clothes). There is nothing like trying to put mascara on while keeping the blush brush out of Man’s mouth: Who will be most hurt in this situation, Mommy gouging out her eye or Man eating makeup and synthetic horsehair? I vote mommy on this one. 

No matter how hard I try though, it seems as if I’m always wearing that tired “mom of a baby” look. I like to own the look: Yes, I meant to wear that splatter of yogurt across my leg! Didn’t you know it was all the rage? Plus, now I have lunch for later when I’m too busy to eat. No?

Once I’m finished putting my chic mommy ensemble together its time to ready Man.

The checklist begins:



Dressing (summer being easier than winter for obvious reasons)


Packing the diaper bag (a blog topic in itself)

Keeping Man happy and occupied while packing the diaper bag

Diapering again for good measure


And then remembering to pack that special toy

Making sure there is food (liquids, solids, snacks, appetizers, entrée selections)

Diapering once more out of necessity




Sometimes I stand in the middle of the kitchen silently running through the list in my head, a vacant expression across my face.

This always worries my husband…“Honey, what are you doing?”

I snap back to reality and look at him, “Huh? Oh, food prep, diapering…” and off he goes to address an item on my invisible magic list.

Then I’m out the door. If I’m lucky I have taken all I need to address any possible scenario (both realistic and outrageously far-fetched).  It’s only when I arrive at my destination that I realize I have predictably forgotten something. On one such occasion, when Man was about 3 ½ months, I decided at the very last minute to visit a friend in the city for lunch. I managed to get Man and myself ready in record time. We zipped into the city and I parked at an underground garage that happened to have a nice steep driveway. I got out of the car to find that I had left the stroller at home. I schlepped Man up that driveway and three blocks in his car seat while people just watched trying to stifle a laugh. I don’t know if I was more upset that I had to carry him or because I looked like the naive suburbanite mom that I had suddenly become. Incidentally, I now always add “stroller” to my list.

There is more to write about this, but it’s already 8:30 a.m. and we have to be ready and out the door by 1.

Time to get moving…