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Top Ten Things in My Life That Are Giving Me Anxiety

17 Mar

1. The unfinished photo project in my hallway.

2. The unfinished baby clothing organization project.

3. The unfinished plant potting project on my doorstep (do you notice a trend here?).

4. This mysterious worm I found in my bathroom last night. I also found one in Emma’s room. We’ve had enough worms thankyouverymuch.

5. This pile of unread mail (aka: unopened bills).

6. This pile of laundry. At least it’s clean?

7. This pile of things I need to sell on Craigslist (notice another trend here?).

8. Voicemails, emails, my google reader, Facebook, Twitter, etc, etc, etc…

9. Emma’s impending summer vacation (aka: both kids at home with me 24/7).

10. That little “radioactive plume” that’s floating around in the atmosphere right now. Oh, and the thousands and thousands of people who were affected by the tsunami, and the nuclear power plants that are (possibly) melting down. Just stuff like that.

Tell me: What’s giving you anxiety these days?

Did you catch my announcement about Dr. Mom Mondays? Don’t forget to email your Dr. Mom question to morgan(at)thelittlehenhouse(dot)com.

Five Finger Discount

3 Mar

Emma has developed a bit of a nasty habit. Some call it “stealing”, but I’d like to think of it more like “borrowing without ever returning.” Sounds nicer, no?

It started like this: Two weeks ago we were leaving a friend’s house after a fun-filled afternoon playdate. I strapped Emma into her car seat and started driving down the road, when Emma said, “Mommy- look.” She held out her open hand containing a small plastic toy that belonged to her friend. I said, “Emma! That’s not yours! You can’t just take someone else’s toy from their house. That’s called stealing.” She replied, “But Mommy, I love it.” She carried that toy in her hand for three days until I was finally able to pry it from her grasp and return it to its rightful owner. And by returning it, I mean sneaking into my friend’s house and placing the toy back in her daughter’s room without anyone noticing. What? It was my first time dealing with this, ok?

Last week, when I picked Emma up from school I noticed that she was wearing a new accessory- a light-up pink jelly ring. The thing was enormous. I asked her, “What is that?” She said, “It’s a ring. Look- it lights up!” And so it did. So then I asked, “Where did it come from?” She said, “It’s Natalie’s.” Natalie is not her real name btw- I have a reputation to protect-Emma’s of course. I gave up on mine years ago. Back to the story….

So then I said, “Did Natalie give that to you?” Emma replied, “No, she brought it for sharing. I found it.” What?! Not again! So I said, “Honey! You can’t take Natalie’s sharing! Imagine how sad she is right now. She brought that for sharing because it is special to her and now it’s gone!” So then Emma said, “But I found it.” I replied, “Yes, but the right thing to do would have been to return it to Natalie. Just because you found it, doesn’t mean it belongs to you. You are giving it back to Natalie the next time we see her.” That seemed to sink in, except Emma has since broken poor Natalie’s ring, so if you know of a place where I can get a pink light-up jelly ring in a pinch that would be great. *cough*

Why does my little kleptomaniac have such sticky fingers? I am mortified. I can assure you though, I am on it. I’m not sure exactly what being “on it” entails, but I’m going to figure something out. I the meantime, please consider this post a disclaimer.

To all potential future playdates: You lock away the silver and your jewelry, and I’ll give my daughter a full pat-down before we leave your house. Deal? (Please still invite me over for play dates I swear my daughter won’t steal your stuff well maybe she might but I swear that she’ll only take the crappy stuff but if it’s really nice stuff I promise to bring it back except if she breaks it and then I’ll do my best to replace whatever jelly light-up contraption it is because if I don’t have play dates scheduled I might lose my mind or what’s left of it and then the only thing I’ll have left to do is shop at Target and if one more toy from the dollar bin makes its way into my house I’m going to need to be committed.)

Top Ten Things My Baby Wants for Her First Birthday

24 Feb

Annie turns a year old on Saturday. I’m sure you are all asking yourselves, “What do I get the girl who has everyhing?” Well, you are so sweet to ask. To make it a little easier for you, I’ve compiled a list:

  1. A ledge upon which she can throw her body off of, which would result in her 87th near death experience, thus giving me yet another mild heart attack.
  2. My purse. But only if it’s filled with small coins, sticks of gum, and electronic devices.
  3. Handfulls of human hair. Preferably not attached to Emma’s head.
  4. Teeny tiny Barbie shoes and Polly Pocket accessories.
  5. An experimental surgery that would return her back to her original residence (aka: my womb).
  6. A pair of magical legs that help her keep up with the big kids at the park. Sort of like Forrest Gump’s, only way cooler and more stylish. Bonus points if they come in pink or purple.
  7. A drawer full of tupperware, hairbrushes, credit cards, cell phones, sunglasses (designer only please), old shoes, and magazines.
  8. A basket full of freshly folded laundry that she can tear apart.
  9. An apparatus that would permanently affix her to my right hip.
  10. A time machine that would allow me to relish in the very last moments of her babyhood before she turns into a full-blown walking and talking toddler. *tear*

What uncommon gifts would you purchase for a one year old?

This post can also be seen here at Rated by Mom.

Big Questions From Little People

17 Feb

This post was featured on the Studio 30 Plus magazine yesterday! How cool is that?  If you blog, and are 30 and over, then you need to join the coolest club in town. It’s just another reason why being in your thirties is awesome. Stop by and check it out!

Big Questions From Little People

Emma and I were driving the other day and singing along to one of her favorite kid songs “Found a Peanut”. I’m sure you’ve heard of it- it’s a classic. It goes like this: “Found a peanut, found a peanut, found a peanut just now…” And then continues on to the narrator eating the peanut, getting sick, dying, and then waking up only to realize the saga of the rotten peanut was just a dream. About thirty seconds into the song, this is what Emma says to me:

Emma: Mommy, why does Daddy have a peanuts?

Me: Ummm. Do you mean a penis?

Emma: Yes. Peanuts. That’s what I said.

Me: Well, he’s a boy and boys have penises.

Emma: I have a peanuts too.

Me: No. You have a vagina.

Emma: Why?

Me: You are a girl, and girls have vaginas. Boys have penises.

Emma: Why?

Me: That’s just the way we are made. Does Mommy have  vagina?

Emma: Yes.

Me: Does Annie have a vagina?

Emma: Yes.

Me: Do you have a vagina?

Emma: Yes.

Me: That’s right. We all have vaginas because we are girls. Daddy is a boy. What does Daddy have?

Emma: A peanuts.

Me: You got it.

Emma: But I don’t have a hole like Daddy. Daddy has a hole.

Me: You do have a hole. Yours is on the inside of your body and Daddy’s is on the outside.

Emma: Why?

Me: Because he is a boy and he has a penis, and you are a girl and you have a vagina.

Emma: Ok Mommy.

Omgomgomgomg. Can I just stop time, or reverse the clock? When did my baby turn into a little person who asks questions about peanuts and holes? She’s three, people. THREE!

In totally related news, I bought these last night:

Because I was raised by a hippie and a psychotherapist, these books had permanent spots on my nightstand. Did any of you have them too? I have to say, that seeing these again brought back very fond memories of learning about the birds and the bees. In fact, it almost makes me excited to start this new chapter in life. Almost. But not quite.

If you need to find me, I’ll be in the kitchen with my head in the oven.

How do you approach tough subjects with little people who have big questions? Am I on the right track here guys?

I Got Me Some Baaaad Ju Ju

8 Feb

Did you see my last post? The one with the baby duct taped to the fridge? Did you also catch the one about how I had to take Annie to the emergency room for a ruptured ear drum? Or what about the post describing the game of “musical beds” we have going on in the house? And who could forget our little pinworm episode? What in the hell is going on?! Is it just me, or do I got me some baaaad ju ju?

Basically, the shit hit the fan this weekend when BOTH of the children came down with the stomach flu. You should all know that the best way to top off ear infections, sleep deprivation, and pinworms is with a good old fashioned stomach virus.

What is going on? Where did I go wrong in life? I obviously picked up my bad ju ju somewhere along the way. I mean, this is out of control. But, instead of dwelling on things like my hair falling out, birthing a baby who rivals Eivel Kinevel, or my DIY bikini wax disaster, I’m going to try to find a way to rectify the situation.

First order of business: I need to find out where I went wrong. Here are some possible scenarios:

  1. Gwyneth Paltrow read my letter to her, and she has been trying to ruin my life ever since.
  2. I spoke to soon about my success in getting my children to share a bedroom, and the gods of Karma are teaching me a lesson.
  3. I made fun of vajazzling, mustaches, and visible panty lines and now Paris Hilton, Ron Jeremy, and Snooki are all out to get me. I shudder at the thought.
  4. The La Leche League heard all about my thoughts after attending a breastfeeding toddler meeting, and they are not pleased.
  5. I’m finally experiencing the backlash from my poorly neglected Google Reader. You can run, you can hide, but Google will find you.
  6. I complain about first world problems (like my wrinkles) when there are wars being waged, children going hungry, and people suffering from incurable illnesses. If this is the punishment for my behavior, then I deserve a lot worse.

After analyzing this list I thought to myself, “Maybe I should stop making fun of people.” No, no, no. That can’t be it. If I stopped doing that, what would I do to feel good about myself? There must be another answer.

Then I got to thinking, “Is this just life with children? Do spend our days recovering from one shit-storm after another, with a few bright moments scattered in between?” I’ve been at this whole motherhood thing for over three years now, but it’s never felt quite this crazy before.

What do you think moms? Does motherhood ever get easier? Is this normal, or do I got me some baaaad ju ju?

S.O.S

4 Feb

I’m having a day.

If you don’t hear from me by the end of next week, send help (preferably in the form of alcohol).

Top Ten Things That Are Cheaper Than Therapy

24 Jan

Photo courtesy of "The Far Side". 1. Wine. Unless you drink too much of it. Then you will have to pay extra for an emergency phone session.

2.Blogs and coffee.

3. A pair of jeans that make your ass look really great.

4. Naps.

5. Hiring someone to clean your house.

6. Looking up YouTube videos of baby hedgehogs.

7. A $15 dollar mani/pedi that includes a 10 minute massage (email me if you want the name of the place).

8. Dropping your toddler off at the Ikea babysitting room and then spending an hour reading a magazine in the cafeteria.

9. Watching the “American Idol” tryouts.

10. Google images of “awkward pregnancy pictures” – trust me.

What else is cheaper than therapy?

Musical Beds

6 Jan

I wrote earlier this week about Annie’s mobility and the growing pains associated with developmental milestones. Well, we’re having another issue right now and it’s a doozy.

Sleep.

The baby first slept through the night when she was three weeks old. Don’t hate me though. It took almost a year for Emma to sleep more than six hours straight, so I totally deserve it.

The problem? She stopped sleeping through the night four months ago. Last week things went from bad to worse and she started waking up every half hour to hour. Something had to be done. It was time to give the baby her eviction notice.

My mission: To get the baby sleeping through the night and the two girls sharing a bedroom (the baby has been sleeping in a pack and play in my room).

Let the games begin!

Cue music.

Emma: sleeping in her room. Me: sleeping in master bedroom. Annie: sleeping in master bedroom. Husband: sleeping in guest room (that’s another story altogether).

Stop music.

My sister moves in. Remove one available bed.

Cue music.

My sister: sleeping in guest room. Annie, husband, and I: sleeping in master bedroom. Emma: sleeping in her own room.

Stop music.

Annie gets moved to Emma’s room. Emma gets moved to master bedroom.

Cue music.

Annie: sleeping in Emma’s room. Emma, husband, and I: sleeping in master bedroom. My sister: sleeping in guest room.

Stop the music!!!!

Who’s the loser in this game? Me.

I’m still not getting any sleep (you can read more of my issues with co-sleeping here).

My plan of attack: once the baby starts sleeping through the night (hopefully by this weekend) I will then move Emma back into her room, and the baby and Emma will be able to share a room and sleep peacefully together.

Now I need your help.

Am I on the right track? How do you get a three year old and a (almost) one year old to share a room? I need your mommy words of wisdom right now.

It’s the End of the World As I Know It

3 Jan

Something happened over the holidays. It’s kind of a sensitive subject around here and I just haven’t had the heart to write about it. Part of me thinks if I don’t tell anyone then it won’t be true. I might as well just come out and say it.

It’s the baby.

I’m not sure I can do this.

She’s…

She’s…

She’s mobile.

I know some of you reading this don’t have children, or are the lucky parents of a singular child. If that is the case, you are all probably asking yourselves, “Isn’t she supposed to be excited about this major developmental milestone?”

Not so fast.

Those of you reading this who have multiple children know exactly what I’m talking about.

It starts out like this:

That’s Annie sitting up for the very first time!

 

Which leads to this:

Just where do you think you are going?

 

And this:

What do you think you are doing?

 

Which quickly escalates to this:

Oh crap.

 

Which ultimately leads to this:

Ouch

You see now? Not only is she face planting left and right, but she can pull everything off of our coffee table, open all the kitchen cabinets, and get into anything that is less than 2 feet off the ground. It’s kind of a nightmare.

I did my best to thwart her efforts. I sat her up every time she tried to get on all fours. I kept her in footie jammies so she wouldn’t have enough traction to move anywhere. I limited her time in the Jumparoo. What more could I have done?

She’s just so damn persistent. I think it has something to do with nature and survival and learning and stuff.

Sigh.

I know it’s just a phase. Eventually she’ll stop falling on her face and trying to empty every cabinet in the house. She won’t be interested in putting microscopic balls of lint in her mouth and she’ll get over the notion that electrical cords also double as excellent teething toys.

And then she’ll start talking.

What were your worst growing pains as a parent?

Editors note: I like to act like Annie’s mobility is a drag, but I am so grateful every time she meets a developmental milestone. She’s a happy and healthy soon to be toddler and I couldn’t be prouder of my NICU grad. I just like to bitch a moan sometimes.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

14 Dec

Some of you may have read this post, in which I described Emma’s addiction to her pacifier aka the “Nonnie”. You can read the post if you want, but I have to warn you: It’s looong. It was written early in my blogging days, and well before I paid attention to things like “word count”.

Well, about a month ago we gave the good ol’ Nonnie the boot. I have been waiting to write about it because I was scared I would cave and give it back to Emma. I didn’t want to have to eat crow, you know? If it’s one thing motherhood has taught me, it’s that you don’t brag about anything. I’m scared to even mention if one of my kids goes #2 every day because you know that as soon as I mention it, I’ll have another poop strike on my hands. But I digress.

I have to say that taking away the Nonnie went surprisingly well. I actually found it fascinating. I thought Emma would totally freak out and turn into a monster, but she didn’t. She just got really sad. You know how when you are going through a break up and everything seems to remind you of your ex? It was just like that.

She acted exactly like she was mourning the loss of a lover. She was seemingly okay until something would trigger a memory of the Nonnie, and then she would would fall apart. After a short, yet cleansing cry, she would pick the pieces up and move on. It kind of reminded me of my breakup with Jason Rogers in the sixth grade, but with way fewer prank phone calls and torn up yearbooks.

I couldn’t be happier with the way it all worked out and I am so proud of the way she handled it. To be honest with you, if I had to go back in time, I would do things exactly the same way. Yes- Emma was just past her 3rd birthday when the Nonnie made its final exit, and some people think I waited too long. But you know what? In the grand scheme of life, three years is nothing. It’s a blip on the radar. Now that the Nonnie is finally out of our lives, it’s almost like it was never even here. Almost.

Even though I never want to see another Nonnie anywhere near Emma’s mouth ever again, I do want to pay my respects to the Nonnie. It was, after all, a major lifesaver in the early days of Emma’s life.

In honor of the Nonnie, I have created a photo montage documenting the time that Emma and her Nonnie spent together. It’s roughly 3.5 minutes long and includes sound (for those of you at work right now- mute your computers). I hope you enjoy.

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