The Daily Fuss

Growing a Family Part II: It's Not About Me Anymore

I remember our first week at home with brand new, baby Leighton like it was yesterday. I recall finding it impossible to get anything done. By the time I changed, fed and burped her, then got her down for a nap, the cycle would start all over again.

It took us two hours to get ready to venture out on our first stroller walk in the park - on day four, at home.

How ridiculous.

With Lei, I didn't allow myself to eat, sleep or even pee when I wanted to, for fear of interrupting what became our perfect little routine. 

Ryan and I described the situation as something akin to riding a night train, in the coach level smoking car with lights on and without reclining seats, through the Pyrenees, hoping to NOT get robbed while attempting to catch a nap.

This actually happened to me during my college travels and I swear it's a valid comparison. Not much you can do when the sleeping car is full.

Ryan detailed his foray into fatherhood to my cousin (about to become a father himself for the first time) in this way: "Imagine you just sat down with your favorite beer to watch the World Series, and every three minutes, you are forced to get up and run as fast as you can to the farthest point in the house and come back. Now imagine doing that all night long."

We unapologetically catered to our new little girl's every whim . She loved to nutch her nukka even as she slept. When it fell out (every five minutes) she would cry and we would run in and replace it. She was never wet for more than minute or two. She nursed every three hours, then every four like clockwork. She slept in our bed. She had copious amounts of tummy time and photo shoots and books read to her and faces made at her and toys to play with and so on.

Leighton smiled a lot. 

She still does.

The most notable shock of having that first little baby was that our time was no longer our own. Looking back, it seems silly to have assumed our baby would be like a cute little accessory - that she would travel about with us politely and sleep when we wanted her to sleep and be charming when we showed her off to other people and she would let us watch Meet the Press and have our coffee on Sundays without distraction. 

It's impossible to imagine life with a baby, before you have one.

We waited a little longer than we intended to wait for Miss Leighton. We started trying or "not trying to not get pregnant" right after we were married. We so enjoyed the momentum we had going ... constant change for eighteen months ... that we lept right in.

We had a miscarriage at twelve weeks.

Frankly, it sucked. 

So much hoopla and excitement and elastic-waisted pants and daydreaming and reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and I'm finally pregnant and it feels like we're a family of three in the waiting room and the warm goo and ultrasound wand is on my tummy and ... boom.

Nothingness.

The fantasy is vaporized and there's just sadness for a while.  

And that would be the very reason you don't get too excited until after that twelve week ultrasound. It shook us momentarily, but we moved forward with our life together and plans for a family.

However grateful we were to have a happy and healthy little girl the year following that rough spot, losing control over our comings and goings mattered to us.

For a little while anyway.

It was quite an adjustment for Team Freeman, as it is for most new parents, I would imagine.

Then, that longing for sleep and time to ourselves quickly faded into a rythm of providing for and meeting the needs of this little person we loved way more than we loved ourselves.  

She was our best DIY project to date and we were overwhelmed by her awesomeness. We felt we loved her so very much, there wouldn't be anything left for anybody else ... ever.

We believed that right up until Miss Mairin came along ... and everything changed.

Again.

Outnumbered: Contemplating baby #3

The entire concept of having children invites opinionated discussion that consumes a large portion of our childbearing years.

Early on there is the trying for baby #1 phase which then morphs into iterations of the expanding the family conversation.

As I've said previously, parenting, like marriage and home ownership, is a club.  All club members are keenly aware of other members' statuses and frequently ask questions to keep their information up to date.

Ask a childless couple who is either married or approaching 40 how many times they have heard the questions, "Are you guys going to have kids?" "Do you want kids?"  My guess is that they lost count a long, irritated while ago.

Once you have kids, you can't possibly imagine NOT having them and grow increasingly astonished by those who choose NOT to have any. It just doesn't compute.

When you have one child, EVERYONE asks when the next one is coming. "Will you have them close together?" "My sister and I are two years apart and it's perfect." It's relentless. Parents of only children comment that it seems there are more families of four than anything else.

Like the couples without kids, having ONLY ONE seems illogical, but I have to say, as an only, there were moments where I thought that having Mairin would ruin Leighton's life in some way. The pros of giving my eldest a sibling definitely outweighed the cons. But still, I had some strange thoughts about it that were obviously colored by my perspective and experience.

Now, speaking from experience again, I can say that having two is lovely. Our awesome foursome is even and balanced and no one has ever questioned our decision to become a family of four.

More often than not, the questions associated with potentially having a third are couched in terms of disbelief or approval of a potential decision NOT to proceed with family expansion. "You're not going to have another one are you?" "Are you going to try for another or are you guys done?" Mostly this is asked by someone who has two kids (or less) and is decidedly, if not almost irreversibly done.

Those brave souls with three or more children tend to ask in a more playful tone , "You're going to have another right?" "Are you going to keep trying until you have a boy?" We say, "I don't know. I think so at some point - just not right now." 

It's funny. The idea of switching from man to man to zone coverage is daunting. People with three or more kids are inclined to agree that, "Once you're outnumbered, you might as well have four or five kids. It's all the same after that."

CRAZY.

My general impression is that our society generally views parents with three kids as everything from expert to irresponsible. Four kids - there is definitely an accidental pregnancy or random twin in the mix. Five or more kids - you are religiously motivated to reproduce.

In reality, there are a number of factors that play into deciding to have kids and ultimately expanding the family. Freedom, financial situation, living space, sanity and sheer tolerance (or the lack of any or all of those things) all have a role in the decision-making process. Depending on who you are, some are more important than others.

We definitely have a third in mind, but aren't ready ... just yet. This wishy-washy flip-floppery leads to the other discussion of, "When will we be ready?" I don't ever remember being ready with either of the first two.

I remember trying for them and thinking I was ready and then having several moments of, "Oh shit, I'm not ready." Such as: the second the test turned positive, the first time I threw up from excessive nausea, the day I tried to rearrange the nursery, the morning I calculated what we should be saving for college, the moment I went into labor, the three days it took to potty train Leighton between Mairin's naps and the start of our first foursome vacation that involved an airplane. 

My friend's brother described introducing the third child to the family in this way: "It's like you're swimming along fine and then the waves start crashing and you suck in some water and suddenly, you're drowning ... and then someone hands you a baby."

Ha! I can't imagine it's that bad.

How many kids do you have? Is three that bad? Are you every ready for another baby? Please post your comments and share your fuss with us!

Is Life Better In Your Twenties or Thirties?

A friend posted today on one of my favorite topics - which decade is "better" age-wise, the roaring twenties, or stable thirties?

It's a good piece and immediately begs the question "what does better actually mean"?

I will tell you that I am happier and more fulfilled now than I have ever been, but I can't put my finger on exactly why I would refer to this decade as better. 

Evie, the author, points out the seemingly obvious trade offs. As a paraphrased example, feeling truly and desperately alone after a breakup in your twenties versus rarely enjoying five peaceful minutes of alone time in a locked bathroom when you have little kids, for example.

When I think of who I was, personally and professionally, in my twenties, juxtaposed against the person I am now, I have no sense of regret. I always live my life as fully and honestly as I can. I make decisions and I don't look back. If I make a mistake, I convince myself it was a necessary and teachable moment. I move on.

Evie makes a point about wanting to pull back some personal time and it's not lost on me.

My biggest issue with the current decade is that with little kids, there aren't enough hours in the day to do what I want, and so I am forced to compromise with my own wants and needs. I like projects - writing, entertaining, discussing politics and other things that really don't matter for endless hours over too much wine ...

Still, you couldn't pay me to be 24 again. Have you seen Girls? The slightly more realistic Sex and the City type show about twentysomethings in NYC attempting to live the dream?

It's taken me the better part of the last decade to resolve my inner Carrie Bradshaw. I find Girls to be an hilarious expose on why being a woman in her twenties is comically and emotionally BRUTAL - even if you're pretty and popular and smart and thin. Or ... not so much. Lena Dunham is a real-life genius so definitely tune in to season two later this month if you are so inclined.

I love the 36 year-old me more than any other me. I'm not as hot as I used to be (working on that), but I'm smarter, happier and have more money and more responsibilties in all areas of my life, than I did in my twenties.

A lot of pain and growth went into the last decade and I wrote about it so I can remember it all one day. Here are my thoughts: 

On having my first child

On suburban living

On identity crisis

On homeownership

On being the neighborhood hilljack

On minivan-ownership

On baby #2 and the worst anniversary EVER

On treading water

On a new job

I love my life and I sincerely hope I feel exactly the same way when I turn 40 three years and five months from now. And, I hope I'm still enthusiastically inclined to tell you about it.

Jump

Life before marriage and kids allowed for a fair amount of risk-taking. Settling down to feather and fill my nest set me on the familiar, working-mom trajectory.

I just turned 36 and somewhere in the month leading up to that birthday, I had an exhausting realization:

Unless I regain control of my fate, the only difference between birthday 36 and birthday 46 will be the fact that I'm an older wife and mom with an older husband and kids and a REALLY old house that STILL needs a new roof.

I vaguely remember once saying that I wanted to retire at 45.

Something happened when I had my babies. I instictively felt the need to maintain status quo with every other aspect of my life and focus the remaining 99.99% of my efforts on getting each of those babies, my husband and I through their first years.

And I didn't bother to lose the baby weight between having the girls.

And I wasn't able to put the finishing touches on the renovations we had done to the house.

And I didn't stick my neck out for what I wanted in my job.

It's as though I was afraid to do anything to provoke the gods of change. I needed to muddle my way up to Mairin's first birthday to find freedom from the shackles of post-partem hormones and adjustments and rapid-fire pediatrician appointments and breastfeeding and sleep deprivation and the like.

Working out in any way other than gardening was simply not going to happen from either a scheduling or committment standpoint. I'm not one to set myself up for failure, so I didn't even bother to engage myself in earnest to attempt weight-loss.

The house? Our half bath still lacks switchplate covers and caulk. And I just hooked up the sink a few weeks ago. You'll find more of the same throughout the house.

I passively moved through my baby-having years with my job too. I certainly wanted to keep it, and I maintained my desire to excel. Yet, somewhere between two maternity leaves, dramatically shifting compensation plans and a drastically different subset of clients, my give-a-damn cranked itself down into a regrettably lower gear.

I've been making my way out of the haze since Mairin turned one.

I've flipped my perspective on the inability to wean her - I'm still nurturing her while maintaining a bond she's clearly not ready to break. Yay me.

I'm happily busy with work and clients and all predictible aspects of business development.

My nanny and I are in stride most days. The kids and the house are cared for and I have what I need to be fully present when work is over for the day or the week.

I'm running the North Shore Half Marathon on Sunday, fully expecting to finish it at a 10 minute/mile pace.

My garden is in full swing and my lovely (albeit timeconsuming) landscaping project is coming together.

With all of this momentum building behind me, I need something to push me to the proverbial next level. If I really want to shake it up, I need to stay uncomfortable. Existing within my comfort zone won't produce any real satisfaction; It won't make me smarter or stronger or a better wife and mother.

Pain and growth are closely aligned and no matter the tiedious preparations made for change, the final bit always requires a leap of faith.

I've done the work. All I have to do now is ... JUMP.

Once I figure out exactly what that means, you'll be the first to know.

Mom Enough

I must admit that my first reaction to the cover of this magazine was, "I don't get it. What's the problem?" My nanny then pointed out to me that the child is "quite old," to which I slowly replied, "Huh. I guess he's probably four-ish."

This cover and the title of the related story "Are You Mom Enough" is causing more of a stir than Alicia Silverstone's premastication video blog.

The article is about attachment parenting and Dr. Sears - the man who defined it. Key components of attachment parenting include (among other things) co-sleeping, breastfeeding, letting your child dictate its schedule and the like.

You can take the TIME quiz on parenting styles here for free if you are wondering where you fall on the attachment parenting spectrum.

Questions swirling about the blogosphere fall largely into the category of, "What is TIME trying to do?" and "Has TIME gone too far?"

Shock and awe aside, the article and its provocative title/photo combo illuminates a heightened sense of parenting in our culture these days. And it makes sense, as a wave of "natural parenting" has washed over us in the last decade.

Breastfeeding is back in vogue - to the point that we have a secondary market for human milk. Organic food has become more widely available and less expensive. The BPA scare boosted the sale of glass baby bottles and spurred the elmination of its use. Baby wearing  is all the rage. Throngs of children are not properly vaccinated, either timely or at all, due to fear and mystery surrounding autism.

The list goes on.

In the wake of the women's liberation movement, the main devisive issue for moms was whether or not to work outside the home. The debate pitted the working mom against the stay-at-home mom and many an Oprah-esque argument ensued.

It was so much simpler then, when one side felt it damaging to leave children without mom for more than a few hours and the other felt that children need to see their moms do more than just take care of them.

I really do believe that we Americans are culturally enlightened enough to get past our own jealousies and insecurities to see the positives and drawbacks inherent in either situation. We now have the SAHM (Stay At Home Mom); the WoMo (Working Mom); the WAHM (Work At Home Mom) and seemingly no apology from any party as to the label.

With progress comes new challenges. And, as we open up the idea of "natural" motherhood we rely on "mother's intuition" in ways that, frankly, piss off our pediatricians. Maybe we shouldn't believe everything we're told. Maybe we shouldn't trust the system as much as we do.

With rapid exchange of information in these times, we've seen that the system doesn't always work. Is controlled breathing all I need to get me through childbirth? Can I have a glass of wine? What's in that formula? What's in that vaccine? If the risk of SIDS is really higher when baby sleeps alone? What hormones were fed to that cow? Does the sugar in juice really cause obesity and eat your brain?

The motherhood playing field has shifted dramatically and it's more devisive than ever. It's become the game of mothers judging each other for doing specific things that will ostensibly harm their children in some way. For me, this article is less about Dr. Sears, and more about jumpstarting that dormant conversation.

You know ... the one I'm having right now.

Moms, in honor of our upcoming day of motherly celebration, let's all relax. Being a mom is a tough job and we shouldn't judge each other for the choices we make.

I take the un-apologetic approach to parenting. We do what works for us and the kids always come first. Here's our parenting style in a nutshell:

The girls have a routine. They behave better when they know what's coming next. Our nanny is better at keeping the routine than Ryan and I.

Mairin comes in our bed between midnight and two am. She still nurses at night at 15 months. We eat as well as we can. We try different foods. If we don't like it, we need to try it again later. We drink juice on occasion. We have dessert.

We have rules and strive to be orderly, but our house gets messy. A lot. In the name of projects and art and more projects, we get messy.

We don't tolerate meaness. We allow for self-expression and understand that we need to choose our battles and try not to make a big deal out of too many things.

We have Disney movies and princess stuff and sports stuff and instruments and try to maintain a balance. We don't say things are "boy things" or "girl things". We have dance parties and movie nights.

We always say "I love you" and never NEVER EVER take each other for granted.

So take that Dr. Sears, Time magazine and defiant breastfeeding cover mom. You can't define my parenting style in such strict terms. Even if you are just trying to sell some magazines.

What the Fuss? WONDER!

It's a superstore! It's a play land! It's WONDER!

Imagine a 35,000 square foot baby and child emporium stocked with every toy, necessity and boutique find imaginable. It also has a huge play area where you can stay all day and try out the toys available in the store.

I like to shop online - almost exclusively. And luckily WONDER! offers that option too. Still, the store is so much fun, I can't resist the urge to shop in person.

 

 

WONDER! also has:

Nursing lounges for breastfeeding mamas

A custom "race" track to test drive wheeled vehicles

A fully stocked library area to test drive books and visit for story time

Private party spaces

Yoga, music, creative movement and art classes taught by amazing instructors

A fun-filled event calendar

Nursery and kid room vignettes

A stay-all-day or annual membership play area

Friendly and helpful staff

A kid-friendly easel at every checkout

 
 
Rumors of another store abound, but at this time, there is only one WONDER! 

This store is also the online distribution center. If it's in stock online, then I know it's in the store.

Fantastic!

WONDER! is located at 250 South Waukegan Road in Deerfield, IL.

All photos courtesy of WONDER!

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Anniversorry Part II: Imposters

Given the anticipation created by planning our anniversary celebration, it should not come as a surprise that the events of the evening did NOT transpire as intended.

We arrived at the hotel at 2pm for an early check in. There is nothing better than a toddler and infant-free nap in a freshly cleaned, fancy hotel room. So we ordered lunch up to our lair, enjoyed a Sprecher Amber and Usingers sausage sticks and snoozed. Hard.

In readying for dinner, Ryan tested the rain shower ... complete with translucent glass. Interesting.

Here is a stock photo from the hotel. This shower leaves little to the imagination. One can only hope there are other accommodations for individuals staying with friends or small children or Amish folk.

Honestly, I felt that at this point we were in over our heads - kidding ourselves that we (the proud parents of two teeny tots) could pull off a normal romantic moment or several without laughing at some point, or feeling like a couple of imposters.

Once we were primped and proper, cousin Pete and his fiancee Leah met us for pre-dinner cocktails. They live in Milwaukee, we haven't seen them for a spell and we fully intended to use this time to formally ask them to be Mairin's Godparents. We enjoyed a bottle of wine in our room, then a beer at the hotel bar. And, once my mom called, we forgot to ask them anything.

"Mairin hasn't eaten since you left. I've tried several different bottles, different nipples, different batches of frozen breastmilk and even formula. No dice."

Not wanting to: a) Appear overly concerned; b) Foreshadow the fact that this may ruin the whole night; or c) Fail our plan, I told her to give Mairin Tylenol and cross her fingers.

Ryan was jumpy and sweaty and seemingly paranoid through cocktails and the call from my mom didn't help. We hopped a cab to dinner and the pavlovian effect usually created by the ride to Bacchus was nearly impossible to attain.

Other than spying John Malan (local meteorologist since childhood) at the bar, the twenty minute wait for our table was spent desperately trying NOT to talk about Mairin's appetite over our own. Ryan's jumpiness overpowered the voice of reason in my head that should have assured me both girls would be just fine for the evening.

"I wonder why she's not eating."

"Maybe she's eating now."

"I'm sure everything is fine. This meal is going to be awesome."

"I can't wait."

"Me either."

"Too bad Mairin's not eating her dinner."

"I know, right? It's so strange. Poor baby."

"I think I want the filet."

"Me too."

Tick. Tick. Tick. Drink. Drink. Drink.

Our collective worry must have accelerated our collective metabolic rate because at this point in the evening we had each had two beers and three glasses of wine.

We were seated at our corner table and ordered another glass of wine, small plates and our entrees. I ordered the lobster and Ryan ordered the filet. Of course, there was much discussion surrounding menu choices and how "I will order last" and "what two items can we split" and Ryan doesn't think lobster is "worth it" and I'm all "you have to be joking" and blah blah blah.

"I wonder if Mairin is eating yet," we mused over another glass of wine.

By the time my mom called again, Ryan was still sweaty, I was drunk and our entrees had yet to arrive. Service on this particularly important Saturday was sssloooow - overbooked like a United flight out of O'Hare.

By the time we paid the bill and talked to my mom AGAIN about how Mairin now hadn't eaten in eight hours, we decided that we would take a cab back to my parents' house, feed stubborn Mairin and come back.

By the time we made it back to the hotel, we packed our bags and called the valet to bring the car around.

I looked ridiculous waiting for the car having already changed into my yoga pants and other such Lulu Lemon/Athleta wear. I felt my fraud exposed as the valet held the minivan door for me and I hopped inside - Patagonia bag on my shoulder, bronze stilletos in hand - while hipsters and aging bikers filed into the hotel in appropriate attire for a night out. I tried to pretend we enjoyed a lovely stay (of more than a few hours) and were excited to be on our way home, but the absurdity of it all was apparent.

We were ten blocks out when my mom called yet again to report that, "Mairin is finally eating. She was stubborn and wants her mom, but I finally won. Please go back to the hotel. My God, you sound trashed."

Ryan and I argued for two minutes about what to do and blamed each other for getting so worked up. He told me he was worried because this normally wouldn't have freaked me out and I blamed my freaking out on his profuse perspiration and irritability. It's at this point that he admitted to taking TWO 24-hour Claritin because he didn't want his allergies to "ruin our evening".

Ah well, his intentions were pure.

We went back to the hotel at 11pm, gave our keys to the same valet who helped me out of the car moments earlier, took the gorgeous elevator straight up and went to bed ... defeated.

Dinner at a fabulously slow restaurant - $250. Unsullied hotel room - $400. White gold and diamond locket given by husband as a wedding gift left on the nightstand and "not recovered" by housekeeping - $3150.

Jen and Ryan's fourth anniversary memories - PRICELESS.

What the Fuss? Burpy Bibs

This week's obsession is the Aden and Anais Burpy Bib.™  I have always been a huge fan of the swaddling blankets. In fact, I have eight, and rotate them between swaddling and burping.

Almost nothing beats a giant, muslin burp cloth. The soft, fluffy fabric can be tucked into nooks and crannies while providing great coverage to soak up spitty quickly and spare our clothes. The large size can get a bit cumbersome, but I didn't see much of a choice.

Until Little Sis was born.

When I saw these fabulous, bean-shaped burpies, I knew I had to have some. I added two to my regular order from diapers.com for $7.99 each. These Burpy Bibs did not disappoint.

Aden and Anais says: Great form meets versatile function in our soft, absorbent burpy bib. Our special shape keeps things clean whether used as a bib or a burp cloth. Natural, gentle muslin is as easy to care for as it is to use. And no aden + anais® product would be complete with our chic, exclusive prints.

The clever bean shape covers you when you burp and can quickly be snapped around baby for use as a bib. Clean and modern prints are an added bonus. Simply genius - an instant Fussworthy must-have. 

I definitely wish I'd thought of this.

Don't Tell Dr. Weissbluth

If you would have told me that, unlike Leighton, my second baby would be a "sleepy baby" I wouldn't have believed you. Unless you also promised me that, unlike Leighton, the little deuce would be difficult to feed. That trade-off may have captured my attention as decidedly plausible.

From her first night in the hospital, Leighton has never been much of a self-soother and we never did get up the nerve to let her just cry it out. 

At twenty-two months old, she still loves her nukka at night. She also still prefers her "cozy" spot comfied up a "certain way". And, she still comes into our bed at 2am and drills us with her little toes and elbows until 6:30.

However, she maintains 11 hours of sleep at night plus a two-hour nap during the day, making her incredibly well-rested and happy. And Lei has always been a SUPER good eater. Bless her that curried mango-glazed salmon, steamed broccoli and shitake mushroom risotto is her undisputed FAVORITE meal. I cannot wait to take her, and her rather sophisticated palate, wine tasting in twenty years.

You win some. You lose some. The sleep experts wouldn't advise you based on some of our tactics, but it's working for us in more ways than it isn't.

For her first two weeks on the planet, our experience with Little Sis has been just the opposite. We were all well-rested in the hospital and it continued initially when we got home. Mairin will sleep through the night, every night (at least for five straight hours) unless I wake her for feedings. Her startle reflex is fierce, so we still employ the time-tested practice of swaddling. In fact, last night's swaddle was so award-winngly amazing, I would have taken a picture for you had my camera been handy. I felt like a pro.

With our "sleepy baby" comes a few unforeseen issues that are actually, kind of a pain in the ass - all of which are related to feeding our sweet little bug:

1) Even if Mairin sleeps longer than three hours, I still need to wake her to feed her. If that doesn't work, I must get up to pump or suffer the unpleasant consequences. I figure, at least everyone else can wake up fresh in the morning. I'm on maternity leave, so waking up every three hours is actually in my job description. Bummer.

2) In light of #1, I must tell you that it's ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE to wake Mairin to eat. We tickle her, change her diaper, wipe her little cheeks with a cold baby wipe, talk to her, walk around with her ... Even when I get her to start eating, she usually falls right back to sleep a few seconds later. Thus, dragging a ten minute feeding out for sixty more.

3) The tomfoolery involved with #2 sometimes leads me to fall asleep sitting up at the Boppy, inadvertently soaking Mairin, her PJs, the Boppy and any nearby blankets once she dozes off too. At this point, I can only put towels on the bed or try to convince Ryan and Leighton to get up so I can change the sheets because (as you will see in #4 below) sleeping in a bed soaked in wet breast-milk is wholly unappealing to me.

4) Even when I do manage to get the requisite amount of milk into the baby, she falls asleep while I burp her. If I don't get a good burp out of her, then she spits up, repeatedly, for the rest of the night. Because this grosses me out completely (I was like Leighton and never would have been able to sleep in damp, stinky spoiled-milk pjs) I change her, then she poops, then I change her diaper, which causes her to spit up again and the cycle continues until she's actually awake and hungry, at which point I will feed her and most likely fall asleep at the wheel again anyway.

5) If I just let Mairin sleep (which is what you've been mentally wishing I would do while reading the first four items of my sad little list), please know that I probably won't wake up to pump, thus soaking the whole bed eventually anyway. Or, she'll wake up just after I've put the freshly-pumped bottle in the fridge, thus dragging my nocturnal experience out another forty minutes. Either way, I will curse myself for not trying to wake her.

Letting her sleep just isn't that cut and dry of decision. Plus, my ability to make sound decisions is heavily warped by my lack of sleep and I just can't be held responsbile for my own inconsistent ballyhoo until I come up with some sort of solution.

6) If any of this ridiculum wakes up Leighton, then she needs to kiss her baby sister, make a trip to the potty and spend a few minutes begging to watch Annie. She will finally compromise on the movie by having me tickle her back with her blanket ribbon until she falls back asleep. 

This routine can last for quite some time. In fact, this very set of circumstances escalates the evening to a "Code Red" for which no amount of training can prepare you and no amount of red wine and girl scout cookies can fix the next day. Only irrational bickering with my baby daddy, a profuse shedding of tears and a four-hour nap will right this ship. Good thing the "Code Red" is incredibly rare so far.

Sound familiar? Have any advice? Please leave a comment and share your fuss with us! I'd love to hear from you.

Self Evaluation

At three this afternoon, the overall score for the day was nothing short of promising. Most importantly, Leighton's little barely-slept-a-wink self was at school and would most certainly be too pooped to wreak any real toddler havoc when she got home.

I caught up with the laundry, made progress on a legal publication I'm spearheading, finished a post, showered AND dried my hair, made hair and massage appointments, pumped an extra feeding, snapped a few pictures of Mairin, cleaned any messy aspects of the house and remembered to feed Lue and let her out the requisite number of times throughout the day. A few gifts were delivered for Miss Mairin, as well - driving the score even higher.

Ryan returned with Lei shortly thereafter and the circus promptly began. Here are a few things that fall under the auspice of what I like to call "toddler mayhem":

Squeezing little sis around the middle and/or hugging her by the head whilst I'm feeding her - out of love, of course.

Spontaneously bursting into song in an attempt to avoid answering a direct question.

Finishing my sentences incorrectly to suit her needs.

Bedtime battles and temper tantrums - most of which include "the noodle" where she raises her arms above her head and her shoulder blades turn to cartilage and it's impossible to find any place on her to grab hold and successfully pick her up. (How do all kids know how to noodle instincitvely? The phenomenon needs to be studied).

Getting naked for no real reason other than to mess with me.

Putting anything other than potty, in the potty.

Doing artwork anywhere other than on paper while nodding and telling me "paper only" and "keep it on the paper, mama".

AND MY FAVORITE ...

Slapping me (more like controlled flailing as if to say "I'm going to swing my arm around fiercely and you best not get in its way") followed by profuse apologies, patting me on the shoulder or back, caressing my face and telling me that "everything will be okay mommy" in a slightly Munchausen by proxy sort of way.

The list goes grows daily with some new goofiness, but these incidents don't last long and they aren't as frequent as I'm making it seem. Leighton is really a very sweet little girl, it's just that she sprung the mayhem on us suddenly a few weeks ago and it's still throwing a monkey wrench into what was a very happy and well-managed daily routine. She's a toddler and this is totally normal. We get it. I promise. Still, it doesn't make it any less exhausting or hilarious to us.

Tonight, Leighton can add pooping in the bathtub (I think it was more of a gambled-and-lost, toot-confusion situation rather than an act of defiance, but it counts) and needing to wear a tiara to bed to read The Princess and the Pea with babies, silks and blankies strewn about her special sleeping spot to take the daily score down just a smidge.

The real point deduction for the day was all on me. I spilled several ounces of freshly pumped sweet juice all over the dining room table and on to the floor. What a MAJOR EFFING DISAPPOINTMENT. If this were my first baby, I would have been inconsolable for at least an hour. But, I'm over it.

The daily tally buoyied again late in the day. By 7:39pm, everyone was fed, and everyone under the age of two was asleep. At this point, the television remains off and Ryan just opened a bottle of red. There will most definitely be few spitups, wakeups, feedings and trips to the potty over the next several hours. But overall, I'm pleased with our team's performance.

I give us a solid 10.

Sharing

Who knew? I woke up this morning and it's ... October. There just isn't enough time in any given day to do the things that need to get done, much less enjoy life to it's fullest potential.

That's not to say that a lot hasn't happened since my last post. We're making slow, but steady progress on the house. I closed another quarter at work with way too much travel. Leighton has gotten completely into the groove at school. We recovered from the stomach flu. We're enjoying the neighborhood. We saw pictures of our little girl on the way ... and she looks EXACTLY like Leighton as far as we can tell. 

This brings me to the overwhelming sentiment of the last month. GUILT.

For my husband and Leighton, I've been gone more than usual, I'm pregnant and exhausted. For baby number two, I still haven't made it to my 20 week checkup and finally snuck in for the ultrasound on thursday at the end of week 22. That SO would not have happened with Leighton. I couldn't wait to have a peek at her. I would have taken the day off just to be sure I didn't miss it.

For shame.

I'm an only child. One mom, one dad, one kid. It makes perfect sense to me. As an only child, I was always one third of the family vote. Having more than one child feels somewhat unnatural to me. I can't imagine having two kids share my time and attention, basically because I never had to. Everyone I know has stories of the older sibling trying to whack the younger newbie with a blunt toy of sorts, or asking mom and dad "when can we take her back?" I'm imagining that the very moment Leighton realizes Little Sis is ours forever will be a sad one. I can't help it.

Today's world makes it that much more difficult for me to conceptualize having multiple kids from a logistical standpoint. Ryan and I both work, and we're sticklers about the 7pm bedtime - no later than 7:30. Pediatricians say toddlers need 12 hours at night and a two hour nap. We agree and, with some scheduling, we make it work. But, it's a pain in the ass for both of us to hustle to make that happen. It's a huge committment.

Ryan leaves work right at 5. I'm usually already home, so I start dinner for Leighton, get her fed, bathed and ready for the wind-down routine to kickoff when daddy walks in the door at 6:10. We sing, read, brush and wash and talk about our day. Then Ryan makes dinner for the two of us while I put Lei down for the night. We watch some TV, hang out a bit and then try to get to bed by 10pm to do it all over again.

I have no clue how I'm going to squeeze clockwork feedings and naps into a new routine. What if Lei wakes up the baby? What if the baby wakes up Lei? What if Lue barks or the phone rings or any one of a multitude of other things happens to upset my delicately balanced apple cart? Welcome to life for the next handful of years.

And that's just sleep! We work hard to eat healthy, organic food across the spectrum. We don't watch much TV. We always have activities lined up. THAT also takes planning. By the time Little Sis is born, we'll all be eating frozen dinners in front of the TV at 10pm every night. The prospect terrifies me.

Maybe we can swing it for the first few months, but I can't even think past maternity leave.

As I have mentioned ten thousand times, Ryan and I both work. Even once the girls reach school age, school ends BEFORE business hours. What the hell? Around here, there isn't really convenient after care - you have to pay a nanny to pick your kid up at one place and wither take them home, or to a secondary location for a few hours of half-assed attention.

Moms overwhelmingly appear to stay at home in Highland Park, so I'm likely making my way toward outcast, but there's nothing I can do about it. Even with sports, practice starts right after school and somehow, kids need to make it to practice, ON TIME.

We can make all of this work, and we will. I know there are plenty of people who have much more to deal with than I do. Still, I can't help approach baby number two with some guilt about the fact that her baby book might have half the pictures Leighton's does, or that I'll get to spend half the time with her that I spent with Lei in the first year, or that I'll get to spend half the time with Leighton that I would have if we hadn't had another baby at all.

Hopefully, Leighton will love her little sister to pieces and learn the gift and art of sharing - something that as an only child, has taken me thirty four years to appreciate.

What the Fuss? Nice Rack

Cute and clever - a wicked combination. Especially when we're talking about baby products. I spent the last sixteen months balancing bottles and nipples on a drying rack that resembled a warped starter set of Construx.

Why you ask? Because I didn't know any better.

When we moved, my mom showed up with a few treats for me. (Let me say that she rarely, if ever, shows up empty handed. In fact, Leighton's first move after greeting her Gaga is to rifle through her purse looking for gifts. Please remember that my mother only lives and hour away and we see her quite often. The pavlovian effect was swift).

This time, my gifties were two newAvent wide-mouth Natural Feeding bottles, a kickass bottle brush(also Avent) and the Boon Grass Drying Rack. Yes, Lei is a toddler but she still like her baba at night and I refuse to deprive her of such things until she's two. We have no baba shame in the Freeman house. Plus, she has been a straw drinker since eight months and does not like sippy cups. Hence, the baba.

I love the Avent products - made in England and beautifully designed. Still, the jackpot portion of my haul was the Boon Grass Drying Rack. It's two dishwasher-friendly pieces of fun that hold any baby item to dry completely. It's ingenious, adorable and takes a spin in the dishwasher without warping.

You can pick up your Boon Grass Drying Rack at Target for $15 - or closer to $20 elsewhere. This Fussworthy Must-Have makes a great shower gift and is not to be missed.

Just curious, at what age did your toddler give up the bottle? Parents seem to get nervous about it and my nanny said that the parents of her other charges were sheepishly wondering the same thing. Please leave a comment and share your fuss with us!

What the Fuss? Flip and Tumble

Nukkas, bottles, breast pump parts, socks and shoes, Little People, Thomas and Friends, art supplies, sports equipment, doll clothes, race tracks, blocks, beach toys ... almost every category of baby or kid stuff has teeny parts that multiply, break and disappear as time passes.

Inevitably, the toy box has six inches of wooden and plastic toy "sludge" comprised of the aforementioned articles - never to be returned to their rightful place again.

One friend of ours uses plastic baggies to sort little parts for various toys. Great idea, but for the whole wee-tot-potential-suffocation factor. Approved for grade-schoolers, but who wants to wait that long to be organized?

My mom has a new toy for Leighton every time we visit and on a recent trip, she had two boxes of musical instruments. Lei opened her treat and played vigorously - LOUDLY and vigorously. When she was done, my mom pulled out this handy little mesh bag and VOILA - instruments were organized, easy to transport and out of the way.

These magic mesh bags are Flip & Tumble Reusable Vegetable Bags, intended to make shopping for produce an eco-friendly experience. At roughly two bucks each, they're awesome. I bought three packs of five on line. From pears to puzzles, these Flip & Tumble bags are a Fussworthy Must-Have for any parent. 

This product review conforms to the Fuss Formula.

Do you have any organization tips using unconventional items? Please post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Identity Crisis Part II: Work Life Balance

We closed on our suburban home last week. I measured and planned, priced materials and found subcontractors for some initial home renovations, found renters for the condo in the city, pushed Leighton seven thousand times on her new swing, hatched a few landscaping plans and ...

... oh yeah - I did all of that in my spare time. I worked all week - Saturday too.

Spare time? What the hell is that? I meant to say that I did everything I mentioned in lieu of getting the requisite amount of sleep a human needs to remain sane and not age exponentially faster than expected.

I am out of whack. Fat. Chakras need balancing. I'm so tired. Writing promotes my balance and I haven't done much of it lately. Recommitting.

Lately, my discussions with a close friend have turned to the subject of work life balance and the ways in which moms define and achieve this. I believe that whether or not a mother achieves work life balance depends ENTIRELY on how she defines it.

At this point in my mom career, I don't see how it's possible to balance work and life. Work eats up 75% of my awake time, Leighton gets 75% of my energy, friends and family earn 25% of my effort and friends laundry, Dr. appointments, travel, changing batteries and light bulbs, moving, eating and television get the other 25%.

I'm working at 200% efficiency. Sweet. Sweet, and impossible to maintain without cogs popping and springs flying out of my head.

Moreover, I believe that work life balance (by any definition) ABSOLUTELY CANNOT exist when you have very small children. Properly cultivating a tiny human being takes a most enormous direction of effort which inevitably spurs the half-assing of nearly every other task on the list.

This doesn't just apply to "working" moms. I say "working" because we're all doing the work. However, I have to imagine that moms who stay home may yearn for the interaction of the workplace or the self-fulfillment that is part and parcel to a career. The balance is simply skewed in the other direction. When you wear a suit all day, you long for anything with an elastic waist. When you're covered in snot and food all day, you long for a quiet moment in your office. I work from home. I feel both sides throughout the course of any given week.

I may be wrong, but I'm operating under the assumption that the balance will tip in mom's favor once the littlest one heads off to school. I am clinging to this truth, however illusory. Please let me be right.

Please.

How do you work toward your balance? Are you getting there? Do you do your work with the kids or in an office? Please post a comment and share your fuss with us.

What the Fuss? Flipping Out

How much effort does it really take to effectively chronicle the most important moments? Not much if you have the right gadget.

First steps, first words and random bouts of hilarity happen in split seconds, and we wouldn't have captured any of it so candidly without the Flip Mino HD. We couldn't possibly have such footage of Leighton if I had to dig a handycam out of the closet every other day. Telling a child to "hold that pose" as she laughs milk out of her nose just isn't going to work.

Luckily, 1986 is safely behind us. The 2010 Mino HD fits in the palm of your hand and holds up to 120 minutes of high definition video. Point, shoot, upload, enjoy. Easy peasy.

So easy, in fact, a baby can operate it.

It boasts a wide screen, plugs directly into your USB and comes complete with groovy editing software. At $229, a bargain indeed. Still, if this bad boy is a budget buster, you can procure the 60 minute regular Mino for $149 or the 60 minute HD Mino for $199 instead.

The standard model comes in black or brushed silver. You can also design your own with an uploaded image or choose from an array of bright and sleek designs. If you land anywhere on the OCD spectrum, you should consider opting for a design. Original black shows every little fingerprint in a way that could send someone right over the edge.

For those of you concerned about the adverse effect your trembling hand may have on the recoded image, this handy little device has remarkable "shimmy-control". The picture comes out far cleaner than any other hand held recorder I've seen.

Here's a sample of me chasing an overtired eleven month-old around the kitchen way past her bedtime - the worst possible circumstances. Even Scorsese's crew would have had a tough time shooting this subject.

Incidentally, all other videos posted to thedailyfuss where I'm not conducting a bedtime high-speed chase were shot with the Mino HD, as well.

Due to our insane appreciation for this handy camera and the joy it brings, the Flip Mino HD makes The Daily Fuss list of parent must-haves.

This product review conforms to the Fuss Formula.

Please share your fuss with us! Facebook Fans can upload videos to The Daily Fuss page on Facebook. We'd love to see your wee ones in action.