The Daily Fuss

Big News

Getting pregnant with our third was easy. So easy, we really didn't even have to try. 

Yes it may seem disingenuous to have posted about the debate surrounding having a third. However, I had already started working on that post. I just didn't get to finish it before getting myself sprogged up again. 

So I posted it anyway.

We have cleared our first trimester and the hurdles it represents, as we are pleased as punch to share the news.

Speaking of hurdles, instead of the usual first trimester screen for abnormalities, I opted for the MaterniT21 test. It's a simple blood test and more accurate than the first trimester screen. Plus, the fact that I will deliver this baby at age 37 makes me destined to fail the first trimester screen regardless.

MaterniT21 tests for trisomies 13, 18 and 21, as well as X and Y disorders. 

One bonus (should you choose to look at it as such) is that you can find out gender. Since the Maternity21 test can be done as early as 10 weeks, the test basically cuts the normal wait time (20 weeks) in half.

Of course we wanted to know. We always want to know. 

The prospect of having three girls seemed a bit rough in terms of what would certainly be a perpetual emotional roller coaster. Girls are undeniably dramatic.

On the other hand, we are familiar with this drama and welcome the benefits to be gained from having sweet-smelling, jewel-toned, baby rocking, role-playing, show-putting-on types in our lives. We could definitely do a third.

A boy would be wonderful, of course. But, that scenario was difficult to imagine with NO frame of reference for it. Every time I come across a little boy - a friend's son, for example - they shock my sensibilities as a mom.

Boys pee standing up. Duh. They are typically unconcerned with wardrobe choice. They don't love the toys we have at our house. Hmm. Interesting.

Either way, a happy and healthy little baby is all we desire. The debate of which would be easier or more fun, made for a few days of interesting dinner time conversation, all of which ended in, "I would be ecstatic with either. I just want a healthy baby." It feels piggish to hope for anything more specific than that.

The genetics lab called on Thursday of last week and we were told that our baby will almost 100% certainly NOT be affected by the aforementioned maladies. We were also told that there is evidence of a Y chromosome, which I do not possess. This can only mean that we are having a little boy.

We freaked out.

We are so damn excited. I am more excited than I thought I would be. I am quite positive that we are stopping at three. And, the fact that we will get to experience having daughters and a son makes us giddy beyond belief.

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!

Nothing Game

When I was pregnant with Leighton, imagining Ryan and I as new parents, my mind's eye perpetually flipped through the rosy, picturesque aspects of motherhood juxtaposed against the darker "what if" fears realistically beyond reason.

Both sides of that coin draw tears to a hormone-jacked woman about to give birth. But, until I actually had Leighton in my arms, I had no idea how special the small moments would be.

It's impossible to appreciate the day-to-day silliness children bring until it happens. The dinner-throwing, first-words, first-times, sibling-rivalry, middle-of-the-night-fussing, no-pants-partying, vomiting, teasing, slapping, laughing, questioning and just plain banality of parenting is amazing.

The small moments shore up the monumental ones and keep my relationship with my children in perspective. I make a concerted effort to NOT take my family for granted.

Stringing together the small moments offers some of our most cherished memories. Those moments are fleeting and I don't write about them as completely as I would like. Which brings me to today, and this very moment to be specific.

Leighton takes classes. She genuinely likes school - both the learning and social aspects - so we go with it. Today, she had "Crayons Cooking and Fun".

She loves this class, just as she's adored Gymnastics, Music, Ballet, Head to Toe, Swim, Yoga, Arithmetots and Phonics over the last year. She generally comes home and spills the beans on whatever happened in the 90 minute class.

However, starting this week, when asked "What did you learn at school today," Leighton would unflinchingly answer, "Nothing."

In my opinion, this apathy should not have reared its ugly head for several more years. What the heck? These classes are pricey and we want to know whether she's enjoying them, at the very least.

Is she seriously dismissing me?

Her new "nothing" response obviously bugs her daddy, because he started playing a little game with her. After three days, we refer to it as the "Nothing Game."

The Nothing Game goes like this: If we ask her how her day was or what happened at school and her answer is "nothing". We get to tease her a bit.

It's fun. Here's a typical example:

ME: "Hey Leighton. UPS delivered a package today and it was wrapped in pink sparkly paper and tied with a big, purple, satin bow. I tore it open and dug through the packing peanuts and, you know what was in it?" 

LEIGHTON: "What mom?"

ME: "Noooothing."

And Lei will laugh her ass off. Once she recovers, she will formulate a zinger of her own and keep it going. Then Ryan, then Leighton, then me, then Mairin (who just starts laughing and screeching and so on) and the game continues.

The lesson, of course, is that the answer "nothing" is annoying. The Nothing Game loosens her up, gets her talking. It's like verbal tickle torture. It's hilarious to us.

I can't take credit. Ryan started it. I just fully intend to keep it going as long a the imaginitive cackling continues and she eventually tells us what she did at school that day.

Blizzarre

Tonight, we're staying at a Marriott in the city, near the hospital, just in case Little Sis decides to join us smack in the midst of the worst snowstorm Chicago has seen in years.

There is absolutely no way I would give up my OB or voluntarily deliver anywhere other than Prentice just because I live in the suburbs. Not a chance. So, Marriott it is.

My due date was yesterday. Well, my first due date - the one the doctors give based on how you're measuring. By my own witchdoctory estimation, my real due date is somewhere between February 4th and 8th, but I liked the 31st way better, for obvious reasons, so I went with it.

Admittedly, it felt somewhat bizarre to leave my freshly feathered nest to stay at a hotel in my very own city, against the advice of all local and cable weatherpersons characterizing the impending snowfall as a wintry armageddon. And by the looks of the empty grocery store shelves and line at the pump, the seventh seal was breaking as we buckled our seat belts and fired up the Jeep to head down. Apparently, the National Guard has been mobilized. Awesome.

Luckily, we left in time to avoid much of the traffic pick-up and made it to our room before the conditions completely deteriorated into a windy, snowy, freezing mess. Ryan is at the gym whilst I type, then we're off to Kamehachi for a sushi dinner. It's likely to be a relatively uneventful evening unless we turn on The Weather Channel - then we're back to apocalypse talk, but we're packed and ready for our new delivery anyway. In fact, I'm hoping my water breaks right after dinner. 

We put quite a bit of effort into preparing for Little Sis in just the last few weeks. I finally hung things on the walls, cleared out the third bedroom, ordered the cord blood collection kit, paid the bills, compiled tax documents, took the life insurance physical, laundered everything we own, ordered baby provisions, cleaned the Medela pump and bottles, outfitted the crib, cleaned the basement, tiled the kitchen backsplash and the half-bath floor, tuned up the Jeep, charged the camera batteries, changed the sheets, loaded up at the grocery store, mailed the returns, put bedding on the cradle and crib and had Ryan take a picture of my hugely pregnant self on the way out the door.

Holy crap! I forgot to pack clothes for Little Sis! What a jackass! Oh well. Someone can certainly bring her little bag if she decides to come today or tomorrow. I honestly JUST realized my oversight this very second and I feel terrible about it. My little deuce is already getting screwed in ways my first born did not. It's inevitable, I suppose.

Leighton and Luella are acutely aware that something's up and they're acting out accordingly with temper tantrums, barking at shadows, dancing on furniture and "forgetting" to call potty - both of them. It's a super attractive scenario at our house right now. Thank the sweet lord for Grandma!

Even if the storm passes with no sign of Little Sis, a night out of the house in a comfy hotel during a spell of extreme Chicago weather is not exactly a punishment for us. Still, we are holding out hope that a sudden drop in barometric pressure urges the newest member of our family out of her cozy little spot tout suite.

Come on baby!

What the Fuss? Everywear Skirt

If you are pregnant, going to become pregnant or if you just had a baby, your wardrobe should be equipped with the Everywear Skirt from Ingrid & Isabel.

The fabric is amazing. It's a sturdy poly-nylon blend and lays amazingly flat with a matte finish - not like your average yoga pants that sport a shiny nylon sheen where you bend.

The foldover waist is itch-proof, plus it's long and covers your belly - happily holding you snug before and after baby comes. If you're looking for the absolute best maternity skirt money can buy, look no further than the Everywear Skirt.

Ingrid & Isabel say:

Pregnant moms told us they need an everyday skirt that makes them feel beautiful. They want length and a style that works from season to season. They want a comfortable fit from early pregnancy through postpartum. Voila! A long, work-to-play, errands-to-dinner skirt in our signature fabric. The same belly panel as our Everywear Pant lets you wear the waistband over the belly, fold it to the waist or hips, or pull it all the way down around your bum and hips for extra hug and coverage. Because of the stretch and recovery of the fabric, it can be worn throughout and after pregnancy. 

I can't say enough good things about this bit of fine maternity fashion. At $88, it's worth it - sure to average $0.25 per wear by the time you're done with it. I am due this week and strongly considering ordering the Everywear Pants anyway.

One tip, the belly converage runs snug. It's comfortable, but I ordered a 2 (10-12-14) and it fits, but I am normally a pregnant 8-10, so order up a bit for maximum satisfaction.

Whine. Ohh.

I'm an oenophile in the best possible way. Not the snobby I-don't-even-get-out-of-bed-for-bargain-wine kind of way, because even two buck chuck serves his purpose. Somewhere. But, in the way that says "Hi honey, I'm home" or "The long work day is winding down" or "I'm slightly warmer and calmer after a glass of Cabernet" or ... feel free to insert your own adventure here.

Wine is yummy and sexy and artful when produced properly. Plus, it's respected. You never hear about high-schoolers lining up shots of vino. Slamming wine coolers, yes. Wine, not so much. Coeds don't fire up a round of Asshole with a case of Pinot. And, you'll be hard-pressed to find "fitty cent taps" of Merlot on any college campus. It's simply not done.

I was going to do a post about how the economy has turned many Americans into smarter spenders - perhaps even this superconsumer - and how I need to cancel my wine clubs to comply with this new brand of limited consumerism. I just haven't been able to pull the trigger on that yet.

Even in the twenty-sixth week of my pregnancy, delayed at the Minneapolis airport for the second time in two weeks until well after ten pm, I am having a glass of Pinot Noir ... at the airport ... in front of people. Yep - pregnant, airport wine in public. The reactions are mixed and I'm taking it all in stride.

I'm no poser; I imbibe in public. Women will overwhelmingly affirm my decision to partake, "Good for you", or "I drank when I was pregnant and my kids are fine" or something else tantamount to the fact that our moms were probably shit-faced when pregnant with us. "You go girl." Woo Hoo!

Conversely, men and any server (of either gender) under the age of twenty-three will inevitably give dirty looks. Mmm hmm. The non-baby-havers are the judgmental ones, for the most part. Go figure.

I personally don't care, and I don't judge other people - especially women. It's not in my nature to harm my child and I do not have a drinking problem, so I assume others are capable of deciding when and where a drink is appropriate.

However, a pregnant woman enjoying a glass of wine or a beer at diner raises more eyebrows than your average thirty five year-old Chicago boy polishing off several car-bombs following a continuous stream of cocktails on any given friday night, while groping the ill-formed butt cheek of some strange, young and equally shit-faced girl. It's truly something to behold.

So do you, or don't you indulge while pregnant? Please post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Maybe Baby

We went for Leighton's 18-month checkup today. Everything was great. She's tall, thin, smart, sassy and didn't cry for her shots - like a mini supermodel with a mild temperament and sweet little mullet on her 82.5 percentile head.

On the way out, we passed a freshie in the waiting room. She was an adorable little Chinese peanut with a shock of black hair and that typical far-away newborn gaze. And, for the life of me, I could not remember Leighton ever being that tiny.

Ever.

I put Lei to bed a little while ago and came straight downstairs to peruse photographs from the first six weeks of her life in a concerted effort to find evidence that she was, in fact, the drooling, gurgling, can't-hold-her-head up baby that she certainly must have been. Right?

Sure, there are a few pictures where she's staring blankly and intently on a shadow in the corner of the ceiling, but the other seven thousand eight hundred fifty two shots show an incredibly alert kid. At this point, I'm even having trouble remembering her not talking - probably because we've been able to communicate since the moment our eyes met.

And, they met seconds after she was born. They put her in my arms and she stared calmly and confidently right up at me. Leighton's gaze instantly destroyed and reinvented me. Then she did it to her dad, grandmas, grandpas ... everyone. It was nuts. I made them wait before administering those gooey eye drops because I couldn't stand to end the hour of continuous eye contact.

I started thinking about the insane amount of thought and hope and anticipation and expectation wrapped around my first-born, and realize that my memories are gilded to some degree. But, I will say that the picture above was taken at four days old. Those are the eyes that locked mine that first day - the day she let me know just how much she expected of me.

Now, I can't help thinking about Little Sis. For baby number two, much of that anticipation is gone. We know what babies are like and how many diapers we'll change and what to feed her and when she should hit which milestone. With Lei, we've been (and still are) anxious to see how quickly she can learn things and in some ways, it feels like we're speeding her along to the next phase, always looking forward. If little sis is our last, then maybe the reverse will be true - that we'll always want to see her as a baby and always will.

It stands to reason anyway.

Family placement and its affect on each of us has always intrigued me - probably because the whole "only child" thing is foreign to most people and doesn't fit comfortably into the discussion of traditional family placement. Come February, little sis will put me well outside my sphere of knowledge on the topic and that's definitely a good thing.

Plus, I figure I'll have twice as much to write about.

What the Fuss? Feeling Wretched

The first trimester is a roughie. Actually, pregnancy is trying all the way around - especially the nausea for me. It's kind of like being hung over for somewhere between twelve and forty weeks. One minute, I can't eat a bite without turning purple ... the next minute I want curried chicken salad, pickles and chocolate covered almonds. I'm such a chubby little cliche. Boo.

I was debilitatingly pukey and had headaches while we were getting the house ready, packing and moving. I figured I was a bit dehydrated but I couldn't drink enough water because a full stomach made me feel even worse.

Don't fret. This story has a happy ending - my perpetual hangover has a cure. A few weeks ago, my expert-googler husband found nausea relief  bands for my pressure points. They're called Psi Bands and they're as comfortable as they are adorable. Psi Bands are soft plastic bracelets that hit your pressure points that trigger nausea relief. They come in various colors and patterns. Ryan picked out Daisy Chain for me.

I couldn't believe they worked so completely. I wore them to my next OB/GYN appointment and sheepishly showed them to my doc. Without flinching he said, "There's good data supporting those." For $17 per pair - I'm sold. You can find Psi Bands retailers on the website.

Unfortunately, Psi Bands can't rehydrate a preggy. However, coconut water can. 

My aunt dropped by to help us paint one day and brought Vita Coco coconut water for me to try. She touted it's hydration ability and I was thirsty, so I figured I had nothing to lose. Within ten minutes of downing a peach and mango water, my headache was gone.

I got some fiberglass under my bracelets and had to leave them off for a while. I swear the Vita Coco helped with the nausea too. You can pick up both the small and large sizes at Whole foods. The small starts at $2.50.

For any woman dealing with nausea from pregnancy, these two wonder products are sure to please.

Do you have any tricks, tips or products that help with nausea? Leave a comment and share your fuss with us!

Been Busy

So I took a little break. I needed it. There's a lot going on these days and while fully immersed in bloggy land much of the time, I consider myself a private person. Well, maybe not exactly private, but I'm not great at lying - which (in my opinion) includes sins of omission.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I preferred a month of radio silence to thirty, cagey What the Fuss? posts to avoid telling you all that I'm pregnant. What?!

Yep. Number Two is scheduled for debut in February. Leighton will be two in March. Luella will be seven on Christmas. (That's 42 in Yorkie years.)

It's certainly been very exciting, although not timed perfectly. We moved to our new house last thursday and I took on a new role at work and I feel like throwing up most of the time and packing was horrible and unpacking was even more horrible and none of my clothes fit and Leighton learned the words "no" and "mine" and has taken up whining and I'm traveling this week for work, and I'm sitting in a hotel room with a head cold that Lei passed generously to me on the way out the door.

Good times.

For the record, I will die in this house. I am never moving again. Unless of course we sell all of our possessions with this house and start over back in our condo in the city. Condo + City of Chicago = Perfect retirement community.

Anyway, back to reality and our little Number Two.

I am an only child. If I haven't mentioned this before, you may be having an A-HA moment. The fun of reading a blog is to put the pieces together over time and this is a big one.  I have close cousins, but I never had to really share anything - including my parents. Nor have I ever been involved in a sibling rivalry, much less argument for that matter. Come February, I will be way out of my element. GaGa and GaPa won't be much help either.

Come February, I fully expect that the utility and import of baby doll toys and furniture will zoom into sharp focus for Lei. Right now, she knows what to do with all of that stuff, but she sees it in a way that it relates to her as a baby not another, completely different, teeny weeny REAL LIVE BABY!

Number Two is going to blow Lei's little mind. And then, I fully anticipate her desire to send it back from whence it came.

I missed you all. Please forgive the sabbatical. I'm back.

Open Defiance

I recall having baby fever a few months back. I was ready for number two. Those of you with older kiddos assured me that this phase would pass once my precious peanut was mobile and chatty.

Leighton is decidedly both.

Not long ago, Leighton was incredibly sweet and cuddly. She ate well and peek-a-boo kept her giggling for hours. She traveled well - even in the car. You could set your watch by her nap schedule - her timing impeccable.

She demanded little more than food, an occasional nappy change and to be read a good book or three. My perpetually bilssed-out cherub couldn't run away from me - She wouldn't want to anyway.

Now, Lei saves the serene compliance for Grandma or Kate, our nanny. I, on the other hand, catch hell. The list of demands is astonishing.

Up. Down. Up up up again. AHHHHHHP!

This juice, not that juice. Duh.

Nap time blankets are not the same as bed time blankets. Tantrum.

"Cah" suddenly means car, Kate, caw, cap  and, as I learned this morning after several excruciating minutes of running around the kitchen touching every object ... avacado. Fuck me.

No mama, I want to sleep all night with my sweaty head on your collar bone. If you try to move, I will fluff your face like a pillow and head butt you no less than three times.

I got slapped yesterday for taking away her specially-designed-for-toddlers saftey spork. I didn't react, so she threw the bowl of eggs on the floor and cried as Lue scarfed them up.

It's exhausting - kinda fun when you have another adult to share your disbelief - but exhausting nonetheless. Leighton is equal parts prankster and snugglebug, badass and beeb - wholly loving and terrifyingly fearless all at once.

I'm sure it's her age and not so much me. She can still be sweet and silly and is much smarter than she was even yesterday. Still, that sassy side packs a whollop. Lately, even Kate is starting to feel the burn. And Lue? She gets the heck outta the way. 

I probably shouldn't take it so personally. Lei's testing her boundaries and I am the obstacle standing between her and absolute anarchy. I am un-fun to some degree. Bummer. I can feel you nodding - you wise moms with older kiddos.

I know. This too shall pass, as did my baby fever - supplanted by the unwelcomed wrath of an openly-defiant toddler who switches gears at the drop of a hat.  At least one aspect of little Lei remains consistent - her timing is still impeccable.

Were any of you surprised by your tot's boundary testing behavior? I have to ask ... how long does this last? Please comment and share your fuss with us?

What the Fuss? Tummy Honey Butter

I included Tummy Honey Butter as a Breast Feeding Must Have last winter. However, when I stumbled upon it again this morning after running out of lotion, I figured I should call attention to it specifically for the preggies out there.

The smell reminded me of being pregnant. The fact that I have NO STRETCH MARKS reminded me that it works and that Tummy Honey Butter is a Fussworthy Must Have. My friend Michelle used it too with the same success and we are both genetically predisposed to stretch marks as far as our mothers and grandmothers are concerned.

I started using it as soon as I found out I was pregnant, as I fully intended to prime my midsection for maximum elasticity. I used two jars throughout my pregnancy and had just cracked into the third (this morning's find) when Lei was born.

At first I thought $19.99 per jar seemed expensive, but a little goes a long way toward greasing up your pregnant boobs, butt and tummy every morning. Spend the dough - you'll thank yourself when you once again recognize your tummy after baby is born. 

Do you have any tips and tricks for preventing stretch marks? If so, please post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Movie Real

I am acutely aware of that point in every movie where things are perfectly peachy, it's sunny, dad is playing with the kids, the birthday party is in full swing ... It's the high point in the movie just before it all goes to hell.

It's disconcerting.

I point out this movie moment every single time we watch one (which isn't very often). It's escalated to the point that Ryan tries to beat be to the moment of recognition - usually about 34-37 minutes in.

It's a little game and we laugh about it. But, I must say, in all honesty, I HATE the shattering of homeostasis and the anxiety of the resulting struggle (or rest of the movie) wherein characters practically kill themselves to get back to the place they were 63-67 minutes earlier. I'd be fine with ending the flick back at minute 34.

I love my life. I could use more sleep, a few more bucks and a round of lipo of course, but I am happy. Really, truly, unabashedly happy. And, in light of said happiness, I no longer have space in my head or the emotional constitution for sadness or drama on screen. In other words, I don't need a movie to get myself all worked up. I can handle that just fine on my own. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

I mentioned that in the small moments, fear creeps in and plants the "what if" seeds. What if this very moment is as good as it gets? What if something horrendous happens and my happy is ripped from my grasp like one of Lue's chew toys from Lei's little hands? What if ...?

I just can't imagine losing my family, as it exists, at this second. I can hardly bear to think about Leighton getting bigger. I even get blurry-eyed when I consider having another baby. Our crew wouldn't be the same - the Freeman clan would no longer exists as it does on this day. What if that baby is sick? Every second that passes - every tick of the clock - is a moment for me to either panic like it's minute 38 or settle in and savor everything for which I am grateful.

Obviously, the latter is the more attractive option. I'm just saying ... sometimes it takes effort to forget about the laundry or work or the fact that Lue hasn't had a fresh hairdo in two months. The effort always pays off. Life is a work in progress and every day I choose to live mine one movie minute at a time.

Am I on a limb out here or are you feeling me? How do you handle it? Leave a comment and share your fuss with us.

What the Fuss? Feeding Frenzy Part I: Breastfeeding

As I mentioned here, Lei's brush with disaster was the impetus for this post on all things fabulous for feeding. I have compiled a list of extraordinary items for you and per the Fuss Formula my reasons for including each in this feeding frenzy of must-haves for nourishing your wee ones.

Once I got rolling, I realized that there are quite a few fussworthy finds, so I separated them out into breastfeeding and toddlerfeeding categories and numbered them to keep the confusion to a minimum. I'll tackle breastfeeding goodies today and toddlerfeeding in tomorrow's post. Enjoy!

 
  
I breastfed Leighton for nearly nine months. At that point, she had long since lost interest in the boobies except to smack them and laugh at me and I could no longer muster the will to pump in the face of such naughtiness on the part of my sassy daughter. I'm still a little sad about it, especially after reminiscing about all of the sweet gear that comes with breastfeeding, so I'm glad you're along for this trip down a most recent memory lane. Here we go ... The Daily Fuss's can't-breastfeed-without-'em items.

1) The Medela Freestyle breast pump is easily the best pump in town. As I discuss here in enthusiastic detail, it has expressive power, battery life, can pump both sides at once, is hands-free and clips to your waistband so you can walk around whilst you pump. This amazing little friend is worth every last penny. It retails for $379 (catch your breath) but I got mine brand new and sealed on eBay for $245. I would pay full price for it if I had to buy it again. Don't tether yourself to a pump pack the size of a boom box, get the Freestyle. You'll be glad you did.

2) Wee Go glass bottles are super duper cute and have a nice, safe, colorful, grippy cover. However, they are $18 each. I picked mine up at Babygap.com and unfortunately, I can't drum up a justification to overcome the excessive price tag. So, I'm sticking with my $2.50 Evenflo Classic Glass bottles. I actually used a box of each the 4oz and 8oz bottles for Jelly Belly filled shower decorations and ended up loving them. Here, I professed my love for the Adiri Natural Nursers, but once Leighton reached five months, she lost interest in them and I found the Evenflo Classic Glass easier to use - you can run them under hot water to heat them up quickly.  We also enjoy the Avent Natural Feeding bottles now that Lei sucks down a huge baba before bed. They are made in England, have the wide mouth and are easy to hold. You can pick them up for roughly $10 apiece.

3) We rarely use our Boppy now, but it was in high demand up until three weeks ago - I couldn't live without it. Now, we use it as a fancy TV pillow. I received the Boppy Barenaked pillow ($30) and organic cotton Boppy cover ($25) as shower gifts from my Giggle registry. There is no way you will get that load of wash done in the three hours you have between feedings. So do yourself a favor and register for two.

4) I was freshly sprogged up and searching online for a legitimate way to escape stretch marks when I stumbled upon Tummy Honey Butter. I used two jars through my entire pregnancy and I DON'T HAVE ANY STRETCH MARKS. Friends who have used it don't either. I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'. You should get it. And, remember to rub it on your BOOBS! I pay $20 a jar at early-pregnancy-tests.com. They sell pregnancy and ovulation tests super cheap too - not to mention a thousand other things. Love that site!

5) Lily Padz are an amazing replacement for those cotton breast pads that get all wet and harbor ferocious bacteria leading to mastitis. At least ... that's what happened to me. I had successfully used Lily Padz for weeks and then I got nervous thinking that sticking silicone pasties on myself could be unhealthy and clog a duct. So I bought organic cotton pads and within a week had an infection fever, clogged ducts, pain the whole nine yards. I researched Lily Padz and found that hospital studies have proven them to be more clean and effective at stopping leaks than their cotton counterparts. I bought my Lily Padz at the fancy pharmacy by my house and paid $24.95 each for two pair. They lose their stick after a while but still work, so I had an everyday pair and another for special occasions like work meetings and weddings.

6) The Baby Bond Nursing Wrap is a soft, twisty piece of cotton knit fabric that basically turns any shirt into a nursing top so you can see your baby without putting your bare skin out there for the world to see. It's a keen invention and the product tagline is ever so clever - For Nursing and Conversing. Feed Your Baby. Nourish Your Relationship. Accompanying this brilliant design is a quality burp cloth that can hang from the wrap, as well as a handy little bag for storage. It looks great, rolls up quite small and goes right in the wash. I did not pay the $35 retail price as the wrap was sent to me courtesy of Baby Bond, but I absolutely would. In fact, the Baby Bond Nursing Wrap is the newest addition to my new mom gift bag.

7) If you are even thinking about breastfeeding you need The Ultimate Breastfeeding Book of Answers. I've read every chapter and found it to be the most useful and reliable book I have aside from What to Expect - both of which were shower gifts. It retails for $20 but you can get it for half that price on Amazon.

8) We cloth diapered Leighton and Caroline (love her) at Giggle talked me into trying Bambino Mio. We ditched them quite quickly (they leak) for Fuzzi Bunz (best pocket diapers EVER) which left us with sixteen Bambino Mio Nappies or prefold cloth inserts. So, we used them as burp cloths. I like them better than any other burp cloth we tried. Swaddle Designs burpies were an easy favorite, but they are pricey and I only like the one with the flannel strip, not the ribbon, yet you are forced to buy one of each in a two pack. Boo. Plus, they fade in the wash. Double boo. The cheapy cloth diapers from Babies R Us basically turn to cardboard over time. So, lucky me, stuck with high-quality, super-soft, multi-purpose nappies. At $35 for eight, I would buy them all over again - just skip the covers.

9) It may seem that including the Bebe Au Lait Hooter Hider AND the Baby Bond Nursing wrap is redundant or conflicting. However, if you are serious about breastfeeding get both. The Hooter Hider is an apron-like cover that allows you to see what you're doing underneath. The bonus of the Hooter Hider is that it shields baby from the distractions of the world whenever necessary. I received two as gifts and have spent the $32 to give them as gifts, as well. I praise the Hooter Hider in greater detail here and continue to give it two boobs up. Although, I will note that new moms may have an easier time with Baby Bond as it is less cumbersome.

We welcome any comments you have good or bad about any of the products featured here. Feel free to mention any that we may have overlooked too! You never know what will turn up as the next Fussworthy giveaway. And remember to check back tomorrow for fabulous toddlerfeeding gadgets, utensils, feeding seating and more.

This product review conforms to the Fuss Formula.

As you may have gathered, a number of my items can be found at Giggle. It's my favorite baby store and I registered there when I was pregnant. I love it so much I contacted them to be an affiliate advertiser. In the interest of full disclosure, The Daily Fuss does receive a small percentage of purchases made at Giggle when clicking through from our Giggle banner. Your support is certainly appreciated. Happy shopping!

What the Fuss? Butter Fingers

No formaldehyde. No toluene. No Dibutyl Phthalate.  Excuse me?

Dibutyl Phthalate is DBP, another member of the pesky phthalate family. BPA is another. If you don’t want it in your baby bottles and nukkas, why put it on your pretty little fingers?

Three Free Nail Polish from Butter London is fabulous without the three, aforementioned, barely spellable toxins. Perfect for preggies, mommies, women in general or anyone with fingers actually.

Butter London Three Free lacquer covers beautifully in one coat (two for good measure with the darker colors) and dries quickly. I don’t even use a top coat. Frankly, I no longer have time. There’s a reason it’s called Butter. I love this nail polish.

Okay, so $14 for nail polish is decidedly NOT FREE. However, it lasts and works so very well. Worth $14 in my opinion. It helps you to be a tad more discerning about the color choice.

Yummy Mummy is my hands-down favorite. It’s a taupe, grey, purple-ish color that racks up mad compliments. Plus it’s non toxic for your kids’ health and yours. Your fingers will smell yummy, not stinky, and with very little effort you can look … well … polished.

This product review conforms to the Fuss Formula.

Have you tried Butter London? What's your favorite color? Please share your fuss with us!

Baby Fever

Leighton is four months old and I can already feel my temperature rising. Lei is incredibly funny and fun to be with. So, I'm thinking that we could double the fun by having another baby. Right now. Apparently, other parents are struck with this same desire. It's called baby fever.

Technically, baby fever is the overwhelming desire to conceive another child while the current baby is roughly six months old. The six month mark is great because your baby is sleeping through the night and entertaining the crap out of you, but can't really get sassy or instantly motor out of your field of vision the moment you turn your back.

I didn't know baby fever was a thing, but until I did some research, I was certain I had invented this wacked-out desire.

To accommodate another child, I figure we would need a bigger house, a new car, new stroller and more furniture. The nanny would cost more. We'd have to double our college savings contribution. We would have two in diapers no matter how fast I potty train Lei. I would need to put $25k in escrow for new boobs because years of continuous breastfeeding would obviously do irreversible damage. Worse, it could take three hours to leave the house (every day) like it did the first time we took Lei for a walk in the park.

Since you asked: That excursion was crazy. I had given birth four days earlier and was slow to get moving. I fed and changed Leighton then took a shower and dried my hair. I packed the Bugaboo with fifty thousand things and by the time I finished, Leighton needed to be fed and changed again. At this point, Lue had been staring at the door, wearing her little Puppia harness for over two hours and Ryan was relegated to the couch per my irrational behavior. Leighton spit up all over her new outfit, then pooped. We changed her a third time and off we (baby, Yorkie, Daddy and Mama with tear-stained face) went to have Argo tea and take a ten minute walk. It was only 42 degrees in Chicago that day. Ridiculous.

Anyhoo. One baby fits in our current home. She fits, although the living room is jammed packed with a swing, Jumperoo, Exersaucer, Haba Dream Meadow and other beeb accoutrements. It surely appears as though the rummage sale starts any minute. One baby is portable, and the one we have now is so well-behaved that she visits restaurants, friends' houses and the zoo with ease. We can get out the door in five minutes. Five Minutes! One is easy to feed and I can feed Leighton anywhere. She thinks dining under the Hooter Hider is some kind of game.

Even as I rattle off the pros of waiting, I am inclined to think that screwing up this utopia would be way more fun. I reason that three would be rough – switching from man-to-man to zone coverage. But, two – piece of cake. There is also that part of me that only wants to be pregnant one more time, but wants three kids. Do people usually pray for twins?

I am an only child, and my husband is the oldest of three boys. I want as many kids as I can have, but he thinks two is ideal – which leads me to the twins fantasy. We could have three without arguing about whether to try again for a third time. Note to self: Add "conceive twins" to my to-do list.

Other note to self: Ask Ryan's mother to remind me what it was like for her to raise three boys each sixteen months apart.  

That should bring me back to an even 98.6 tout de suite. 

Does anyone else out there have this brand of baby fever? Please share your fuss with us!