Two More

“She doesn’t like chocolate? I guess she’s not my daughter!!!!” Or any dessert-related posts in general

“Starting her early- I guess she IS my daughter!” Accompanied by a photo of baby with credit card

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4 Totally Gross Facebook Status Updates You Would Have Every Right to Defriend Me Over

But god help me, sometimes I’m tempted.

“Who gave my baby three shots of espresso before bedtime??!??”  Coffee references, in general, are sufficient grounds for dismissal.

“It’s already 3:00? I guess no shower for me today!”  Or anything lamenting a lack of hygiene due to parenting duties.

“Time for baby’s bottle… and mama’s bottle!”  Accompanied by some bad stock photo of a wine bottle.

“Baby’s got the runs! Looks like her pink eye infection moved south.”  Or anything related to gross illnesses/secretions.

What clichés am I missing?

P.S. Clip art trumps stock photos: 

It’s Come to This

Thud. “Waahhhhh…..”

THUD. “WAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

Despite my best efforts to create a safe, cushy, soft Life Arena for Posey, she manages to bang her head over and over again on any hard surface she can find when we let her play on the floor– even inside her playpen with foam floory-puzzle piece thingies. I find myself left with two options:

  1. Move her into a padded cell.
  2. Get her a helmet.

Neither choice is ideal, but Beef and I have decided on the latter.  Really? Yes, really. And guess what? They actually make helmets for babies who have a tendency to bonk their noggins. Here’s three I found:

  • Thudguard Baby Safety Helmet

OMG, it has ears! But it’s also $42.95, which seems a bit steep for something she may not tolerate. Available in lilac and blue at amazon.com.

  • No-Shock Baby & Toddler Safety Helmet

Well this one has a bit of a Sherlock Holmes thing going on, doesn’t it? And it’s made in Italy! For $49.95, it’s also kind of an investment. Plus, it’s a bit too masculine for Posey’s taste. If it floats your boat, you can get it here.

  • Jolly Jumper Bumper Bonnet Toddler Head Cushion

And now for the SUPER-nerdy one, which means it’s the one we bought. More of a head pillow than a helmet, I guess. But for $11.95, we can afford the luxury of humiliating her. You can buy it here if you want your baby to be twinsies with Po– and I’ll keep you posted once it arrives.

Bumbo Recall Info

Finally!

I am so glad that the people at Bumbo finally figured this out: the stupid thing needed a seatbelt!

I have the twistiest baby ever, so the seat, even on the floor, was useless. Without any type of restraint, it was an accident waiting to happen. This morning, a voluntary recall was issued. Go here, and you can order a free repair kit.

UPDATE: My repair kit arrived 8/20– less than a week after I ordered it! That was fast. And despite very clear, detailed directions, I installed the belt upside-down. Oops.

There’s No Guidebook for Taylor’s Mom

Sunday morning, as I attempted to get Posey dressed for the day, the unthinkable happened. I was standing right there– I didn’t walk away, I didn’t turn my head, I didn’t leave her for a nanosecond.  But she rolled right off the table, right in front of me, and crash-landed in an open drawer, her fall broken by her folded stacks of onesies.

She cried for about 12 seconds. I cried for the rest of the day.

How could I be so careless? How did I not stop it? HOW COULD I BE SUCH A BAD MOTHER? I was sure I was alone.  Who would do such a thing?  But that’s where the interweb comes in. Google “baby fell off changing table,” and you get thousands of repeats of the same tale, some of them much, much worse than mine. And that’s the wonderful thing about parenting. No situation, no challenge, no mishap, no conundrum is EVER unique.  There is ALWAYS another parent who’s gone through the exact same thing as you.

Unless, that is, you are Taylor Swift’s mother.

Yesterday, news broke that the singer plunked down a reported $4.9 million for a Cape Cod beach house to be closer to her boyfriend, Conor Kennedy.  A Hyannis realtor even confirmed the sale. My very first thought was– where the hell is this girl’s mother?  How is this happening?  And then I thought about it. Where is the guidebook for her? What do you search for in the index?

What to do when your 22-year-old superstar daughter wants to buy a multi-million dollar Camelot loveshack to be closer to her 18-year-old boyfriend, who happens to be a member of possibly the most storied family in a century of American history,                                The Kennedys.

So I stand corrected.  There ARE unique parenting issues. And I’m going to get started writing my new book, How to Console Your Daughter When RFK’s Teenage Grandson Dumps Her for Vanessa Hudgens.

Pre-order your copy today.

The Ballad of Penny Joanna

83 phone calls.

That’s how many times I dialed Chicago’s Galter Life Center to try to register Posey for their Aquababies swimming program.  Think that sounds nuts?  I forgot to mention that I set my alarm for 4:50 a.m., as the registration began at 5. I thought it was going to be overkill.  Instead, I quickly found out I should have had six phones to dial simultaneously.  Apparently, these are the only indoor lessons that take infants as young as six months, so classes fill up quickly.  Finally, on the 84th dial, I got through, and it felt like I won the lottery.  “Let me guess!” a chipper voice sang on the other end. “You’ve got an AQUABABY!”

Well, now I do.

My kid loves the water.  You’ve never seen happiness until you’ve seen Posey splash around in her bath tub.  So now it’s official–  I’m one of those parents who goes to insane lengths for their kids.  Or in my case, my baby.  It’s still sinking in:  I got up before 5 A.M. to make 84 PHONE CALLS to score SWIMMING LESSONS for a BABY who WON’T REMEMBER THEM and probably will still NOT KNOW HOW TO SWIM when they’re over.

And it felt awesome.

In 1984, I wanted a Cabbage Patch Kid.  So did every other kid in America.  Unfortunately for my Mom and Dad, there was no internet yet.  No pre-orders, no eBay, just empty shelves in every toy store across the nation.

Shortly before Christmas, my parents got a tip from a local store (which sadly, went out of business years and years ago) that a secret shipment was coming in.  They literally had to meet an employee at a back door to get the doll– which was disguised in brown paper wrapping.

And Christmas morning, I met Penny Joanna, a Cabbage Patch Preemie, her weird little tuft of yarn hair all yellow and fluffy. She was hidden, Red Ryder BB Gun-Style, behind a chair in the living room.  The Grand Finale.  I still remember how she smelled and the crinkly sound that the box’s plastic window made.

Swimming lessons start August 23rd, my birthday.  I can’t wait.