toddler sees a quarter moon

I picked up my son from daycare yesterday, just after the sun had set. We walked outside and he saw the quarter moon.

*GASP* "What happened to the moon?! Did it broke?"

my son's questions at age 2

After church yesterday, my son was very chatty in the car and started asking me some questions.

"Mommy? Do we eat trees and leaves?"
"No, we don't eat trees and leaves. But some animals do."
"Oh.... Do we eat plants?"
"Yes, we eat lots of plants."
"Do we eat animals?"
"Yes, we eat animals. But only some of them."
(pause)
"Do we eat Daddies?"
"Uh... no. We do not eat Daddies."

random thoughts: is spam a legitimate protein source?

Yesterday, as I was browsing the canned meat section, I actually considered whether my son would like Spam since he generally won't even look at a cut of meat. I read the ingredients: pork and associated byproducts, water, salt, and sugar. Yeah, probably he would. I just couldn't bring myself buy it. I will continue to pretend I have standards.

top 10 ways my body has changed two years after giving birth

Okay, it's almost been two years since I gave birth to my son. I'll tell you right now that I'm pretty sure I'm still in a state of denial about my body, but slowly I am coming to accept some things. For example, it's different. Different, even, from a year ago. But that has more to do with beer and pizza than anything else. Also, I'm learning to see myself differently. Which leads me to a short list of the things I've noticed about my body since then.

1. I could care less if I fit into a size 12 (which I'm only one size away from), but at the same time I do covet the other, smaller half of my wardrobe. Also wondering when I may get up the gumption to join Weight Watchers again (I used to be a lifetime member).
2. Motherhood has flattened my ego for the most part. I care a bit less about makeup, depending on what's happening that day, and more about which pair of comfy pants I'll wear when I get home from work.
3. I keep developing these weird skin thingys that I know are harmless but I pick at them anyway.
4. I have more gray hairs. Pretty sure I'll have twice as many another year from now.
5. I will still pay just as much to have my hair done well as I did before I had my baby. 
6. My hips sit higher than they used to. I noticed this last year, but now I'm understanding how it affects my clothes. I'm secretly hoping I can keep my hourglass figure, but kinda doubt it.
7. JEANS. Not only do they not fit the same way, but I have to try on every pair from every designer when I go shopping now. I'm finding that some of the brands I used to hate now look okay on me, and in some cases the reverse is true. The size is the same, but the higher hips really affect how they fit. And, since I'm almost 5'10", camel toe continues to be my biggest detractor from most brands. Plus, I am finding that I seriously hate low-rise jeans -- I'm getting tired of constantly pulling them up over my love handles. I'm still trying to fall in love with skinny jeans, but my fuller thighs make this a challenge. There are times I've laughed out loud in the dressing room.
8. Even though my arms are almost Popeye-strong, they look flabbier (probably the excess weight).
9. I have more wrinkles around my eyes, and a few more dark circles. Fun.
10. I'm tired enough at night that going to bed at 9:00 feels like a special occasion. 
11. I try to make myself get up an hour before my son to keep it all together.

Okay, the last one is a bonus and isn't about my body so much as my psyche. But it's still important, like my weekly yoga class - I think I will atrophy and become stiff as a board if I ever give it up. And don't even talk to me about using a DVD at home as opposed to taking a class. Not the same thing.

Motherhood. It's a journey that lasts a lifetime, even if you start it midlife.

the indy 500 diaper change

Yesterday, the three of us were sitting in a restaurant with a friend (okay, tasting room of a local brewery where you can call a restaurant and have them deliver your food), and I mentioned the story of a couple at a Starbucks who decided to quickly change their baby’s diaper in the seating area since there was no changing table in either restroom (more on that here) and got treated pretty poorly – an employee tossed a rag at them and told them to clean up after themselves. 

Then, to my chagrin, I realized the boy needed a change himself. I assessed the situation in the women’s room – the single room was big enough to fit a rhinoceros but had no stall and no changing table; just a filthy concrete floor crawling with dust bunnies. I came back and DH and I decided to conquer this as a team.

Here’s how I envision the diaper changing if we could do it Indy 500 style, which we did:

1. Lock the door
2. Person 1 holds the child standing in the air
3. Person 2 pulls down the pants, unfastens and removes the diaper, disposes of the diaper (Quick! We don’t want the child to pee on Person 1), grabs the fresh diaper, fastens it on the child, pulls on the pants, and puts the socks and shoes back on.
4. Both persons tell the child he’s doing a Great Job! Such a good boy! Wow!
5. Persons emerge 30 seconds later with freshly-diapered and slightly bewildered child.

But, you know, more often than not there is no Person 2 to help you accomplish this feat. That’s why public places with restrooms that are bigger than my bedroom (or any size, for that matter) should really invest a teensy bit of funds into a changing table. Really. No, REALLY. You’re doing the general public a big favor and admitting that small children do, in fact, exist. Even in tasting rooms. 

what to do when your child is crying

Run through the mental list: Diaper? No. Hungry? No. Teething? Possibly. Randomly cranky with no foreseeable resolution? Getting warmer.

Distract by walking outside.

Fix a Manhattan.

Sing a nursery rhyme.

Put the child down so he can bang his fists on the floor and get it out of his system.

Stare at him in disbelief.

Stare at your partner in disbelief.

Stare at your Manhattan in disbelief.

Cuddle the child. Maybe he’s hurt or in pain.

Hear your child scream all the louder because you accidentally squeezed him a little too hard.

Sit down with him.

Stand up with him.

Hand him a cracker. Peace in the universe at last.

it finally happened

We washed a (dirty) diaper with our son's clothes.

I went to put the load into the dryer. Imagine my dismay as I discovered clumps of liquid absorbing stuff floating among the otherwise clean clothes.

I didn't have the heart to tell my husband. I don't know who put the diaper in the hamper and I don't care. It was 10:00 p.m. I put the clothes in the dryer, removed the clumps as best I could, and went to bed. The end.

Now - don't you feel better about yourself? I thought you might.

how to eat at a restaurant with a one year old

Okay, I’ve been slacking in the dinner prep area lately. I’ve barely cooked in the last couple of weeks, and most of my meal planning has come in the form of ordering delivery or opening a package of soup and breaking into a loaf of bread. Not that these are bad options, but I wouldn’t mind having a real meal here and there.

So yesterday I decided we’d just go out to eat after work and relax. Already, you must be thinking “What part of you gets to relax when you eat out with a toddler??” In case you don’t know what that looks like, here’s a quick rundown of the required steps:

1. Smile to the hostess as she seats you and gets you the highchair. Congratulate yourself for getting there right at 5:00 – before the main mealtime, and before most of the other diners get there, when the kidling is most likely to embarrass you by melting down.
2. Order bread right away so the kidling has something to do.
3. Break out the baggie of crunchy snacks for the kidling to snack on before the bread arrives, since he’s already looking for the nearest thing to bang on the table or throw behind him.
4. Order a beer. Hope it arrives quickly.
5. Admire your beautiful toddler as he charms the pants off of the restaurant staff.
6. Order food you think the kidling will also enjoy.
7. Watch the kidling drop every. Single. Bite. To. The. Floor.
8. Give the kidling more bread, and *light bulb* get a sippy from the car and put milk in it for the kidling to drink so at least he’ll get some nutrition.
9. Pick up the sippy from the floor – three or four times throughout the meal, setting it aside periodically since he obviously doesn’t give a sh*t about the sippy right now.
10. Pick up some of the food from the floor, breathing deep and hiding your embarrassment.
11. Somewhere in this, scarf down bites from your own meal (if you still have an appetite).
12. Give the kidling more bread. Give him a bite of your food and watch him smoosh it between his fingers, smear it on the table, and finally flick it to the floor like so many sticky boogers. 
13. Wonder how many staph infections he's likely to get by tasting the food after it's been smooshed on the table. If you haven't said grace and blessed the meal, you'd better do it now.
14. Let your dining companion pick him up and walk outside as the first tantrum rears its ugly head. He's obviously done.
15. Grab your server, grab the check, grab the leftovers and your jacket, and duck out the door hoping you've left a generous enough tip for putting up with you.
16. Leave your leftovers on the roof of the car as you drive away, only to watch them FLING off the roof behind you, and smack your head.
17. Then, my dear, laugh! Because laughing is much more fun than crying or feeling sorry for yourself.
18. Admire your beautiful toddler in the rear view mirror as he plays with his feet and smiles at you.

The end.

Oh - after all of this I did a little searching for helpful hints on eating out with a toddler. I don't plan on staying home for the next five years. Gotta get some toddler dining place mats for those tables, because... bleahh. Fortunately I did have some alcohol pads handy, and the stuff they picked up was enough to convince me that those self-sticking place mats are worth it.