Lowest Mom on the Totem Pole

Let’s say you saw a very pregnant woman struggling to carry a bunch of heavy grocery bags. Over her shoulder she grunts, “I’m fine, I just wanted to save myself an extra trip.” Then she vacuums her entire house, skips lunch and her prenatal appointments because she doesn’t “have time,” wouldn’t dream of taking a nap even if she’s tired, and downs a double espresso so she can stay up late filling goody bags for her preschooler’s birthday party.

Be honest: you would judge this woman, wouldn’t you? I know I would. She’s putting the health of her poor, defenseless, unborn baby at risk because she can’t be bothered to take care of herself.

Only here’s the thing: except for the part about being pregnant, this (hypothetical) woman is me. And probably some of you. How many of us have powered through our days with barely enough nutrition to sustain a gnat, telling ourselves we don’t have time to eat a real meal? Or fueled our bodies primarily with junk food and caffeine because we “need it to get through the day”?

But this is not a rant about poor eating habits. It’s about – cliché alert – moms’ habit of making themselves the lowest person on the totem pole. Putting everyone else’s needs first. Putting ourselves last. Not even realizing we’re doing it.

You know how sometimes you hear the same advice over and over and one day for some reason it suddenly sinks in? That happened to me while reading “The Naked Mom.” Author Brooke Burke asks: “What if you applied even a fraction of the attention you pay to your child’s health and well-being to yourself?”

Being a fairly health-conscious person (Mini Egg and Starbucks binges notwithstanding), it’s shocking for me to consider this. I bend over backwards to make sure both my boys have some form of protein, a fruit or vegetable, and not too much sugar at every meal. Even if that means going to the grocery store for the third time that week to buy kiwi. (Which the baby calls “fiwi.” Adorable.)

I worry about them getting enough sleep, exercise, and fresh air, to the point where I will sit in a parked car to ensure they finish their nap, and force myself to kick a soccer ball in the mud when I would rather be sitting inside where it’s warm and dry.

But do I extend the same care and concern to my own health? No, I do not. I regularly skip breakfast (because I’m too busy being a short-order cook), miss spinning class (because I decide to throw in just one more load of laundry before I head to the gym), and forget to schedule my own doctors’ appointments. (Who has TIME for another appointment?!)

Burke writes, “Becoming a mother gave me a whole new respect for my body… it felt good to nurture myself in order to nurture that tiny life growing inside me. …Once you’ve left the delivery room, it’s a shame to discard the self-awareness that pregnancy provides.”

It’s true. I grew A PERSON inside my body. Two, in fact! I did prenatal yoga, forced myself to take vitamins the size of hub caps, and got plenty of rest. Don’t I deserve to treat myself better than a pack mule? (I bet even pack mules take regular water and snack breaks.)

Tell me: what do you do to take care of yourself? And when? For God’s sake, WHEN?!

Guest Post: '9 Mos. and Counting'

Hi! I'm Lynn, longtime friend of Mom2Miles, wife and mom to a busy 3-year-old girl who's expecting a baby brother or sister very soon.

I am in the last month of my second (and last) pregnancy and boy, is it different from the first time around. My first pregnancy was focused on ME. If I was tired I would sit down and rest. If I felt sick in the morning I’d hit the snooze button and get to work 30 minutes late.

Now, I have a 3-year-old daughter who thinks the world revolves around her (and honestly, it does) and Mama’s aches and pains are secondary. Tired after a long day at work? Read me a book, Mama! Sick in the morning? Wake up, Mama, wake up! There is no snooze button on a 3-year-old.

I didn’t exactly make this last month easy on myself either. My husband and I embarked on a kitchen remodeling project this summer that resulted in our kitchen being rendered completely useless from weeks 33 to 36 of my pregnancy. Yes, I went three weeks without a kitchen at 8 months pregnant.

I don’t have much interest in dinner these days (most of what I eat after 6 pm comes back up in the wee hours of the morning anyway) but dealing with the inconvenience and clutter was more than my fragile mental state could handle. After dinner every night I’d immediately go upstairs in an attempt to avoid a nervous breakdown caused by the mess on the main living level.

My daughter and husband didn’t seem to mind that much. She thought it was an “adventure” to have frozen dinners and Chick-Fil-A most nights and my husband is just a very adaptable guy.

Our cats, however, got increasingly freaked out about having workmen in the house all day, their food moved to the basement, and dusty boxes in their favorite lounging places. They’d come upstairs with me after dinner and beg for attention by meowing loudly, licking my fingers while I was typing on the computer, or lying on my belly and looking up at me pathetically. So, I get a little ME time and it’s not even all about ME, it’s all about the cats!

With less than three weeks to go I’m in the homestretch now, and while each day becomes more and more uncomfortable the baby has a good heartbeat, is practicing breathing, and kicking the heck out of me. Every mom is grateful for a healthy baby, and I can’t wait to meet our little one, but this is my last pregnancy. Did I say that already?

Is That the Baby's Nose?!

Come on, admit it. When you saw your unborn child's sonogram picture did you think he/she looked a teensy bit funny? OK, maybe not at the first sonogram when you're just so thrilled to see an actual baby in there, but in the later pictures when the baby's really squished up? Our sonogram technician actually laughed out loud. She had a point, but still.

If Tori Spelling and I can cop to it, so can you. Read more about sonogram shallowness at TheBump.com:

For the Real New Moms

I’d like to apologize. I’ve gotten a bunch of new readers lately and judging by their profiles, a number of them are, you guessed it, new moms or about to be. Probably lured in by my blog name or Twitter handle, @DiaryofaNewMom. And then they come here and find posts about preschool and writing classes and an 18 m.o.’s shenanigans. No breastfeeding tips or sleep-deprivation horror stories. No picks for the best stroller or baby food recipes.

I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. See, when I started this blog I was pregnant with my first child –- eons ago, it seems -– and I never DREAMED I would still be writing it all these years later. And yet, I’m too lazy to start over. And I’ve built up a nice little following. And I’ve got some really good stuff in my archives, I swear!

But I owe it to those real new moms among you to at least TRY to get back in touch with my roots. So here we go...

To be honest, my blog was pretty boring in the beginning. I only posted once a week and I didn’t know how to upload pictures. You can get the Cliff’s Notes version of my first 9 mos. in this Pregnancy Recap. (Bonus: includes photo of my 41-weeks-pregnant belly!) Link-hop to your heart’s content.

Then there is Birth Story #1 (aka, “When Hypnobirthing Goes Wrong”) and Birth Story #2 (aka, “When Epidurals Don’t Work, Part 2”).

You might be interested in my Top 5 Baby Buys. And also, Firsts for New Moms. And I’m not talking about first smile, first tooth, or first steps.

Also for your reading pleasure, there’s Confessions of a New Mom (I’ve since added several that are SO much worse than these), A Week in the Life of a New Mom, and It Gets Easier. (Except, of course, when it gets harder.)

And if you’re feeling like a bad mom and need a boost, there’s Baby’s First Chipped Tooth and Baby’s First Trip to the ER. But remember, that “perfect” mom with the “perfect” life? May not be what she seems. I promise you, someone out there is jealous of YOU.

Oh, OK. If you’re looking for sleep-deprivation horror stories, I’m happy to oblige -- Baby: 165, Mom: 0. Believe it or not, you really will sleep again. Someday.

Don’t forget to check out the Popular Posts tab for the inside scoop on pregnancy butt, milestones, losing the baby weight, and the ever-popular Saga of the Skinny Jeans. You know you wanna.

PRODUCTS O’ THE WEEK: I don’t do paid product reviews but I have no problem recommending stuff I like. IMO, Johnson’s makes the best nursing pads and Medela Quick Clean microwave steam-cleaning bags are a godsend for sterilizing pump parts, bottles, and pacifiers.

Oh, I almost forgot -- savvy reader B.R. tipped me off to the launch of Forever 21 Maternity. Let's set aside for a moment whether this is going to encourage a new generation of Bristol Palins and just enjoy the cheap, stylish maternity wear, shall we? I like H&M and Target for maternity clothes, too.

Fit Mama

Whenever I spot a pregnant woman at the gym, I smile at her. I'm sure these people are like, "Why is this crazy lady grinning at me?" But it's because I worked out during both MY pregnancies, and I often felt like a spectacle with my huge, protruding belly in a place where most people go to lose theirs.

It's not like I was bench-pressing my body weight or training for a 10k when I was pregnant. It was more just to keep things loose (or tight, as the case may be) and honestly, another big benefit was stress-relief and mental health. Which I then proceeded to lose once the baby was born, but I digress... Anyway, you can read more about my quest to be a Fit Mama on TheBump.com:

Gisele and New-Mom Body Issues

It was Gisele who put me over the edge. There I was, flipping through Vogue as I walked on the treadmill, feeling pretty good about myself for getting to the gym. The baby was at the sitter’s, since he has no love for the gym daycare.

Then I saw it: a softly lit, black & white photo of the Brazilian supermodel cradling her naked newborn. In the pic, Gisele is sporting cashmere boy-shorts and a bare midriff.

Let’s set aside for a moment the utter impracticality of cashmere underwear and focus on the really disturbing part: her perfectly toned BARE MIDRIFF. On a NEW MOM. I flew into a Google frenzy trying to find out when the photos were taken. Maybe the baby was 10 mos. old? Nope. I believe they were taken when he was about 3 mos. old.

This means Gisele hadn’t spent half a year on a high-intensity diet and exercise program. She didn’t have time for a tummy tuck. The photo didn’t appear to be excessively airbrushed. I couldn’t even claim she was wearing a triple-layer of Spanx under her clothes. Because she was flaunting her flat, BARE MIDRIFF.

Now, you should know that I’m not one of those people who’s against thin models. I don’t want to look at people like me in magazines. I don’t need to see any more stretch marks and stomach flab, thankyouverymuch. HOWEVER.

Showing a new mom who, I’d venture to guess, looks completely unlike 99% of the new-mom population is a low blow. I mean, yay for Gisele, but imagine all those normal, exhausted postpartum women reading her interview in which she chalks up her superhuman post-baby physique to “muscle memory.”

Right. I guess my muscles have amnesia, then, because even 15 mos. post-birth I am not ready to bare my midriff. In fact, my belly button will never again see the light of day in this LIFETIME, mark my words.

It was shortly after the Gisele incident that heard about a book called “Does This Pregnancy Make Me Look Fat? The Essential Guide to Loving Your Body Before and After Baby,” by Claire Mysko (a new mom herself) and Magali Amadeï (an international model, BTW).

Drawing from interviews with more than 400 women and men, as well as their own experiences, the authors set out to forewarn expectant moms “what to expect from your changing body, as well as a reality check for each stage of your pregnancy, exposing the myths, challenges, and insecurities you'll face throughout pregnancy and beyond—and what to do about them.”

I can tell you unequivocally that based on the search-engine traffic to my “Pregnancy Butt” post, those of us with pregnancy-related body issues are not alone. In fact, I’m so interested in this topic that I plan to do a Q&A with author Claire Mysko, former director of the American Anorexia Bulimia Association, in the near future. If there are any questions you’d like me to ask her, jot ’em down in the comments.

READ O’ THE WEEK: Pregnancy magazine ran an excerpt of the book recently, called “The Big Lies of the Bump Watch” Sample quote: “Airbrushed images of slim celebrity moms also give us a very warped view of what a new mother’s body really looks like. Short of wearing blinders or moving to a remote village, there’s no way to block out the baby-weight coverage completely, but for new moms and moms-to-be, it’s important to keep a healthy perspective.”

Is Childbirth Prep Worth It?

When I was expecting my first child, I spent my time doing prenatal yoga, downing vitamins, reading books, interviewing doulas and doctors ... I even learned to sew and knit. You might say I went a little nuts those 9 mos. When it came to childbirth prep, I was determined to be an A+ student. I was going to be prepared, dammit!

But then the birth didn’t go exactly according to plan. And all those things I'd learned and practiced and visualized went out the window along with my illusions that I'd fit back into my regular clothes immediately. (Insert "duh" here.)

So was all that preparation a waste? I don’t think so. Read more about why not at TheBump.com:

Interview with a Very Pregnant Lady

I can hardly believe it’s been almost an entire year since I was pregnant. It doesn't seem that long ago that complete strangers were touching my belly, telling me how huge I was, and looking at me as if my water might break at any minute. Good times.

To get back to my roots here at Diary of a New Mom, I decided to check in with someone on the front lines of pregnancy: my sister-in-law. Read all about her grapefruit cravings, baby-name angst, and more at TheBump.com:


[Spoiler Alert: regular readers of this blog will realize that some, uh, "events" occurred between the time this was written and now.]

Sex & Pineapple

I am not a procrastinator. I am a planner, a list maker, a pre-packer. In my professional life, I pride myself on never missing a deadline. Too bad no one told my babies that. Like his big brother before him, this baby in my belly laughs at the concept of a due date. “Due date, schmoo date,” he’s snickering in there. “I’d rather stay here in my cozy womb and practice my kickboxing. Plenty of time to be born later.”

Clearly, the boys take after their dad. The guy who still has not installed the infant car seat or set up the bassinet. The guy who once called on his way home from work on Friday and said, “Hey, how about getting a sitter tonight and going out?” In what universe can you get a babysitter at 5 p.m. on a Friday?!

So I’ve been forced to take matters into my own hands, just like last time. I did some new research on how to induce labor naturally. Everyone and her mother has some homegrown method they swear by, from magical eggplant parmigiana to evening primrose oil. (You can buy this in the vitamin aisle at Trader Joe’s, BTW.) But the bottom line is that medical experts remain skeptical. Only a couple methods show any promise.

Acupuncture’s not for me. I’ve heard that castor oil can bring on contractions but may cause diarrhea so bad you wish you’d never bothered. So that leaves sex and pineapple.

First, there’s the sex suggestion. After another disappointing internal at my doctor’s appointment today, I wailed, “Is there anything else I can do?” Now, this doctor happens to look a little like Freida Pinto from “Slumdog Millionaire.” This will become relevant in a second. With a smirk she says, “Have lots of sex.” HA. Easy for you to say, Dr. Divalicious. But LOOK AT ME. Nothing’s sexier than a beach ball with legs, right?! Throw in some stretch marks, hemorrhoids, and scary National Geographic nipples. In the mood yet?? All I’m saying is, even Angelina Jolie probably looked more like Jabba the Hut than a Victoria’s Secret model in her third trimester with the twins, OK?

So let’s do everyone a favor and move on to tropical fruit, shall we? On some non-medically accredited web site, I read that pineapple can ripen the cervix. Something to do with prostaglandins. So I thought, what the heck, why not give it a try? Fresh pineapple is YUMMY, people. (At the store, I showed Miles a whole pineapple and asked what he thought it was. He said, “A palm tree!”) It’s so yummy that my son and husband have been gobbling it up and making smoothies with it, leaving none for me and my poor, unripe cervix. Thanks a bunch, fellas.

Nothing left to do but jump on a trampoline and chew on some jalapenos, I suppose. Or road-trip to Georgia for some of that eggplant parm.

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: “Long naps are a gift from God.” –Mom2Miles

FLICKS O’ THE WEEK: I finally made it to the movies! “He’s Just Not That Into You” was cute but mildly depressing (more for single or married people, I can’t decide) and “Confessions of a Shopaholic” was laugh-out-loud funny, even though it was nothing like the book at all.

Stuff That Might Be Helpful to Someone, Somewhere

I’m in a slump, people. I’ve temporarily lost my blog mojo. I’m sure there’s plenty of interesting and entertaining stuff going on in the world, I’m just too [insert adjective here: distracted, sluggish, anxious, pregnant] to notice or care, let alone comment on it twice a week in witty prose. But that’s my problem, not yours. Why should my dear readers suffer? So this post is a random collection of information that may be helpful to someone, somewhere.

First off, “pregnancy brain” is real. I have long suspected as much, but here’s scientific proof. Also known by the catchier term “momnesia,” this is the phenomenon of forgetting simple things like your keys, where you parked, or your children’s names due to your hormone-addled brain during pregnancy. Another possible culprit is loss of sleep.*

Although I can’t cite any medical studies, I believe that pregnancy-induced clumsiness is also very real. Several times a day, I bump into things or drop them, which then requires me to lower my considerable bulk to the ground to retrieve them. Does that count as exercise? Because I’ve stopped going to the gym. First, because I get winded walking from the parking lot, and second, because I’m sick of the stares and comments. Has no one ever seen an 8 ½ mos. pregnant lady on a recumbent bike before??

It could be that my clumsiness is due to fatigue. And my fatigue is most certainly caused in part by an iron deficiency. If you’re a vegetarian, like I am, it’s very common to have low iron, especially during pregnancy. So in addition to my prenatal vitamin, I have to take a 65 mg iron supplement twice a day. That’s like 1000% of the RDA for a regular person. And since iron can, um, “slow things down,” then you have to take pills (or prune juice) for that, too. What? TMI? Like I said, just trying to be helpful here!

OK, on to non-pregnancy stuff. It took many, many sleepless nights and trips to the pediatrician and a pediatric allergist to discover that my 2-year-old’s persistent nighttime coughs were due to asthma. Turns out, a chronic cough is sometimes the ONLY symptom of asthma in children. This was a huge revelation because a) this cough was keeping everyone in the house up all night several days a month, b) since cough medicine is not recommended for toddlers there wasn’t a damn thing we could do, and c) we never suspected asthma since Miles has no problems breathing or exercising. Now he takes Singulair every night before bed and the problem has virtually disappeared.

So did I help you yet? No? You need assistance finding stylish, affordable, insulated shades for your child’s room? Try these. Looking for some quick, tasty recipes for dinner? Here you go. Need a spy fix now that “Alias” is off the air? Try “Chuck” and let this lovable geek fill the void. Tired of stumbling across inappropriate Elmo spoofs on YouTube when you’re trying to entertain your toddler? TotLol offers only kid-friendly videos.

There, that should hold you for awhile. Now you'll have to excuse me. I have to go do something. If only I could remember what it was ...

*RANDOM THOUGHTS O’ THE WEEK: This is what was running through my head as I lay wide awake in bed at 4 a.m. the other day: Did my husband always snore, or do I just notice it now that I’m always awake? Why does his body temperature drop to sub-zero at night while mine goes up? Did we remember to lock the back door? Are there skunks in Baltimore? Because I’ve never seen or smelled one. Am I going into labor, or is that just a gas pain? Should I buy a new nightgown for the hospital, or just make do with the backless gowns? Do I have travel-sized deodorant? Did C remember to get the camera fixed?

If you, too, need help getting back to sleep, try these helpful tips.

Gestating Makes Me Grumpy

I’m running out of shirts. Only the biggest and stretchiest cover my midsection anymore. Good thing the weather’s gotten warmer lately because it was starting to get a little drafty now that I can no longer zip my coat.

All along, people have been telling me, “You’re so tiny!” and “Wow, only X weeks to go? I looked like that at 5 mos.” Liars, all of them. Anyway, in the past week the comments have changed to, “You’ve gotten a lot bigger since I last saw you!” and “You just keep on growing, huh?” Yep, that’s pretty much the way it works, Einstein.

I had a sonogram this morning to make sure the baby’s growth is on track. There I am, grunting and straining to get comfortable on the exam table, and the lab technician’s saying, “Oh, look at that poor baby, all squished up in there! He’s got no room to move.” That’s right, feel sorry for the baby when I’M the one with sharp body parts protruding from my belly. Apparently, it’s a non-stop dance party in my womb.

No one can believe it when we say we haven’t finalized a name yet. I’ve started testing out potential ones on strangers. This only serves to remind me why you should never reveal baby names before said baby is born. This morning I told the lab tech one of our top picks and she said, “For a boy?” Poof. That’s the sound of my bubble bursting.

Besides, these days everyone’s playing fast and loose with gender-specific names, anyway. I know girls named Ryan, Hayden, and Morgan. Names like Rowan and Cameron could go either way. And what about guys like Tracy Morgan and Leslie Nielsen? Those are closer to girls’ names than anything we have in mind.

According to a quick scan of the name tags at Miles’ gymnastics class, Oliver and Grace are quite popular among the preschool set right now, with Jack and Isabella following closely behind. But really, the names run the gamut. It seems anything goes these days.

Well, people, I’m starting to bore even myself, so I’ll direct you to these blogs at Parenting.com. Maybe you’ll find some more stimulating material there. (Look, here’s proof I was boring and irritable this time in my last pregnancy, too.)

In the meantime, a Happy Valentine’s Day to you all! Gorge yourself on chocolate and conversation hearts, and graciously accept the necklace made from string, dried Play-Doh and glitter that your child made for you at school. Tiffany’s is overrated, anyway.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Good gravy, here’s an over-the-top baby name if I ever heard one! Those crazy celebs.

READ O’ THE WEEK: Who knew redheads were in danger of becoming extinct? Not this one.

9 Months Is 2 Too Many

What I’d really like to do is rant for half an hour about how sick I am of being pregnant. About how I can’t sleep, walk, or digest properly because my internal organs are sharing space with what feels like 20 lbs. of angry kittens in a 10-lb. sack. About how if one more person makes a stupidly obvious comment about my belly or tells me how much they LOVED being pregnant, I am liable to punch them directly in the face. But that’s not that entertaining, now is it?

So instead, I’ll tell you about my weekend. We watched my 2- year-old niece while my brother and SIL went away for the weekend for the First. Time. Ever. since having a baby. (I know, what took them so long, right?)

Despite her parents’ fears, Chloe settled right in to our household routine and even slept like a champ. While Miles was mostly thrilled to have his 7-mos.-younger cousin stay with us, he did express a range of emotions. Among them:

Regression. Chloe slept in his old crib in what will soon be the new baby’s room. Of course, as soon as Chloe moved in, Miles developed a renewed fondness for the crib and insisted on climbing in himself. Also, his (spotty at best) interest in using the potty while Chloe was here diminished considerably. The “diapers are for babies” line doesn’t carry as much clout as it used to.

Competitiveness. There was some jockeying for position on laps during story time, and if Chloe was carried down the stairs, Miles wanted to be, too. If we applauded her rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” Miles immediately burst into song, too.

Bossiness. Nothing like having a little mini-me echoing your every word: “Chloe, come let’s change your diaper.” “Chloe, sit down and eat your dinner, please.” Thanks for the backup, Miles. Anyway, Chloe refused to be bossed by anyone.

Heartbreak. Miles had his first taste of female rejection when Chloe refused to take a bath with him. He broke down into dramatic, tearful sobs. Fortunately, she relented the following night and fun with bath crayons was had by all.

Exhaustion. My son is a pretty active and social little fella. It takes a lot to wear him out. So it was kind of funny to find him lying on the couch by himself on Sun. morning, like, “Dude, I need some alone time.”

Abandonment. Not surprisingly, tears were shed upon Chloe’s departure. By Miles, not her. No, she clung to her parents with a death-grip as if to say, “I finally got my peeps back. No WAY am I letting go to kiss these clowns good-bye!” It’s been 2 days and Miles is still saying, “Where’s Chloe? I miss her.”

A good sign for the impending arrival of his younger sibling? We’ll see. Until then, I’ll be waddling around, grunting, burping, and scratching my stretched abdomen, the very picture of maternal beauty and grace.

MILESISMS O’ THE WEEK:
“Big Newton”: the classic fig-filled cookies.
“Wapkin”: what you wipe your mouth with during meals.
“Last morning”: all-purpose measure of time meaning yesterday, last week, or once in a dream.

Where Does the Time Go? Errands!

It’s so great when your child starts preschool. He’s having fun socializing with other kids and creating extremely messy seasonal artwork, and I have loads of free time to work out, meet friends for coffee, do my Christmas shopping, and work on my novel. At least that’s how I pictured it.

In reality, I usually spend those scant 2 mornings/5 hours a week driving to doctor’s appointments, sitting in waiting rooms, and getting weighed, pricked, and prodded. I am basically a full-time pregnant person. Sometimes I drive around to different labs to get my various prenatal tests done, in search of the least-surly employees, the newest magazines, and the nurses most skilled at finding a vein on the first try. I’m still searching.

Sometimes I try to squeeze in extra errands, only to panic when I encounter construction or the person in front of me in the grocery store line pulls out a sheaf of coupons and a personal check. Are you KIDDING me?! I don’t have time for that crap!

Of course, sometimes I do manage to do some actual work. But only if I carefully avoid checking e-mail first or answering the phone. Otherwise, I get lured into a time-sucking vortex of responding to chain e-mails, checking my bank balance, scheduling the next batch of doctor’s appointments, and seeing who’s offering free shipping.

Speaking of which, did anyone else get caught up in yesterday’s Cyber Monday craziness? Supposedly, it’s the equivalent of Black Friday for Internet retailers, who were offering all kinds of deals and promotions. But for me, that translated into hours spent trolling OldNavy.com and Toysrus.com, only to find out the items on my list were out of stock or unavailable in the sizes I need. So much for saving time by shopping online ...

I have to say, I actually like the newfound spirit of frugality this economy is bringing out in people. It’s like we’re all in it together, battling against overpriced licensed merchandise and seeing who can find the best deal on diapers. My friends and I regularly exchange tips and info on who’s having the best sales. (Bookmark this site: http://babycheapskate.blogspot.com/) I’ve had complete strangers in stores offer me coupons they can’t use, and been asked for them myself. You want 20% off an oil change? Sure, happy holidays!

My wallet is stuffed with coupons and cards for free gifts-with-purchase from such places as DSW, Ann Taylor, Babies R Us, Bath & Body Works, Victoria’s Secret, and Rite Aid. I never know for sure if I’ll use them, but when I get the opportunity to whip out a coupon, it’s almost as exciting as finding money on the street. And if you unexpectedly get a double coupon? Bonus!!

But with all the bargain-hunting and doctor’s appointments, the time Miles is in preschool barely amounts to anything. It’s like they say: time flies when you’re getting blood drawn or digging through your purse for your bonus card.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Check out Dooneybug’s Cents & Sensibility blog. This woman is a master bargain-shopper. Read and learn, people.

Play-Doh and Potty Chairs

It’s been a big week here. First day of preschool, first time using the potty for its intended purpose, first week of fastening my pants with a rubber band… But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up and tell you about our first-ever Parents’ Night at Miles’ new school.

First of all, both parents were requested to be there and it was held on a weeknight. Hello?! Have you ever tried to get a sitter on a school night? But we did, so we trekked off to a stuffy auditorium to watch slideshows of cute kids and listen to speeches from the head of every committee and council and fundraiser at the school. Then we went over a diagram of the carpool drop-off and pick-up procedure, as detailed as any complex military operation.

Finally, we got to go see our kids’ classrooms and meet their teachers. You know how on sitcoms they always show the parents cramming themselves into those ridiculously tiny chairs at school events? Well, it’s TRUE! I had no idea. Anyway, the classroom was adorable. Miles already had a little cubby with his name on it and a bunny-shaped name tag. Too cute!

Monday was the first day. Really, just an orientation, since it was an hour long and I went with him. At first he was surprisingly shy -- I didn’t expect that -- but he soon warmed up. By the next day, he was running toward the entrance and barely gave me a quick kiss before he was off to play with the trucks. So much for separation anxiety.

People keep asking me if I’m sad that my baby is starting school. Actually, I’m not. He’s happy, so I’m happy. Plus, he’s going to preschool for a few hours 2 days a week, it’s not like I’m packing him off to Princeton. And let me tell you, those few hours FLY by. I don’t have time to miss him. I spent one whole morning sitting around the ob/gyn’s office waiting to get weighed and pee in a cup. What freedom, huh?

With Miles starting school, not to mention this other baby on the way, I’ve been a bit anxious about my son’s, uh, “failure to launch” when it comes to potty training. Not that I’m exactly making it a priority. (I did just receive my free Pull-Ups potty training DVD, but I haven’t watched the whole thing yet.) Only one kid in his class is trained, though, so I guess we’re not too far behind.

So imagine my surprise when the night after his first day of school, Miles takes the initiative to sit on the potty himself. Not only that, but he actually PEED in it!! He looked as surprised as I was. And SOOO proud of himself! Alas, only a few moments later, doing the Big Boy Underpants dance in his room, he began to pee again. On the carpet. When I (involuntarily) shouted, he stopped, we hustled back into the bathroom, and he finished up there. That’s progress, right? Alas, he hasn’t gone anywhere near the potty the past couple days.

Oh, well, one thing at a time. Right now I’ve got to make sense of this recipe for homemade Play-Doh his teacher sent home from school. And also, dig my maternity clothes out of storage. I don’t want to be known as the class mom who walks around with her pants unbuttoned, do I?

RECIPE O’ THE WEEK: This pregnancy, I am obsessed with grilled cheese and tomato soup. I have finally perfected my grilled cheese technique: Stick a couple of slices of cheddar or the cheese of your choice between two pieces of bread. Lightly spray both sides of the sandwich with cooking oil. Pop it in a George Foreman grill and a couple minutes later -- ta da! The perfect toasty, crispy grilled cheese.