Makin' It Work

This is why people who work at home need babysitters.

The phone rings at 5:17 p.m. I can see from the caller ID it’s a work call. As a part-time freelance writer who works a few mornings a week, I normally wouldn’t answer a call at this time of day. But it’s a source I’m supposed to interview over the phone tomorrow, so I pick up.

Source’s secretary: “Hello. Mr. Thompson had something come up. Can you call him a little later tomorrow?”

I had scheduled the call for 11 a.m., when my 3 y.o. would be at preschool and my 11 m.o. at the sitter’s. 11 a.m. was the latest I could do the interview and still be on time for school pick-up at 11:45.

Me: “Um, no, I’m afraid I can’t. I have another appointment later.” In the background, the baby has snatched a full glass of water off the table. I pry it out of his hand. He screetches.

Secretary: “Is that your dog? Poor thing. Hmm, how about sometime in the afternoon, then?”

Afternoons are the absolute WORST time, because both kids are home and may or may not be sleeping. Emphasis on the “not.” I bite the bullet: “Sure, how’s 2 p.m. for Mr. Thompson?” As I’m saying it, I’m praying to GOD that both boys will nap or at least stay semi-quiet in their rooms during my call.

So the next day comes, and at 1:45 p.m. I am rushing through the last pre-nap story and hustling the kids off to bed. “Now, Miles, I’ll ask you again: do you need to use the potty? Because I’m getting on a very important call and I won’t be able to come help you, OK?”

“No, Mom, I don’t have to go.” Famous last words.

I go downstairs, set up my laptop, plug in my recording equipment and check that the phone’s working. Because 2 hours earlier, it wasn’t. And my cell phone gets spotty reception in the house. Working from home is a piece of cake. Hasn’t anyone told you?

So I dial up my source and begin our interview. The baby’s monitor chirps. He’s not asleep, but he’s not wailing, either. I continue my questions.

Then I hear “Mama!” in a loud stage whisper from the top of the stairs. I ignore it. “Maaa-maaaa!” It gets louder. “Could you excuse me for a second, Mr. Thompson?” I fly up the stairs.

“MILES!!! I TOLD you I had to make a VERY IMPORTANT phone call. I can’t help you right now!!”

“But Mama, I can’t find [his blanky].”

“Well, you’re going to have to WAIT, Miles. Please DO NOT interrupt me again. I’m only going to be a few more minutes.” Back downstairs, I pick up the call. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”

I am wrapping up the interview when I hear my son calling me again. Are you KIDDING me?! Then I make out his words, “Mama! Maaa-maaa!! Poo-poo!”

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Thompson. I’ve gotta run now!”

LINK O' THE WEEK: Ever wonder how other mothers achieve (or strive to attain) work/life balance? This interview with a f.t. mom/p.t. literary agent really resonated with me.

Every Day is Groundhog Day

So today is Groundhog Day. And apparently that dumb rodent doomed us to 6 more weeks of winter. Personally, I am DONE with this season. We’ve had our snow, now can we move on to butterflies and tulips, please?

Feb. 2 is no different than any other day for me. As I’m always saying to my husband, EVERY day feels like Groundhog Day around here. And by that, I mean the 1993 comedic film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, in which the characters repeat the same day over and over again.

Every day, the kids wake up before dawn, whether it be Mon. or Sat., a school day or a holiday. And then, of course, there are diapers to change, bottles to prepare, meals to make, kids to dress, dishes to do, and on and on and on. Sometimes the only way I know it’s Saturday is because my husband is around.

Loading and unloading the dishwasher has become so monotonous that I often cannot remember where we are in the cycle. I have to inspect the glassware to be certain. And as for baths? Did I give the baby one today? Or was that yesterday? How about the other kid? Who KNOWS?! It’s the same thing every day.

Perhaps the most maddening aspect of this endless loop I call my life is that nothing is ever truly DONE. In my professional life, I write articles, turn them in, and they’re done. (Well, technically they are edited and revised and published or sometimes killed or held indefinitely but for the purposes of this anecdote I write them and they’re done, OK?)

But it’s not like you can check “diaper changed” off your to-do list because there’s another one being dirtied even as you do so. Same thing with laundry. It’s just in an ever-flowing state of being washed, folded, or put away. (And seriously, sometimes I don’t even bother with those last two.)

In the movie, Bill Murray wakes up to the same song on the radio every morning. I think it’s “I’ve Got You, Babe.” Well in my world, it’s the Little Einsteins theme song. Then I get to replay the what’s-for-breakfast battle and the who-gets-dressed-first fight with my 3 y.o. Every. Single. Morning.

Sometimes if I’m craving excitement and spontaneity, I’ll leave the diaper bag at home when we go to the park. Ooh, dangerous! Or I’ll concede to Miles’ wishes to have breakfast for dinner, or to put his PJs back on at 2 in the afternoon. Sure, go nuts! Shake things up!

But as you know, when you have babies and small kids, you can’t stray from the routine too much. Or there will be HELL TO PAY, people. Just TRY to suggest listening to music instead of watching Little Einsteins and see what happens.* Just try to switch up the naptime routine by reading only one book instead of two, or failing to leave the door open at the exact right angle. And if you ever get a crazy idea like changing the lyrics to a classic lullaby like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”? DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. It’s snacktime, and I must go prepare the apple slices and crackers in the exact right configuration. Unless I did that already?

PIC O’ THE WEEK: Don’t ask me what he’s doing. I don’t know, either.

*See, even as I was writing this I was having a "deja blogged" moment. I've probably written this exact same post before.

If You Had One Day Left

This may sound morbid, but I think about dying a lot. And from talking to my mom friends, I know I'm not the only one. Maybe awareness of our mortality goes hand in hand with motherhood. Or maybe I watch too much Lifetime.

In any case, I was well prepared when a fellow blogger asked readers what they would do if they only had one day left to live. Read my answer at TheBump.com:

Health Tips from a Complete Non-Expert

As January winds down, I keep encountering people who have resolved to live healthier this year. Exercise more, eat better, slow down, the usual. To those folks I say, good for you! But do you have to take up ALL the parking spots at the gym? Some of us have boatloads of kids and diaper bags to carry, you know!

And also? I hope I’m not standing behind you in line at Panera when you special-order your lunch and ask for everything on the side. Just GET THE SALAD!! If you really want to save calories, you shouldn’t be there in the first place.

Sorry, went off on a tangent there. What I meant to say was, I would like to share some healthy living tips with you all. I am by no means a health expert or a model of fitness -- “Why run when you can sit on the recumbent bike and read People?” is my motto -- but I have been a vegetarian for a couple of decades and I’ve never been on “The Biggest Loser.” That qualifies me in some small way, right?

Just to be clear: I am not a medical professional, just a mom who forces her kids to eat vegetables and go to the gym with her. Got it?

Take the “ex” out of “exercise.” What do you think of when you hear the word “exercise”? Extreme workouts? Sweat, pain, discomfort? Then find something you don’t hate. I can ride a bike 10x longer than I can run, for example, simply because I enjoy it more. And I do yoga because it’s relaxing and I feel taller and looser afterwards. Whereas body pump (weightlifting) classes just make me sore. It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable to count as exercise.

Sneak it in. Forget Jessica Seinfeld’s cookbook. (Unless you’re craving this.) There are MUCH easier ways to sneak healthy stuff into your kids’ food. I mix carrots into any baby food my 11 m.o. turns up his nose at. (Like green beans.) I sprinkle wheat germ on my 3-y.o.’s yogurt and call it “crunchies.” I mix flaxseed into pancakes and muffins, and have been known to add pureed spinach to spaghetti sauce.

We try to buy unsweetened everything (yogurt, oatmeal), and add our own dab of sugar, honey, or jam to it. We also buy wholegrain everything—bread, pasta, tortillas, cereal. There’s no excuse to buy white bread. EVER. If you must, use Rachael Ray’s trick of making a sandwich with the wheat bread on the bottom and the white bread on top. Sneaky, huh?

Go veggie. Vegetarian fare has come a long way since tofu and soymilk. At any Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and ordinary neighborhood supermarket you can find a huge variety of frozen veggie entrees. My favorite product is Morningstar Farms Grillers Recipe Crumbles. Substitute them for ground beef in tacos, chili, spaghetti sauce, and countless other recipes. The soy chicken, on the other hand? You can skip. (Except the nuggets. They’re not bad.) And remember: anything meat can do, beans can do better.


Swap out the coffee. You know those too-much-coffee jitters? I’ve started switching to green tea after one cup of coffee in the morning. If you think it tastes like boiled vegetables, try Lipton Green Tea with orange, passionfruit, and jasmine with a squirt of honey. Yum! It gives me enough of a pick-me-up to get through the day but won’t keep me awake past “The Daily Show.”

Make it a habit. You wouldn’t skip brushing your teeth for a day, would you? Or washing your face? OK, well, definitely not for 2 days straight, right? Because you’re in the habit. And you’d start to feel gross. And your friends would avoid you.

Well, it’s the same with exercise and eating healthy. Start by just showing up at the gym, or going for a walk, or eating a fruit or vegetable with each meal. Before you know it you’ll be running 10k’s and downing shots of wheat grass. Or not.

Look, I can and sometimes do eat a bag of BBQ potato chips for dinner, but I pair them with a side of carrot sticks and ranch dressing. It’s all about balance, people. Good luck with those resolutions! Save me a Stairmaster, would you?

TIP O’ THE WEEK: I never could get into V8. These Apple & Eve fruit & veggie juice boxes are MUCH tastier. I steal them from my son all the time.

The Saga of the Skinny Jeans

It’s all Oprah’s fault. And Rita Wilson’s. The other day I got sucked into one of those makeover shows. Who doesn’t love a good makeover? Mrs. Tom Hanks, looking ridiculously young and attractive for a 50-y.o., was coercing women to shed their shapeless, outdated excuses for fashion and step into 2010. According to Rita, there are 4 must-have items for women of every age: black leggings or skinny jeans, black boots, a sweater, and a scarf.

Personally, leggings give me flashbacks to the 6th grade. Technically, I believe those were stirrup pants I wore, but the look was the same--tight pants under a long top. Mine happened to be an oversize pink sweatshirt, which may or may not have been off-the-shoulder. Hey, it was the “Flashdance” era!

Then leggings came back in style when I was in college, because I distinctly remember a comment made by a snooty teacher during my semester abroad in France. This guy took one look at my outfit and asked if I was going to do “l’aerobic” after class. OK, dude. You’re the one in skintight WHITE JEANS with a neckerchief, but I’M the one committing the fashion faux pas? Whatever. French people.

Anyway, I would be thrilled to never encounter leggings again. But what do you know? They’re ba-aack. Along with their sinister cousin, the skinny jean. Or even WORSE, an evil hybrid: the denim legging!! Can we all just admit that this style does not flatter 99% of the population? Unless you’re an Olsen twin or a German supermodel, you can’t rock skintight pants.

At least, that’s what I thought. Until Rita and Oprah trotted out women of all ages, shapes, and sizes looking great in skinny jeans and boots. Well, damn. If they can do it...

I had the perfect excuse, too--date night. It’s Restaurant Week here in Baltimore, and my husband and I made reservations at a swanky Italian place downtown. Since we go out about as often as a solar eclipse, however, I don’t exactly have a lot of stylish outfits. In fact, my current wardrobe includes a pair of black velour sweatpants that I wore during both pregnancies. And wool clogs. My God, I look worse than some of those “befores” on Oprah!

So with this little nudge, I headed out to find some---yes---SKINNY JEANS. First stop: Old Navy. I might only wear these things once, so why pay more than I had to? I struck out there, and the next place I went. I was ready to call off the whole charade but I decided I’d try Loehmann’s just for kicks.

If you’re familiar with Loehmann’s, then you know that the dressing room is one, big, open, mirrored, fluorescent-lit nightmare. What was I DOING here?! Especially when I couldn’t even pull the first pair higher than my knees. Damn European sizes! But lo and behold, I found a pair that actually weren’t hideous. And they were $180 designer jeans!! (Originally. On sale for $24. Please, don’t you know me at all?!)

I took them home and got ready to go out. And by that I mean I attempted to apply eyeliner while keeping the baby from eating toilet paper, made up his bottle while my hair dried, and prepared Miles’ dinner while my husband got ready at his leisure, by himself. I swear, he takes longer than a cheerleading squad primping for homecoming.

So I put on my new jeans with some boots I already owned and a cool vintage velvet jacket I’ve had forever. Oprah and Rita would be so proud! Then I looked in the mirror and saw that I looked exactly like... this:


Not exactly the look I was going for. But hubs said I looked good. Plus, the sitter had arrived and we were late for our reservation. So off we went. Giddy-up!

CONTEST O’ THE WEEK: Win a trip for 2 to L.A. and/or tix to see the movie “Valentine’s Day.” Share your most romantic or funniest Valentine’s Day memory with Care.com. They say all entries should be rated PG ;) Contest ends Feb. 14.

10 Things that Make Me Happy

I don’t usually participate in contests or memes (mostly because I don’t even know what that word means), but I am today. Laura at The Life of a Tattooed Mom of 3 bestowed me with the Sweet Friend Award. First of all, how great is her blog’s name? Second, how nice is that? And third, this one sounds like fun: all I have to do is list 10 things that make me happy, then share this award. Ready? In no particular order:

1. My family. I know I bitch and moan a lot, but you want to know why I keep going even in the face of sleepless nights, other people’s poop, kid-inflicted injuries, no free time, and stains on everything I own? Because every single day my 3 boys (yes, even the 37-y.o. one) bring a smile to my face and a warm glow to my soul. Also, they give good hugs.

2. My house. Yes, it’s usually messy. And it could use more closet space. And a new kitchen. And one day, I hope it will be more Pottery Barn and less Fisher Price. But I love it, from the blue shutters to the painstakingly repainted walls to the sunny family room. It’s even got the white picket fence. Well, white-ISH.

3. Magazines. When I was a kid I read hand-me-down Elles and the NY Times Sunday magazine. Even my brother’s skateboarding mags and my mom’s Family Circle. Today, I’ve graduated to O and Real Simple. There’s just something about holding a shiny, new piece of reading material filled with interesting stories and pretty pictures. I am still grieving the loss of Wondertime, BTW.

4. Writing. Given #3, it’s probably no surprise that I grew up to write for magazines. Of course, just like Ugly Betty I soon learned there’s a lot of grunt-work and politics behind the glitz and glamour. Still, nothing compares to seeing your byline in print and your story on newsstands. I even like writing press releases and corporate copy. But the writing I really love is this stuff. From the heart, direct to my readers, right here on my little ol’ blog.

5. Exercising. I know. I lost you, didn’t I? I can’t help it; it’s in my blood. I grew up handing out water at my dad’s marathons and doing Kathy Smith workout videos with my mom. Gymnastics, swimming, tennis, kickboxing, and yoga mark the stages of my life. (There was even a brief step aerobics phase.) You may never see me training for a triathlon, but I cherish my 3-4x/week gym workouts. It’s one of the few times I get a break from my kids!

6. Reading. Sadly, this hobby has taken a big hit since I had kids. I simply don’t have the time or brain power to read entire novels anymore. I wish I did. But for now, my reading is limited to magazines, blogs, and the occasional anthology. It doesn’t really matter what, it’s the act of stepping outside your own little world and learning about other subjects.

7. Watching TV. What I’m doing instead of reading novels: watching Ugly Betty, Chuck, Modern Family, and Cougar Town. On DVR, of course. No time for commercials.

8. Traveling. Another thing that’s in my blood, thanks to my globe-trotting parents. And another thing that’s taken a hit since kids. (But hasn’t stopped entirely.) When you wake up in a new place, especially one that’s vastly different from your home, even routine daily activities like grocery shopping and riding the bus are an adventure.

9. Good food. Specifically, food that’s not cooked by me. I have had some spectacular meals in my life, like the pasta arrabiata at a restaurant in Paris, tapas at our favorite spot in Baltimore, and the salmon at my cousin’s rehearsal dinner in Yosemite, to name a few.

10. Music. Back in the day, my husband and I used to go to concerts fairly often. We both love music (though not always the same kind) and even now, a favorite activity is hooking up the iPod and watching the boys dance in the family room. I appreciate good music (plug for my favorite local radio station, 89.7 WTMD) and a good song can change my mood in an instant. There are too many to name, but one of my all-time favorites is Suzanne Vega’s “Gypsy.”

Wow, that was fun, huh? Now I’m passing the torch to a few of my favorite bloggers, in alpha order. (If you're not listed, you've already been tagged or I don't think you'll do it!)

Anchormommy
hooey!critic
The Dundee Writer
The McMommy Chronicles
Musings from Mt. Rogo
Personal Faves
Pineapple Babble
So Much to Say, So Little Time
Write Expressions
Writing the Waves of Motherhood

Leisure Time & How to Find It

This weekend was much like an ordinary weekend, except that I did something shocking and unprecedented in the past year: I READ THE PAPER. Sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee. And by “paper” I mean the actual newspaper, not the online version, and on the same day it was printed, no less. Of course by “entire” I mean the front page, the arts & travel sections, and the magazine.

And it was in the Washington Post Magazine that I read “The Test of Time,” by Brigid Schulte, in which the reporter – a busy working mom – tries to figure out where her time is going. I’ve included the link, but you may have to register, and given that many of you reading this are also busy working moms you probably don’t have time to read it all anyway.

So here’s the gist: Schulte meets with a so-called “time specialist” who claims that women have 30 hours of leisure time a week. “Oh, really?” says Schulte. “Prove it.” She keeps a time journal for a year and reports back to this guy to show her where all this supposed leisure time is amidst the work deadlines, cupcake baking, homework helping, cleaning, errands, and life in general.

But first – and this is the funny part – she has to track the guy down. The free-wheeling single professor is always off on vacation, at beer festivals and concerts. And this other expert she consults who tells her to slow down? Is single and childless and lives with his parents. Hmm, how DOES he find the time for those daily walks on the beach, I wonder?

But wait, it gets better. The time guy goes through the reporter’s time journal and highlights her leisure time. And do you know what he counts as leisure, people? Exercise, returning e-mails, listening to the news on the radio while getting her kids up for school, taking her son’s bike to the repair shop, and WAITING FOR 2 HRS. FOR A TOW TRUCK. Yes, that’s right. Inhaling exhaust fumes on a median strip is considered “me time.” Never seen that in a Calgon ad, have you?

Now, clearly, this guy’s definition of “leisure time” is suspect. I mean, OK, I’ll give him exercise, even though that’s pretty much mandatory for basic health. And MAYBE listening to the radio or reading the paper, even though as a journalist that could be considered part of your job. But errands? And waiting for a tow truck? Come ON.

In my opinion, true leisure time must meet these criteria:

* Longer than a 10-min. block. Five consecutive days of waiting in the school pick-up line does NOT equal an hour of uninterrupted relaxation.

* Some measure of control or choice involved. For this reason, an extra hour in the waiting room because the dentist is running behind does not count as leisure time.

* Cannot include basic hygiene. I just read another article that encouraged stressed people to take more bathroom breaks. First of all, that would imply that you are alone in the bathroom, which I rarely am. And second, sitting on a toilet – especially a public one – in no way replaces a coffee break on a sunny park bench. However, I will admit that sometimes a 6-minute shower does feel like a spa getaway in my world.

* Must be fun. Returning e-mails = leisure? OK, if you’re corresponding with a friend. But not if you’re telling the PTA you’ll bring a tossed salad to the teacher luncheon. And let’s take cooking. If you ENJOY whipping up a 5-course gourmet meal, then that’s leisure. But churning out 3 meals a day for your picky and ungrateful family because they have to eat is not the same thing.

It’s an interesting discussion, though, I’ll say that. I do agree that most people are WAY too busy these days and that many wear their busyness as a badge of honor. Not me. Do I enjoy being engaged and productive? Yes. Busy and stressed? No thanks.

The article gave me all the encouragement I needed to put on a movie for my son, let the baby play on the floor, and relax with my coffee and the paper. For about five minutes, that is. Then spit-up, snack time, and sibling squabbles were calling me once again. Oh well, my leisure time was nice while it lasted.

TIP O’ THE WEEK: Did you know you don’t have to return e-mails the minute you get them? I know! Shocking but true. For some reason, even though I’ll happily let the phone go to voicemail, I can’t quite wrap my head around this. Maybe because I once worked for an internet company where people would instant-message you to say, “Did you get the e-mail I just sent?”

The Terrible Threes?

I don’t know what’s going on around here. My formerly sweet 3.5 y.o. son has morphed into a teenager overnight. Emotional outbursts, tears, name-calling, aggression, refusal to eat, streaking, night-waking – all out of nowhere! What the heck??

The other day, for instance, I picked him up from preschool like I always do. We were getting out of the car and I noticed a couple of empty juice boxes on the floor. (Nothing out of the ordinary, sadly.) “Let me grab those and throw them away,” I said casually. I picked them up and tossed them in the nearby garbage can.

Then Miles went nuts. And that’s putting it mildly. “NOOO!!!! I don’t WANT you to throw them away!” he screamed, tears of rage streaming down his cheeks. “NO, MAMA, NO!!” He then proceeded to kick the trash can until it fell over, spilling garbage onto the ground. What the … ?

Chalking it up to low blood sugar, I ignored him and carried the baby into the house. Miles followed, and seemed to have calmed down somewhat. I made his lunch and he began eating it silently. I poured him a cup of milk without him asking. (Normally, he begs for milk, chugs it immediately and then wants nothing to do with his food.) When he noticed this, he said, “Why did you give me milk?” Me: “Because I know you like it.”

Round 2 of losing his sh*t: “I don’t WANT milk!! I don’t wanna hafta pee!!” More screaming, more tears. I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. This child has never passed up milk in his LIFE. And as for the peeing? That’s our excuse for not giving him more milk right before bedtime. At this point, I’d lost my patience and sent him to his room. There was stomping and door-slamming and other assorted ugliness. I half-expected a pack of cigarettes to fall out of his pocket.

I repeat: what the HECK?! It’s not like this was just a bad day, either. There have been a handful of other uncharacteristic, out-of-the-blue outbursts recently. Even at school, which was a first.

My son used to be a champion eater, too – he once declared veggies his favorite food – but that’s all changed. Every meal is a fight to the death over every little bite of scrambled egg or chicken. He would consume an all-popcorn, fruit, and milk diet if we let him. But protein? Forget it.

I know you’re not “supposed” to battle with kids over food, but I see no way around it. The “let him starve, he’ll learn” philosophy leads only to meltdowns and more stress for me. And yes, I realize that it’s a power struggle, but I think I do a pretty good job of offering my son choices and letting him have SOME autonomy.

And don’t even get me STARTED on the clothes. When he’s not stripping naked and running around the house, he’s having a hissy fit over a certain pair of jeans or an uncool shirt. (Basically, anything without a truck, dinosaur, or superhero on it.) The kid would live in his pajamas if left to his own devices. We may have a budding Hugh Hefner on our hands.

Plenty of people warned me that the threes are even worse than the so-called “terrible twos.” (Thanks, people. Helpful.) But I don’t know what you’re supposed to do about it. Fortunately, there are glimpses of Miles’ former personality in between all the drama. When he snuggles up next to me to read a book, say, or kisses his baby brother on the head. Other times I catch myself thinking, “Who is this pajama-clad punk and what have you done with my son?”

PIC O’ THE WEEK: “Check out my new choppers. And, yeah, I know how to use ’em. Mommy’s got the teeth marks to prove it.”

Goodwill Toward Moms

I was sweating bullets at the mall today as I wheeled around my barefoot baby -- in the middle of winter!! But what can I do? The child will NOT keep socks or shoes on his feet, people! So I balled them up and stuffed them in my pocket so I wouldn't lose them. But I was bracing myself for a smack-down from the parenting police.

I don't know why, though. Despite constantly hearing about people being judgmental and rude to mothers for everything from how they dress their babies to what they feed them, this actually hasn't happened to me (much).

In fact, if anyone has been judgmental and intrusive it's ME. Almost, one time... Read more about mom-bashing vs. goodwill toward moms at TheBump.com:

Off and Running

As little as 2 days ago, we had 3 bipeds in the house and 2 quadrupeds – the dog and the baby. Now, the baby is one of us -- HE’S WALKING!

I am equal parts proud and horrified. See, he’s only 10 mos. old. My older son walked at 10 mos., too. And went from walking to running practically overnight. Well, you know what comes after walking, right? FALLING. And tripping and split lips and chipped teeth and visits to the ER. Oh, joy.

So here’s how it happened: we were playing in the family room, and Riley pulled himself up on his big brother’s Bat Cave. (You know, Batman’s secret hideout? Duh.) Before I knew what was happening, the baby turned around and took 3 quick steps towards me. I started shrieking and Miles starting laughing and Riley looked confused and pleased at the same time.

We then spent the next 20 min. trying to make him walk again so I could capture it on film, which resulted in tears and hysterics and jealousy. Nice job, mom. Well, what do you want from me? It’s exciting stuff! Anyone who thinks they won’t be as thrilled about Baby #2’s milestones is wrong.

Besides, I missed Miles’ first steps. At the time it was traumatic, but like any good writer I turned that trauma into material. The result was an essay that appeared in A Cup of Comfort for New Mothers. Take that, mommy guilt!

I have to admit, I haven’t been quite as vigilant about recording my second child’s milestones. He rolled over at 4 mos. Or maybe 5 mos.? Started crawling at... um... Well, I KNOW he got his first tooth at 7 mos. Or was that Miles? First food? I’m going to go with sweet potatoes. Yeah, that sounds right.

Anyway, back to the walking. Seeing a tiny, bowlegged person in footy pajamas teetering around on 2 legs is an interesting experience. At first it seems strange and wrong, like a cat using a toilet. But at the same time, it’s adorable and hilarious – you can’t witness it and NOT crack a smile. And when you see how pleased with himself the baby is, it’s even better. Look, ma, no hands!

Here, just see for yourself:


And from another angle:


Admit it, it’s exciting. And it proves that my baby’s a genius. It took cavemen, what? Hundreds, thousands of years to learn to walk upright? (Hey, I took biology a loooong time ago.) Yet MY son mastered the skill in a mere 10 mos. Hmm, I wonder if cavemen had to worry about chipped teeth?

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: My 3 ½ y.o. son Miles doesn’t like when I call him “cute.” He prefers “cool” or “awesome.” However, he recently made an exception: “I’m cute when I’m in my jammies and cool when I’m in my clothes, Mama.”