Friday, May 27, 2011

Piper Piggy

I typically avoid the pitfall of comparing my kids to other people's kids. Growth percentile charts, who cares? My bad-parent mistake is comparing them to each other (I am the dog-parent who used to declare a Dog of the Day, oh so tempting to have a Daughter of the Day, but those pesky parenting books say, no!)

Our Piper Piggy had her 2 month today and weighed in at 13 1/2 pounds (95th percentile for those who care). She has the fattest thighs. Adorable!

So, after writing it in her baby book, I did what I always do. I got out her sisters' baby books to see what they weighed, duh. Piper is 2 pounds heavier than Macy was and 2 1/4 bigger than Claire!

I gotta stop comparing them, but man, two pounds is like 15%. Seems a lot on a baby's 23 inch frame!! We also should stop calling her Piper Piggy at some point, too, probably...

Monday, May 23, 2011

Success Stories

You know what I want to hear when I tell someone my husband had a vasectomy? A story of all the people they know who had one and it worked.

"Oh, yeah, my cousin's husband had one of those about 5 years ago. Haven't had a baby since!"

"I knew a guy who had one and then had sex, a lot of sex, never slipped one past the goalie!"

Because lately everyone has been telling me the story of the vasectomy that didn't work. Are these stories true or getting exaggerated down the line? The nurse at my 6 week said she knew someone who had twins after her husband's vasectomy.

Are the birth horror stories you tell pregnant ladies now replaced with oops baby stories when you're done having kids?

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Slowly, put down the baby....

I tend to forget things didn't work with one kid might work with the others. Last week as I was struggling to hang up the diapers with one hand with an unhappy Piper, I weighed it out in my head and figured I would be faster with two hands, and the less cruel option was to set her down for a short amount of time even if she was upset. The big girls weren't real fans of the swing, but I have it as my downstairs option. I set her down in the shade a voila, she was perfectly content watching the laundry in the wind (I'm sure my neighbors are less amused...)

Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Having worked in diversity & inclusion I can understand the importance of how words can hurt, but I always had a hard time not saying "crazy." The local NAMI chapter was a member of the multicultural center, and asserted that it was offensive to saying something or someone was "crazy." I get what they're saying. I don't call things "gay" or "retarded," but I used the word crazy like, well, crazy!

Now that I am home, political correctness has gone out the window, and Bob has gone so far as to calling the girls nutjobs. Many a mealtime conversation has centered around who is a bigger nutjob. "No, YOU'RE a nutjob."

Claire, in my opinion, is the biggest nutjob. Sleeping with notebooks with illegible scribbles in them = nutjob. Insisting on hauling a backpack full of underwear everywhere you go= nutjob. Insisting on going out in public wearing a hat over your hood and sunglasses= unabomber.

Macy does do some nutty things, too. Wearing two head bands? Her hilarious rooster impression? Wearing winter hats in the warm or bike helmets anyplace but on a bicycle? I live in the nuthouse. Their sense of humor is my favorite thing about them.

Michele, one "L"

I read in some parenting magazine the advice that in addition to friends with kids your kids' age to maintain friendships with friends without kids and friends with older kids you admire.

Well, despite the fact I live not too far from where I grew up, I have a whole whopping two friends I ever do things with regularly. And, now my friend Michele is moving away. So, I am feeling sorry for myself. So, now what I am supposed to do fancy parenting magazine advice-giver? I am officially down a friend without kids now. She isn't moving to the moon, but I have no shortage of friends that live over an hour away.

It's kind of a bummer. Not to be vain, but I have always had a lot of friends. I am kind of lazy to make new friends, and I feel kind of like an outsider. It seems like all the cloth-diapering, greenliving, AP mommas around here like to knit, homeschool/unschool and breastfeed (don't, won't, and can't respectively). Even though I seem kind of crunchy to my friends, I am not crunchy enough to fit into the crunchy crowd. And then I feel guilty about it.

My yogurt making attempts have failed; I buy it from the store. Then I feel guilty for spending money on yogurt.

I will probably put Frontline on my dog. Then, I feel bad about the chemicals.

Seriously, I don't even know what kefir is. So chances are we won't be eating it, drinking it, or making it at home anytime soon.

I barely have it together as it is. I was late dropping the girls off AND picking them up from their playschool today. I ran into the mayor (former boss) and looked about as unkempt as possible. There was dried spit up on the baby carrier which was hanging open while I held the baby with spit up coming out of her mouth. And, that's what I hope people were looking at versus my crazy hair and casual, dated outfit.

I didn't fit in at City Hall, either.

So, am I destined to be the weird-o at library story hour trying to make friends? Maybe it's for the best since I spend most of my time chasing kids that I don't have time for making new friends anyway. How sad is that?

Friday, May 13, 2011

See, Mom, people like me!

My mom does this thing where she acts all conspiratorial with Bob as if they both know how hard it is to put up with me. Like I am some hard-to-please diva that they walk on egg shells to please, but they do it because they love me. Mom will say some ridiculous thing like she had me for 20 years and now I am Bob's problem. I'm not sure this passing of the baton analogy is very accurate. It's not like my parents were taking care of me when we started dating. I hadn't even been in the same state as them for a decade. And, I'm rather independent.

But, has it escaped anybody's notice I'm rather tolerant of my husband's junk collecting? I had proposed a moratorium on buying any vehicles while he was home for three weeks on paternity leave. He rejected that idea ("Nicole, all the deals go on here while people are working"). He bought at a rate of more than once a week. He even bought a boat back we had previously owned. Too small for our family, parked in our tiny driveway, needing to be re-fininshed, nonetheless.

But, really, who cares? As long as he helps around the house and with the kids, he can have his hobbies.

So last week a co-worker of Bob's is over. I offer and bring him a beer. He says his wife never has brought him a drink in all their years of marriage. (I probably do that once a night!) Later, he says, "Bob, we should go on that show where they both trade wives, but we both get her!" I should have got him on the phone to share that accolade with my mother, but that'd be pretty weird, right?

Later in the week, this guy brings his wife over while I am gone. He wants to show her some of Bob's treasures. Bob says she is disinterested at best. I'm like, of course she is. Most women don't put up with your nonsense. They don't like the guys that give their husbands dumb ideas or encourage them to buy stuff. And they really don't like wives like me who let that crap fly.

See, mom, I am a catch!

Dumb Questions

Claire is really smart. Her memory is impressive. This week we drove by where we parked for the Appleton Christmas Parade, and she told me about the parade. We drove by the beach and she was telling me about the time she went there with my mom last summer. She has been to the beach a fair amount by boat, but just a few times by land. Plus, my mom got lost on her way there!

I told her she could wear a fancy dress for the baptism on Sunday. She requested the one she wore on her third birthday. She has a memory far superior to her father's!

That being said, the girl asks some dumb questions. All day long.

Whoever came up with the adage "there's no such thing as a dumb question" wasn't spending the bulk of their time with a three year old.

"Does Ariel have teeth?"

"Yes, mermaids have teeth just like people."

"How big?"

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Are lists no longer vogue?

You know, I don't get e-mail forwards anymore. Are they no longer circulating? Has it lost its allure now that the sender can't send questionable material to a "work" e-mail? There is no shortage of Facebook garbage, but it doesn't seem to be the lists anymore. I don't think I would go so far as to say I miss it. Just nostalgic for the:


So, I am making my own list of ways my family messes with me:

1. Babies pooping right after a bath. C'mon, Piper, I just cleaned out all those crevices, must you fill it with runny baby poo? Usually, it is a as Bob would say an "ass-plosion."
2. Pooping right after I changed the garbage can or cleaned the diaper pail.
3. Forgetting how to swallow, right after I have changed your clothes. Do you like milk in your neck, Piper? Does a damp spot on your sleeper remind you of the wet womb?
4. Showing interest in sitting on the toilet only at nap and bedtime. Guilty, Macy. Yeah, you're cute, but this is not cute.
5. Deciding you want in the house at inopportune times. Kids in bathtub? Settling down for a nap? Bark, Bark, that sounds like Lincoln's bark. Crap.

Monday, May 9, 2011

My daughter is sleeping with a 90s country star...

If we can't be in the room with her, at nap and bed time, Claire requests we play her Toby Keith CD. Fat good all those classical music CDs and my live piano music during her infancy did for her...

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Loss for words

So Piper & I just went to the store. I forgot the Beco at home so I was carrying her on my arm facing out like she likes (someone needs to invent a carrier that sticks a baby to your forearm). This apparently is the universal hold for "hey, you, come talk to me and touch my baby!" I didn't have my older girls to ward people off or distract me ! Apparently, my haircut isn't conveying bitchy, anymore...

This is a snippet of a conversation we had with our first admirer:

Stranger: "What's her name?"
Me: "Piper"
Stranger [incredulous voice]: "Is that her given name?!?"
Me: "ummm, yeah"
[pregnant, awkward pause]
Me: "Well, her middle name is Jane. So, she can use that, if she wants something more traditional."
Stranger: "Yeah, Piper can be her nickname. Piper [chuckle, chuckle as if to insinuate that is the strangest combination of letters anyone has ever thrown together]

It doesn't happen often, but I was at a loss for words. What does one say to someone who has the gall to suggest you use your child's name as their nickname?

Friday, May 6, 2011

You gotta keep 'em separated

Yesterday at Play School Macy cried because she couldn't find Claire. Those two are thick as thieves. Right now they are fishing each other in the yard (chasing one another with sticks).

But, I never would have thought the best times happen when the girls are playing quietly in different rooms. Like earlier this morning: