blog: (n) from “web log”, an online journal
blog: (v) the act of keeping a blog, conjugated as follows:
I blog, I blogged, I will blog, you blog, you blogged, you will blog, etc…
blogger: (n) author of blog, one who does the blogging
bloghopping: (n) perusing other’s blogs (thank you Karen for this term!)
blog: (n) from “web log”, an online journal
Who’s big idea was it to score a Toyota commercial with “Drunken Sailor”? And how on earth was it approved? Somebody got paid a lot of money for one of the stupidest things I’ve seen in a long time. And that person probably prides him/herself in knowing something about music and for that I am personally insulted.
“Lower legs slowly” very slowly and move them a little to avoid hitting baby with feet.
“Bend forward into standing forward bend pose. Look up” and see baby climbing the stairs. Run after him. Check diaper. Continue.
“Listen to your breath” and the toot of the recorder, and the moo of the cow in the farm book.
“Rock back and forth six times and then rock yourself to sitting” then standing to run into kitchen before clever baby pulls the step stool out from between the fridge and the wall and onto himself. Push stepstool in further.
“Lie in relaxation pose” until you hear baby on stairs.
The worst thing about my son being nine months old is the separation anxiety. It makes me sad when he cries because I have to go to the bathroom and it’s really frustrating when he claws me to pieces.
The best thing about my son being nine months old is the separation anxiety. It makes me so happy to know that he loves me so much and I know I’m nearing the end of the period (never to be repeated) where he thinks I am perfect.
According to the American Academy of Pediatrics children who are most secure with their parents start their separation early (before nine months, as mine did) and go through it more quickly. I have mixed emotions. On the one hand I’m relieved to not have to pry him off me, and gratified that it means he’s secure; on the other hand, I’m going to miss how much he needs me. But he’s not going to college yet, I need to stop aging him in my mind.
What is it about being a blogger that I suddenly feel compelled to explain my absences? Is it necessary to explain that my baby just sprouted his fourth tooth and that in addition to that tumult he’s exhibiting some fantastic separation anxiety? Does it matter that I’ve got a second boutique in which I can (hopefully) sell some merchandise? I don’t think so, and yet I feel as thought I haven’t written to a friend in a while and I owe her an explanation.
But really I took a minute away from dishes and laundry to put out a question into cyber space.
I recently received an Amazon.com gift card. It was a very thoughtful gift as it allows me to get what I want/need and allows the giver the freedom to allow me to do so (giver lives in Moscow so it serves a logistics purpose as well.) The vast freedom of the gift caused a certain problem for me as I kept thinking of things I wanted to get … for my son. My husband kept encouraging me to get something for me and I kept finding myself in “children’s music” “children’s books” and “children’s toys.” Looking for clothes is useless because a body as misshapen as mine does not purchase clothes online, and looking for books was overwhelming (and guilt-ridden, how many do I have here that I haven’t read yet?) Jewelry is out because my son would claw it off me. It was a quandary. I eventually did spend the money on me, things somewhat practical but things I wanted nonetheless, but I want to put the question out there:
How do you, my cyber friends, think I should have spent the money? What do you think a stay at home mother needs?
what are the chances?
Four months ago while I was waiting for my turn to donate blood I got chatting with a new mother. She was somewhat overwhealmed because while she loved her son intensely she was confused by all the advice she had been receiving. She asked me several questions about breastfeeding and what worked for me and I answered quite simply that I let the baby call the shots. He knew when he was hungry and he would stop if he was full and if he ate too much he’d spit some back up. I alternated sides but otherwise let him determine everything and ignored whatever other people told me.
Yesterday at the birthday party of one of the boys from our Mommy and Me group a woman approached me and said, “do you remember me?” It was Bonnie, now four months later and much more relaxed. I was totally shocked that she remembered me (and recognized me from across the park) because I didn’t remember her until after she reminded me. She thanked me for my words of sanity and told me that it was my advice that helped her the most. It was touching.
And odd that we met donating blood and then again at the birthday party of a mutual friend. Glendale is not that small of a place.
When he was still teeny-tiny ( you can tell he is not so now) he could stay awake for hours in my husband’s arms, but would do nothing but sleep in mine; he had already established that Daddy is the play-friend and Mummy is the sleepy-time-friend.
Thanks to eight months of playing at home all day, he does think of me as a play-friend, too, but he just adores my husband and can’t wait for him to get home at the end of the day and can’t wait to wake him up in the mornings.
Now that we have broken the hard rule of which parent is the play-friend, we are also trying to break the rule of which parent is the sleep-parent. This is proving to be stressful to both boys, and hopefully we’ll get the hang of that without it taking eight months!