One down, a hundred and twenty seven crafts to go.

You know how I had a million and one crafts I wanted to make?

I finished one!  That's a start at least.

This is my fishing game, inspired from this blog I found through Pinterest.  I used a thin rope rather than twine or leather for the fishing line, but other than that I followed those instructions pretty closely.

Mo-mo the toddler approves.  Fat Mar-mar the cat approves. (See the paw?)

After watching Mar-mar eat the fish, Mo-mo wondered how they tasted.  She was disappointed that they didn't taste like Goldfish crackers.

Parental Misunderstandings.

My friend Shortstuff recently confessed to me that way back when Mo-mo was first born, she misunderstood something that I said.  And she was way too polite and grossed out to ask me to clarify.

We were talking on the phone, and Batman called to me from the other room.  Hold on, I said, Batman is calling me.  I listened to what he had to say.  I have to go, I told her. Batman needs my help.  There's a poop emergency.  

Being that Mo-mo was fairly small, what I thought I conveyed was that Mo-mo had managed (as young babies do) to poop through the side of her diaper and Batman needed a hand getting her gross onesie off and giving her a quick bath. 

What Shortstuff thought I meant was that Batman was having a poop emergency.  And she was rather alarmed and confused, having no idea 1) how a grown man could have a poop emergency and 2) what sort of help I could lend my husband during said poop emergency. 

I am actually impressed that she was able to look him in the eye after that.

The coolest costume. Ever.

This is by far one of the coolest things I have ever made.

Mo-mo is going to be a train engineer for Halloween--complete with a little red wagon made to look like a train.

Materials

• cardboard.  Lots of cardboard
• exacto knife
• sharp scissors
• glue gun
• duct tape
• PVC pipe (I used 1/2 inch)
• PVC pipe cutters
• spray paint- red, black and yellow matte
• empty corn meal can, but almost any can would work

I started out with two large flat pieces of cardboard, both divided in thirds.  I cut out half of the middle portion on each.  I added windows to one piece (see above).  Then I nestled them together like this:

 

I hot-glued and duct-taped the two pieces together.  I even trimmed the windows with duct tape because my exact-o knife skills are not too hot.

Next, I had to figure out a way to get it to mount on the wagon.  That's where the PVC pipe comes in handy.  I cut small X's in the cardboard and fed a PVC pipe through the bottom, so that it would have a way to sit on the wagon.  I reinforced it with duct-tape. 

Cutting PVC pipe is incredibly easy with one of these gizmos.  $10 from Lowe's.  Is it weird that I'm looking forward to using it for future projects?

Next, I reinforced the corners of the window unit with PVC pipe.  Unfortunately, I don't have a very good picture of it.  I simply measured it, cut it, then duct-taped and hot-glued it in place. 

Notice that the roof and front of the train is missing? I used those pieces that I cut out (to make them fit together) and both duct taped and hot glued it all together.

 This is what it looked like before the painting/final touches were put on.  I let Mo-mo give it a spin to make sure it worked.

Then I spray painted it red (two coats letting it dry at least 3 hours between)

I drew and cut out the wheels, spokes, wheel attach-thingies (no idea what they are actually called), a bit larger of a roof, a cattle-guard, and a light for the front.  I then spray painted them along with the corn meal can for a smoke stack (again, two coats), let them dry.  Lastly I hot-glued it all together.

I know it's not going to last forever--I'm not even going to show the finished product to Mo-mo until Halloween.  But I think it will last at least for that evening and she may even get to play with it inside for awhile.

I'll be sure to post photos of her on Halloween!

Sexism, McDonald's, and over-thinking the whole shebang

When I ordered the Happy Meal tonight at McDonald's, the cashier asked me, "Boy or girl?"  My response:  "Girl.  I mean boy.  I want the boy toy."

Because, quite frankly, the girl toy sucks.

Really, McDonald's?  This is the best you can do?

 It is a small replica of Skechers shoe that lights up.  

How in the world do you play with it?  Do you pretend it's flying?  Maybe pretend that it is looking for its other half?  Nah.  You watch it light up, clip it to a purse, and say how pretty it is.  Maybe you're inspired to start begging for some real shoes like it.  It's so....passive.

The boy toy is pretty cool.  They are a series of Batman figurines.  We got Joker--his lapel squirts water, so I'm just going to toss him in with the tub toys. 

Waaaaay cooler.

I've been thinking a lot about "boy" vs. "girl" toys and clothes.  I grew up with two brothers.  I played with their GI Joe's, they played with Barbies--but we only wanted to play if we could be the "right" gender.  (I had one small GI Jane and a helmeted GI Joe I insisted was a girl, my brothers played with Ken.)  I had a set of Legos I adored, but only felt comfortable playing with them because they were pink.  This wasn't a mindset that my parents encouraged in any way, it was just something that I decided.

I love shopping for Mo-mo.  Pink, purple, ruffles and hair bows can be fun.  But I also like Back To The Future shirts.  I think monsters, trains, and dogs should be for girls too.  Orange, green, and blue are great colors.  And do you know how hard it is to find a girl's shirt with an "I love my mommy" sentiment?  Nigh impossible to find.  

Mo-mo is an awesome mix of girly-girl and tom boy.  She loves playing outside, playing with balls, and trains.  She also loves high heels, her purse, jewelry, make-up, dancing, and playing with her baby dolls.

My biggest worry is that world will box Mo-mo in.  I don't ever want her to feel as if she has to pick something or behave a certain way because she's a girl.  She can choose soccer over ballet, green over pink, airplanes over princesses.  Or not.  I want it to be her choice.  The moment she tells me that she would prefer the girl toy, I will let her have it (barring anything Bratz related).   

Until then, she can have the Joker figurine.  Because really....a light-up shoe?  It's lame.

Tea, Baby

My two-year old daughter loves hot tea.

I found out this curious fact last winter, as I was sipping my morning cup of Earl Gray.  Momo climbed on my lap and demanded some.  I figured it would be one of those things where she has a sip, makes a face, and never bothers me again about it. 

She had her sip and her eyes lit up.  "More, more, MORE!"

I had created a monster.

Before the internets starts to judge me too harshly, let me tell you this--she only gets very weak decaffeinated tea, lukewarm with tons of milk, and only as an occasional treat.  I no longer drink my morning tea at home because I refuse to let her have it very frequently.

Last week, my family went out to breakfast to celebrate my father's 60th birthday.  There were coffee cups on the tables at the restaurant and so my daughter started asking for tea.

"Let me ask if they have decaf," was my answer.

She slumped down in her high chair and started pitifully moaning as if she were in physical pain.  "Deeeeeeeeecaff!  Deeeeeeeeecaf Mommy! DEEEEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAAAAAAAF!!!!"

Everyone in the restaurant turned towards me and my child who was requesting "decaf" at the top of her lungs.  They probably thought she was jonesing for her morning coffee fix.  I could tell they were smiting me in their minds for getting a toddler hooked on coffee. 

Life is never dull when you have a toddler.

Defining the Mommy: Identity and Parenting

On a work retreat, we wrote down what we wanted to be when we grew up on a slip of paper, then we guessed who wrote what.  I wrote that I had wanted to be an author/illustrator, a marine biologist, a veterinarian, and a colonist on Mars.

One of my coworkers wrote that she had wanted to be mom and a midwife.  Every single coworker guessed that the mom and midwife was my choice. 

Not a huge deal, but this small incident got me thinking about my identity as a mommy.  Why did the people at work automatically equate me to motherhood, and not to anything else?  Admittedly, I was the only mother there--but there is another coworker who has babysat the same children for years and loves kids, and another whose predilections towards yoga and vegetarianism make her the perfect fit as wanting to be a midwife.

At work, I talk a lot about Mo-mo, but I also talk about Batman, my friends, my family, my pets, my hobbies, my interests.  I've had conversations with at least two of my coworkers about what we'd do if we won the lottery.  I said that I would still want to work at least three days a week because I love interacting and working.
 
There are amazing, intelligent, women who are able to find fulfillment in devoting themselves to their home and their family without working outside of the home.  I am not one of them.  I could do it, but I know I would not be happy doing it long term.  In some ways, I feel as if I have to apologize for that.  But I'm also quite proud of my achievements and never want to sell myself short for all that I accomplish.

If I define myself through my work, but my work defines me through my motherhood, who does that make me?

My office place is made up of mostly women in their 20's and 30's.  Very few of us have children.  The organization is trying to become a more welcoming place for families, so those of us with kids are the guinea pigs.  I've worked it out with my boss so that I come in early and I leave early and spend more of the late afternoon with Mo-mo.  If I work during an evening, I come in late so that I can at least eat breakfast with her.  My boss is both encouraging and supportive and wants to create a welcoming, family-friendly environment.

But how does this effect the way my coworkers see me?  Do they see a woman working hard at juggling it all, or do they just see the mommy always putting her child first?

I'm not going to pretend I'm not a mother.  I love Mo-mo too much and it is a big part of who I am.  Nor am I going to resist being labeled just a mom.  You know what?  A mom is an amazing thing to be.  There should be no "just" about it.

All I can really do is work hard and learn fast.  I'll continue to play the balancing game that all working mothers seem to do, and be proud of my accomplishments in both parenting and at work.

The Picky Eater and the Battle of the Wills, Momma vs. Toddler

A lot of parenting seems to be fairly easy.  Keep them safe.  Tell them they're loved.  Expand their world.  

Then, of course, there are the parts that aren't.

I have a bonafide picky eater.  Not only is Mo-mo picky, but she doesn't let us feed her.  She stopped at 10 months.  That's right, as soon as she started on finger food, she absolutely refused to eat anything that we give her directly.  She'll clamp her mouth shut and start to scream if we are persistent.

Up until last week, we've been doing the bad-wussy-parent thing of giving her a special meal of things we knew she'd like.  We'd give her our regular meal first, she wouldn't eat it, then we'd give her things like fruit, bread, cheese, and peanut butter:  the staples of toddler life.  

This pattern is okay for a baby but not for a toddler.  And as much as I don't want to admit it, my daughter is old enough to learn bad habits.  And she's learning that if she doesn't eat what we give her, she just has to wait ten minutes and we'll give her exactly what she wants.  

I refuse to have a child who only eats PB&J at age seven, or who always gets a special meal made for her.  It's just not happening.

So Batman and I are being hardcore meanies.  She only gets what we eat.  We're cutting down on the snacks.  If she doesn't eat, we're not going to make a big deal out of it, but we're only going to offer her what we had for dinner.  

Let me tell you this:  it's hard.

First of all, she's so damn cute when she asks for "gapes" or "fish" (grapes and goldfish).  And it's so damn hard to change a pattern.  

Second of all, I worry about her weight.  She's in the 96th percentile for height and only the 25th for weight.  The pediatrician said to offer her higher calorie options of things, like adding cheese to broccoli.  (And yes, if you're curious, I did ask the pediatrician her opinion about this.  She said that it's better to clamp down and be strict now than try and do it later, when bad habits are firmly established.  And that Mo-mo will eat if she's hungry once she figures out she doesn't get anything else.)

This is especially hard because I was a picky eater.  My parents are divorced, and my mom and my dad had two very different parenting styles.  My mom let me eat whatever I wanted, and it was invariably chicken nuggets, taquitos, and the occasional bomb pop.  My dad made me eat whatever was for dinner.  I always had to at least try the food and finish the portion on the plate.

As I was growing up, I much preferred my mom's relaxed feeding style.  But as an adult, I understand why my dad was so strict.  

Being responsible?  No fun at all.

Hallow-WHEEEEEEEE-n

As I've mentioned before, I love Halloween.

This year Mo-mo is big enough to actually trick or treat for maybe a half of a block.  Of course, I've started obsessing about what she should be.

There shall be no cutesy-pie ladybug dresses for my girl, nor any (shudders) Disney princesses.  There will be plenty of time for all that stuff when she's old enough to pick out her costume herself.  Here are the costumes I like:


1)  A Garden Gnome

Pros:  Adorable.  Hilarious.

Cons:  Would she actually keep the hat on?  Probably not.

2)  Unicorn Pegasus

Pros:  It's a UNICORN-PEGASUS!  Not just one or the other but an unholy hybrid of horse mythology.  Plus it's cute.  And warm.
Cons:  I could see her getting frustrated with the hoof-gloves.

3.  Monarch Butterfly

 Pros:  Flippin' adorable.
Cons:  Kind of bulky and may be hard to manuever.  Plus it's a bit expensive.

4.  R2D2

 

Pros:  Delightfully nerdy.
Cons:  Delightfully nerdy.

Any favorites?  Any suggestions?  I even made a poll for you to vote--it's up in the top right corner of the page. 

Five reasons that my toddler is awesome.

Okay, I know that every parent thinks that their child is the smartest, cutest, most amazing child in the world.  But this is different.  My daughter really is.  

The first year of life was pretty nifty.  She figured out the basics of rolling over, crawling, walking, and a bit of talking.  But I have a feeling that this next year is going to be really fun...

1)  She has advance problem-solving skills.  She couldn't reach the doorknob, so she pulled a book off the shelf, pushed it by the door, and stood on it.

2)  Everything is "monkey-see, monkey-do".  She tries to use the furminator on the cats.  She steals keys and tries to use them on the door.  If she's yelling and you shush her, she shushes you right back.

3) She adores cats and dogs.  She pets cats with a minimum amount of smacking.  If there's a dog on TV, she makes a sound like a very excited tea kettle and yells "BUPBUP" (puppy).

4) If you pretend to be asleep, she'll come up and poke your mouth.  That is your cue to pretend to wake up and eat her hand and growl like a monster.  She'll run away squealing-- until you close your eyes again.

5) She sings.  Okay, that doesn't sound too impressive.  But it's still really freakin' cute.  And she isn't quite up to mimicking all the words so most songs just sound like "Bah-bah-bah".  We've actually renamed patty-cake in our house, it's now called "Bah-bah-bah".

One year.

One year, in the life of Mo-mo.

 

 

Happy birthday, little girl.  I love you so much.

Trouble with a capital "T"

When I was picking up Mo-mo from the nursery at the YMCA, I took a moment to watch her through the glass window.

"Awww, how sweet!"  I thought.  "She's playing with that other baby!"

Indeed, she was crawling after another baby and laughing.  She was laughing as she caught up to him and STOLE THE BINKY RIGHT OUT OF HIS MOUTH.  The nursery workers swooped in before she could pop it in her mouth. 

Apparently, we have a binky thief on our hands. 

My Day By The Numbers

Number of puzzle pieces put into the correct spot (out of 2,000):  approximately 500  (minus 15 knocked down by the cats)

Number of cats currently residing in my parents' house:  5

Number of cheerios eaten by my daughter:  approximately 40

Number of Pepperidge farm cookies eaten by yours truly: 5  But I think I may have to have more now.

Number of times I informed Mo-mo that it was rude to try and join the kitty when she was in the litter box:  3

Number of naps: 1

Number of job applications completed:  3

Number of stores I attempted to find fabric at only to find out that they were either closed or didn't sell fabric:  3

That about sums it up.

Tall Tales

Based on her current height, the doctor estimates that Mo-mo will be 6'2" as an adult.

clothes added because if my daughter goes upon a rampage destroying a city, she won't be allowed to dress like a hussy.

That's my husband's height. I'm 5'6"--not a bad height, but just one inch above average. There's a wide range of heights in both of our families, but no one who is that tall.

I'm terrified of the day when my daughter hits puberty and becomes the inevitable surly, moody teenage girl. Her possible future height has given me yet another thing to worry about it.

I want her to be confident and love herself and her body. I don't want her to worry about stupid people who make stupid comments. I've come up with three plans of how to deal with this.

Plan A: Wrap her in bubble-wrap and home school her. Never let her leave the house.

I think this is a totally valid parenting option.

Plan B: Teach her sassy responses.

Q: "How's the weather up there?"
A: Cloudy with high probability of annoying.

Q: "You must play basketball!"
A: You must play miniature golf!

Q: "How did you get so tall?"
A: My mother and father hung me up for an hour every evening with weights attached to my ankle. They did it because they believe in the ten tenets of Zoobooblia, our Lord and Alien. The taller you are, the closer you are to Master Zoobooblia. Would you like a religious tract explaining about the starship coming of our Master?


Plan C: Accompany her everywhere and punch anyone who is mean.
I will take down those 7th grade bullies like nobody's business. I ain't scared.



I suppose Plan D is to be a good role model for self-confidence and loving one's own body. But I'm still rather partial to Plan B.

Philosophy, Schmilosophy

Recently I've become more and more alarmed at the idea of "parenting philosophies".

It started when I read this article. And then I read several more articles on the same site. The more I read the more I realized that this author was out of her mind.

(For those of you too lazy to click and want a summary, this blog is about someone who embraces the ideas of Magda Gerber. The first link is all about how parents that use pacifiers are selfish and stifling their children.)

I feel as if the problem with any parenting philosophy is that people adopt it then carry it out to an extreme level. Magda Gerber's theories aren't all that crazy. I believe that you should talk to babies and not only use baby talk. But I don't think my daughter is going to be psychologically stunted because I treat her, well, like a baby.

Attachment parenting is the same way. There are some good theories in it but I've seen mommies take it over-the-top. I like babywearing but sometimes I like using the stroller. Mo-mo slept in our room until she seemed ready for her crib at 3 months. And I don't think she's going to be worse off than another baby who was raised using solely attachment parenting theories because we made those decisions.

The problem with moms that adopt a parenting philosophy: they seem to think, "Huh. Here's a good idea. EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF THIS MUST BE EXACTLY RIGHT FOR MY CHILD, THUS PEOPLE WHO DO ANYTHING DIFFERENT MUST BE WRONG. And their poor child will grow up stunted and disturbed."

If I had to define my parenting philosophy, it would be this:

1) I don't have a parenting philosophy because my daughter has been alive for less than a year and it would be incredibly arrogant to assume that I have all the answers.



Ha ha! Of course I'm kidding. I do have all of the answers.

1) Be flexible
Don't follow every single piece of advice blindly. Just because parts of a (sigh) "philosophy" fit you and your child, doesn't mean all of it will. You are allowed to pick and choose. I won't tell the philosophy police, I promise.

2) Avoid extremes.
Moderation is key. I've read about parents who never tell their child that he/she is smart and only praise their hard work because XYZ study recommended it. Or parents that never tell their child that she's pretty, rather saying that her outfit is nice so as not to focus too much on looks. Or never let their child eat anything with sugar.

You know what? Your kid isn't going to become shallow if you tell her once in awhile that she's pretty. He's not going to be lazy just because you sometimes praise his intelligence. She's not going to be obese because you let her eat a cupcake on a Saturday afternoon.

Relax. Never say never. And pass me a cupcake.

3) Just because it's right for you, doesn't mean it's right for everyone.
I'm looking at you Mrs. Judgypants. You know who you are.

Reason #523 why I probably shouldn't be allowed to have kids

Me: You know what's a fun word? Hobo.

Batman: Hobo?

Me: Yeah, you know--homeless guys with sticks and bindles. It's kind of strange that kids dress up like hobos for Halloween. "Look ma, I'm impoverished!"

(awkward silence)

Me: I think Mo-mo's next word should be hobo.

Batman: So that would make the words she knows....mama, dada, hi, duck and....hobo?

Me: But we'd have to teach it so that she'd say it angrily. So that it would seem like she's calling people hobos. When she doesn't get what she wants she'd yell out, "HOBO!"

(awkward silence as I contemplate how to do this.)

Me: I know! Instead of saying "no", we'll say "hobo" from now on. That way she'll start shaking her head and saying "hobo". But we have to start now. And we have to be consistent.

Batman: .....No.

Me: Don't you mean "hobo"?

Author's note: Humor does not equal reality. You probably shouldn't teach your children to say things just for your own amusement, especially in the wrong context.

Mommy Envy: The First Birthday

Do you want to know one of the negative aspects of being connected to other moms online? Mommy envy. This ugly green-eyed monster rears its head from time to time.

Huh. Envy has bad posture. I never knew that.

I just have to keep reminding myself that I live in the real world. Not in Lollipop Bizarro Land where money grows on trees. Which is where other moms must live.

Now I want some candy.

The latest object of my mommy envy? First birthday plans.

I love having parties. I make some cheese dip, grab some trays of cold cuts and beer from the supermarket, and if I'm feeling domestic I'll make some cookies. People come over (usually board games are involved) and have a good time. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am, it's easy-peasy.

My plan for my daughter's first birthday: Go to a party store. Spend $20 on paper plates and utensils, maybe a buy a couple of balloons and a banner. Make a cake. Grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. Have about ten family and friends attend. Have fun.

Apparently I've been throwing parties incorrectly this entire time. I was unaware that parties require themes, matching place settings, multiple centerpieces. Elaborate favors. Theme based food. Matching cupcake liners. These two blogs in particular, the celebration shoppe and the hostess with the mostess make me feel...well, slightly inadequate. But I can't stop looking through them. They're like crack but instead of making you turn tricks on a street corner for your next fix they make you question your worth as a mother and leave you coveting things that you really can't afford and don't need. So it's exactly like crack minus the hooking.

It isn't just party blogs that are way over the top. On the mommy boards that I frequent I get to hear of parents renting out halls. 100+ guests. Renting an inflatable bouncy machine. Petting zoos, $10 worth of stuff in favor bags, clowns, magicians. All for the FIRST birthday party.

I understand getting more elaborate when your child is older but he or she isn't going to remember their first birthday. It seems slightly excessive to spend over $100 on it.

I think what bothers me more than the money is the amount of frustration it represents. There is no way in hell that these parties are easy to throw together. Every little detail shows hours of work and effort. I imagine all of the Bree Van de Camp moms of the world who have a heart attack if something is out of place.

These are parties for CHILDREN, my friends. Your child should have fun at their own party instead of having you trail behind them saying "No, don't touch that. No, don't play with that." Note to all: If you don't enjoy the party you're throwing because you worry too much, you're doing it wrong.

Yes. I'm also jealous of those gorgeous parties. I consider throwing one myself. Then I tally up how much time and money it would take to do something that awesome. Then I think that a backyard bbq sounds like a fabulous idea.

There are definitely some happy mediums. My cousin throws pretty awesome birthday parties for her children and doesn't spend a butt-load of money. She also happens to be supermom. In honor of her and the other mom's who have nice parties without being outrageous, I've decided to have a first birthday theme for Mo-mo: butterflies. Or maybe cupcakes. (Yes, cupcakes is an actual theme, not just a food choice.)

All I know for sure is that she's going to have fun, I'm going to have fun, and Batman will have fun. There will be cake and grilled meat. And really, that's all one needs in a first birthday.

There is also a 95% chance that Mo-mo needs this dress. And matching cupcake liners.

The Ten Mommy/Facebook Commandments

So you're a mom now. You're excited about your little bundle of joy and want to share every detail about him or her with the entire world. The problem: you may be oversharing. I've decided to post 10 easy rules about how to use social networking sites without annoying all of your friends. Most of these are inspired by this blog.

1. Don't post photos of poop, placenta, vomit, or your child's bits. The first three are just gross and disturbing and the last is for modesty's sake (and for preventing those pics from being seen by creepy pedophiles).

2. Don't get into details about poop or spit-up. You will have multiple conversations with your significant other about the consistency, color, and timing of your child's bodily functions. But the rest of the world does not care.

3. Don't let yourself get lost in your baby's life. While being a mom is tons of work and incredibly important, your friends want to know how YOU are doing. Comment on what you thought about this week's Lost. About a good dinner you enjoyed. About how you stubbed your toe.

4. Some details about your baby are (gasp) kind of boring. There are maybe three people that want the intricate specific details about your baby's life. Your baby said his/her first word? That's cool, share it. Your baby ate peas today? Not so interesting or particularly important.

5. Don't be a photo glutton. Make a 365 blog if you take that many photos. Don't post album after album of the exact same photo taken at a slightly different angle. Your baby is darling, but we don't need 40 identical photos to confirm that.

6. Don't mommyjack. Mommyjacking is when you turn the topic of every conversation into a complaint about being a mom. Your single friend complains about how tired she is because she stayed up late partying? "I wish I could party like that, you should try staying up with a BABY." Your friend is worried about her sick dog? "Just wait until you have a BABY then you'll know what worrying is." This behavior is rude and unnecessary.

7. The occasional vent is okay, the perpetual whine is not. Being a mom is hard work. If every single day you are posting about how difficult it is, how tired you are, and how you need a break--perhaps it is time to call Grandma and Grandpa, a friend, your husband, and take that break.

8. Breastfeeding is beautiful, natural, and a wonderful bonding experience for both you and your baby. But your old college roommates do not want to hear about your chapped nipples or clogged ducts. Find a mommy message board, go to a La Leche League meeting--there are more appropriate venues to discuss breastfeeding woes and get support for any problems you have.

9. Don't complain if you're not getting special treatment. The world is full of mommies and children. You may get glared at when your child is screaming in the grocery store, even if there is nothing you can do about it. People may not get out of the way of your stroller, so you'll politely need to ask them to make room. Neighbors may be mowing their grass while your baby is trying to nap. None of these things are the end of the world, nor should they invoke rage filled rants on Facebook.

10. Be careful about what you post. Identifying information = not a great idea. Keep your Facebook set to private so that only friends can see your photos.



I actually have two Facebook pages, one for myself and one for Mo-Mo. I post a couple of the best photos every month on mine and talk about her when something incredibly exciting happens, like she said "Mama" for the first time. On her site, I post videos, more photos, and less exciting updates like her height/weight statistics or how she reacted to solid food for the first time. I didn't ask anyone to "friend" Mo-Mo but told people about it, so it was up to my friends and relatives to "friend" her.

Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

So I've decided to make this blog a little more anonymous--despite the fact that half of you know me in real life. The internet can be a scary place. Everyone knows about internet stalkers, photos being stolen and used in Prague, and the like. So I've decided to rename my family for online purposes.

I've changed my name to Bee. Simple and easy to remember. Plus it's what Faith called Buffy in Buffy the Vampire Slayer--oops, my nerdiness is showing.

My husband is now Batman. I asked him what he wanted to be named and he voted for Long Dong McGee. He also said that I should be Chesty LaRue (nerd points if you get the reference, double if you wonder why he didn't want to be Max Power). And he wonders why I don't ask for his input. I'm calling him Batman because he spent an entire day when we first started dating insisting that he was really Batman.

the resemblance is uncanny

The baby is Mo-mo. She adores Elmo, especially Elmo's song, and sometimes we call her Elmo. Since we are inherently lazy and can't ever say an entire name, that shortened to Mo-mo.

I'm not going to flip out if I accidentally include my real name in a post, but why make it any easier for the crazies out there?

By the way, if you are a crazy person and are considering stalking me, I have knives. Sharp knives. And guns. Lots of guns.