Archives for category: baby

Dear Big Girl:

You love to party. Today I abused that fact. I needed to pick up my computer from the geniuses (if they are so genius, why did they pick the MALL as their location?). So, I tell you that we are going to a party. You were so keen on going to a party that you took party hats, 22 of them, to show and tell today. Surely there is SOMETHING at the mall that a toddler will think of as a party. Not. One. Thing. This is where my travel history has tainted me, baby. It seems, everywhere other than Austin, Texas, has small children just like you. San Antonio. China. Italy. Dallas Airport. Hamilton Place Mall. But, not Austin. Keep yer dirty childs at home or the four establishments in town that do not train their waitstaff to groan when you walk through the door.

Sufficed to say, you noticed that the party was absent.

Then you wept. You didn’t whine. You wept. I let you down. I didn’t mismarket; I lied.

Fear not wee one, for guilt feeds my creativity. I know I am stating what is obvious to you.

When we arrived home, we partied with the supplies at hand.







We even invited some little friends.

Thank you for holding me to my promise, sweet baby. I am happy to slow down and party with you anytime.




Dear Universe:

The wee one has taken a sudden interest in her baby dolls.

Tonight she was cradling a baby in her arms and swaying back and forth as she soothed it.

“You safe, baby. You safe from all the cars. You safe in my arms.”

“What is your baby’s name, honey?”

“My baby’s name is Mama. Mama is safe in my arms.”

I sure am. 

And, I feel proud that she sees in her parents what should be the parent’s primary roles. Safety. Comfort. And instilling a mortal fear of moving vehicles in parking lots.

I started praying about a year ago to be able to hear Your message through all the noise in the world.

Clear as a bell.



Dear Internet:

Is it bad that I cherish sick days?

I do not wish my baby illness or any discomfort.

But, when those days inevitably arrive, I am grateful to soothe her. Cuddle her. Calm her.

It feels very good to make her feel better.


Mama P

Dear friends:

WARNING! Mom-forward-alert!

There are some of you, like me, who are in the middle of a stressful spot. One of the things that I wish I had more time/patience for is order. You have expressed the same frustration. Clean house, clean mind. Right? But, I have had other, more important, things to do.

Giggling. Tickling. Playing ball. Practicing new words like fun, silly, rainbow, pink, mamushka and love.

Song for a Fifth Child

by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Anytime you want to have a playdate in my filthy home or yours, just call me.



Dear parentals:

Tiger Mom? Free Range Children? The jury is still out for me. But, I can relate to the following statement:

I have replaced exercise with extra coffee.

The person with whom I have this in common is Samantha Bee. Yes, that one. She is awesome. And funny. And also somewhere between Tiger and Free Ranger. Please enjoy her take on summer breaks and parenting over at The Wall Street Journal:

A Long Summer for ‘Weary Tiger’ Mothers
Seventies parenting resembled crate training—now, we’re actually expected to watch our kids


Water P. Chestnut the 4th

Dear Internet:

You warned me. I was craving the role of mother long before I accepted that role formally. I read mommy bloggers (and, no, I do not take offense nor do I intend to make offense with that term) before I probably should have and they ALL warned me. Friends warned me. Family members warned me. Strangers I accidentally ran into with my shopping cart in the produce aisle warned me.

When you go back to work after you become a mom, you will feel as if you are failing both roles.

I am not failing. I am doing pretty well, I think. And I tend to waffle on my opinion of myself. People have told me that I am doing well. Some of these people are contractually required to tell me this (my parents and friends for whom I protect dark, dark secrets), but some are not and I believe them. However, I still FEEL like I am failing. At work, I cannot keep my mind off The Bean. At home, I worry about the work responsibilities creeping up like Tribbles as I limit my obsessive email checking.

Scooter loves her school and is thriving in ways I never imagined after only two weeks. Hello potty training! I am getting used to working for an entity after four years of working for myself or my family. And, hey, I am good at it. A little rusty, but good. I am still foundering at unpacking after the move, but home is starting to feel more like home. I am not sleeping enough, but that is also steadily increasing as I knock out big task items and become accustomed to the new routine (and the freaking security lights outside my window).

I don’t have a big revelation in this post. This is just a shout out to the mommies (and daddies) who struggle to balance.

It is hard if you stay at home. It is hard if you go back to work. All you can do is get together with friends, vent steam and move on to the part of the conversation where you discuss how rewarding it is to parent your child regardless of your path.

For instance, how mind blowing it is to observe your toddler learn to trust the buoyancy of water:

Le sigh. Instant dose of serenity, energy and motivation for this mommy.

Failing to fail,

The P

Dear Routine:

I have missed you. I am glad you are making a return to my life. Glad isn’t the right word. I am more than delighted; I am thankful. I am thankful for so many things. But today, I am thankful for you. And, the popsicle. And the sanity that routine, and popsicles, bring to my life.

Coffee and popsicles on the back porch will most certainly be part of the routine. Rest will also be part of the routine.



Dear Wee One:

You loved school at the end of day one:

The start of day three? Not so much.

There was much screaming and flailing on your part. There was vast amounts of sensitivity and professionalism on the teachers’ part. I got all shifty eyed and felt guilty.  Then, I got over it and thought of ways to make the journey to school a distracting adventure.

I think we should bike to school. We are so close to school, that I could throw you there with a little strength training. BUT, there is no gate out of our complex in that direction. The hike to the gate and back is more than I think a toddler and a sleepy mommy can manage.

What about a bike?

Easy. Go buy one (or better yet, make my bike nerd go buy one for me).

Where would we hide it?

More difficult. Luckily, there are some suggestions today (in addition to the bike nerd’s home he shares with his patient wife and toddler) on ApartmentTherapy.

Ye ole cogs are a turning in the brain matter.



Dear Spud:

Yesterday, you attended your first day of school. How did this happen? I know that time moves forward in slow motion for you. But in my mind, I just weaned you (actually you weaned me, Miss Control). And now, you are going to school. Quite happily, I might add. And I am doing pretty well, too. I like missing you and rushing over to pick you up.

Your spoken language is a mystery to me sometimes. But, last night’s conversation over dinner was clear as a  bell:

Mom: “Baby, sit down in your seat.”

Spud: *blinks*

Mom: “We sit down at the dinner table. Sit down or you will get a time out.”

Spud:*looks away wistfully*

Mom: “Sit down. One”

Spud: *pulls her shirt away from her tummy so she can look down and observe it fully*
             “Neena pretty? Neena cute?”

Mom: “Yes. Pretty and cute, but you will still get a time out. Sit down”

Spud: “OK, mama.”

What else did you learn at school today?



Dear baby:

We have developed a morning routine. It includes watching television. Two years ago, had someone predicted this, I would have called bull hockey. I would NEVER rely on a television to survive the day. But, here we are. And, I love it.

It isn’t survival the way one might imagine. I do utilize PBS in order to shower, but this is a different. You are not a cuddly child; you are too busy for such nonsense. So, I have scheduled this morning ritual because you sit near me as we both slowly wake.

The ability to recognize that these moments are precious, even more so than stupendous events, is the greatest advantage we “older than average” parents have.

I love our mornings together.



Dear Mina:

I am glad that you know your name. I feared that your friends and family were confusing you with our never ending string of nick names. Why should I fear!?! You are the smartest baby that ever existed. Some of the names that have fallen out of our mouths during your short time on this earth, thus far:

  • sugar
  • juju beanabee
  • sugar puff
  • sugar baby
  • my lil husker doo doo
  • lil’ she-ra
  • fruitcake
  • pookie
  • zombie baby
  • CHUB (cannibalistic humanoid underground baby)
  • bebe
  • snicker doodle
  • love
  • meena bear
  • meena baby
  • meena bee
  • shipoopi
  • boo
  • boo boo kitty
  • The Girl
  • noodle
  • bunny
  • Maena
  • lil’miss
  • bo bo
  • Fauna, er…
  • sweetie
  • sweetums
  • Money
  • smiley
  • string bean
  • scooter
  • little bit
  • loosey goosey
  • sugar bean

We are silly. But, we are because we love you silly. Crazy, silly.



Dear baby:

These pictures still make me giggle seven months later. You had such a great Halloween. And, I am am grateful that my mother’s costuming skills was not on a recessive gene.

Swim little goldfish, swim!


Dear Patrick Chirico:

I imagine that your target audience for this design may not have included children. Being a mother of an imaginative, hotmatchwheelsbox car collecting child, these pillows are desirable for myself and my baby. Why do toys have to be so obviously toylike (and often times hideous)?

Found at DesignPublic.

Thank you for the playfulness!

P Gnome

Dear baby:

When you pick your nose, I do not want you to put the results into my nose. But, thanks!

I would much rather work as a team like so:




p.s. I bet that everyone who watched the second offering caught themselves slow bopping their head

Dear baby:

This could not possibly be one year ago today!



Dear baby and friend:

You two are growing up entirely too fast.

Slow it down.


Mama &, undoubtedly, the other Mama

Dear baby:

You have added so many skills to your set these last two weeks. You mimic our behavior in such fun ways. For example, you like to clean up (on your own schedule). If you spill, you ask for a towel and wipe it up. If you create garbage, you put it in the trash bin. If you play with your blocks, you put them in their box.

Your Dad came home and needed to get out of his office clothes. You helped him by picking up one of his socks and promptly taking them to the trash bin. I diverted you, and asked you to take them back to Dada so he could show you how to put them in the dirty clothes bin. By the time you made it back to him, the sock was gone. Your Dad I I agreed that we’d find it when we found it and have a good laugh at that point.

Laugh we did.

When it was found in the toilet.

A little too late.

One more location to look when something goes missing and a good reason to move FAST when I see you trotting off with my iPod or cell phone.

Love you,


Dear body:

I promise I am going to do a better job of dressing you. I have even recently purchased two stylish dresses and a top. AT FULL PRICE. I am going to obtain these leggings from VEINTICUATRODIENTES.

I don’t know when. But, it will happen. Promise.

I know you are surprised, dear corporal shell. But, the human body loves surprises!

Except for ones like this:

But the clever tights? Très cool.

Fall is here!


Dear flamingos:

Thanks for keeping this one stationary while I smelled her hair a little.

Love those fleeting moments,

Mama P

Dear baby product manufacturer:

SERIOUSLY. DUDE. Why do all sippy cups leak? Get it together.

As for me, I got it together over at andotheradventures, where I guest posted today.

Happy freaking Friday,

Spillage P