The other day I took Ali to a free open house at the new gymnastics place near our apartment. The place was great with open space to run around, trampolines, swings… it was toddler heaven. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman in the middle of the room with a newborn baby in her lap. Just as turned to look at the baby the woman whipped out her sizeable breast and began nursing. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I tried to turn away. Then tried to not look like I was trying not to look at her but it was really difficult. I think I ended up just standing in the middle of the gym whipping my head around like I had a nervous tic trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Thankfully the only person I made it awkward for was me since I was the one who looked like an idiot.
I don’t know why I was so engrossed by this woman feeding her child. We were in a room full of mothers and kids; it wasn’t like it was on the E train. My left-brain was telling me “oh that’s nice” and my right brain was looking for a nursing cover to drape over her. Part of me was like “Whoa! That’s a boob”. I wasn’t appalled or uncomfortable I think I was just shocked that there was a boobie in the middle of the playroom.
What’s wrong with me? Why did I react like a 13-year-old boy seeing his first A-cup? I mean I have my own boobs and I nursed Ali. I wish I had the balls to pop out a nip and just go for it. It’s kind of sad that I’m still shocked by breasts and nursing. People don’t even like to call it “breast feeding” they call it “nursing”. It’s so strange that we celebrate boobs in the their form at restaurants like Hooters and the glorified strip club The Tilted Kilt. (Hell I get my fair share of boob watchers at my restaurant. I respond with dagger eyes that will put the fear of god in him) But the boob’s function is shunned into the corner suffocating itself under an unbearably hot nursing cover. I think we need to take back the boobs!
I can’t lie nursing is pretty difficult, not to mention tiring and it hurts. It’s easy to throw in the towel and go with the bottle. I ultimately stopped nursing because I thought it was inconvenient. Truth is going from having no kid to taking care of a newborn is what’s inconvenient, not nursing. Trust me sitting in a public bathroom with a screaming baby while trying to heat up formula under a hot tap (that is more lukewarm) is much more inconvenient. Maybe if it was cool to breast feed in the middle of the mall I would have lasted a little longer. I think we should pitch a show to Bravo called the Real Breast Feeding Housewives of New York. If I see more breast feeding regularly in classes and on TV I wont freak out next time I see a boob whipped out in my face.
Like boobs? Also check out:
(No, it’s not a picture of my boobs)
I got an email last month from my editor asking if I wanted to go to Toy Fair. I had no idea what it was but I said “sure sounds like fun”. The reality is that I was completely unprepared for the largest display of child entertainment I had ever seen in my life. Holy moly never have I been so afraid and so excited at the same time. The Javitt’s center was transformed into a sea of toys, anything you could think of. Some parents best friends some a parents worst nightmares (Marshmallow guns, Really? Like I want marshmallows shot behind my couch where they can be discarded or months). By the end of the day I wanted to scream down the isles “I WANT ALL THE TOYS”.
This fair is no joke; I needed to show ID and my editor needed to send in credentials weeks beforehand. No children were admitted and you needed to show your badge at all times. I tried to prepare beforehand by checking the map of thousands of vendors but really I was planning on just aimlessly roaming the isles until something caught my eye. Sure that sounded like a good idea except half the booths on the upstairs level were invite only. That’s right these huge toy manufactures actually had full booths assembled with receptionists and security. These were some top-secret toys. I tried to talk my way into one of the super secret booths. Too bad when they asked for my business card I didn’t have one. Instead I whipped out a piece of loose-leaf paper and wrote my info on it. I think I lost her at that point because she told me she’d call me. I’m still waiting for the call.
After I was pretty much ignored by the super cool upper level toys I made my way down to the more mom and pop toy section and then the real fun began. You couldn’t shake your fist without hitting something Angry Birds or Hello Kitty. There were sparkly tattoo stations, friendship bracelet kits and clay cake decorating set! Everyone was nice and wanted to talk to me. They saw my press badge and thought I was cool, after awhile I started to feel cool. I was playing with toys and making some contacts to boot.
Then I stumbled into the “recreational toy” area. After about 10 minutes looking around I realized that traditional bikes are dead. They had three wheeled scooters, unicycles, balance bikes with no pedals, they even had souped up jeep Cherokees with foot pedals but no bikes. I made my way around this bike free zone and gave most of the products a whirl, since I’m a sucker for a good scooter. I may have had the most fun here because this was the only time I could view toys without a two year old having a tantrum because I wont let her press the buttons for the 9th time. This was probably the first time I’ve every relaxed and enjoyed toys.
There are a few things I’ve learned from this experience. One: I should probably get some business cards if I want to be taken seriously. Two: If kids played with a toy ten years ago they will probably play with the same things today, just change the color and repackage it and you’ve most likely got a winner. And three: if I make some sort of Angry Bird/Hello Kitty non-bicycle ill probably be a millionaire
As a parent it’s pretty inevitable that one day your child will try to hit you. You can try to teach them hitting is wrong and control their exposure to other kids hitting. Hell, you can keep them locked in a room watching Sesame Street their whole lives and still somehow it will happen. You can only pray it doesn’t happen in a crowded restaurant full of your friends …
Last Saturday night we went to the local Beer Garden. We had heard it was kid friendly as were happily surprised when we got there and saw a wide-open room with kids running around. For most people that sounds like a nightmare but to us it sounded like a pretty relaxing night out at dinner. The place was very casual with long tables that anyone could sit at, think chic cafeteria. We met up with a group of friends there are were having a great time. Ali was playing with other kids and we were actually able to eat for a change. Towards the end of the evening Ali started to get cranky. I decided we should order her some dessert and then head out. Ali was eating her ice cream when she started to get angry that she couldn’t get the whole scoop onto the spoon. I knew this was a bad sign, when a baby is mad at ice cream it’s time to go. So I picked her up and she started a tantrum. In her squeals and flails it happened … she smacked me right across the face in the middle of the cafeteria. Everyone at my table gasped. My jaw dropped. I was mortified, not only was my child acting embarrassing but also now she assaulted me in public. Normally when someone gets smacked across the face their first reaction may be to cock the arm and smack right back, maybe even kick them in the shins or perhaps hang them upside down by their ankles an throw them on the table. This wasn’t just another person this was my darling two year old who just bitch slapped me in public. I just stood in shock. I knew I couldn’t hit her back that would just teach her that hitting is an acceptable form of communication, which would have exacerbated the situation. Everyone was still starting at me, she was still crying and I probably could have shed a few tears since she hit me pretty hard. I decided to remove her from the room. I took her aside, grabbed her by the face and sternly (and extremely angrily) explained that you can’t hit and she must apologize to mommy right now. In between her sobs she said “sorry mommy … Ice Cream?” No Ali there will not be ice cream! Maybe I should have hit her back, but I’m comfortable with how I handled the situation. I’m pretty sure she didn’t hit me on purpose; she usually has this side-to-side flail when she has a tantrum. I think my face was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s safe to say Ali won’t be going out to eat with the group for a while
For the past 6 months when I go to pick up diapers for Ali I announce to her “this is your last box of diapers!” I think I’m hoping somehow by osmosis that statement will click something in her head and she will begin using the potty effortlessly on her own. So far that tactic hasn’t worked with anyone. Now that she’s almost three it’s time for me to bite the bullet and get this girl going in the bathroom.
We’ve tried to get her into the bathroom before. If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook you’ll have seen Ali’s struggle. (Shameless plugs: Follow me on Twitter @Lazybabymama and “Like” me on Facebook) She’s pooped on the toilet, not in the toilet. And one time she ran in the bathroom to pee and decided to take her pee cup thing out of the potty and bring it into the kitchen to show daddy. Very hygienic.
I’ve gotten all my prep work done; we have the potty, the stickers, everything. I even went and let her pick out all her underwear. One backfire is she wanted to show everyone she had underwear on because she was so proud. I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea that she likes to show people her underwear, inappropriate.
I’m just so confused about the whole thing; there are so many methods. I’m cool with letting her run around the house with no diaper but what am I supposed to do when I leave the house? I don’t like going in public restrooms now I have to make her go there? Honestly we just got this diaper thing into a good flow now I have to change it. Why is growing up harder on me than it is on her?
I think maybe I’m scared of potty training after an event that happened over the summer. Ali and I were playing with the sprinkler at the park. There were a few other kids there and one young boy started to show the signs that he had to “go”. His mother, instead of taking him to the bathroom, grabbed this pop up potty from her bag and placed it on the ground. The boy promptly removed his pants and dropped a deuce … right there … in the middle of the park. She didn’t take him behind a tree or near the garbage. She just had him go for the gold right there for all to see. I almost felt bad watching, actually I’m pretty sure watching it may have been illegal but I couldn’t look away. When he was done the mother high-fived him and took the goods over to the garbage where she disposed of it. I was staring at her in horror and confusion. At that point I decided it was better to have Ali go discretely, well as discretely as possible, in her diaper in the middle of the playground rather than put on a show for the rest of the kids in the middle of the playground.
Unfortuantely diapers only get so big and the time for excuses is over. We’ve only had two … make that three accidents today but no success stories. I guess it’s a game of patience. If I can get out of this with minimal damage to her psyche I think it’s a success. If it gets to be too much don’t judge me for getting a pop up potty