Happy Halloween!

My mom sent me the cutest picture of her and Dylan, who are leaving to go trick or treating at the mall. Seeing the two of them together is just so sweet!

Future Best Friends (?)

Sometimes when I’m playing with Dylan I get a flash of the future and I’m not so sure how I feel about it. Yesterday during playtime I was on the floor giving kisses to a stuffed wiener dog when Dizbaby lunged at me and ripped it out of my hands. WHOA DUDE! I thought (hoped) he was jealous that I was kissing on something other than him, but when he snatched away a toy guitar too, it was obvious that he just doesn’t care to share. I put my best parenting hat on and began pushing the guitar buttons, “I want to play too! Let’s share!” I said. Dylan looked at me like I was crazy and crawled away with the guitar in tow.

And I get it- Dizbaby wants to play with whatever I’m playing with. Everything piques his interest these days and he takes note when I’m giving something special attention. But he doesn’t just want to play with what I’m playing with, he wants to take it away and forbid me from touching it again. What a rude baby! I have zero tolerance for selfish children and though I don’t want to be a mean mommy, I won’t accommodate a toy hog. So of course I crawled to Dylan and his guitar and began playing with the buttons until a song started playing. I clapped my hands to the music and wiggled around in excitement until the song finished. Dizbaby looked on half-amused before losing all interest and ditched me and the toy for the other side of the room. He may not know it yet but we’re going to be best of friends...right?  

P.S. Don't forget to enter my $50 Lace & Arrows credit giveaway featured here!

Freedom!

One of my favorite things is witnessing Dylan work through a challenge only to come out as a master of a new trick. The downside is that his new tricks afford him more freedoms that require more attention from yours truly. For instance, he is officially using his walker the way it's designed to work. After months of exclusively moving backwards he now has complete control and can cut corners and wheel around in any direction like it's nobody's business. He chases after the dogs, he rolls into the kitchen, he even runs over me like it's funny to plow through mommy. So while I am excited that he's a real deal walker in a walker, my bruised ankles and clean house are not so thrilled. 

If you want to track Dylan's route all you have to do is look for the trail of crap he's thrown on the floor. Because if it's within reach it will be picked up, tasted and discarded in a matter of minutes. That's my boy! His wheeling mastery requires me to be hyper-attentive to anything that poses a danger to a mobile 8 month old, otherwise known as EVERYTHING. This morning he was grabbing magazines, yesterday he was going for cords and tonight will be another story. And although one of my favorite things is witnessing Dylan develop into an independent youngin', I'm pretty sure I'll have gray hair by the end of the year.

P.S. Don't forget to enter my $50 Lace & Arrows credit giveaway featured here!

Trauma By Diaper

On Saturday we took Dylan to a pumpkin patch farm fully equip with a pumpkin shooting cannon, scarecrows, a corn maze and ATV races. Who knew the suburbs of So. Cal. had so much ranch life to offer? Dizbaby loved being outdoors amongst the harvest and didn’t so much as whimper when he was faced with crowds of people running around  in costume. My husband decided to push the envelope and approached Dylan while wearing a scary mask, only to be met with a chuckle. Dizbaby ain’t scared! By the time we left the pumpkin patch it seemed as if we’d be able to take Dylan anywhere without experiencing temper tantrums, crying or unwanted attention. And then came reality check Sunday.

It all began at a seemingly perfect lunch in a pretty decent restaurant in Los Angeles. I was spoon feeding Dylan when he suddenly began holding his breath and turning red. I know that face, it means mommy will need to change his diaper very soon. My initial reaction was, “Really Dylan? At the table?” I gave him a few minutes to finish up and then promptly took him to the ladies room to take care of business. The bathroom was packed with women and included a long line that I had to push through. The second I laid Dylan down on the changing table he began screaming as though he was being tortured, killed and scarified to the Mayan Gods. WTF!

I tried to move as fast as I could but there was no hope. Dylan had shit everywhere. His clothes, his back, and his legs were covered in baby stink. It was my worst nightmare: out in public, screaming baby, poop all over, on my own. I wiped and wiped and tried to soothe the kid as much as I could whilst cleaning his body but Dylan and I were in the process of being equally traumatized. Five minutes, fifteen wipes and three hand washes later we survived. I looked around and Dylan and I were alone. Hey now! At least I know how to clear out a busy bathroom! 

P.S. Don't forget to enter my $50 Lace & Arrows credit giveaway featured here!

Fit Friday: Celebrating With A $50 Giveaway

For some women, pregnancy compliments their body and transforms them into a gorgeous, round fertility goddess. It's as if these women were born to be pregnant, dawning perfectly round bellies that make every other body part appear skinnier and cuter than ever before. I’m not one of those women. I was a giant, pregnant heifer. I wrote on pregnancy weight gain months ago and touched on the calorie pit that is my body, which clenched onto every single drip drop of food. It didn’t matter how careful I was, if it went into my mouth it was displayed on my ass. The weight gain began early on and didn’t cease until I popped the baby out. My dreams of a 9 month buffet run quickly became filled with treadmill walking, doctor lectures and disheartening weigh-ins.

But that’s just the way it goes sometimes and at the end of the day I had a healthy baby boy and at least fifty-five extra pounds. The fear of never fitting in my pre-prego clothes again terrorized me and I was determined to not be one of those girls that used having kids as an justification for buying bigger pants. That’s when I realized I needed a plan ASAP. I started with the basics: nutrition and working out. I proceeded to do research on postpartum stomach and discovered the manufactured miracle that is SHAPEWEAR!. Though shapewear is typically used as a "foundation garment" to enhance a particular area or smooth out the appearance of one's body, I found that it can also be used to speed up postpartum recovery to get you back to your original form.  

I have been so happy with the shapewear I purchased that I reached out to site I bought it from, Lace & Arrows, and asked them to sponsor a giveaway for my blog. They agreed (!!!) and are offering a $50 credit to one lucky person that wins the giveaway featured below! Their site is filled with shapewear, hosiery, bras, corsets and even Halloween costumes. 

It took a total of eight months to lose the 55+ pounds my son gifted to me upon his eviction, but I finally made it! And though it isn't easy for me to post the before/after shot, it's important to see that with hard work and a plan it WILL happen.

Personality Abduction

Something spooky is going on at my house because Dizbaby is unusually nice. It all started when I picked him up and brought him home after work yesterday. The baby that normally uses me as a launching pad to push off of and explore was more interested in nestling on my neck than playing with his toys. The same baby that carefully calculates the precise moment he can speed away was suddenly crawling on top of me with a big smile. And you can bet your bottom dollar that I took advantage of the Dizbaby love fest and waited on him hand and foot, careful not to disrupt the wave of kindness I was riding high on. No crying, no whining, fruit for dinner? Yes Sir!

So we crawled together, we smiled together, we hugged each other and he even let me give his chubby little turkey neck several dozen kisses. I don’t know what’s going on but I have a feeling Dylan wants something. Is he trying to make good with Santa in light of the rapidly approaching holiday season? Perhaps he heard rumors of a drum set, an ipad mini, or his own toy phone.

Regardless, this is not the same baby I have spent the past 8 months getting to know. So to whoever kidnapped my independent, non-affectionate, rambunctious baby and replaced him with a sweet, cuddly, mama’s boy, THANK YOU!

Newest Member of the Clappy Club

Yes, I will tell you all about Dylan without needing to be asked and yes, I will show you unprompted photos. I have fully accepted that I am a shameless baby bragger and if you are able to withstand my incessant parent ramble then I can only assume we suffer from the same condition. It’s as if the smallest milestone is worthy of the highest recognition and everyone should know what our little ones are up to. So imagine my excitement when Dylan, after countless recitals of “yay!”, finally learned how to clap. YAY!!!!

For months Dylan’s clap entailed bumping his fists together like some sort of overly enthused caveman but alas, he has figured out that slapping both hands will result in a spectacular sound of cheer. Now that Dizbaby has joined the clappy club he uses his new trick when a bottle is made, when his toys do something that he likes or whenever else. It’s a clappy-clap world ya’ll! No limits!

And sure, clapping isn’t walking or speaking in sentences and it certainly isn’t going potty like a big kid, but until you receive a round of applause each and every time you enter a room, you haven’t really lived.

Dylan's First Job

Long ago when I was a wee little girl growing up I dreamt of the day I would be an adult with full authority over my life. My fantasy included water fountains filled with soda and the termination of a bedtime. And although I knew one day I would have a family of my own to love and cherish, I wasn’t the type to dream about a wedding, my ideal husband or the babies I would be a mother to. The only time I imagined having kids was after my four sisters and I finished eating dinner and it was my turn to do the dishes. “I will make them do all the chores I don’t want to do!” I thought to myself. Now that I have my own little baby it’s game time.

Dylan’s a little too young to be on dish duty and despite his knack for finding what the vacuum doesn’t suck up, he isn’t quite ready to be my slave helper. But I’m a problem solver so I found a job he can do: make mommy coffee. I take my brew very seriously and my big investment has been a coffee machine that operates with a single push of a button. Babies love buttons! Dylan can’t reach the machine by himself but that’s okay, he’s still job training. 

So each morning when Dylan and I are both up I take him from his crib and tell him it’s time to make mommy coffee. I carry him to his job site, put a cup under the dispenser and as I lean in toward the buttons I tell him to push it- and he does. The loud sound of grinding beans ensues and Dylan looks at me with satisfaction. Within seconds the coffee begins dispensing and Dylan wiggles about, drunk with pride. I thank him profusely and tell him what a good job he’s done then put him down so I can enjoy the fruits of his labor. Everyone’s a winner! I always knew I’d love having kids.