Desperate Mom

High Maintenance

2006-06-20T21:01:00.000-05:00

In the 4 months since I've written a blog entry, Oops has become considerably whiny, cranky and difficult. She needs her three Bs at all times--her binky, blankie and Baba--or as she calls them: 'fi, monkey and Baba (her stuffed bear). She needs her sippy cup filled with milk (she calls it "unk"). She needs to listen to song #6 ("Father Goose" or as she calls it "the ABC song") on Dan Zanes' CD Rocket Ship Beach over and over and over whenever we are in the car. And even if all the stars are aligned and she has all her comfort objects, at any given moment she will start to emit a high-pitched whine that can drive you insane.

The other day we were all in the car, setting out for who knows where, and about a 1/4 mile from the house she starts shreiking, "abc song, abc song, abc song." Here's the conversation that followed:

Oops: abc song, abc song, ABC SONG, ABC SONG!!!!!

Daddy-O: Oops, you're becoming incredibly high maintenance.

Oops: ABC SONG, ABC SONG, AAAYY BEEEEE CEEE SONG!!!!!!!!

Daddy-O: Oops, no man is going to put up with this behavior!!! If I were dating you, I'd drop you like a hot potato!

Oops: ABC SONG, ABC SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Daddy-O: All right, all right. Here's the ABC song!

Sucker!

I'm a Disaster Waiting to Happen

2006-02-16T13:36:00.000-05:00

Yup, that's what Daddy-O calls me. That, or "walking disaster" or "disaster-blaster." It would be funny if it weren't so true.

I'm too physically and mentally drained to explain why, so due to the highly enthusiastic response I received from my last blog entry, I will once again cut and paste an email I sent to a friend on Tuesday. I think it sums up nicely just how my week has been going.

We were at the doctor this morning for Flipper’s 3 year-old and Oops’s 18 month check up. Here’s a piece of advice: DO NOT SCHEDULE THE GIRLS APPOINTMENTS TOGETHER even if it seems like a good idea so as to save an extra trip to the doctor. IT WAS SO DIFFICULT! First of all, we were all were up from 12 to 3 this morning because Oops was inconsolable. Finally Flipper and I went to sleep in the guest bedroom on this cot-thing and Daddy-O and Oops slept in our bed. Daddy-O had to get up early to go to Baltimore and I had the 8:45 doctors appointment. And then I had a CAR ACCIDENT on the way to the doctor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another piece of advice….do not lean back while driving in an attempt to retrieve a fallen sippy cup from the floor in the back seat!!!!!! I do this all the time. I have to learn to let them scream while I am driving. I sideswiped another car and put a big dent in the front of my car!!! I don’t know what happened to the other car because the car kept going. We are all ok, but I am shaken up and very angry with myself. And the kicker is Oops has another ear infection. We are trying a new antibiotic and if that doesn’t work we have to see an ear, nose and throat doctor and she may need tubes in her ears!!! Oh and wait…the doctor told me to just forget pushing Flipper on potty-training…that clearly she is refusing to use the potty to irk me, and if she’s not potty-trained by 4 we can send her to a psychologist!!! What the f***? I’m staying home and can’t potty-train my kid so she my need psychological intervention!!!!

Need I say more?

Losing It

2006-01-27T19:00:00.000-05:00

Here, word-for-word, is an email I sent to a friend tonight:

Flipper is much better…I sent her to school b/c it had been over 24 hours since she last vomited which I figure is good enough. This afternoon was brutal…Oops only took a very short nap, Flipper didn’t nap at all, so I threw them into the car and went to Target in Plymouth Meeting where Oops proceeded to scream the entire time we were there. She screams all the time now, not a crying scream, but a loud, shrill, piercing scream and it is driving me mad. I really think I need to get a babysitter on Friday afternoons b/c by the end of the week, I am tapped out and on a very short fuse. Now for as long as you’ve known me, I’ve been saying that I really need to get a babysitter, but here’s why I haven’t and probably won’t. Because Wednesday when I asked Daddy-O for $45 to pay the babysitter when I was f*&%$ parent-o-the-day, he went off, “$45 for a babysitter….why so much, blah, blah, blah…” So even though I am at the end of my rope and he tells me all the time to get a babysitter, I can’t deal with having to ask him for money and listening to him balk at giving it to me. And tonight when he called to say he was leaving the office and I asked him to pick up Chinese food for dinner and told him I wanted Szechuan Beef he asked, “What’s in that? Have we had it before?” and I knew where he was going with that line of questioning b/c in our almost 7 years together we have never ordered 2 entrees, only 1 entrée, 1 soup and 1 appetizer to share which means we have to AGREE on everything we order!!! So I told him, "I don’t know what’s in it, we’ve never had it, but I want it and I’ll pay for it, so get your own entrée!!!" This is why I need a job so I can pay for my own f*&%$# Chinese food. Now, I suppose I should be grateful b/c (1) he is picking up Chinese food on his way home from work so (2) I don’t have to cook dinner, but I am so tired of having to argue and nag my way into getting something as simple as the Chinese food I want.

A postscript to the above email: Daddy-O came home with the Szechuan Beef, an eggroll and wonton soup (following the 1 entree, one app, one soup rule) and that's it! He'd rather share something he doesn't like than order two entrees. UGH!!!!

Birthday Bah Humbug

2006-01-20T21:21:00.000-05:00

Flipper is on the Toddler Birthday Party Circuit which is now in full swing. It seems that every weekend we are attending another party at The Little Gym or Tunnels of Fun. Flipper loves these parties. She loves sliding down the slides and jumping on the bouncy things almost as much as she loves the juice boxes and birthday cake. Even though we're in the midst of our 3rd year on the party circuit, I have yet to throw a big to-do for Flipper.

Last year I agonized over whether to outsource Flipper's 2nd birthday party to one of the big toddler party franchises, but in the end I decided to have a small party for family at home (which never even materialized due to a snowstorm the day of the planned event.) But she was only two, and truth be told, she was quite happy with Daddy-O and I singing happy birthday to her over a cupcake.

I knew I could not get away that easy this year. Flipper is well aware of her upcoming birthday and expects a party (and everything that goes along with it including juice boxes, helium balloons, a princess cake and of course, presents.) And when she asked if there would be slides at one of Oops' friends 1-year birthday party that we went to recently, I realized she's expecting bouncy things and slides at her party too.

I priced out one of these parties and they are not cheap. They start at $300 which usually includes the use of the facility and paper goods. When you add in pizza, cake and party favors, you're out $400 or more. (There is, however, one big draw to having a party at one of these places that you can't put a price on - they do all the planning and all the clean up.)

After some discussion, Daddy-O and I decided not to throw Flipper the big party this year. We are going to have her nearest and dearest little buddies and their families over Sunday for the requisite pizza and cake, and yes, there will be helium balloons and party favors but we're keeping it small and keeping it at home (and with global warming rearing its' ugly head, it looks like it will be 60 and sunny this weekend!) It's not so much about the money, because at the end of the day we could afford the $400 bucks. It's just that it's just not us to throw a big birthday bash for a 3 year old (and when the time comes, we won't be throwing a $50,000 bat mitzvah either.)

Some of my closest friends (and relatives) have thrown these parties for their kids and we've enjoyed them (although every weekend starts to get a little tiresome.) I'm not judging them (and I certainly wouldn't want to get Flipper blacklisted should they ever read this.) And hey, they probably think I'm crazy, because come Sunday afternoon, I'm the one who has to clean up the mess that I know my house will be after Flipper's friends get done with it, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice.

I hope Flipper won't be disappointed. I let her pick out princess plates and napkins and a princess cake and I think she'll feel like a queen when her friends show up on Sunday. We even have the 7-year-old daughter of a friend coming over to play guitar and sing songs. I hope she has fun.

I Quit

2006-01-03T13:35:00.000-05:00

Dear Flipper and Oops,

Please accept my resignation from this job as your mother/cook/laundress/punching bag/manager of personal hygiene, effective today, January 3rd, 2006. While I have not as yet secured another position, I can assure you that any job I do take in the future will have a higher salary, fewer hours, greater vacation days and more pleasant co-workers.

In the past, when I have left jobs, I have always tried to leave on a high note and not burn bridges. But, my darling daughters, I have decided to make an exception this time. I think you could benefit from some honest feedback since you will probably need to begin interviewing for a new slave, I mean mother, soon.

Here are several suggestions that I recommend you implement going forward in order to insure that the next person you hire for the position as your mother will remain a happy, productive employee:

Minimize the crying and whining. Nobody likes a whiner-it's that simple.
Take your naps. That way your mother can eat lunch/go to the bathroom alone/make phone calls/check her email or even take a short nap herself. She will feel much better if she knows she can accomplish something other than changing diapers during the day.
When you ask for something to eat, eat it. Don't ask for something else as soon as it's put in front of you.
Play with your own toys. Why is is that none of your toys are as fun to play with as the off-limits stuff in your parents' drawers?
When you're done playing, try making just a little effort to help your mother put your toys (and hers) away.
Don't throw temper tantrums in public. The world is not as loving a place as we'd like it to be, and there are people out there just waiting to judge your mother's parenting skills. And even if your mother doesn't care what other people think, it's still plain aggravating.
Go to bed when you are supposed to and stay in your bed all night. No explanation necessary.
And finally, and this may be the most important point, when you are home alone with your father, don't act all sweet and follow the above rules, so that your father thinks your mother's complaints about you are unfounded, and, in fact, that your mother herself may just be the trigger that causes you to misbehave.

Sincerely yours,

Your mother

Crying It Out

2005-12-06T12:40:00.000-05:00

We've got sleep issues. In fact, for the past several weeks, it's been 4 in the queen size bed most nights. This is not good at all.

I've always considered people who say they enjoy co-sleeping to be nuts. Yes, I know I'm being judgemental (I like to think of it as reverse-judgemental, since in today's wacky attachment-parenting, kids rule the roost world, it seems like it's not p.c. to put down co-sleeping and all the other activities that go along with it), but I still think it's wacko. Babies and kids do not belong in the marital bed. No one really gets a good night's rest with all the kicking and tossing and turning.

That said, both my girls slept in our bed (out of desperation) for approximately the first nine weeks of their lives. Flipper was Ferberized at about 1 year old (I was newly pregnant with Oops and was sick as a dog and the only way I was going to survive the pregnancy was to get her on a regular nap/sleep schedule.) Oops was actually a pretty good sleeper starting at about 3 months old so we didn't have to do the cry-it-out thing with her. Until now.

Oops has been getting up in the middle of the night pretty regularly since her 1st birthday. A little (sometimes a lot) of cuddling would help her go back to sleep. But she would wake Flipper and we would have to do the same with her, so we'd bring Flipper to our bed. Lately, cuddling has not been working with Oops and the only way to get her to go back to sleep is to bring her to bed as well. Hence, four in the bed.

Now, Oops, who until recently could be easily transfered while asleep from the car or stroller to the crib, won't even go down for a nap. And if she's going not going to get a good night's sleep, she definitely needs her nap.

I would Ferberize Oops too, since clearly I am not opposed to a little/a lot of crying, but here's the problem. If we let her cry, either at night or at naptime, it not only wakes Flipper, it upsets her. She screams, "Mommy, Oops is crying. Oops is crying, get her." That is much harder to take than the crying. (See I'm not a completely insensitive ice queen.)

Things are not going to get better by themselves once we move to new house. The girls' rooms are next to each other. We had talked to the builder about soundproofing the walls between their rooms but he thought we were crazy and he said the girls will outgrow their crying (he's a seventy-something grandfather, so we figured maybe he knew what he was talking about, but now I seriously doubt it.)

While everyone says we might as well wait to we get into the new house to address the issue, my patience has just about worn out. It's naptime now (and since we had yet another sleepless night last night and no naps yesterday or the day before or the day before that) I'm practicing a little tough love right now. They are both screaming in their rooms now and have been the whole time I've been writing this. I'm grinding my teeth, my hands are beginning to shake and I'm completely on edge, but I'm determined that they get some sleep this afternoon, even if that means crying. I'm tired too. I need a break. It's cold and snowy outside and we're probably stuck in our house for the rest of the day and I can't entertain them all afternoon, especially if they are miserable due to lack of sleep.

You can call me a witch, a bitch, an evil mother, an ice queen, whatever, but I'm not getting them out of their cribs just yet. They need to learn/relearn how to sleep. That's just the way it is.

So What's New?

2005-11-18T21:13:00.000-05:00

Holy crap, it's been 6 months since I've written anything in this blog. I originally stopped because the computer was in Baby Oops' room (formerly Daddy-O's home office) and the only time I had to write was when she was sleeping, so it was virtually impossible to spend any time on the computer without disturbing her. We've since moved the computer (actually we moved it months ago) but for a while I lost interest in this whole blog-thing. It seemed like there were already a million mommy blogs out there and those blogs were all being read by thousands, and well, I only had 1 or 2 devoted readers and that's because I would send them emails linking to the blog along with a note that said something like "you must read this...or else!"

So what's new, you (the 1 or 2 of you reading this) ask? What's happened in the last 6 months (other than I'm just a little bit closer to qualifying for an extended stay in the loony bin? Note: for those of you who don't get my dry, dark sense of humor -- or as Daddy-O likes to call it, sarcasm -- I'm just kidding, so don't get all worked up and call the parent police and try to have my kids taken away), here is a summary:

Baby Oops is no longer an infant. At 14 months she is officially a toddler (although not quite toddling yet.) While she may not be walking, she certainly is precocious in other ways. How else to explain her sudden transformation, right around the time of her first birthday, from a sweet and easygoing infant to a cranky and challenging toddler, other than to write it off as an early case of the terrible twos?
Oops (since she's no longer an infant I think I'll drop the "Baby" from her name and call her simply Oops. Toddler Oops is quite cumbersome, not to mention that Flipper is still a toddler and so to be fair I'd really have to call her Toddler Flipper which sounds pretty weird) is off the bottle and quite a pro with the sippy cup. Which is great because now I can go out and not feel weird about not breastfeeding and therefore having to give her a bottle in public. But since I wouldn't know what to do if I wasn't obsessing that the world was judging my mothering skills, I've got something new to worry about, namely...
Oops is addicted to the pacifier!!! (Not that there's anything wrong with that!) To be fair, Oops did always sleep with a pacifier, but up until last month she only used it in her crib. Never outside the crib, never during the day, except at naptime, and never, ever, outside in public. After consulting her doctor twice about her newfound crankiness (please, oh please, let it be teething or an ear infection or something tangible that would explain the change in behavior, I would find myself thinking) and being told she is in perfect physical health, and then consulting him about a disturbing new development I'll call baby bulimia (ugh, don't ask) his recommendation was to try a pacifier. So I did and, by god, she took to it. It seems like that thing is in her mouth 24/7. So now I've got this to worry about!
Flipper is still throwing temper tantrums, but if you exclude the 4 she threw today, she is having them with much less frequency. She is a lot of fun too, has an incredible vocabulary and a bigger-than-life personality. But she can sure push my buttons. It seems like 80% of the day we are locking horns about something or other, which brings me to the next bit of news (or no-news)
Flipper wants absolutely nothing to do with the potty!!!!! It's just 2 months shy of her 3rd birthday and all indications are that she won't be potty-trained for the big day. (Although people tell me that some kids do wake up one day and out of nowhere decide they are done with diapers, I'm not holding my breath.) I can count on one hand the number of times she's actually peed on the potty. She doesn't want to sit on it, doesn't want to wear underwear, doesn't care that one by one, her friends are becoming potty-trained. She loves her diapers, loves telling me when to change her diaper, when to put diaper-rash cream on her, and even wants to put it on herself!!!

That's the quick and dirty. Oh, and we're getting ready for the big move to the suburbs in about a month! But more about that later.

Bye Bye Caiyou

2005-05-17T13:03:00.000-05:00

When Flipper started talking, one of her endearing Flipperisms was "Mommy caiyou." This meant "Mommy, carry me." Even as her vocabulary began to increase and become more sophisticated, this particular expression stuck.

Then, a month or so ago, it started to evolve. First, it became "Caiyou me." Next, she started saying "Carry you me." Then, the other day she actually said, as clear as day, "Mommy, carry me."

I am said to see this sweet little expression go. I hope some of the other ones stick around for a little longer.

I'd Rather Be a Wolf

2005-04-28T15:42:00.000-05:00

The other night I was watching an episode of the Nature program on PBS called Dogs: The Early Years, and it mentioned how dogs are descendants of wolves (or something like that, I was sort of half-watching) and a whole pack of wolves pitches in to help to raise one litter of wolf pups at a time (my ears perked up at this.)

So I did a Google search on wolves and this is what I found:

All the wolves in a pack help take care of the pups. When the pups are very small, other pack members bring food to the mother so she does not have to leave the den. When the pups are a little larger, pack members take turns bringing them food, playing with them and even babysitting. Once the pups are about eight weeks old, the adults leave the den and take the pups to a rendezvous site. In this open area, the wolves gather to sleeep, play, eat and just hang out. Until the pups are old enough to go with the adults, they stay at the rendezvous site. Often, one of the adult wolves stays with the pups to watch over them.

How great is that! Free babysitting! We could learn something from wolves. It takes a village...or at least a pack of wolves.

Pretty Babies

2005-04-15T12:35:00.000-05:00

Daddy-O took Flipper with him when he went to get his haircut on Saturday and I asked Daddy-O to have Francis give Flipper a little trim. I should have known better than to send Flipper for a haircut without my supervision or at least more detailed instructions. She came home with short, uneven bangs and the same long, wild, tangled mess of hair hanging down her back. Daddy-O thought it looked fine, but the "haircut" really bugged me.

Yesterday, I decided to get something done about it and took Flipper to Supercuts for a "real" haircut after seeing a little girl in the park with an adorable haircut and asking her mom where she had it done. The stylist at Supercuts gave Flipper little layers in back to help tame the flyaways and tried to salvage the bangs, but in order to even them out, she had to cut them real short. So now she looks like the little dutch boy. Oh well, they will grow out eventually.

Then after the haircut, Flipper, Baby Oops and I took a nice stroll down South Street, (I'm having fun with links today) an area of town where we never seem to go. It is not necessarily an area that you would think of going with kids, and one problem I immediately encountered is that many of the shops were not easily accessible with a double stroller (I know, I know...I said in my last entry that I hate shopping...but I was just trying to kill time.)

In order to go in one particular shop, I actually had to take the girls out of the stroller and leave the stroller outside, the door to the shop was so narrow. I took Flipper out first and she went running in like a crazy person (it was a shoe store after all) and then I started to take Baby Oops out. I had the bar on her seat up and started to lift her out, thinking I had removed both her arms from the straps of the safety belt, but one arm was stuck. As I tugged away at her poor little body, wondering why it wouldn't come out of the seat, I accidently scratched her face on the end of the stroller bar. She started to cry, and when I finally got her out and consoled her, I noticed just how large and perilously close to her eye the scratch was. After a minute she seemed fine, but the scratch ran from about a millimeter under her right eye diagonally all the way down her right cheek.

Later at home, I applied Bacitracin, and then in a fit of craziness I began to dab a little makeup on her scratch (Revlon Colorstay Stay Natural Foundation in Sand Beige, not really her shade-I think she needs something pinker to match her rosy complexion-but it's all I had and I figured the 16-hour, won't rub off formula would prevent her from getting the makeup all over her crib.)

What drove me to apply makeup to the sweet, smooth cheek of my 7-month-old daughter? I know that she wasn't seriously hurt, skin wasn't broken, the pain had subsided (she was by now, her happy, smiley self) and in a week's time the scratch will be but a memory, but I felt so awful, so guilty that I let this happen to her and so sure that the scratch would announce to the world that I was some kind of horrible, non-scratch-preventing, unfit mother. The scratch was a physical sign that I had failed in my job to protect my baby from harm and all the world would judge me for it. Therefore, I had to wipe it out.

Both my babies look a little different this week. I know a bad haircut and a scratch are very unimportant in the scheme of things. And I'm sure this won't be the last bad haircut or scratch either of my girls gets in their lifetimes. But this week I let the belief that their outward appearance, however superficial, is a reflection of my skills as a mother. That's what happens when you focus on the little things and forget what's really important like the fact that I have two happy, healthy, sweet little girls.

Mommy's Shopping

2005-04-13T16:22:00.000-05:00

Whenever Daddy-O is not home, Flipper walks around announcing, "Daddy's at work." It doesn't matter if it's a Tuesday morning and he really is at work or a Saturday afternoon and he's escaped to the library, when Daddy-O is not home, Flipper believes he's at work.

Whenever I am out of the house without the girls (which is extremely rare) or in the case of this past Sunday morning, when I took Baby Oops out for a stroll alone and Daddy-O and Flipper spent the morning together, Flipper tells Daddy-O, "Mommy's shopping."

That's the message Flipper has learned from having a stay-at-home Mom: Daddy works, Mommy shops. Very nice.

(For the record, I hate shopping, and the only shopping I do any more involves groceries or diapers.)

Really Good News

2005-04-05T12:11:00.000-05:00

Music class trauma update...we just got a call...someone dropped out so we can return to the Tuesday 9:30 am class!!! Wahoo!!! And they are pro-rating the fee so we don't have to pay for the 2 weeks we missed. And they aren't charging me for Baby Oops, even though she is 7 months old and technically we should be paying the 2nd sibling fee.

Plus, the weather is beautiful...spring has arrived! It's been a very good day.

Why We Weren't in Music Class This Morning

2005-03-29T14:02:00.001-05:00

Today is the first day of the spring session of the music class the girls and I attend. We were not there. Why? Well, Mommy forgot (more like procrastinated) sending in the enrollment form and we got shut out of the class. When I called last week to sign up and found out there were no more spots available in the Tuesday 9:30 am class, I was heartbroken. I actually cried. It is not so much music class itself that Flipper looks forwards to as much as seeing her friends, James and Alex. How was I going to tell Flipper why weren't going to music class on Tuesday along with them?

Flipper and I have been taking this class since she was a year old, and I have always called at the last minute before the beginning of each new session and have never had a problem securing a spot. Since I found out the bad news, I have been dreading today. Sure enough, Flipper asked me this morning if we were going. I said, "No, there is no music class today." She responded with big, sad eyes, "Music class is closed. Nobody there." Ugh. I felt horrible.

We did get the last spot in the Thursday morning class. When I told him the bad news, Daddy-O pointed out that this was a good opportunity to meet new people. (I thought for sure Daddy-O was going to use this unfortunate situation as an excuse to go off on me about my disorganization and tendency to procrastinate. Thanks Daddy-O for not making an already bad situation worse.) So we'll go Thursday, but I know Flipper will ask where James and Alex are, and I'm not sure how I'm going to respond.

I feel awful.

Too Much Sleep?

2005-03-21T12:59:00.000-05:00

Ask any parent of an infant if it possible to get too much sleep and he or she is almost certain to reply that such a thing as too much sleep does not exist.

Well, this weekend I think I did, in fact, get too much sleep. On Friday night, Flipper and Baby Oops were down by 8 pm and I was asleep sometime around 9:30. I got up with Oops at 5:15 Saturday morning and fooled around on the computer while she fussed in her crib. At 6:30 am when I was sure she was again sleeping soundly, I crawled back into my bed for some more rest. We both slept in until 9:00.

Saturday afternoon Daddy-O and I took a long snooze while both girls napped. Saturday night I went to bed early again and while Daddy-O took the night shift with Baby Oops, he did wake me sometime around 4:30ish when he turned on the TV and squealed for joy at the discovery that one of his favorite childhood TV shows, Combat, was on. Nevertheless, I managed to fall back to sleep and didn't wake until 8:45 (both girls slept in!!)

I went back to bed Sunday morning after breakfast while Oops took her morning nap, and napped again in the afternoon when the girls did. Sunday night I was asleep by 10:00.

Today I'm feeling a little blue. I think the overabundance of sleep may have something to do with it; after all, with rest comes a clear head, and with a clear head I have the luxury of focusing on things other than just surviving the day.

Here's what's eating at me today: Baby Oops is 6 1/2 months old, and while I appreciate that each day gets easier (and sleep becomes more plentiful) I feel like her babyhood is slipping away without me getting to truly enjoy and appreciate it. One of my regrets is that I don't think I took the time to revel in Flipper's infancy. I was too overwhelmed, shell-shocked, and exhausted, and I didn't take to heart what everyone was telling me -- enjoy this time because it goes by so fast. With Oops I feel I've been given a second chance, but once again I feel as if I'm frittering it away. I'm not as overwhelmed as I was the first time, although I'm busier, because now I have an infant and a toddler.

So as hard as it may be, I'm going to really try to be engaged in the here and now with Baby Oops. I'm going to take more pictures, record a special moment or two, spend more time snuggling. Because now I know for sure that this time does go by very fast.

Inflation

2005-03-09T20:22:00.000-05:00

I made $2 an hour when I used to babysit back in the '80s. That was $2 an hour for 2 kids on a weekend night. Average Saturday night earnings were between $6 and $10, and I thought that was great.

Today I paid the babysitter who watched Baby Oops $12 an hour while I was out being parent-of-the-day in Flipper's class. I think $12 an hour is insanely high for watching one extremely easy 6-month-old baby on a Wednesday morning. But when it comes to hiring someone to care for your child, it's hard to negotiate price; you want the babysitter to be happy.

I checked out what $2 in 1983 dollars would be worth today by using an inflation calculator I found online. That $2 an hour that I made in 1983 is worth $3.88 in 2005! Now, for the sake of argument, let's assume that the babysitter I used this morning should make more money than I did in 1983 because she is a 20-something college grad with more experience than I had as a 16-year-old high school student back then. Let's say she is worth double what I was worth. That's $4 an hour in 1983 or $7.77. We can even round up to $8. That's fair. But $12 is highway robbery.

My mother-in-law frequently tells me that she had a babysitter come every Saturday night when Daddy-O and his brothers were young so that she and my father-in-law were guaranteed a night out once a week. She thinks Daddy-O and I should do the same. But that adds $50-plus to the cost of dinner and a movie or whatever else we would do. Call me cheap, but I find it difficult to rationalize paying a sitter $50 to see an $8.50 movie.

A Fine Example of Parenting

2005-03-08T12:59:00.000-05:00

Flipper brought her treasured Hello Kitty purse stuffed with all kinds of goodies to music class this morning. After class, we were out for our weekly "wiggles (bagels) and coffee" with our friends when one of the other mothers says to me, "Um, is Flipper supposed to have staples?"

I looked across the table where Flipper was unloading the contents of her bag for everyone to see: sunglasses, a washcloth, plastic Hello Kitty figures, staples...staples!

She must have found them in Daddy-O's office (which for the past several months has also functioned as Baby Oops's bedroom) and gleefully added them to her stash. Note to Daddy-O: we've got to be more diligent about keeping the closet door shut!

The staples were confiscated and thrown out. Crisis averted (this time.)

Bite Me

2005-03-04T10:53:00.000-05:00

The following incident took place earlier this morning when I dropped Flipper off at school:

I had Oops in the Baby Bjorn and was carrying Flipper down the long, steep flight of steps from the building lobby to her classroom. My arms were carrying 40 lbs. of babies but I'm used to it at this point. A well-dressed father who I didn't recognize was waiting at the bottom of the steps. As I passed him, he mutters under his breath in a really nasty tone (no, Daddy-O, I'm not exaggerating or reading into it) ,"Why don't you ask for help next time?"

Once again, it took a few seconds for me to really register what he said, and by then it was too late to respond. I would have liked to have said, "Listen a**hole, I often stand on the top floor of my four-story house with these two kids in my arms and call for help, but since no one comes to help, I normally roll them one after the other down to the first floor. Since these stairs aren't carpeted like the ones at home, I figured it would be better if I carried them!"

What the @%#*! If this guy was so concerned that I get some help, why didn't he volunteer to help?

On another topic, why are the people who work in coffee places in Philadelphia so full of attitude? I frequent several places on a regular basis and all the servers are like this. When I lived in New York, I used to say that if I ever went missing, the people who served me my coffee would notice my absence after a few days and send out a search party. And they knew I took my cafe au lait large and skim and always had it waiting when it was my turn at the register. Here in Philadelphia, the same people serve me day after day but pretend each day that they've never seen me before and that it is such an imposition to serve me.

I Feel (not so) Pretty

2005-02-28T15:12:00.000-05:00

Last week, after arriving at the airport in West Palm Beach, we learned that our flight back to Philadelphia would be delayed at least 3 hours. We had already cleared security (with 2 babies, 2 carseats, 2 dolls, a double stroller, 4 carry-ons, and a tennis racket, that is no mean feat) so we had no choice but to settle in by the gate and wait. Since most flights to the Northeast were delayed due to weather conditions, there were lots of families with small children and babies in the waiting area. Flipper immediately made friends with a 3-year-old boy who was waiting with his family, and with Daddy-O supervising her (sort of), Baby Oops and I sat by the window and people-watched.

The couple sitting next to us had a little baby girl who I guessed was around Baby Oops' age. The wife was impeccably dressed in expensive jeans and a jacket, her handbag was new and also expensive, her hair and makeup perfect. Even her diaper bag (it wasn't really a diaper bag, but I saw her remove things from it for the baby) looked new and immaculate. Compared to this obviously new mom, I was a mess--old Gap jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers (there was a time when I would never wear sneakers in public except to work out--yes, I used to work out!!!) beaten up Old Navy diaper bag, no makeup, and damp hair pulled back in a cheap plastic clip. Lovely. Even the other mothers in jeans and sneakers had nicer jeans and newer sneakers and managed to look more pulled together than me. I tried to make myself feel better by rationalizing that I had two little ones, just 19 months apart.

We finally boarded the plane, and Chic Mom and her little family were in the row directly in front of us! I took some comfort in the fact that her baby fussed off and on throughout the trip while Oops slept quietly the entire time.

The next day, back in Philadelphia, still in the same jeans, t-shirt and sneakers, plus a big, bulky down coat and fleece hat, I was pushing the double stroller home from music class when Chic Mom walked past me wearing a tailored coat and heels looking like she just came from the offices of Vogue (even more impressive considering this is Philadelphia, not New York.) She didn't make eye contact or give any indication that she recognized me and my brood from the plane the previous day. And then I passed her again today, without baby and looking great, as I was pushing the double stroller home through the falling snow.

On Friday when I went to pick up Flipper from school, people commented on how great I looked. One mom asked me if I was going out somewhere special and another dad said he wouldn't have recognized me if it hadn't been for my children. I was wearing the same old jeans and a turtleneck sweater, but I had showered and blown dry my hair, and was wearing makeup. In my former life, pre-kids, this was how I looked everyday, except instead of jeans I wore heels, a skirt and nice coat too. After all, I worked in the cosmetics business in New York; dressing up was just part of the job. But I would have made the effort even if I didn't work in the beauty industry. I enjoyed blowing dry my hair, putting on makeup and wearing heels.

These days, a shower is a twice-weekly (if I'm lucky) occurance. Putting on makeup requires more effort than I can usually expend most days. But it's nice to know I still clean up well.

Noggin

2005-02-10T08:05:00.000-05:00

While I always knew that I would never be the kind of mom who would make homemade organic baby-food, breastfeed my child through toddlerhood, or teach my baby sign language (not that there's anything wrong with these things, it's just not in my DNA-I'm way too lazy), I did always plan to limit, if not completely ban TV watching. Amazingly, the few times I did plop Flipper in front of some PBS program before Baby Oops was born (like when I was completely consumed with morning sickness and had to hang out over the toilet for an hour or so) she had absolutely no interest (ok, maybe a little interest in the Teletubbies) unless I was sitting beside her. And in my opinion, if you're going to be sitting with your child watching TV, well, then, you might as well be doing something else together like reading a book (I know the "experts" over at PBS would have a field day with my TV-as-babysitter mentality.)

Now that Baby Oops is here, combined with the fact that it is the middle of winter and often too cold to get out, I confess I have broken my TV-only-as-a-last-resort rule. A lot. I have been turning on one of the 3 PBS stations we get when I have to feed Oops or when I have to get a load of laundry in the machine or even when I'm just too tired and I need to sit on the couch for awhile.

A couple of weeks ago, we were over at one of Flipper's little friend's house and we were introduced to Noggin, another commercial-free children's network with "educational" programming such as Sesame Street, Dora the Explorer, Oswald, Maisy, and my personal favorite, 64 Zoo Lane. I assumed it was a premium pay channel and was secretely glad we didn't have it, because I might submit to temptation and use it. Shortly after seeing Noggin for the first time, another local mom mentioned that her kids watch it too. So a couple of days later, when the girls were napping, I surfed around and sure enough I found it (channel 131 for those of you who have Comcast cable in Center City Philadelphia.)

Now I'm hooked on Noggin. Between Noggin and the 3 PBS stations, Sesame Street is on 4 times a day. The truth is Flipper still isn't too crazy about being plopped in front of the TV (TV off, Mommy, TV off) unless it's Teletubbies or Elmo's on Sesame Street. So while Flipper is off reading a book to herself or playing with her dolls, I'll watch it. I've even turned it on while the girls are napping. I guess it's better than getting hooked on soaps!

Bad Mother

2005-01-11T20:47:00.000-05:00

I've decided not to have a big birthday party for Flipper, just have the immediate family over for brunch and cake. I feel guilty because most of her little friends are having birthday parties, but she has been so unpredictable lately (see below), I can't bear the thought of her having a meltdown in the middle of her own party. Is this being selfish? Will she need 10 years of therapy when she's older because she has such a rotten mother (ha ha!) Come to think of it, I'll have to ask my mother if I had a big 2nd birthday party.....

It's a Slippery Slope

2005-01-11T20:11:00.000-05:00

Flipper's been pushing my buttons lately. It's getting more and more difficult to go places with her because you never know when she is going to act up. It's as if she knows that she will be 2 in two weeks and she's decided to get a roaring head start on acting like a terrible two (nightmare toddler from hell is more like it!) Combine that with a little jealousy over the attention I give to Baby Oops and you've got the makings of a highly volatile 24-pound little person.

A little background as to why I'm panicking: last weekend Daddy-O called an old friend out of the blue (hadn't seen him in over 10 years, so he's more like an old acquaintance) and made plans to get together with him, his wife and 3 1/2 year old twin girls. So we pack Flipper and Oops into the car and head to New Jersey for the visit, telling Flipper that she is going to have so much fun with these older girls. Well, all hell breaks loose when we arrive. Turns out these girls are the evil twins from hell. They start screaming as soon as we walk in the door that they don't want Flipper playing with their toys. The screaming and whining continued the entire time we were there, with alot of screaming and idle threats (but no follow-through whatsoever) from the parents. It was awful. The wife was so wound up I thought she was going to snap and the husband, well, he's an f*ing (sorry Daddy-O!) pediatrician! I felt like I was in the middle of one of those episodes of Dr. Phil where they secretely tape some highly dysfunctional family and then Dr. Phil goes in to try and save them from their own self-destructiveness. When we left, I felt like crying and that night Daddy-O and I held each other in bed and just repeated over and over how we hope our family never gets to that point.

I may be overreacting to what may simply be a phase Flipper's going through, but it's a slippery slope from normal, willful toddler behavior to complete spoiled, devil-child.

Last week I took Flipper out to dinner with two of her little classmates from pre-school and their mothers. Within ten minutes of arriving at the restaurant Flipper was out of control. She didn't want to sit in the high chair, didn't want to sit in my lap, didn't want to eat, didn't want to do anything but run around the restaurant crying. I had no choice but to have our food wrapped up to go and take her home. I was mortified!!!!

Today in music class, Flipper started pulling the same stunts. She was so disruptive I felt again I had no choice but to remove her from the situation and take her out of class. She has always loved music class, but I think the fact that I was holding Oops set her off (Oops used to sleep in the stroller during class, but now that she's older, she's up and wants to participate in her own way too.) It's going to be a long, lonely winter if I can't take them anywhere, but I think I'm doing the right thing by removing her from these situations. I don't want to condone or reinforce this behavior in any way (those twins scared me straight!) I don't know if Flipper understands why she is being removed, however. I hope, hope, hope this phase will pass.

Mind Your Own Business, Part II

2005-01-07T13:05:00.000-05:00

After I dropped Flipper off at preschool this morning, I took Baby Oops for coffee (for me, not Baby Oops. She had a bottle.) While I'm feeding Oops her bottle and enjoying my coffee (aahhh, caffeine!) this older Israeli man who hangs out in the coffee shop comes over to tell me that his daughters never gave their children formula and they were passionate about breastfeeding their babies for their first year. He proceeds to ask me if I breastfed and when I said I did, he asks why I stopped. I say it just didn't work out (I should have said mind your own business!!) and now he wants to know why. Jesus, why can't people leave you alone about the choices you make. It's not like I was feeding the baby a latte!

This Is Easy...

2005-01-06T19:50:00.000-05:00

...writing a blog, that is, not being a mom to two little girls under age two! This was prompted by two recent incidents that happened while I was out and about recently with my two little ones, Flipper, age 23 months, and Baby Oops, 4 months (not their real names, as if you couldn't figure that out.)

Incident #1 occured one early evening not too long ago as I was making my way from an afternoon playgroup to my car parked several blocks away. Flipper was not cooperating (for a change, ha ha) and refused to get in the stroller. Since we live in the city I could not let her walk down the busy street, so I was carrying her while pushing a crying and hungry Baby Oops in the double stroller. (Baby Oops was hungry because I was too embarrassed to whip out the bottle and feed her at the playgroup for fear I would be ostracized because I had stopped breastfeeding after a month. Why I would let my child starve due to my own insecurities is an issue we'll save for another time.)

A woman in her 50s or 60s approaches the stroller, sticks her head in to look at the baby and says in a loud and threatening voice, "Your baby is crying. How come you're not doing anything about it?" I veer the stroller away from her because I don't want some strange woman breathing on my child and continue down the street. The woman follows me closely chanting, "Your baby is crying. Do something. Why are you ignoring her? You're a terrible mother" I walk faster and faster and finally reach my car, the woman still at my heels. I open the car door and attempt to put Flipper in her car seat, but she starts flipping around and refuses to sit in it and now she's crying herself. I continue trying to wrestle Flipper into the car seat while the psycho woman is yelling at me to do something about the baby. At least the baby, hungry as she may be, was safely strapped in the stroller. As far as I know, no baby ever died waiting an extra ten minutes for a bottle. (One look at Baby Oops, who weighed in at a healthy 15 lbs at her 4 month checkup yesterday would also tell you this kid gets plenty to eat.) Finally, I turn to the woman and in complete frustration shout, "Mind your own business!"

The woman heads to the corner where she grabs another woman as she comes out of a store and starts screaming while pointing at me, "That woman's baby is crying and she won't do anything about it!" Now I see the concerned look on the second woman's face and I think, "Oh geez, now an angry mob is going to come after me chanting 'You're a terrible mother! You're a terrible mother!'" Thankfully I finally get Flipper into her car seat, at which point I grab the crying baby, put her into her car seat, fold up the double stroller, toss it into the trunk and drive away as fast as I can.

Incident #2 occured last week and this time my husband (we'll call him Daddy-O) was with me. We had taken Flipper swimming at a nearby hotel pool and when we came out of the hotel, it was pouring rain. We put the plastic rain cover on the double stroller and started walking the 6 or so blocks home. Halfway home, Flipper decides she wants out of the stroller and pushes her head out from under the cover screaming that she wants to walk. We tell her she has to sit in the stroller because it's raining. She refuses to put the cover back over her head, so we keep walking as fast as we can. Now a woman approaches the stroller, stops dead in her tracks and shoots me an evil look as if I'm beating my child, instead of pushing her in her stroller. I give her an evil look back. Then she shouts, " I hate to see children abused like that. She's getting wet!" I shout back, "Mind your own business!" (I've really got to come up with a better retort!) Now I'm thinking, "Since when did getting a little wet in the rain constitute child abuse?" Daddy-O takes the whole incident in stride and laughs it off, but I'm fuming. I know I shouldn't take this stuff personally either, but when you spend 24/7 doing your best to take care of your kids, it's unnerving when you're told otherwise (even by psycho strangers.)