tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32742330826253759682024-03-13T15:11:52.409-05:00Pregphobic and PregnantPregphobia - the fear of pregnancy. Oh, did I mention I'm pregnant?Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-59828986567136341632013-07-15T18:12:00.001-05:002013-07-15T18:12:54.453-05:00Finding GLEE<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.saxonscope.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Glee-Cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.saxonscope.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Glee-Cast.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RIP Cory. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I started watching <b><i>Glee</i></b> when I was pregnant. Specifically, seasons 1 - 3. My love for it didn't last into season 4 when they introduced new characters and essentially removed the Rachel-Finn storyline. When I was watching it, I found a lot of comfort in two things: the music and the romance.<br />
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Music transforms our emotions. I'm not a musical person, unless you consider karaoke and a desire to be a rockstar (aka dressing up as Jem from Jem & the Holograms) as being musical. But I love music. I am married to a musician. That's how much I love it. I married it. With Glee, I was transported to the fantasy world that exists in my mind where we can sing and dance all of the time and specifically use music to help us change our emotions or society, or express ourselves when talking doesn't feel like enough.<br />
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I rely on music in my day-to-day life, too: when my son is fussy about a diaper change, we sing <i>Wheels on the Bus</i>; when I need to be pumped about going to physical therapy I play <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaEH1e_DLm0" target="_blank"><i>Joyful Joyful</i></a> from <b><i>Sister Act 2</i></b> (I realize this is strange but I really need to be uplifted because PT - while helpful - makes me sad); when my son is playing in the tub during bath time, I make up little songs about his bath toys; and when one of us is feeling sad, I sing <i>You Are My Sunshine</i>. My Granny always had music playing in the house as we were growing up, specifically Big Band songs that I still listen to now. Hearing those songs makes me feel like she's in the room with me.<br />
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When I started working on my romance novel, I programed a Huey Lewis station into Pandora. His songs hit the right tone of sentimentality and goofiness that I'm looking for in my story. The music keeps me motivated. My novel brings me to the second thing I loved about Glee's first seasons: the romance. I was a huge fan of Finn and Rachel and their ridiculously complex and cute high school love. (Well, maybe not that complex. I didn't understand why the writers didn't take Finn to NYC with Rachel. I would have enjoyed watching new adults trying to find their way in love and life in the big city. I guess I just love NYC.)<br />
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When I learned yesterday that Cory Monteith, the actor who played Finn, had died (presumably alone) at the age of 31 in Vancouver, I was sad. Death always makes me sad. I'm particularly sad in this case because a part of my pregnancy story is gone. I'm sad for his family; his mother must feel the loss of her son acutely (I know I would). I'm sad, too, because Cory had recently undergone rehabilitative treatment for addiction, something he struggled with as a teen. In my opinion, it was very courageous of him to share his story of teenage addiction with us.<br />
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In these moments, I need something to do, something to outweigh the sorrow. First, I'm going to listen to some music, something uplifting. Second, I'm going to send out good vibes to his family and friends. Third, I'm going to donate to an organization that specifically helps teens with addictions.<a href="http://www.teenaddictionanonymous.org/donate" target="_blank">Teen Addiction Anonymous</a> educates and engages teens to overcome
addictive behavior through the unconditional support of our Teen AA 12
step program.<br />
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Finally, I'm going to hug my family and tell them I love them. Maybe I'll sing it to them...<br />
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<br />Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-56003195763339626782013-07-14T14:16:00.000-05:002013-07-14T14:16:45.389-05:00Meant to BeThe tone of my whole life is "meant to be". For example, the evolution of this blog. I started writing it while I was pregnant, living here in Chicago. During my pregnancy, my friend and former <a href="http://www.tuesdayfunk.org/" target="_blank">Tuesday Funk</a> co-host gave me the name of a lactation consultant just in case I needed any help with breastfeeding. Turned out I did need the assistance of a lactation consultant, and this wonderful woman named <a href="http://joclactation.com/" target="_blank">Jane O'Connor</a> came to my house on Thanksgiving when my son was only a week old.<br />
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She suggested I become a member of <a href="http://www.npnparents.org/" target="_blank">Neighborhood Parents Network (NPN)</a> as a way to interact with other moms. It took me a few months to finally follow her advice and I wish I had joined sooner! I signed up for the Work From Home Moms Group. During one of the group's monthly breakfast meetings, an opportunity to meet other moms and talk about balancing life while working from home and, most importantly, socialize, which can be harder for those of us who don't leave the home for work, I met the editor of NPN's Parent to Parent Newsletter. We became fast friends because she is one of the nicest people on the planet. When she suggested I send a piece to the newsletter, I panicked. I really did not want to disappoint the nicest person on the planet!<br />
<br />
They published one of my blog posts and recently, <a href="http://www.npnparents.org/posts/648,breastfeed-like-a-giraffe-gimmie-a-break" target="_blank">NPN's own blog has linked to my blog</a>. If you're visiting from NPN - <b>HI</b>! Thank you for checking out my site and I hope you're not too disappointed. I don't update this site regularly enough. I want to, I want to write on it every day. I'll aim for once a month!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyztF_VkG_ts4noCkc4gcICFnOZ0DfgNEkNVSrZCYvlC-ciHlrKsrWFiOQx6VTPqyqkf5K-tpQerrOJYaGAwv_wTtdr0LrPIoRTpskeBWhTJDQOIsyShSaMB6HIkxV9ANYcIRqOp2gXvM/s1600/jem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyztF_VkG_ts4noCkc4gcICFnOZ0DfgNEkNVSrZCYvlC-ciHlrKsrWFiOQx6VTPqyqkf5K-tpQerrOJYaGAwv_wTtdr0LrPIoRTpskeBWhTJDQOIsyShSaMB6HIkxV9ANYcIRqOp2gXvM/s1600/jem.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
Here's a little info about me (in case you were wondering):<br />
<ul>
<li>I'm 34 years old</li>
<li>My son is 20 months old (we just stopped breastfeeding in June - and we both miss it but I do think it was the right time)</li>
<li>I met my husband at a bar (specifically, Moody's on Broadway) he and a friend (later our best man) crashed our party</li>
<li>The first time we hung out was at a karaoke night </li>
<li>Our song is "Single Ladies" (yup, we sang that together)</li>
<li>I love writing, movies, singing in the shower, dancing at my desk, and being silly</li>
</ul>
You can follow me on twitter, too (@sararosswitt)!<br />
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<br />Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-54275535668178989822013-05-14T13:15:00.001-05:002013-05-14T13:15:39.432-05:00To latch or not to latch: How much household safety is too much?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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On Mother’s Day, my 18-month old son was having a meltdown.
Unfortunately, my hands were full with dinner and my husband was manning the
grill. I had just pulled potatoes from the oven. I closed the oven door, set
down the hot potatoes and prepared to attend to his tears and frustration. However,
he’d grabbed the oven door, and as he thrashed against it, it opened. I watched
in slow horror as it yawned back, felt the hot air blast against my skin, and saw
my son fall back with the door on top of him. </div>
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Thankfully, my son didn’t let go of the oven’s handle. He
wasn’t burned, only terrified. The fall didn’t hurt him much, either. My husband
and I quickly shut the door and scooped up are very scared son.</div>
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We simultaneously said out loud, “We need an oven lock!”</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGhJMOjWFAZvkpeDQk8VUvBoPvYXhLGd7ckRZJLgeVlnSBa0Tvu5LBq78bmSLC7vL_WWSWBZMvTLDFkXZX8KmBSstM_VF7-DRlwC37ldLhMIAz6Jm8ZoF16moYqyKssE0gST3lKbv0YU/s1600/getty_rf_photo_of_baby_with_plunger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwGhJMOjWFAZvkpeDQk8VUvBoPvYXhLGd7ckRZJLgeVlnSBa0Tvu5LBq78bmSLC7vL_WWSWBZMvTLDFkXZX8KmBSstM_VF7-DRlwC37ldLhMIAz6Jm8ZoF16moYqyKssE0gST3lKbv0YU/s1600/getty_rf_photo_of_baby_with_plunger.jpg" height="217" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getty Images (c)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This morning, he put a toy in the toilet. When I told my
husband, he said we should get a toilet lock. I saw where he was going with
this, but I paused. How many safety devices did we need? My husband wasn’t
wrong in thinking we should protect our son, but what would a toilet lock save
him from? Dirty water? Sure, the toilet lock will save us from clogs and potential
plumbing repair and icky situations. <br />
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We have safety knobs for our stove, outlet covers, and gates
at our stairs. We replaced the door knob in his room from the lever handle,
which was easy for him to open, to a round knob. We have some latches on our
cupboards, mostly to keep him out of the dishes, as all of our cleaning
supplies are kept up high. Large items like bookshelves, the TV, and dressers
are latched to the wall. </div>
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It’s not a wrong instinct for us to want to protect our
children, but when does it cross the line from protection to risk aversion? If
there isn’t some risk, children will not learn consequences. Consequences help
our children to make smarter decision. If we safeguard everything, will they
expect the rest of the world to be safe, to step outside and have no need to
worry about danger or risk? </div>
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<br /></div>
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As explained in Bill Bryson’s <b>At Home</b>, childhood has always
been full of dangers. “Coroners’ rolls for London in the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries include such abrupt childhood terminations as drowned in a pit,
bitten by sow, fell into pan of hot water, hit by cart-wheel, fell into tin of
hot mash, and trampled in crowd.” Bitten by a sow?! </div>
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I wondered what my Granny would’ve done had she had her 9
children with all of these safety features available. Then, it struck me she
wouldn’t have done a thing. She watched my cousins from infancy to age 5 when
every single safety item was available yet she had none of them in her home. My
cousins’ have fared well; they are 18 and 19-years old now. Sadly, I can’t ask
her what she would’ve done differently. She passed away 7 years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I’m in favor of the oven lock. It’s terrifying to think of
my son burning himself, but I think we’ll skip the toilet lock or the blinder
winders. So, I guess we’ll find a balance (which is probably the only place I
find balance as a parent…more on that in another post).</div>
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<i>In case you’re interested, here’s a good link to ways to
safeguard your home for children:</i> <a href="http://kidshealth.org/parent/firstaid_safe/home/household_checklist.html" target="_blank">Household Safety Checklist</a>. </div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-60999903532877175442013-02-28T14:27:00.000-06:002013-07-08T16:50:17.169-05:00"No woman should have to explain her childlessness. It is, quite simply, nobody else’s damn business."<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FfhP-wJAxAiR9wRascS2MUcgt23_J4PGgPUWFvl_PwB9lrR8LenkkV5ayO5-HJWeG0l3KbxNIaOXWNNZpyEd3JweNcQ5YvZJNOaa-nBY8_Q45c9MR-ZGuvAGpooA0f24R-0IhGGU_rY/s1600/mirren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FfhP-wJAxAiR9wRascS2MUcgt23_J4PGgPUWFvl_PwB9lrR8LenkkV5ayO5-HJWeG0l3KbxNIaOXWNNZpyEd3JweNcQ5YvZJNOaa-nBY8_Q45c9MR-ZGuvAGpooA0f24R-0IhGGU_rY/s1600/mirren.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She is HOT.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I love Helen Mirren. She is a treasure. I'm so glad her interview in Vogue prompted this article: <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/9847642/Helen-Mirren-confronts-the-final-female-taboo.html" target="_blank">Helen Mirren Confronts the Final Female Taboo</a>. <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/womens-life/9847642/Helen-Mirren-confronts-the-final-female-taboo.html" target="_blank"></a><br />
<br />
Please forgive me, this post is going to be more scattered than usual. This article touched a rawness in me that I haven't explored in a long while. Prior to becoming a mother, I felt (or thought or maybe imagined) a pressure from society to marry and have children. By 'society', I may mean my family. Some of their pressure was loving, some just came from a place of ignorance (or even meanness). I also felt a kind of stigma from my peers as the unwed, non-mother, not-in-a-long-term-relationship, haven't-been-in-a-long-term-relationship-in-years. Or maybe it was pity?<br />
<br />
I'm not trying to be unkind to my family or my friends. I realize I could have misconstrued their concern as judgement. <br />
<br />
Still, I didn't feel any less alone in my childlessness and aloneness as I approached my mid-30s.<br />
<br />
So I'm still very sensitive to the Helen Mirrens of the world. Women who, for whatever reason - a reason they don't need to explain to me - are not mothers, a choice that we should support, accept, and move beyond.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, the author of this article as well as Helen Mirren, have been quite kind to other women, saying that they never get pressure from other women. Really? REALLY? As a new mom, I know I <i>have</i> fallen into that awful stereotype of bullying my friends (wed or not) to have children. My reason was selfish: I felt lonely in the beginning of motherhood, being one of the only people in my friend group to have baby. I was charting unknown territory and I desperately wanted someone to be on that ship with me.<br />
<br />
I hate that I immediately became one of the people who I didn't like, a person who made someone feel bad or isolated in their life choices. It's as bad as if a feminist told me that being a mother makes me less of a feminist. If someone said that to me, I would be furious. "Why does being a mother preclude me from being a feminist? Isn't it about choice?!"<br />
<br />
Have we whittled down women into one of two roles: the mother and the not mother? Is that all women can aspire to be?<br />
<br />
I don't think so, and I look forward to the day when there is no stigma attached to deciding not to have children. I'm happy being a mother and I want my friends and family members to also be happy in whatever way the choose.<br />
<br />
I enjoy writing about my experiences as a mother. I love hearing about other women's experiences with it as well. There is an abundance of literature on motherhood, the article is correct in stating that parenting is an industry. Businesses have learned that parenting sells. What a dreary world it would be if business ONLY catered to parents.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-awxSP_aRZGtqKW0r8kXQw7I_A62gwhrpfdPM2DwSpmY5gaAJAxRT5uLmPSr5kU6EBk5V63P6kQC14ZhMsV_9zeQ20DiHWIa4pQynv2cgiTkw6Xfbp61B4ScgOIbSkDGn4FYcO4yxRc/s1600/no-kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-awxSP_aRZGtqKW0r8kXQw7I_A62gwhrpfdPM2DwSpmY5gaAJAxRT5uLmPSr5kU6EBk5V63P6kQC14ZhMsV_9zeQ20DiHWIa4pQynv2cgiTkw6Xfbp61B4ScgOIbSkDGn4FYcO4yxRc/s1600/no-kids.jpg" height="199" width="200" /></a></div>
There is a restaurant in my neighborhood that my husband and I adore which refuses to serve children. It is strictly 21 and up, no exception ever. <b>I love this.</b> It would be lovely to go there randomly on a Saturday afternoon with my family but I like that this is at least one place where I can go and not feel guilty about being out enjoying me time without my son (while he is home with a sitter). I don't have to watch what I see or eat or drink and I don't have to look at any other children and feel pangs of "oh he should be here" guilt. Nope. Not there. There it is okay to be a child-free adult.<br />
<br />
While I do love writing or reading about motherhood, it is not all I want my life to be, not the only thing I want to be defined as. The same as the amazing Dame Helen Mirren doesn't want to be defined as the not-mom (though I'm pretty sure she will be remember for so, so much more).<br />
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<br />Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-19152945436941855592013-02-06T23:46:00.000-06:002013-02-06T23:46:49.743-06:00Resurrecting Edward FurlongI have no idea if Eddie is still working. I hope so! I hope he is doing well! We need more T2s in our lives.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIMDhdOqIkkoPtjpgkagHSCAndAv_D6CSz8MzvUodKbT3Z7NRaVmS4dYT1V4-JYHU-C-sCM8sg7Su6d3bL-w3lh9F3B9T02DFVN1YrqNpjQJDB3ztkVjuz-KGejxH4_tRKZHz_LEs0IE/s1600/eddie-furlong-terminator-2-lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrIMDhdOqIkkoPtjpgkagHSCAndAv_D6CSz8MzvUodKbT3Z7NRaVmS4dYT1V4-JYHU-C-sCM8sg7Su6d3bL-w3lh9F3B9T02DFVN1YrqNpjQJDB3ztkVjuz-KGejxH4_tRKZHz_LEs0IE/s1600/eddie-furlong-terminator-2-lg.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, little Eddie! Photo courtesy of US Magazine.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm not just reminiscing about Edward Furlong, this is a follow-up to yesterday's<a href="http://pregphobicandpregnant.blogspot.com/2013/02/below-is-guest-post-from-p-dear-friend.html" target="_blank"> post</a>. I want to be clear that divorce does not create or cause Terminators or the end of days.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7p8E4AlA0Dyrv6CrJubnN9Sqd9UxSmNOzUoL6JswP2FDIHdQCwFedv6Ekgkwq-ZE_A-vnJGuXQ_EcAwvHluPhUQTPOWeWeMOUWq8XN37P8EUsa7Om1IpZrCWrTNeAQbHWTn0ZuSlP2xo/s1600/skynet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7p8E4AlA0Dyrv6CrJubnN9Sqd9UxSmNOzUoL6JswP2FDIHdQCwFedv6Ekgkwq-ZE_A-vnJGuXQ_EcAwvHluPhUQTPOWeWeMOUWq8XN37P8EUsa7Om1IpZrCWrTNeAQbHWTn0ZuSlP2xo/s1600/skynet.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unless you break up with Skynet... </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Rather, I felt the point of the post was the future is uncertain. There <i>could</i> be Terminators. We simply don't know.<br />
<br />
Though yesterday's post discussed the fear or worry associated with divorce, we didn't touch on how ending a relationship can be healing, healthy, or in some circumstances, necessary (safety, etc.). The end of one thing - childhood, a relationship, a job - can be the beginning of quite another great thing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOgouWNqSLVh9rVJ479FGxZRBjNVsK_ameVcnrrS3HGHvdqwidF_Zn-Q32NEq7MIH2Uv8u_fM2bWNzeKvM60XcFC2nLR1xuklm8RJHgW_ISlDfvTgpSZWCB8KDQw7oZqvr84GA4kgv1A/s1600/Eddie+Furlong+Calvin+Klein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOgouWNqSLVh9rVJ479FGxZRBjNVsK_ameVcnrrS3HGHvdqwidF_Zn-Q32NEq7MIH2Uv8u_fM2bWNzeKvM60XcFC2nLR1xuklm8RJHgW_ISlDfvTgpSZWCB8KDQw7oZqvr84GA4kgv1A/s1600/Eddie+Furlong+Calvin+Klein.jpg" height="200" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look? He left Terminator and modeled for Calvin Klein!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At P&P, we are simply reflecting on change inherent to the human experience. Divorce is part of that experience. (And woo boy, have we had some changes! Where do I begin with my body? Let's call it lumpy. But we'll talk about that in a later post.)<br />
<br />
How do we talk about change with our children? There are big changes they'll have to confront at different ages. Take for example Natalie's daughter. How do you explain divorce to a 4-year old? What about death, say of a relative, a friend, or a pet? What about more minor changes but ones that are still quite impactful: loss of a job, changing schools, moving, or a new teacher?<br />
<br />
In the previous post, we wondered aloud how to confront a moment like this as an adult. Now, how do we as parents confront these moments with our children? There is the first step, steeling ourselves and saying "It's going to be okay." But where do we go with step 2.<br />
<br />
Well, according to people who know these things (family counselors), the next step is simple honesty in terms they would understand. A 4-year old doesn't know what the word (or perhaps has never even heard the word) 'divorce' means, so you wouldn't start there. A 8- or 9-year old would have heard the word and may understand what it means. In either case, present the information slowly, don't overload them all at once. Next, listen. They may have questions or concerns. Hear them.<br />
<br />
Finally, and I think this is really important, allow yourself and your children to be around caring friends (whether this is family, or a playgroup, a team, or a faith-based group).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOFA4dE6JAxU0XPfC5KE3ZdhOXgDqjWN9sDpzMhemBRRuHUo7hWdaGa52LzlgpMMvGtA7bQYMN8C1-f_J1qsZV1UWD5PPM9K4gn24JykbYLm59WS3n4pkSl-QKRpHEdJoS2NgNVD9cSA/s1600/John+Connors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOFA4dE6JAxU0XPfC5KE3ZdhOXgDqjWN9sDpzMhemBRRuHUo7hWdaGa52LzlgpMMvGtA7bQYMN8C1-f_J1qsZV1UWD5PPM9K4gn24JykbYLm59WS3n4pkSl-QKRpHEdJoS2NgNVD9cSA/s1600/John+Connors.jpg" height="173" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Look, in the next movie I'll be blond. Then, Christian Bale." Photo: The Daily Beast</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've found that friends keep me grounded and prevent me from sliding too far into darkness. Friendship isn't just good for sharing laughs or shoulders to cry on, it can actually make you happier. (See <a href="http://blogs.hbr.org/bregman/2010/07/why-friends-matter-at-work-and.html" target="_blank">here</a>, <a href="http://research.chicagobooth.edu/cdr/docs/spendingmoney-norton.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>, and <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=LXHi4wgIkzEC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
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And that's what I love about this blog. Friends sharing their experiences as parents. P&P is thankful for that! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOc3NBVrIpH1PxEOV8KdVwLxHGGMu43b36r3tG22J2ps_F_jcmTXmDm5m6rKRTM45RzPskaYljWEHxoLU_C2gdrQRzRgDxG_HFfRCWnt3WTyJKOyjiFOyy-ZWijXe_atNA1gyZNNNgIlI/s1600/kyle+reese.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOc3NBVrIpH1PxEOV8KdVwLxHGGMu43b36r3tG22J2ps_F_jcmTXmDm5m6rKRTM45RzPskaYljWEHxoLU_C2gdrQRzRgDxG_HFfRCWnt3WTyJKOyjiFOyy-ZWijXe_atNA1gyZNNNgIlI/s1600/kyle+reese.png" height="180" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No fate but you make." Kyle Reese AKA Michael Biehn AKA my first boyfriend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-27373709536033950182013-02-05T14:08:00.002-06:002013-02-05T14:12:54.862-06:00Divorce Causes Terminators<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: blue;"><i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Below is a guest post from P&P's dear friend and contributor, <span style="font-size: small;"><b>Natalie</b></span>. What I love about this post is how she is willing to be open and raw for us. So often as parents (or at least me) we want to shield our children, which may include shielding the truth from them or shielding our emotions, but she reminds us that honesty is okay, is important, because we don't need to know the answers since we don't know the future. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="color: blue;"><i>This week at P&P we're going to focus on openess and letting go, being aware that we cannot control every detail of our lives. I hope you enjoy this post as much as I did! - SRW </i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWueq10HOtBdiG73Xyk2nbmpwxOKmIr0nCz7hFEEo2RI7s2B27ndqpzyk4DPIci1nJGJQJfYHxFcGsnIk0xRFdhJ6yt8HQzJwWsGPfZd6H7JeUKBlV9W3hzdc9LsEfSKtNgmaSM_Ubrtw/s1600/terminator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWueq10HOtBdiG73Xyk2nbmpwxOKmIr0nCz7hFEEo2RI7s2B27ndqpzyk4DPIci1nJGJQJfYHxFcGsnIk0xRFdhJ6yt8HQzJwWsGPfZd6H7JeUKBlV9W3hzdc9LsEfSKtNgmaSM_Ubrtw/s1600/terminator.jpg" height="160" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because the future has Terminators.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
am 30.</span> I am also married with a young child. I am your average middle
class working mom. That is just a little background so you know where I
am coming from. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">I have to consider myself an adult at this point: I have the child, the
husband, the mortgage, the job that pays for the health insurance. That
is about as adult-ish as you get; I even drive a station wagon with
stickers on the back window and change in the
glove compartment for parking meters. Yet it wasn’t until recently that
two contradictory feelings popped up in me: 1. I started to feel like an
adult (or maybe feel my age is more accurate) and; 2. I began to realize
that no one is truly ever "grown up".</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">What
caused these opposite emotions? My first adult divorce. Not mine, but a friend's. I met my husband at my co-worker's wedding. My husband was the
brother of
the bride (my co-worker), we hit it off and began dating. Within a year
we were living together and engaged. My co-worker eventually became my
sister-in-law, and she and her husband were the best of both worlds --
my friends and my family. They were the kind of couple
that everyone thought would be together forever: easy-going, fun-loving
and most importantly, happy. But within the last year they encountered personal problems and things began to unravel. Two months ago we were told they were separating,
by Christmas we heard the final decision. Divorce. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">This
divorce has me reeling because, yes, I too thought they would be
together forever and because I love them both. But also…well…we don’t
ever grow up do
we? I watched my aunt’s marriage disintegrate over lies and pain, I
watched friend’s parents divorce, always comfortable that my parents
would never do that. Until my Dad left my Mom (for his knocked
up girlfriend who was half his age, cough cough…you
don’t hear any lingering resentment, do you?) when I
was in high school. All of those relationship endings were what adults
were doing. They obviously had it figured out and were making decisions
and being adults about it. I was mostly a kid
looking in on a world that I didn’t understand, and somewhere along the
way I grew up but never really looked back with a new perspective, I
still viewed those moments the way my child or teenage self did.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">This
divorce is different. We are adults. We were supposed to make it
work, do what our parents couldn’t manage. We feel like adults. And yet… we aren’t, are we? We are still those
same scared kids who don’t really understand what we are feeling or why.
Sometimes we are just stabbing blindly in the
dark and we don’t know how things will turn out. And that is what gets
me…all those years ago I assumed the adults in my life had a clue about
what they were doing and now I realize, much like myself, they didn’t.
When my mom would hug me and tell me it was
going to be ok, like I do with my daughter, she wasn’t really saying
that she was sure it was going to be okay but rather that she was going
to try to make it okay.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">This
divorce is frightening because it is a mirror. I can see my own
relationship struggles in it more clearly than I ever could looking
back through the
lens of my parent’s marriage. Suddenly, days after my 30<sup>th</sup> birthday
and facing another new year, I feel more like my mother and less like
me, more like an adult and less like the wild teenager I left behind.
More afraid of divorce because it is in my lexicon as a
present tense and not just a past tense. It's
okay, because like my mother, I will make it okay. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt;">Also, I am
pretty sure I am going to rock the senior living house like I am Blanche
from the Golden Girls, so I have something to look forward to!</span>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-84291726682817228452012-12-18T16:25:00.000-06:002012-12-18T16:25:31.453-06:00You Are a Good MomWe mothers are hard on ourselves. Mothers are hard on other mothers and society in general is hard on mothers. Right now there is a lot of chatter about Adam Lanza's mother, which I won't discuss here, nor will I add any more to the discussion of that tragedy. However, it has created a lot of 'bad mom' chatter.<br />
<br />
So I just wanted to say something positive. <i>You're a good mom.</i><br />
<br />
When my son was 2 months old, I took him to work with me (long story short: I work from home for a government agency that insisted I have a badge that I HAD to pick up right away, which meant taking my son who I was breastfeeding and snuggling all of the time with me, I had no nanny and honestly didn't want to be away from him for the 3+ hours it would take me to get my badge) and he slept the entire time I was there, disturbing no one. Nearly everyone was delighted to meet him, as they had worked with me the previous year during my pregnancy.<br />
<br />
I work for an agency of mostly older males. As we stood in the lobby of the building preparing to leave, they oohed and aahed over his sleepy face and tiny hands. They recalled their own children and sighed wistfully about their some-day grandchildren. I received hugs and pats on the back and "he is beautiful, good job!" Then I was approached by a man I'd never met who asked me how old was my son. "2 months," I replied.<br />
<br />
"BAD MOM! BAD MOM!" He yelled at me, at everyone around us, loudly while shaking a finger in angry gestures at me. "You should not have brought him out before 3 months. Babies have to stay in the house for 3 months. I tell all my kids, keep them babies home for 3 months. No, no. You're bad."<br />
<br />
Two security guards stepped closer to me as I zipped the car seat cover over my son to shield him from the cold. "My son is well," I replied. It was all I could say. I pushed his stroller out quickly, waving good-bye and feeling my face flame with embarrassment. I heard the security guards arguing with the man, telling him kids were different today. It was the first time a complete stranger passed judgement on my parenting skills. It hurt and scared and saddened me.<br />
<br />
Yet, I knew it wouldn't be the last. We are a culture full of judgement. I do it myself all of the time. We are culture of negativity as well. Moms aren't alone in this criticism or judgement, either. Dads receive a lot of negative attention and worried glances if they take their children out without a woman close by ("could he be abducting that child?!). <br />
<br />
Parents will and should shut out most of the noise, the negativity, and the judgement, but being a parent is a tough job. We need support, we need positivity, we need society telling us "you're good". Maybe not all the time and certainly there are people who are simply bad parents (see: my own bio mom). The majority of us are good and I want to tell you that.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You're a good mom.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You hugged your child today. You listened. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You spent some time on your own to recharge.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b> You played or helped with homework or read a book to your child(ren). </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You made mistakes. You were forgiven. You forgave. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You said, "I love you". </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>You're good. </b></div>
Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-40228912265142975192011-11-08T20:08:00.000-06:002011-11-08T20:08:01.404-06:00Breastfeeding is giraffeI realize the title of this blog is grammatically incorrect. Stay with me...I'll explain it soon.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT7DqYnf2rCOwRLQHrtcSANb9015EFIQwtmD7PY-8uUal2kNXhD4UR59buI8TNwQZcXjoaIEeRR3-EdkU5nwVHVt8N3lHtat48tn4iLo-_efa9-Ox-lXqcU08JKIggvT3NIzdRrGS_vXI/s1600/nursing+giraffe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT7DqYnf2rCOwRLQHrtcSANb9015EFIQwtmD7PY-8uUal2kNXhD4UR59buI8TNwQZcXjoaIEeRR3-EdkU5nwVHVt8N3lHtat48tn4iLo-_efa9-Ox-lXqcU08JKIggvT3NIzdRrGS_vXI/s200/nursing+giraffe.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Michael Sheridan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
This will probably be my last post before baby. He is due this weekend, and while I realize babies don't always come on time, I am convinced I won't encounter anything as odd as my recent visit to interview a pediatrician.<br />
<br />
In my search for a pediatrician, I set up a few interviews with recommended doctors. Not knowing what to ask, I also downloaded a list of questions from <a href="http://www.babycenter.com/0_pediatrician-family-doctor-interview-sheet_1452019.bc" target="_blank">babycenter.com</a>. Having never interviewed a doctor before, the whole arrangement felt strange to me. However, my first doctor interview went very well and was encouraging.<br />
<br />
Last week's interview felt more like meeting a politician. Kind of a slimy politician.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRAtDi3IR6ybzOf1-uRBtkksdWRdrrDPX7AHz0PUpK2leBO1K_YlCV0Mzp5-MbUT9pAZ7_gxDCd1ni8o4mR4mCJAMEK_YBCs86A_DTd-WshyoOmKIS-ZUdjjrc5f-sMtq4Vhyphenhyphenz50gK9I/s1600/slugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRAtDi3IR6ybzOf1-uRBtkksdWRdrrDPX7AHz0PUpK2leBO1K_YlCV0Mzp5-MbUT9pAZ7_gxDCd1ni8o4mR4mCJAMEK_YBCs86A_DTd-WshyoOmKIS-ZUdjjrc5f-sMtq4Vhyphenhyphenz50gK9I/s200/slugs.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're going with a nature theme here. Slugs are slimy! Leopard slug courtesy of fcps.edu.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>He was over a half hour late. I was willing to forgive that because he was probably tending to sick children. Though, he didn't mention his lateness at all. Hmm...<br />
<br />
His handshake was a vice grip, like he was he trying to crush the tiny bones in my hand. This may be wrong, but I judge handshakes. Too limp and I think someone is uncomfortable in their skin or with people. Too firm or too much squeeze, I think they have self-confidence issues and want to dominate everyone through their hand. (I don't think about what either of these assumptions means about me. Let's leave self-reflection for another post.)<br />
<br />
So that's two strikes against future baby doctor. Not to mention my hand was sore.<br />
<br />
I proceeded to ask him a few questions. He gave me stock answers to the basic questions (on call, after hours, email, etc.). Then I asked him if he recommended any parenting books.<br />
<br />
"I tell my parents not to read. Rather they should trust their intuition." Okay, so as a doctor he tells people <i>not </i>to read. Also, he had strong objections to the book I was reading as I waited in his office, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/NurtureShock-New-Thinking-About-Children/dp/0446504122" target="_blank">Nurture Shock</a>. "Nurture," he went on to say, "is inherent. Every person knows how to parent."<br />
<br />
<b><i>Really?</i></b> Why then do so many people fail? I'm not talking about the people who <u>think</u> they fail. I'm talking about the people who starve their children or beat their children or sell their children or murder their children and leave them in a trash can. They haven't tapped into their nurture instinct. They may not even have it.<br />
<br />
Clearly, I don't agree with the doctor. So that's strikes three and four. (As a writer, I am a fan of reading.)<br />
<br />
But the final blow came when he interrupted me to say I wasn't going to "try" breastfeeding, I was going to breastfeed <b><i>without fail</i></b>. "Every woman can breastfeed. The hospitals make it difficult on women to breastfeed. None of my home birth patients have any trouble breastfeeding. Look at the pictures on my walls. I went to China, I went to Africa, I went to India. There were no lactation consultants. They just did what came naturally when their milk came down. They were all fine. Look at the giraffe'" There is no giraffe on his wall, though he is pointing to one, "Its baby is born and then it suckles. No intervention needed!"<br />
<br />
I wanted to stand up and scream crazy demon lady at him that he was lying. One of his patients, who recommended him, had a home birth and needed to call a lactation consultant. Strike Five!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoS3Ea1ZNQXFwCQcd8cVPNF4EiX4GqPWm7oKnAUjWG6qEpqkxmFeWPwjWnhip_YfQUYQT4zOmymWp5z1z9D7knX3onrDCnVpEz9pa_lVWYAMfBnvSuezoOi2kdTaBZyuj0eHvl_wP6qN4/s1600/crazy+old+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoS3Ea1ZNQXFwCQcd8cVPNF4EiX4GqPWm7oKnAUjWG6qEpqkxmFeWPwjWnhip_YfQUYQT4zOmymWp5z1z9D7knX3onrDCnVpEz9pa_lVWYAMfBnvSuezoOi2kdTaBZyuj0eHvl_wP6qN4/s200/crazy+old+woman.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I envision myself as the old demon lady from Legion. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>We are also not damn giraffes (no offense to the beautiful creatures) and not all baby mammals and their mammas breastfeed inherently or properly. Some baby animals die because of this. Just like not every child in China, India, or Africa survives. Hence the history of wet nurses. We have supplanted our tribal communities, from which we could have utilized that generational knowledge of breastfeeding or called upon our sisters to help us wet nurse, with lactation consultants and midwives. These aren't sacrifices, they are changes we should embrace. <br />
<br />
It was time to go. I stood up and said thank you. He shook my hand again; it felt pulverized. "What are you going to do?" He asked. <i>Never see you again, write a blog about this, rail at your stupidity to my husband.</i> "Um, breastfeed?"<br />
<br />
"Yes!" He replied. Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-24558749918584872362011-11-03T16:07:00.001-05:002011-11-03T16:12:51.497-05:00How to: SwaddleEither, I have a lot of free time on my hands (true) or I am a little obsessed (also, true) with swaddling.<br />
<br />
See <i>Exhibit A</i> below.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fxlNoa7WLatMoUI426VF0h4JTQCE3BRASXD4-zE60KjKsbqu-qdd9Fz1qbKFye99pACt4pPaSZ23oCu4-m8rY72gTgGK5a6R-4ebLVpGX1agsW9bWHv4RuoaObWB7gnmQhyphenhyphenfl02Qlrs/s1600/1024111403a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fxlNoa7WLatMoUI426VF0h4JTQCE3BRASXD4-zE60KjKsbqu-qdd9Fz1qbKFye99pACt4pPaSZ23oCu4-m8rY72gTgGK5a6R-4ebLVpGX1agsW9bWHv4RuoaObWB7gnmQhyphenhyphenfl02Qlrs/s320/1024111403a.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor ET. Not only was he dressed up by Drew Barrymore, tortured by government scientist, and stuffed into the front of a bicycle when he only wanted to get the F* home, he was also my swaddling demo doll. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A family member asked if I knew how to swaddle. This particular family member has no children and likes to tell me how easy every aspect of baby care is. Of course, I said "Yes, I know how to swaddle. I've done it a bunch of times."<br />
<br />
I've <u>never</u> swaddled. But, hey, I've seen it on TV! Or at least in my baby care class video. This time my family member was correct; it is easy. Though, less so on a 20+ year old decaying ET doll.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-15931390993822318912011-10-24T18:02:00.000-05:002011-10-24T18:02:08.927-05:00My thoughts on pregnancy resources thus farIt's third trimester, y'all! In fact, it's week 37. Baby is just around the corner, and it has me thinking about <b>A</b> <b>LOT</b> of things. However, today I'm focused on pregnancy resources and advice I've received thus far.<br />
<br />
As always, these are my opinions and may not reflect anyone else's pregnancy experience.<br />
<br />
<u>Pregnancy books</u> - Natalie bought me one <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pregnancy-Instruction-Manual-Owners/dp/1594742456/ref=pd_sim_b_1">manual</a>, which was helpful and short. I didn't want "What to Expect When You're Expecting" because I wanted to rely on my OB and my own experience. However, the short book Nat sent was helpful and comforting. <i>One</i> book about pregnancy is plenty for expectant moms and dads.<br />
<br />
<u>Pregnancy pillows</u> - I purchased two different types of pillows: a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000056JC1/ref=oh_o02_s00_i00_details">wedge</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000GB1HKA/ref=oh_o01_s00_i01_details">leg support</a>. I regret both purchases. A lot of moms referred me to the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Boppy-Prenatal-Total-Body-Pillow/dp/B003UTUEOU/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1319496161&sr=8-3">full body pillow</a>, which I rejected because I was already sharing space with a husband and a very snuggly cat. If I have a second pregnancy, I may try this (and kick hubby and cat out of the bed...just kidding). The pillows I purchased were too hard and too wide for my petite frame. <br />
<br />
<u>Prenatal massage</u> - I had three throughout my pregnancy and I loved every single one. Granted, as I grew bigger it wasn't as soothing as when I'm not pregnant, because I couldn't lie on my stomach and really melt into the table. Still, they could reach kinks that I couldn't get or hubby couldn't work out (as he is not a certified masseuse), especially in the hips, and that was a relief making the massage worth every penny. I will definitely give my friends this as a gift when they are pregnant. And I'll probably treat myself at the same time!<br />
<br />
<u>Manicures and pedicures</u> - I love mani-pedis all of the time, but my feet and legs are especially sensitive now. It could be the swelling or extra water weight. The soaking does wonders, so I request a lighter touch to maximize the benefit and minimize the discomfort. Plus, I can't reach my toes and I like having regular nail maintenance.<br />
<br />
<u>Baby gear</u> - One of my worst experiences (aside from morning sickness and general nervousness about pregnancy) was building my baby registry. The amount of materials you're told you need is overwhelming, picking your preferred brand based on suggestions and reviews is daunting. Most moms will tell you that half of what you receive you won't use. Why? Because you and your baby are individuals. Your friend's baby may love a sling, yours may hate it. Your baby may love the bouncy seat, your sister's child may have shrieked in pain when he was put into it. I registered for what I thought was necessary based on recommendations from a few people and places. I probably still have too much. My main resource was this list by alphamom, that Natalie edited for me from her experience: <a href="http://alphamom.com/pregnancy/our-ultimate-baby-registry-checklist/">Ultimate baby registry checklist</a>.<br />
<br />
While it told me what to buy, it didn't give me brands to buy, and the task of reviewing brands for every item was equally stressful. Here, I would turn to different resources (aside from internet reviews) including new parents, family members, my OB, and my hospital's baby care class.<br />
<br />
<u>Advice</u> - From the beginning of my pregnancy, I have said that I would welcome all advice. And I've received a lot of it from many people in many place (including a 50-year old coworker who insisted I get an epidural, instead of having a c-section, as if the two are interchangeable). Some of that advice has been helpful and kept me sane, some has cracked me up (see parenthetical above), some has annoyed me (my aunt telling me that I had to wash baby clothes separately just "because that's what you DO."), some has made me feel prepared, some a little scared, and some left me confused (differing views on how to care for an uncircumsized penis).<br />
<br />
I took in what they said and tried to weigh it on my common sense scale (or do more research if I needed more direction). I listened to all of it, I opened myself up to what was being said by others, and I feel like that has been a wonderful experience. Almost every piece of advice has come from a place of care and love. I remembered that if ever I was annoyed.<br />
<br />
<u>Boundaries</u> - Even if you're open to advice, it's still good to set boundaries. This is something I've struggled with throughout my pregnancy and am really learning in my final months. For me it has been balancing the knowledge that baby is mine and Panda's with the reality that he is important and part of the lives of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. They want to claim him as much is I do.<br />
<br />
When they push, my instinct is to push back, be angry, and then give in to their demands. This doesn't really help the situation and creates a lot of tension and frustration that I hold inside. The word "boundaries" always makes me a little uncomfortable, as it sounds like I'm erecting an impenetrable wall and refusing to allow anyone access. <br />
<br />
It's also not compromise, which at times is really no one getting what they want.<br />
<br />
For me it's been about saying "no" and me respecting my decision right or wrong. I do try to explain my "no", to minimize hurt feelings, but at times people may feel jilted. I hope they will come to understand my decisions and appreciate me for standing by my decisions. As I said, I'm learning.<br />
<br />
In learning boundaries, there has also been learning about letting go of some rigidity. I can't control everything, can I? (Okay. A small part of me wishes I could...)<br />
<br />
<u>Friendships</u> - As pregnancy progresses, I become more and more absorbed in all things baby related. I never thought I would. In fact, I said I wasn't going to be one of <i>those</i> mothers-to-be who talks all about her pregnancy. As my world narrowed to nothing but baby questions and baby preparedness, it was unavoidable. I also craved more discussion about children, parenting, and general baby wellness. Maybe it's the writer in me or the nervous new mama needing the information, the background, the research, and the general observation that what I am thinking about <b>IS</b> normal. <br />
<br />
Thankfully, my friends have been patient, understanding, and indulgent. Either they realize and/or hope this won't last forever or they are really just great people.<br />
<br />
<u>Reality check</u> -<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/tJRzBpFjJS8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Pregnant Women Are Smug by Garfunkel and Oates</span></span></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-55267948871600893722011-08-26T07:40:00.009-05:002011-08-26T08:05:13.284-05:00How to: Mod Podge Tiles<div align="left">Hola! Sorry to disappoint; no Sara update, just another craft how-to. Today, I will be creating, reviewing, and giving you fresh ideas for a craft already featured on another website.
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<br />Kristy from Light Refreshments Served created this awesome project <a href="http://lightrefreshmentsserved.com/?s=coasters">http://lightrefreshmentsserved.com/?s=coasters</a>: simple, easy-to-do coasters that you can make for your friends and family. However, unlike Kristy, my family members are not coaster users. I don’t know why (actually there are three reasons; husband, daughter, dog) but everything in my house looks like it went through some type of tropical storm. Worrying about glass rings on the furniture would be akin to me approaching a homeless panhandler and telling him that he really should get that nasty little hangnail looked at.
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<br />So I went in to this project with some other ideas, mainly the possibility of making some sort of ceramic table top. And also wall hangings. I love scrapbook paper but I am the worst scrapbooker in the world. I am just really bad at projects that take long amounts of time to finish…so here was a nifty little reason for me to continue my addiction to scrapbook paper WITHOUT the pain in the arse of creating beautiful family memory keepsakes!
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<br />First off, a list of the things you will need: </div>
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<br />• Ceramic tiles – you can get these as singles at any home improvement store. I did the 4 x 4 inch tiles but also considered doing smaller and larger for different projects. </div>
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<br />• Mod Podge – you can buy this crafting glue at just about any craft store, generally in the glue or “things that you use for sticking” aisle. </div>
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<br />• Scrapbook paper – OR cool ads you found in old magazines or old papers, etc. Also, I am toying with the idea for taking some of my own pictures and printing them out to see how that goes. </div>
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<br />• Some type of glossy clear protective enamel spray paint – you will also find this at a home improvement store or places like Kmart. </div>
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<br />• Little round felt pads (if you plan on making coasters).
<br />• Foam brushes.
<br />• Soap and water for clean up.
<br />• Well ventilated place for enamel spray paint.
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<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunUMIa4E-zIp_jOrqTmrYrIM3MkggXqnPaeTG739AvtRiryPnyeFbyb-bsSQijsIPyS34Rs86ZbiaIs2yw25H8hH3RwASQHZ1BKOOuha7tF9QaZ43dhFxwmekdf9WP7z_3zZWYgTGV_g/s1600/1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645145811187611954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjunUMIa4E-zIp_jOrqTmrYrIM3MkggXqnPaeTG739AvtRiryPnyeFbyb-bsSQijsIPyS34Rs86ZbiaIs2yw25H8hH3RwASQHZ1BKOOuha7tF9QaZ43dhFxwmekdf9WP7z_3zZWYgTGV_g/s200/1.JPG" /></a> Let me say this took A LOT more mod podge (henceforth referred to as MP) action than I initially thought it would. You stick the scrapbook paper to the ceramic tile using MP. Then you also brush over it with MP and leave to dry. You do this MULTIPLE TIMES. The more you build up, the more protected the scrapbook paper is from peeling off the ceramic tile at a later date. After a few go rounds I thought it would be better to cut the paper down slightly so it doesn’t go all the way to the edge of the tile. This might be a useful technique especially since the tiles tend to be rounded on the edges. This means to get the paper to be ‘flush’ to the tile you essentially have to build the tile up with MP over time, covering the sides over and over again and waiting at least 15 minutes between drying sessions. On each go round you want to make sure you are using even coats of MP and don’t let anything (like all the free floating glitter in your craft room) accidently fall into it!
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhb6nBb47nt3nNWJc62bilhvPO4mcXavyttNwDOK54dx9nrogAKFFpYvr-Nn6g8bQp-3E1UIaqGQD1iZlX1J_20Kwh0QLIpNQUpLz9J7p_5TFokWUX9Ae6i0CyuwrJSum3iIyUslC3NlE/s1600/2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645146046634219362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhb6nBb47nt3nNWJc62bilhvPO4mcXavyttNwDOK54dx9nrogAKFFpYvr-Nn6g8bQp-3E1UIaqGQD1iZlX1J_20Kwh0QLIpNQUpLz9J7p_5TFokWUX9Ae6i0CyuwrJSum3iIyUslC3NlE/s200/2.JPG" /></a>
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<br />That is technically the only really intense step. After the tile dries (when it is no longer tacky to touch) you can spray it with the enamel. Glossy enamel will take a good deal of time to dry. The longer you let it dry, the better. In my house I have a built-in app timer called my husband who likes to sit there and remind me not to touch things that are drying with glossy enamel paint on them. If you don’t have this built-in appliance, you might want to look into downloading it.
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<br />Overall, this is a pretty easy craft as long as you don’t mind walking away from it and then re-starting throughout the day. MY next step was to take a little ugly table that my husband made from odds and ends (back when he was living in a single dirty room in the mountains, just waiting for the right woman to come along and clean up after him) sand it, paint it and give it a funky ceramic table top!
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1tqsK4V05l3ix4RX7AWVB99uTYBRyUalsAD_fcfpDHp-aPhyphenhyphenT8AM8ft08RJt5kxLr2ZfxWJMiTPPerJZsZH6iNyQp5xTbzL9KVE0v8sXimQcDm-2QwbC2xKMGsjSf7mG0SNHCmn3yzg/s1600/3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645146294820262098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1tqsK4V05l3ix4RX7AWVB99uTYBRyUalsAD_fcfpDHp-aPhyphenhyphenT8AM8ft08RJt5kxLr2ZfxWJMiTPPerJZsZH6iNyQp5xTbzL9KVE0v8sXimQcDm-2QwbC2xKMGsjSf7mG0SNHCmn3yzg/s200/3.JPG" />
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<br />Behold ugly little table!
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<br />Much had to be done to this little table including the sanding and painting. I also had to cut and add molding that hid the plywood sides, and created a tray-like table top that defined a natural stop for the grout. Next time I will ask my husband to make an ugly little square table!
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<br />Grouting down the ceramic tiles was the part I was most worried about, as I wasn’t sure how well the MP and enamel would hold up to grout. But in the end it worked pretty well.
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<br />I recently pulled up our bathroom tile, which was just a lovely shade of baby poop blue in teeny tiny tiles that were prone to coming loose. I refinished the bathroom with large beige tiles, so I already had all of the stuff needed to complete this project.
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<br />In case you want to take the project this far you will need:
<br />• Sponges.
<br />• Thin set mortar and grout (you can buy both grout and thin set mortar, pre-
<br />mixed, in smaller amounts in buckets it runs around $20).
<br />• Grout laying tool.
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<br />I had to go through MANY lessons on tile laying from my built-in app (aka, husband). Lucky for me, when it comes to little table-like crafts like this project, he is a lot less anal and therefore it is a lot less complicated.
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<br />First, you layer thin set mortar on the top making sure to spread it evenly. Then you stick the tiles down however you want. I ended up cutting tiles to make corner pieces, and looking back event that wasn’t enough. I should have resigned myself to cutting more pieces to make the grout lines smaller but I had already ‘made’ the tiles and didn’t know how well they would cut with the paper, mp, and enamel. In the end I have really big grout lines that I had to sink glass into to give the grout something to adhere to because if the grout line is too big the grout will crumble and crack and oh dear god why do I know this?
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<br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBJViX65H50XVCaz7CxUrEjsGThEp9edCp8ti1pPzsGgN9qUe7gGAPoSAnZ-wTZmGSBYABLWolqvz5Ti21mxtLCDEPA5hDt39XwUbA4EwtqN9gx3K6IhvlM_f64cCcftIn6zPXRjdUnY/s1600/4.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645146643347868274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBJViX65H50XVCaz7CxUrEjsGThEp9edCp8ti1pPzsGgN9qUe7gGAPoSAnZ-wTZmGSBYABLWolqvz5Ti21mxtLCDEPA5hDt39XwUbA4EwtqN9gx3K6IhvlM_f64cCcftIn6zPXRjdUnY/s200/4.JPG" /></a>
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<br />The pieces I cut I did in the garage with a power toll BUT if you don’t have or aren’t comfortable doing that then mark up your pieces and take them back to the hardware store you bought them from, typically they will have a ceramic tile cutting machine and staff that can cut for you. Let the thin set and tiles cure for 24 hours and then grout the tiles with the grouting tool. Then use the sponge and clean the excess grout off of the tiles. Let it set for another 24 hours before you begin using it.
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZ3LY7mG9cJrOXJMb1mQhXoUh62Fz5ff5Q9km2czkJy9LBGwruDkAURelL7ihTVezQpPlaZCAaWiMeLxiaG5DeSn-NysULgZ9taRQ0ivl32D5GbnJnGNhcKxwWYvTdrRkZk4MyhzQS00/s1600/5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645146972751449746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZ3LY7mG9cJrOXJMb1mQhXoUh62Fz5ff5Q9km2czkJy9LBGwruDkAURelL7ihTVezQpPlaZCAaWiMeLxiaG5DeSn-NysULgZ9taRQ0ivl32D5GbnJnGNhcKxwWYvTdrRkZk4MyhzQS00/s200/5.JPG" /></a>
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<br />So there you have it. You can use this cute ceramic tile idea as coasters or you can use them as beautiful pieces for larger projects!
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2MPY1DOd7W0dmrXm3Eq0R1kcwDe4K0Lxg6jABYsiyhOfTxpiX1pQTCe8RqcgmKPeymKfC5XXJpucCM2_GcZYD8QWdYI5Oy7cIciSRW4gASeCSeP5p88YjxgTx3IM69PA4bbBG72aQsY/s1600/6.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645147342644660850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2MPY1DOd7W0dmrXm3Eq0R1kcwDe4K0Lxg6jABYsiyhOfTxpiX1pQTCe8RqcgmKPeymKfC5XXJpucCM2_GcZYD8QWdYI5Oy7cIciSRW4gASeCSeP5p88YjxgTx3IM69PA4bbBG72aQsY/s400/6.JPG" /></a>
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<br />Out on the back porch! Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12837116808250836779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-88221877100636057882011-08-21T09:55:00.000-05:002011-08-21T09:55:29.308-05:00Birthing Experience: 1st part of the upcoming seriesYou may have noticed P&P's last post was by my dear friend, <b>Natalie</b> (aka Zombie), who will be guest blogging with me. She is absolutely correct that with my pregnancy, I've become crazy about crafting. However, I must admit that I used to be a crazy crafter in my youth, even working at a quilting fabric store, a Michaels Store, and a Jo-Ann Fabrics and Crafts. And I'm not ashamed.<br />
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Or not <i>that</i> ashamed.<br />
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In addition to bringing you "How To" posts on fun crafts or reviews of children's toys/books/music, she and I will be starting a series on the birthing experience. I recently completed a prepared birth class, which gave me a lot of information, and I am eager to share the information from my prepared birth class with her actual experience. This series will lead up to my actual delivery.<br />
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The point of the series is to share and discuss how pregnancy and birth affects women differently. I would like to note that mothers of multiple births have told me that every pregnancy and birth is a different experience, so this exercise is not a comparison. There is no <i>right</i> way to handle pregnancy or delivery. We hope this is an interesting perspective on how vastly different this whole process can be! <br />
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Following this week's class, I am now very excited to deliver and meet my baby in person. First, I don't think I do pregnancy well. While living in DC years ago, I remember seeing this beautiful woman in a short black dress and extreme high heels standing in front of me on the Metro escalator at the DuPont stop. She was with her husband and I could hear them talking about their date night plans. As she disembarked from the escalator, she turned, revealing this massive pregnant belly, which shocked me because no part of the rest of her looked pregnant. I thought and hoped I would be as sophisticated and stunning in my pregnancy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNZyEEetwiOxNUKjzuKIJkwOjXoU7wLOIdPlgeW553V-7qQyMVXBDOgreC-VhUfLFAqLsm9j6Pb-cmwNc7XIY32aDOC_hrsm-CeLmFfgPHWmHGEtQn8gje2vrWYfiw6vaNm9yq9jH92E/s1600/high-heels_pregnant-women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNZyEEetwiOxNUKjzuKIJkwOjXoU7wLOIdPlgeW553V-7qQyMVXBDOgreC-VhUfLFAqLsm9j6Pb-cmwNc7XIY32aDOC_hrsm-CeLmFfgPHWmHGEtQn8gje2vrWYfiw6vaNm9yq9jH92E/s320/high-heels_pregnant-women.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of stylishandtrendy.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table> My feet are so swollen I can't even dream of being in kitten heels. :( <br />
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Also, I whine a lot about my pregnancy. This baby needs to be born just to shut me up.<br />
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Second, there is a lot of unknown about the pain attached to labor and delivery. It's normal to be freaked out about pushing a bowling ball out of a vag. The class reinforced how difficult it is; however, the class reminded me that a baby will happen and there are many ways to manage the pain (even if you don't want to use medication). The instructor never let a moment pass without reminding expectant mothers that we have the deep instinctive energy and power to deliver a baby. It gave me a strong earth mother vibe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdgsqqGv2jwrgV3vTsXf3Q6s5VQ-uNSLB81zgx-Wc_RvW9rZbi1dhoKvVmRRRoRI0fbP-tfNhbqFhWJ-pMlZLOLYB5KEdGKLr6uy3idwX4qvWlJz-6QA73a_2HS4nSwUECwyKmHRuNRs/s1600/she-ra.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLdgsqqGv2jwrgV3vTsXf3Q6s5VQ-uNSLB81zgx-Wc_RvW9rZbi1dhoKvVmRRRoRI0fbP-tfNhbqFhWJ-pMlZLOLYB5KEdGKLr6uy3idwX4qvWlJz-6QA73a_2HS4nSwUECwyKmHRuNRs/s1600/she-ra.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She-Ra courtesy of One Hundred Days of Happy</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Oh yeah. I'm going to be She-Ra in the delivery room! (Or not. Natalie has told me, "There are no heroes in the delivery room.") Granted, She-Ra is no earth mother but you get my drift. . . <br />
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Even if I'm not She-Ra, I will be stylish. I share the following with you.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvD9Y_jmgnLNjy2y-yTVV21Izz8XJrc6_bQlSqhDjaPa6sB_7djAp_dXUivfrXF6GMjAXV5uzI1af8aLQJuOSQsY6Gpehc61V6qVnvGCObuB9T26XbJoCvQ56LT87rvIxAQUHoQxzaDo/s1600/pretty+pushers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvD9Y_jmgnLNjy2y-yTVV21Izz8XJrc6_bQlSqhDjaPa6sB_7djAp_dXUivfrXF6GMjAXV5uzI1af8aLQJuOSQsY6Gpehc61V6qVnvGCObuB9T26XbJoCvQ56LT87rvIxAQUHoQxzaDo/s320/pretty+pushers.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty Pushers (c) disposable delivery gown. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><a href="http://prettypushers.com/">Prettypushers.com</a> has beautiful, easy-to-access gowns to modernize (or at least beautify) the delivery experience. The gowns retail for $28-22 and are disposable after use. You can purchase gowns directly from Pretty Pushers or via <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B002OFS74A/ref=ox_sc_act_title_6?ie=UTF8&m=A2TEADBMFV252D">amazon.com</a>. Styles include I dream of Mai Tais (the one I am getting), I dream of coffee, and I dream of sushi. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gfo3TH0NMG14O5J5VSEzcFNG5FLJ-dHUwKam4-NkQnPiDHiMLnB0RZQpFiOgMYCygMMuFQZqpr7Dzjb1CHrr9a13Q8aAhWJzStm_Sm_MkDoBz1SYxrk72drK8jCdo-K7Hfk7vbkAclI/s1600/sophie+gownie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gfo3TH0NMG14O5J5VSEzcFNG5FLJ-dHUwKam4-NkQnPiDHiMLnB0RZQpFiOgMYCygMMuFQZqpr7Dzjb1CHrr9a13Q8aAhWJzStm_Sm_MkDoBz1SYxrk72drK8jCdo-K7Hfk7vbkAclI/s320/sophie+gownie.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophie Gownie (c), by Baby Be Mine Maternity.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://www.babybeminematernity.com/">Baby Be Mine</a> offers a hospital gown for that postpartum hospital recovery period. Continue to feel comfortable and beautiful while getting that much needed rest and check ups at the hospital. Easy back closures and a front flap that allows for quick breastfeeding access. Retailing for $30-$50, you can order online from Baby Be Mine or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001KBSY4M/ref=ox_sc_act_title_5?ie=UTF8&m=A2ZQ2S67HYMWUK">Amazon</a>. <br />
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Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-66346752848111951732011-08-15T20:38:00.016-05:002011-08-16T12:52:58.859-05:00How To: Bottle Brush Trees<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_iUlFbKzx7QMlYT6q4Vtkpob9I_jTBYNlK9kOMcoEtescOdmMxIlcYtsKiq7kCWkH0S2iNVwbodWoZfni9NQEMaxVEo3UgJ3Z6cfDvU6Hb5B1KUO_Zz0NyNs73_aPq29iZ5sPOmkeXQ/s1600/treesreimdeer.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641269386745195778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_iUlFbKzx7QMlYT6q4Vtkpob9I_jTBYNlK9kOMcoEtescOdmMxIlcYtsKiq7kCWkH0S2iNVwbodWoZfni9NQEMaxVEo3UgJ3Z6cfDvU6Hb5B1KUO_Zz0NyNs73_aPq29iZ5sPOmkeXQ/s400/treesreimdeer.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hi, I am Sara's friend Zombie (Natalie). If you know Sara then t</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">here are things you *</span></span><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">know</span></b></span><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">* about her personality…she likes to bite, she is a writer, and she is loyal to her collection of odds and ends friends. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">These things are intrinsic to her individuali</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ty and they shine through, or leave teeth mar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ks, the first time you meet her. I am more than happy to be one of those friends she picked up along the way, like a particularly persistent STD, and she h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">as been unable to shake me. Think of me as the herpes </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">of friendship. Of course herpes is more than appropriate since I love to craft with glitter and every crafter knows glitter is the herpes of the craft room; on</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ce you have it, it never goes away. And </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">fittingl</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">y glitter is exactly what Sara has invited me to talk about today!</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Like Sara there are some things about me that you would lea</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">rn within 15 minutes </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">of meeting me; I LOVE Christmas (the holiday not the r</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">eligion stuff) and the ‘retro’ ascetic, I have a two, almost three, year old, I have no artistic abilities and I L</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">OVE glitter and crafting. You can see how all of these </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">things might converge to create one very big, stic</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ky, messy glittery two year old who snuck in to th</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e ‘craft ro</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">om’. That rarely happens anymore and e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ven better it turns out you don’t need ANY artistic ability to do crafts…you just need some crafters glue and glitter and an unexplainable drive to make things shiny.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So today we are going to do just that! Our craft today? W</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">onderful Christmas glitter bombs of spectacular that you can hold in the palm of your ha</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">nds…or you can just call this craft retro bottle brush trees. Bottle brush trees are the sort of stiff looking miniature trees you often see attached to putz houses or set up in groups of a dozen </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">or so to create cute little vintagy scenes. If you find</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">one at a boutique or department store they often g</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o for between 10 and 20 dollars a pop depending on s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ize. I am here to tell you how you can accomplish the same look without breaking the b</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ank!</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">First things first you’re gonna need a few things:</span></span></span></div><ul><li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span id="goog_541494632"></span><span id="goog_541494634"></span>Crafters glue (the stuff in the gold bottle that your mom used to glue the glitter on to </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">your Halloween costumes while she drank her gin and tonic)</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Glitter (more on this later)</span></span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">El cheapo little kid paint brushes</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Bleach</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Different size containers</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dye (tye dye kits or RIT dye from a craft store work well)</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sisal trees</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mardi gras beads</span></span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Scissors, towels, tongs, paper plates for clean up and glitter containment</span></span></span></div></li>
</ul><div style="margin: 0px;"><span id="goog_541494635"></span><span id="goog_541494633"></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sisal trees are the sort of dark fake </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">looking trees you can find at a craft or ho</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">bby store. Yo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">u can typically get a pack of 12 for under 5 dollars depen</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ding on size. These trees are cool all on their </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">own but you can give them a little more awesome just by doing a few simple things, and believe </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">me if I can do this it m</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ust be simple.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641263326430587522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Dk8jJzuupZlaD1ZLIJmJbrZboI9_tUMH1S3Q0ZR7I6ZiuHwoyzVKPzL9HVLz-s-Vifa46khph4AWtABa07bu9NiZAT3_f8B0D5dbIhyDPWjmMtq069ePkTSo4DhiUD1xbGfYCt8qsf4/s320/AAA.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></span></span><br />
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<div> </div></font></div></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">First you need to bleach the trees. Just pour that bleach into a container big en</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ough to immerse your whole tree (do as many as you want at once it doesn’t seem to change bleaching times) In just a few </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">minutes you’ll see your tree losing color. Of course the lo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">nger you leave it in th</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">e whiter the tree will be and if you plan on d</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">oing white trees you might want to consider leavin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">g the trees in for about a half an hour. Rinse the trees in some cold soapy water and let them air dry.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641264913750168098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi551lt9liF8ZBbMSIuUXg3U_1BADVLHyCMOcECgc4bYCioV-F0W8OUlvNyd0PulL-8geqezazcZw-M6kTd1ZPKFKfYMiLg1uG99Fhmc_cxqc7WlFsT0vtTTia20RMZaYlsWBwKu6n7zqg/s200/aaaaaaa.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 134px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This is the perfect time to mix a drink, glitter crafts are always more fun when you are three sheets to the wind, they look better too.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now it is time to dye your trees! I personally think RIT dye is slightly easier to use since you can buy it sans kit unlike tye dye. Your local craft store will have </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">an aisle with t shirt making crap, applicaques, shirts, fabric pe</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ns etc. You can normally find RIT dye down this aisle. It comes in both a powdered </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">form and liquid. I prefer the powdered because it is cheaper but if you married well or didn’t go </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">into non-profit work then go for the stuff you don’t have to mix. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Put some water in a pot, put pot on stove, and turn on stove top to a simmer. Shake or squirt some dye into pot. That’s about it. Don’t bother asking how much, just eye it. Remember to be careful </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">or wear gloves because RIT dye is a fabric </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">dye and if you get it on your hands it will stain. If i</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t does get on your hands and you don’t want to g</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">o with the smurf look wash immediately in cold water.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641266796934739186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHPhzeGCWoJ7K_zt3TY6PgxnemtGCkzs-lfn_hSjW6lFVvNGB_zA5_mgV_owDTQtrsqHPq_iKozyx_PW1u-uhg5rh98NaPKz794eG3NP-J_PbMuJ2KMoXww4ZzJH8SXZgkN07_Z3OQgEI/s200/IMG_5221.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 134px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dunk your trees in the dye. The longer you leave them in the deeper the color will be. If you like monochromatic groupings then do multiple trees in the same color for various lengths of time. Have a towel and an extraction device set up. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I just use ton</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">gs and grab the suckers out and place them on the dish towel which of course will end up tye dyed so try not to use on of the heirloom dishtowels your great grandmother knitted together from pieces of lace.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641267180062970242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi60PJf7sNKGwwGf9-uHEp8TlZQp2VX1z1q4nfJOjAVKiF6ZzYas7omhmTAxhnVolc7AJ8ieWCa48HFuZ0HEjTQbIovFkwGLq86z2BHByIiwa8X7L2tERnwMnPbWGS9COJhgdtAGAfIZGs/s200/IMG_5223.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 134px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Let these suckers dry for awhile… again a good time to get more to drink. In fact it would probably be best to get kersnookred because you might need to let the trees dry over night.</span></span></span><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Once you are up and over your hangover I KNOW the </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">firs</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">thing on your mind will be your forest of colorful trees awaiting their first snowfall.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Put some of your craft glue on a paper plate. Take your mardi gras beads and cut them apart. Dip a bead into the crafters glue and then nestle it in to your tree. Do this as much or as little as you like. When you get larger trees, like the twelve inch ones, you might want to consider using real ornaments that come in smaller sizes, or you can skip this step </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">all together if you don’t want any ornament bling </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">on your trees (fricken decorating novice).</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now you are ready for snow and by snow I mean “finally we are to the glitter part”. Glitter can mean many things. Take a trip down the glitter aisle at your craft store to see what I mean. You have all types of colors, sizes, price points etc. I have more than a few sitting around my "craft room" to choose from. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have searched high and low for the type of glitter that they originally used in putz and bottle brush houses; unfortunately, glitter was mostly made from metal shavings back in the day while today it is mostly plas</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">tic. This means those special glitter flakes just aren’t around anymore. You can find things that look similar, or you can just go with white crystal-like glitter to simulate snow or get glitter with colors (I like Martha Stewarts’ glitter line, though I realize n</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ot everyone wants to drop $36 on a colorful set of glitters). You can also pay a little </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">more and get glitters that are still made from different kinds of metals that will tarnish over the year</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">s, giving your trees a real honest to goodness vintage look. I use a combination of all above.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I normally put a paper plate down and apply glitter over the plate so it doesn’t go EVERYWHERE.</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641267699924994274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzPRjiTX6dTvBv9AVnXnOG1jxyEODAKt18DmRHiDgaSQJ5-vlUpGTRweqzKJyurw77Cf7ATUbQCLT51kdjEseZPlGF96YOxvYyufi_f8IlcmXVpdRf9j4dY0OOYGPjo4MkETIKxVHXNI/s200/A1S%2521.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 134px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Use your brush to paint some crafters glue on to your tree. Shake as much or little glitter on to your tree as you like. Seriously that’s it. All this build up to the glitter and that’s all I got. Now just stand your tree up and let ‘er dry. When she is dry she </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">will be stiffer to the touch than before. You may also wan</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">t to shake her a little get any left over glitter out. (Which is what you have to do to Ke$ha e</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">very morning too. Ha.)</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641268512707724258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-K6ikqIakm7Itxa20JQkwxwDoteh6cJZbeg6BQfeYysew7fUliMTL_0CDaD8u6qb1FN5AXJDnayRvtDpnqtE4SFbVCnGYC8ooc64kDHETdYfbb-GlCPBpPgLMFMX4PtY8tTyTe8inm8/s200/IMG_5261.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 134px;" /><br />
<div></div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So there you have it, cute little bottle brush trees. If you want to embellish with snow clumps there are bottles of a thick paste like substance that you can buy and flick on to the trees in small amounts. For trees in the 6 inch and under size range though your glitter snow fall should be more than enough. You can essentially do 24 or more of these trees for around $10, the price of just one in a high fultuin’ fancy store.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><br />
<div> </div></font></font></font></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641269234340675074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLitb6VCuf641u5jm017nNKEJVrtxfhyl6gUcYHOXWYOztaA8jSMdnCqKtV0cXWVx_cQBxEQ9Ip-eWKswd9mfwjQWU8D_3BKfO0c3tTO5a0WmFiz6WYXKf2RSa2VqsKYfw3Rkd8xS2pM/s200/IMG_5267.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 134px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641269113080117874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT16p4HxUgAIyIP5fUlEsGMopWyTSEMXeKpX1sn6N4QEOO9Rn060Q6yxCG8Ehy-hHV777J5AuFwJP8Vw0GdCBd4cuV_LPQf3dXE0TOg_HrM8Tf88LZcnM0sti26KkZRCorxShZGQZob-M/s200/IMG_5273.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 134px;" /></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: navy; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A note about originality: I have none. I learned this craft from other crafters over time, with many different websites’ input.</span></span></span></div></div>Nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12837116808250836779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-90155351764401367972011-08-04T21:58:00.004-05:002011-08-06T07:57:42.565-05:00What's in your belly?Yesterday, I received an email from my cousin in regards to my upcoming baby shower. It read:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0106bf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">BTW – I have always told R & M that babies come from God and that you go to the hospital to get them (like a special delivery!) So if they ask you about your belly … please go along w/ my easy breezy explanation as much as possible.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJvN1X8KVj-NkLn9_rFyxtloS2TRswKjQe_zXJfy25Omnhd9s3iGxN8L9g6cYm3BrcbskwayAx-VVVygSZSy9sSTwRE2UY9Z7uFrNfZTdbhQxfQ0pDVBZE9EvDwB1dJsHOj5WL3qvrlw/s1600/tina-fey.294cf0508.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJvN1X8KVj-NkLn9_rFyxtloS2TRswKjQe_zXJfy25Omnhd9s3iGxN8L9g6cYm3BrcbskwayAx-VVVygSZSy9sSTwRE2UY9Z7uFrNfZTdbhQxfQ0pDVBZE9EvDwB1dJsHOj5WL3qvrlw/s1600/tina-fey.294cf0508.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not me. Obviously. The hilarious Tina Fey. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="color: #0106bf; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br />
<div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My immediate response was to tell her we would direct any questions from her children to her or her husband. While I still think that is my best response, I started to develop other concerns as I talked about it with Panda. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">First, we're worried that we are being asked to lie about what is inside my belly. We definitely do not want to deny that a baby is in there. We believe that saying there is a baby in my belly is not in violation of my cousin's wishes. At least, we hope. We will still direct the children back to their parents, should their questions persist. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Second, I developed (perhaps a slightly irrational) pregnancy anger. I feel a little silly about this, but I was/am upset that she is trying to change the tone of my baby shower. It's about my baby! A part of me thinks that if she can't talk to her children about the reality of a baby inside me, than she shouldn't bring them to the shower. </span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is just the beginning of juggling other parents and how we should talk about bigger issues with our own children. My cousin's explanation is not one I would give to my child, and yet it's not wrong and completely her right to raise her children in the best way she knows how. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Okay. Fine. But does this juggling have to start at my shower?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">(I promise my next post will be on a lighter, less whiny note.)<br />
</span></div>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-28169748222324059222011-07-22T16:27:00.000-05:002011-07-22T16:27:16.836-05:00Sometimes, crazy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXA9tnX-UrACKRFxkPlI0i2iooS8_Wr0P5LyES-O1WPCpBuR0A09ksC1R6nCziVPKAxB_bawSDFv1ln6Pv5vm61Oc-C8Ai1I6e5EGJ3KoJNCYbbjCfqf5m1Hl-sW0asp00S_X93wNc7PA/s1600/tinamakwedding.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXA9tnX-UrACKRFxkPlI0i2iooS8_Wr0P5LyES-O1WPCpBuR0A09ksC1R6nCziVPKAxB_bawSDFv1ln6Pv5vm61Oc-C8Ai1I6e5EGJ3KoJNCYbbjCfqf5m1Hl-sW0asp00S_X93wNc7PA/s320/tinamakwedding.JPG" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elissa dress by Tina Mak </td></tr>
</tbody></table>I am planning two weddings. That's right. You read: two weddings.<br />
<br />
If I had been smart...oh, if only I had been smart!...I would have planned one wedding and donned the beautiful maternity dress above.<br />
<br />
But no. I am having a small, private courthouse wedding in a week. Then, at a date unknown, some larger crazier function with all of my family and friends. Both events will be amazing and awesome.<br />
<br />
I just feel silly. Indulgent. Stressed. Crazy.<br />
<br />
More of those lovely maternity dresses can be found at <a href="http://www.tinamakweddings.com/index.php">Tina Mak's site</a>.<br />
<br />
If I could do it all over, I would plan one large wedding no matter how pregnant I was!Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-28613286373480220122011-07-08T16:39:00.001-05:002011-07-22T16:59:40.945-05:00Kitty boy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4T7SMjm5iK0k6_Rn7u08SuCiApJW_pWSILT1WyhOm7azQnYGx4yzzvGKkoh_i5qiJ1CB-sES5fbE0sGzJbKwC7UvBuESPzXS-HFu4ke0E63Mq7W7iVj2JtMzRDb0RmSFMPHveBCQ24Q4/s1600/skippyjon+jones.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4T7SMjm5iK0k6_Rn7u08SuCiApJW_pWSILT1WyhOm7azQnYGx4yzzvGKkoh_i5qiJ1CB-sES5fbE0sGzJbKwC7UvBuESPzXS-HFu4ke0E63Mq7W7iVj2JtMzRDb0RmSFMPHveBCQ24Q4/s320/skippyjon+jones.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skippyjon Jones (1st book) by Judy Schachner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I have loved this book since its publication in 2003. I picked up a copy while working at the <a href="http://pregphobicandpregnant.blogspot.com/2011/07/are-you-still-in-there.html">toy store</a>. Now I read it to baby and sometimes also my own kitties, Percy and Marie.<br />
<br />
It's one of the most fun, sometimes challenging, read aloud books to read to children. In 2004 it won the first annual <a href="http://theabfc.wordpress.com/the-eb-white-read-aloud-awards/">E.B. White Read Aloud Award</a>.<br />
<br />
I've read this book to kids as young as 3 and as old as 10. They all crack up, especially when the reader has difficulty with Skippy's language! He thinks he is a Spanish-speaking Chihuahua, but he has no Spanish speaking skills. He transforms his language using his imagination. This causes tongue twisters similar to my other favorite author, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lorax">Dr. Seuss</a>. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrOnsAX89DLrsOUC1VbPSjZDajJaVLxfxfDlMhUyccRMBpczkyJHnEjTAAU6ywScyhBGr2z2_7yZC1J_ivlxgDH0oJjmFDBmuzw0wzxV836dxrmo3FTmpUqp74T7esu23Y5KZ90rz1Fs/s1600/Percy+as+present+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrOnsAX89DLrsOUC1VbPSjZDajJaVLxfxfDlMhUyccRMBpczkyJHnEjTAAU6ywScyhBGr2z2_7yZC1J_ivlxgDH0oJjmFDBmuzw0wzxV836dxrmo3FTmpUqp74T7esu23Y5KZ90rz1Fs/s320/Percy+as+present+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My own kitty boy, Percy, in his dream world as he wraps himself in Christmas paper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-85690926676769971452011-07-01T15:32:00.001-05:002011-07-22T15:53:04.970-05:00Second Trimester EuphoriaAs I wallowed in my pregnancy sickness during the first trimester, my baby was growing normally (as far as I knew) and parasitically in my womb. Yet, I couldn't see beyond the fog.<br />
<br />
Until two wonderful things happened.<br />
<br />
Panda and I went for our second trimester ultrasound and were able to see all of our baby's wonderful body parts. We also learned the gender - it's a boy! Seeing him larger than a lentil, well-developed, and very active relieved me like nothing else could. <br />
<br />
I was able to attach personality to him. Calling the baby "him" instead of as "it" or "baby" was the first best change. Additionally, we could talk about names more specifically. I could start planning his room and books for his bookshelf! <br />
<br />
The ultrasound changed me in many ways, but it was also a mommy friend (sadly, long-distance) who gave me perspective that allowed me to start to really enjoy and savor this pregnancy. She wrote to ask if I was experiencing second trimester euphoria yet?<br />
<br />
I was still sick and starting to feel more uncomfortable at night, losing the ability to sleep in my favorite position, on my back. So, I asked her what this imaginary euphoria was?<br />
<br />
She replied: <i>I know this sounds counter-intuitive, but enjoy the pregnancy. I know you are tired as it is, and I don't mean to scare you, but the first six months after the baby are born are really hard!</i><br />
<br />
Coupled with my good feelings post-ultrasound, I let her words sink into me. I realized that this was the last time ever in my life that I would be simply <b>me</b>. From now until my last breath, I will be a mother, a title that brings both joy and fear, expectation and doubt, responsibility and gravity. <br />
<br />
After baby I would have to share Panda's attention with that of our child, too. <br />
<br />
While I was ready for this change, and even more convinced that we would be a good family, I needed to enjoy this time. The <i>me</i> time, the <i>two of us</i> time, the <b>before</b> time.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-67038082730247707702011-05-23T23:19:00.001-05:002011-07-02T23:49:58.526-05:00Are You Still In There?During the first trimester, it's common for women to wonder if their pregnancy is still viable. This is the period of highest risk, when most pregnancies fail. Despite being told by my OB during my second appointment that my chance of miscarriage was less than 5%, I was still nervous and convinced I wasn't pregnant. (Holding onto that latent fear of a terminal disease.)<br />
<br />
It was a lonely period, buoyed only by my fiance (henceforth "Panda") and the only friend I had confided in, Zombie. Our friendship goes back many years, to our crazy days in Washington, D.C., working for a boutique children's toy and book store. Now, she is mother to an adorable 2 1/2 year old daughter, Baby Z. <br />
<br />
Zombie and I spoke daily via email and text. She immediately sent me a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pregnancy-Instruction-Manual-Owners/dp/1594742456/ref=pd_sim_b_1">pregnancy guide book</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vulli-Sophie-the-Giraffe-Teether/dp/B000IDSLOG">baby's first toy</a>, a link to a <a href="http://alphamom.com/pregnancy-calendar-overview/">pregnancy calendar</a>, and a list of <a href="http://alphamom.com/pregnancy/our-ultimate-baby-registry-checklist/">infant must-haves</a>. <br />
<br />
She also told me that what I was feeling was completely normal. Her friendship kept me partially sane during those first three months.<br />
<br />
At my third OB appointment, we heard the baby's heartbeat again and I was out of the first trimester. <i>I had to promise Panda I would stop freaking out about losing the pregnancy.</i> Then, we shared the good news with our parents and families.<br />
<br />
Of course, revealing our pregnancy launched its own series of questions and concerns...<br />
<br />
And now, proof that Aliens is all about motherhood --<br />
<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wutcJ7tKyRA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-12342465373101623162011-04-18T21:49:00.001-05:002011-07-02T22:31:17.584-05:00First Trimester BluesHow does the confirmation of pregnancy change how it feels in my body? During the first eight weeks, I had little indication of my pregnancy. Some tiredness, some aching in my breast and stomach, as though I had cramps, yet nothing extreme as other women had mentioned (the dreaded morning sickness).<br />
<br />
A day after my OB confirmed my pregnancy and administered the first ultrasound, I started developing nausea. <br />
<br />
<b>This is how I imagined it --<br />
</b><br />
Body to brain, "So, now you know?"<br />
Brain, "Yes. We're very excited. Can't you tell?"<br />
Body, "Oh yeah. There's a lot we're feeling. Now you will to. Hahahahaha (<i>evil laugh</i>)." <br />
<br />
The nausea was crippling. Barely able to function, I missed work and had to tell my supervisors before I was ready to tell my family. By the time of my second OB appointment, I had tried every home remedy, including ginger, crackers, seabands, peppermint, and meditation.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6Ns4JryU615YClUx10RtS1RYjb61SK9FCKqlx9cr1ADnwzHgGU7Bq8e25gq0iO_7g9DELbSo5KhdwR1oAkpKrU3CN-pP0h6sF7jc1nZw_GUZKaKUa5bqJSjwAqPNIr5-CFrMayd4A5c/s1600/exorcist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6Ns4JryU615YClUx10RtS1RYjb61SK9FCKqlx9cr1ADnwzHgGU7Bq8e25gq0iO_7g9DELbSo5KhdwR1oAkpKrU3CN-pP0h6sF7jc1nZw_GUZKaKUa5bqJSjwAqPNIr5-CFrMayd4A5c/s200/exorcist.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how I felt. Photo credit: www.slschofield.com.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
My OB prescribed me anti-nausea medication, so I could function again. Prior to my pregnancy, my OB was just OK. Post-pregnancy, she was glowing.<br />
<br />
<i>I was glad one of us was. </i><br />
<br />
"I love babies," she said. "After 10 years of doing this, I still love bringing babies into the world." Well, that's great. I would hate if my OB despised her job. I've found OBs to be the nosiest doctors. That's not a complaint. Over the years, they've been the only ones who have asked me about my stress levels in addition to my sex life. Pregnancy was no different.<br />
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She wanted a lot of details about my partner, which made me worry about how comfortable it would be to be a teen mom or an unwed mother. After being ill, being depressed and moody, and being scared as a result of the pregnancy, I have a lot of respect for women who are pregnant and parent on their own.Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-19368444771601541202011-03-29T19:37:00.001-05:002011-07-02T21:42:48.327-05:00Pregphobic and Pregnant: Part 2By 2010, my pregphobia receded to a distant memory, something to laugh at. By that point, my sister had two young sons, and I had several friends who had adorable children. They all survived their alien invasion and turned out to be mostly normal again.<br />
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I also met and fell in love with wonderful, caring, and generous man in Chicago, IL. He proposed on Valentine's Day.<br />
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Despite my fear of pregnancy, I loved children. I always smiled at infants and kids whenever I passed them in stores or on the street. Being an auntie was a favorite activity of mine. So I knew I wanted children, and I knew my fiance would be a wonderful father. Shortly after he proposed, we discussed babies. <br />
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I was worried that my age and my family's history of fertility issues may create some issues for us in starting our family. We decided to start trying and leave the creation of life up to fate.<br />
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That was February.<br />
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By March, my fiance realized I was pregnant. I thought my excessive sleepiness was cancer. (I have a touch of hypochondria, too.)<br />
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<i>He was right.</i> <br />
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My reaction? Great! And uh oh. I was facing my own <b>John Hurt Moment</b>!<br />
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<iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JehjqlzXwIQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274233082625375968.post-61321197341216537612011-03-28T18:56:00.001-05:002011-07-02T19:36:48.956-05:00Pregphobic and Pregnant: Part 1My pregphobia hit its height in the spring of 2006. I was living in New York City, hustling through life as a grad student (creative writing, need I say more?), a fundraising associate, and heavy drinker. My life consisted of: booze, books, friends, and boys, in that order. Obviously, not the time in life to be considering parenthood. Thankfully, that wasn't an issue for me, but it didn't mean I couldn't be frightened of it.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Pregphobia</span>, as defined by my friend Janice -- a type of anxiety disorder, defined as a persistent fear of pregnancy or pregnant people.<br />
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That spring every woman in NYC was pregnant. Or seemingly so. I saw them everywhere with their bubbled stomachs. I remember a particular day when I was at the corner of Broadway and 6th Avenue with three pregnant ladies all in tight black dresses that emphasized their protrusions and another was crossing the street towards us. It was claustrophobic. They were swarming me like insects! Suddenly sweaty and woozy, I bolted from the corner and dashed for home.<br />
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To say I have mother issues is an understatement. Though in my defense, I think a lot of sane women fear the "John Hurt Moment". Let's face it, there is something <i>alien</i> about pregnancy...<br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhmE-f2GKIs"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/DhmE-f2GKIs" width="560"></iframe></a>Sarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12965962195813347519noreply@blogger.com0