Party Like a Mom

I was reading one of my unmarried contemporary’s blogs the other day and marveling at how much action he can pack into a single day. Surfing at dawn (on a vicious hangover no less), a day of work and errands, partying again at night on the San Francisco social scene. Just reading it made me tired. How does he have the energy? Maybe I need to work out more, if only I had the time.

Then it dawned on me. We’re rocking hard here in the M.O.T. household too, harder, I would argue than any singleton in the Peter Pan city of San Francisco.

Think about it:

3 am we’re swinging a 25 pounder back to sleep. 5 am we’re negotiating a later wake up time. 6:30 am it’s no-holds-barred party in Mom and Dad’s bed (the best time of day I might argue). For Mom the rest of the day is non-stop. T-Bone takes a mini-egg omelet these days, Dad favors some sausage. By the time the nanny shows up we’ve put in a three hour shift. Then it’s time to log in for work. The next eight hours are rocking out some work stuff while occasionally dropping in on the baby for a visit. Evenings we’ve got dinner with the baby, splash fest in the bathtub, followed by a reading session with T-Bone, then more singing and rocking before bedtime for T-Bone at 7:00. Next up it’s dinner with Dad, squeeze in an hour or so more work stuff, maybe an hour to catch up on personal email and web stuff, then we’re crashing hard by 10 pm.

I would argue that if you took the baby out of the picture I’d be in better shape to party all night long than any well-slept, weight trained twenty-something. Seriously.

Dear Childless People: You are Not Tired

One of the many things I have learned as a new parent is this: if ever I thought I was tired before having a baby, I was terribly, terribly wrong.

I hereby apologize to the universe for any time I gluttonously overslept and declared myself “so tired.” To be fair, I could never have known then what it meant to be truly, bone-achingly tired. And to any parents of two, or three, or more children, I know. I know you’re more tired than I am. Honestly, I have no idea how you do it.

During these eight odd months since having a baby, I’ve been continuously surprised by the new levels of Functional Fatigue that I’ve achieved. Yeah, pregnancy was tough. I had to pee at least three times a night (poor baby!). I whined about not being able to sleep without my pregnancy pillow (woe is me!).

Did I think I was tired that first night in the hospital after 9 months of pregnancy and 9 hours of labor? Sure. Did I think I was tired a week later after seven nights of all-night-nursing? Yeah. But that was nothing compared to two weeks of all-night-nursing. At 4 weeks post-partum I declared “I will die if I don’t get a good nights sleep!”

Guess what? I’m still alive.

Around T-Bone's twelve week mark things started to settle down. But then I had to go back to work, and the night feedings continued. And four weeks of sleep deprivation turned into four months, turned into six months, going on nine….

So you can understand I might get a little teeny bit annoyed when I’m on a flight from SFO to Newark — just an ordinary afternoon flight mind you, not a red-eye — and a twenty-something childless woman declares woefully to the stewardess “I absolutely must be seated next to my husband, you see, I need to rest my head on his shoulder, it’s the only way I can sleep!,” because, you know, as she says “I’m really tired, and I have to work tomorrow!”

If looks could maul…

So anyway, Childless People: You are not tired. Trust me.

A Sad Day for Curls Everywhere

Mother of God the day I have feared most has finally come. A tragedy of haircare has struck the M.O.T. household.

You see I wasn’t always known for my glossy dark curls.

Once upon a time I was a homely child. My mother shorn my hair close to the temples — with uneven bangs no less — to tame my unruly mop. For years I was referred to as “that little boy over there.”

When I was old enough to shampoo and comb my own hair I insisted on growing it out to clearly establish my girlhood. Unfortunately I did not understand the nature of curly vs. straight hair or coarse vs. silky hair. So no matter how much I brushed and petted my mop it still stood in all directions.

I grilled my little girl friends with milky golden locks. “What do you wash it with?” One day I discovered Conditioner and I thought it was the secret to the universe. [Side note - did Conditioner even exist before 1978?] I applied more and more each time but the result was dull and clumpy mounds, but no milky tresses. How did they do it?

Over time my bushy mound grew longer and somehow around age 15 I discovered that my hair was not intended to be straight and milky, but in fact my massive mound was a pile of curls waiting to be set free. If I only stopped brushing the poor things into oblivion.

Around this time I discovered the Finesse line of hair care products. Quite by accident I believe. I probably picked up the first bottle because it was a clean blue color and I liked the smell. I then tried the Finesse Mousse. I discovered that the more mousse I used the better.

I carelessly tried other brands but by my freshman year in college I was a staunch Finesse Only Girl. Finesse Mousse is the ONLY PRODUCT ON THE MARKET that will form my curls into silky shiny ringlets without stickiness or weight.

In the late 90’s Finesse came out with Anti-frizz lines. Even better than the oririnal. Around 2002 they came out with a Soft Curls line (later known as Curl Defining) and I was convinced THEY WERE SPEAKING TO ME.

Women with curly hair ALWAYS ask me what products I use and when I tell them Finesse I can tell they aren’t going to try it because its a cheap drugstore brand. I pity them.

I estimate that from around 1987 through 2006 I have used somewhere in the region of several tons of, and spent in the thousands of dollars on Finesse Shampoo, Conditioner and Mousse. The Soft Curls Mousse must be a hot item because I have often found the space on the shelf where it is supposed to be empty, so when it’s in stock, I buy it in bulk. 2-3 “cans” of mousse at a time. When Soft Curls is out the Enhancing version will work almost as well.

Lately I’ve noticed the shortage of Soft Curls becoming more and more frequent. I’ve had to visit several different pharmacies to find one with FSC in stock.

And today my worst nightmare has come true. When I visited CVS this morning and scanned for the FSC products not only did I not find a the product, I didn’t even find the empty shelf space!

CVS had no Finesse products in stock, and if I’m reading the stocking tea leaves correctly, they have no plans to ever re-stock any Finesse products!!!!!!!!!!!

I rushed home to get on the internet to investigage, and lo and behold, Unilever, the EVIL company that purchased Helen Curtis in the mid-nineties has SOLD OFF the Finesse brand in May of this year. I can’t determine to whom it has been sold, but as far as I can tell this may mean that I cannot and will not be able to find Finesse products for some time, and when they come back they may not even be the same.

Right now I’m in shock, but at some point I’m going to have to come up with an emergency hair care plan. Its hot and humid outside, and August without FSC Mousse could be a very, very long month.

Editors Note: I want to say that I did snag some Finesse Curl Defining Mousse at Duane Reade yesterday, three cans. For all I know perhaps only CVS has fully phased it out. But like with the death of a very famous old celebrity, or the outing of a clearly gay but closeted celebrity, now I have my “Fairwell to Finesse” article pre-written if and/or when it does finally leave the shelves forever.

Would you....

My Husband and I have this running conversation about picking up money from the street.

It goes something like this:

Husband: “If you saw a penny on the street, would you pick it up?”

Me: “No”

Husband: “If you saw a dime on the street, would you pick it up?”

Me: “No”

Husband: “If you saw a twenty dollar bill on the street, would you pick it up?”

Me: “Hell Yes!”

You get the picure. We go back and forth until we determine that both of us would probably at least hesitate for as little as a quarter, but no less. And if no one is looking we most certainly would pick that quarter up.

So this morning my Husband is changing Tess’s diaper for the third time. The diaper is only marginally wet and he mentions in passing that everytime we throw out a minorly soiled diaper we’re throwing out about twenty five cents. A quarter in the trash every time.

So I ask my husband: “If you saw a quarter on the street, would you pick it up?”

His answer: “Yes.”

I ask: “Would you pick it up if it was covered with shit?”

Bonnie M.O.T.

Update: the blog name is now Bonnie M.O.T. Less pretentious, more Daughter of Scotia. What do you think?

Trust Me, I'm Objective

I’ve finally come up a great money-making blog idea. It will be all about insanely adorable baby photos. Sort of like Cute Overload, Daily Puppy, or Hitler Cats .

Ok, so send me the cutest baby photo you can find, and I’ll post them.

I’ll call it “I’ll Be the Judge of That.”

Coming up for Air

It’s been a while, I know. What is it now, July, almost August? And only now have I found myself with enough idle time on a Sunday morning to revive my yet-to-be-named MomBlog.

T-Bone is now 6 months old. Six months and two weeks to be exact, but we’ve stopped counting in weeks. Not that the weeks don’t make a difference, because they do.

In the two weeks since she turned 6 months she’s starting sitting up. Two weeks ago she was gagging red-faced on bananas. Now she’s smiling while she smears and actually swallows her bananas.

Work is still a distraction from Life with T-Bone. I don’t think this is any way to live — a full time job with an infant just does not work.

Anyway, let’s quickly recap the last three months. Since April 1…..

T-Bone became a crib napper. We hired Maggie, our nanny. Maggie learned the T-Bone routine which made Mom very very happy. T-Bone became a bottle drinker. She went from 2-3 oz per bottle up to almost 8 oz per bottle now.

I pumped at work. T-Bone was fed exclusively on breast milk until her 6 month birthday (July 16th), when we introduced formula and I had a mini-break down over it. I felt useless for about thirty seconds until I realized I have a bazillion other ways to be useful to Tess. I stopped pumping at work!

About a week and a half ago T-Bone got Coxsackie (along with half of the infants in New York City). We took our first rectal temperature. We took another rectal temperature, we took another and another and another until Dad accused me of enjoying it.

T-Bone tasted rice cereal and was not impressed. T-Bone tasted oatmeal and ate way too much, got sick and didn’t touch it again for three weeks. T-Bone tried banana and the world was never the same again. T-Bone eats avocado and banana in her Sassy Teether-Feeder and thinks she’s a big girl.

T-Bone learned to sit up. When she’s not sitting up she enjoys using her incredible thigh muscles (thank you exersaucer) to bounce like a jumping bean.

The dropped pumping sessions have apparently jump started Mom’s “system” and the result is not pretty.

The Two Hour Rule

I came back to revive my MomBlog and in my Drafts I found this title, along with the following line:

sleep chasing. best advice, get started as soon as possible.

I wrote that back in early April, and I still feel like we’re sleep chasing. Only this last week do I feel like we’ve “caught up” with sleep. And yes, the advice still holds true. Use the two-hour rule as early as possible. We look at video and photos from when T-Bone was a newborn and we laugh at ourselves - why are we holding that sleeping baby?!!!

Try this one on

I’m feeling out new blog names. I thought I found a good on in “My Mom’s Blog.” T-Bone would introduce me on her blog, super cute, yadda yadda. But apparently 80 year old Millie beat me to it. The young Millie looks strikingly like my own mother, but that’s another tangent for another day.

Then I threw around the expression “Mom of T-Bone,” but felt like there was something a little too Dr. Laura about that. But who am I kidding, it really is all about T-Bone. Right now I’m all about T-Bone, and being the Mom of T-Bone.

Mom of T-Bone.

M.O.T.

Bon mot. Pretentious?

Bon M.O.T. Better.

Le Bon M.O.T. Bad MOFO. M.O.T. Whatever. We’ll try it on for a while.

Let's Get this Party Started

The point of this blog is to be completely honest about my experience as a new mother. I know of no better place to start than with this photo:

You may think — like I did — that after your delivery you’ll shower off, put on some comfy sweats, and start cruising around with your baby, minus the inconvenient pregnant belly.

The reality of the first week home with a newborn is not long strolls in the park. Its not even all fluffy blankets and cuddles.

The reality is Sitz Baths, leaking breasts, jumbo pads that double as ice packs (who knew these even existed, but thank God they do). You’re going topless. You’re leaking from both ends and you’re honeslty wondering if you and your baby will make it through the night. Your bedroom is a scene from Wild kingdom.

Actually, the photo is misleading. The nurse will tell you you to use the Sitz bath twice a day for twenty minutes, but you’ll be lucky if you can get one five minute session on that thing in the first week. The Sitz is a luxury, and if you’re spending your 20 free minutes on the sitz instead of sleeping you’re making a grave mistake.

I Hate Velcro

On some days, even Velcro annoys me.

I thought I had done it, I thought I had captured the mysterious “sleep window” with T-Bone this morning. At 10 a.m. I put her down after seeing the subtlest of sleepy signs, and magically she didn’t protest. She lay cooing in her crib for a good ten minutes and I really thought we had made a breakthrough.

At 10:10 I peered through the bedroom door and saw her staring off into the distance — sleep was imminent. She still had her last few grunts and fusses to get through though. At 10:15 she sounded mildly distressed, but waaaay too sleepy to really make a fuss. Next thing I hear is Chris’s voice bellowing from the bedroom “Mooooooooom!” ARG. I give him an angry “Shhh” sign through the crack in the bedroom door, he returns a dejected look of shame and T-Bone responds with a louder fuss. I go in to explain the strategy to Chris, but by this time T-Bone is in full abandoned cry mode and I must pick her up. [Side Note: does anyone notice in this story that my husband is still trying to sleep in the bedroom while I’m up and about?]

Into the stroller she went. I angrily pushed her around the apartment - or as “around” you can get in 650 sq feet — all the while fuming at Chris and thinking to myself “this must be what it’s like to have two children, a baby and a toddler, Chris is my toddler. and we wanted three or more?” hmmmm

T-Bone sat grumpily slouched in the stroller fighting her yawns, and fighting the closing eyes, but eventually she was asleep by 10:50. Only a 50 minute process. This is progress right?

Once she was asleep I tried to quickly tidy the apartment for my friend Donna’s visit. Packed the diaper back — g-damn loud Velcro could wake an elephant.

My return to work looms over me now. I think it makes me that much more sensitive and angry about not having T-Bone precisely “scheduled.” What if she melts down with the nannny? Will I be able to work while that happens? Will T-Bone be permanently damaged? I just want to know that she can be made happy while I’m not around. Is that too much to ask?

Lawmomblog

I have to set aside the UI issues here and just start writing.

Tess is almost ten weeks old and I’ve already lost precious nuggets of knowledge to a squishy sleep deprived memory. By the time anyone reads this I’m sure I’ll have Tess on a precision schedule (yeah right!). I’m sure I’ll be churning out witty entries on a daily basis, while meeting all of Tess’s needs, all on top giving 110% to my full time job. No Problem.

I’m here to share my observations as a new mother. I’m also here to create a much needed outlet from my “chosen” profession of the law.

You see many years ago, back in 1992 I realised I hated the law. That was my first semester in law school. I wanted to drop out even then, but various forces (mostly the horrid job prospects of the early nineties) kept me in school. I made another break back in 2000 when I quit my first legal job and attempted a career change. What I ended up doing was traveling for six months, taking a couple creative writing courses, losing motivation and taking the first job offer I got back in the legal profession.

I can’t complain. In the process of navigating my hated profession I’ve also learned many useless peices of information mostly pertaining to the business world and contract negotiation. I can sling business jargon like the best of them. I’ll spare you and “outside the box” jokes here, so 2001 anyway.

So where was I? This blog isn’t about law or technology, it’s about being a mom. But if it weren’t for my legal career I would not have met my husband, and ultimately would not be here as the Mom of Tess. So for that I’m thankful I finished law school.

The first order of business is to find a suitable name for the blog. I’m thinking lawmomblog, with a nod to Arrested Development, but do I really want to anchor myself with the law association that I’m so desperate to lose? We’ll see.