Motherhood Uncensored

When Bedtime Stories Are Smarter Than You

"A-pah-sema..."

"a-POH-seeema..."

"Ay-PAH-sama..."

"A.PAH.SE... *interrupts* "Mommy! You just say it like this: 'pasta'"

Damn dinosaur books with long words like "aposematism." I still don't know how to say it.

I Spent the Entire Day at the Philadelphia Airport and all I Got Was a Ziploc Bag and an $8 Sandwich

Clearly, someone is trying to tell me something.

I should have known when everything fell right into place for our little weekend trip to Hotlanta. Nothing forgotten. Happy children. Cheerful mother-in-law.

But then, we arrived at the airport to find every single person in Philadelphia trying to fly to Atlanta today. I know, the CNN Center is just fabulous and I love me some Japanese Prune Coke at the Coca Cola Museum. However, I'm not sure that's worth the hellishly long lines at the ticket counters and security -- with two children, two car seats, a stroller, three bags, and a mother-in-law.

I was hoping that with the huz being employed by an airline I might get some special privileges.

Apparently that was the ONE free ziploc bag for my Preparation H cream with the butt tip that stopped the x-ray tray in front of half of the city.

Nice.

As airline employee dependents, you fly standby. No special red carpet, no stickers, and no cute set of wings. And, clearly, no special treatment. As I learned, do not for the life of you mention the word "pilot," at least to gate agent Mr. Sherry F., a man with a very weird first name for a man who's not a pre-op trannie, because he will not offer you the two open seats on your flight because "you are a party of four."

Yes. Four humans -- two of whom are small children and can clearly sit on laps and take up two seats.

"Don't make me whip out my boob and nurse right in front of you, Mister" I thought, considering the possible ramifications (and exciting blog post) of such an action.

But alas, I didn't think Mr. Sherry F. would have cared. And so started our long field trip day at the airport.

We had a picnic lunch under the large overhang at Gate E-3. We tested the various toilets and sinks at each of the two women's restrooms. We ate large amounts of candy, including gummy bears, lollipops, and twizzlers.

We listened as my daughter cheered for the arriving planes and cried loudly as they left without her. And we watched solemnly (and looked away, as many of our country people are doing) as the casket of a soldier was loaded onto a plane with a military escort and salute.

And we cried when the third flight was over sold with no chance of us getting on it.

So, our trip to Atlanta was not meant to be. We'll have to meet Ted Turner and indulge on an hour long sugar high sampling of cokes another time. And while I have to admit that the airport was almost as exciting as the zoo (less animals, air conditioning, and just under half the stench), I'm pretty sure you won't see me listing it as an "Indoor Listen and Learn" activity at Gocitykids.

And our only saving grace was that we at least got our parking free. And that my children are gems.

Maybe that's what someone was trying to tell me.

We know it's hard mommy. That's why we read our own bedtime stories sometimes.

The Old Shirt in the Mouth Trick

Who needs a binky when you can just stick your shirt in your baby's mouth and he:

a) Stops screaming instantly (particularly effective on long car rides where your boob is not accessible)

b) Goes to sleep in your arms (which he has never done even when you offer him the boob)

Seriously, WHO KNEW? Now I hope it doesn't have to be a Banana Republic shirt. I mean, I love my kid and all but I can't be sacrificing all my favorite t-shirts.

Damn kids. Always have such expensive taste.

Ducks Are More High Maintenance Than You'd Think

**Sorry for the technical difficulties. The archives should be up and running later on, so you can try to catch what you missed! See the media player over there -->**

I've got a lawyer, professor, and a queen all prepared to drop their gloves and get down and dirty about the duck tonight. If you still think I should return the duck *cough* Suebob *cough*, or if you got another opinion of what I should do with my duck (be nice, I've already got a few things shoved up my ass, thank you), then call in. I'm giving away a free t-shirt to a lucky random caller.

Plus, I'm just dying to discuss some ridiculous comments that lend themselves to a deeper discussion on parenting ethics. (Honestly, I totally get the returning the duck thing, but not turning because you didn't turn your signal on? C'mon. Live a little!)

Do we really have to practice what we preach? What are our parenting deal breakers? Can our ethics change as we grow as humans? And where to do we draw the line in terms of "following the rules?" 

Listen live from 10-11pm EST and call in (646) 915-8634. You can download past shows via iTunes. Feel free to email me your questions/comments, or leave them here. And if you miss the show, you can listen to the archives or the most recent show by clicking on the media player in my upper right hand sidebar.

I'm About to Go Boobnanas

So, I tried the boobnanas.

The faces were not as incredibly horrible yet deliciously hilarious as the po-tit-toes. And the boobnanas actually went down. For about 23 minutes.

And then they came up. After bouts of screaming, whining, and "hold me or I will die" shrieks.

I'm thinking I'm just going to lay off the food for a bit and focus on why he doesn't like to eat during the day.

Let me rephrase.

Why he doesn't like to eat except when I'm putting him down for a nap or after he's cried for a bit or when I win the lottery.

Right.

Seriously, a few days in a row we had nice happy eating during the day for naps. I've been packing a bottle and breastmilk for when I'm out since he refuses to nurse in any other position but laying down and as you might remember (or can imagine), that just looks ridiculous at the mall. I already think it's bad when people sit in those "massage" chairs that they try to charge you a dollar to use.

Ew.

So, while I tend to have no shame, I won't be laying down at Macy's on their beds trying to breastfeed my son. Although, that would make an interesting news article.

Hmmmm...