And I know at least one person (Scott) who will be surprised to hear me say that, since last night was our most colossal crying fit EVER, and for the first time since we brought him home, Jonah did not go to sleep at midnight but rather at 3 a.m. or so — in the . . . → Read More: i have to admit, it’s getting better
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By Mayberry Mom In the weeks before my first child was born I never once entertained the idea that I would have a cesarean section. Although my girl was large (nearly nine and a half pounds, as it turned out), she was not breech and therefore, in my mind, there was no reason why she . . . → Read More: guest post: the calm before my stork I’m not miserable. Are you miserable? No. I’m not miserable. It’s just hard when he’s crying. Yeah, and your head feels like it’s going to explode. People say it gets better at 6 weeks. Not that we should count on that. But we can hope. Yeah. By Mixed Nuts To understand where I’m coming from, you first need to know who I am. My name is Katie. I am the 30-year-old mother of a 4 1/2-year-old son, N~, a 3-year-old son, W~, and a 21-month-old son, C~. Oh yeah, and I’m pregnant again. With another boy. Due in February. I love . . . → Read More: guest post: nesting 1. My friend comes over to visit with her two-month old. My friend is about 5 feet tall and 90 pounds (I exaggerate). Her baby is big. So big. Like a koala bear. Her baby looks bigger than her. My baby is so tiny. (I like my tiny baby.) My boob is three times the . . . → Read More: still lifes Apparently this is a known phenomenon. The early evening hour — that time when parents are just getting home, kids are melting down, and you’d like to either take arsenic or dispense it. Ha. Ha. I melt down like clockwork sometime after 5 p.m. and pine for Scott until the bus brings him home from . . . → Read More: arsenic hour By Mama-Om When I was pregnant with my first child, a friend asked me, “Do you ever think about what your kid might be when they grow up? Like, what if they’re the president?” The president? Uh… But mainly what struck me was that I had never given a single thought to what my child . . . → Read More: guest post: help! my newborn is acting like a teenager! When I was young, we lived in “the canyon” in Los Angeles. Two winters of my childhood brought rains so heavy that our street turned into a thick caramel mud river and carried cars away. The ivy-covered hill that was our backyard soaked up the water like a giant sponge, and then slid down, into . . . → Read More: floods and mud in washington state |
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