Say Hello to My Little Friend

Friendship is crucial. A good friend is trustworthy, reliable, and there to help you when you need it most.

I have a new friend in my life. Without further ado, allow me to introduce you to her.

She is is joining our family along with her cousins New Refrigerator, New Microwave and New Range, and is taking the place of another longtime companion, Ol' Gertrude (Gerty) the GE, who alas was too old and ugly to remain in my kitchen. Let this be a lesson to my friends--if you let yourself get haggard and unkempt there's a good chance I will toss you to the curb, too.

If there was an Olympic Competition is dishwasher loading, I feel pretty confident that I could win it. It pains me to admit that I find great fun in unloading what my husband or mother had previously loaded and deemed full, and rearranging it in such a fashion that I could fit another meal's worth of dishes. Whenever I hear, "this needs to be run" I come running myself, up for the challenge. I've never met a pile of dishes I couldn't squeeze into that old girl. What can I say? It is my gift.

The new, shiny dishwasher and I are currently on a learning curve. It is an odd sensation to be so unfamiliar with THE most space saving and effective way to load. It's taking me longer. That sucks.

It's funny, but it really is like we are getting to know each other. But she eagerly went a'scrubbing last night, quiet as a mouse compared to Ol' Gerty, who wasn't really even all that loud to begin.

So RIP Gerty. You lived a good long life, and the things you have done for me will never be forgotten!

P.S. For those of you who think I'm nuts for calling a kitchen appliance my friend, give it a little more thought. Anyone who washes your dishes should be considered a friend!

Ask Ashley - Sh*t Stinks

Our next installation of 'Ask Ashley' comes from a repeat customer.

Dear Ashley,

Do you use a diaper genie? If so, how do you keep the house from smelling like a dirty diaper? If you don't, ummm, how do you keep the house from smelling like a dirty diaper? Thanks!

Nicole

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Attention all new moms: Do not, I repeat DO NOT register for any type of diaper disposal system. It is a waste of money and ranks right up there with the uselessness of wipe warmers and bottle sterilizers.

Once your baby is on solid food, I'll be blunt--the sh*t stinks. And trust me, there is no man made contraption that is going to contain the aroma. These companies that make Diaper Genie, Diaper Champ, Diaper Decor (that's my favorite named one, BTW as if it's from Pottery Barn or something) they are out there to take your money. They know we mothers deal in a lot of crap and will pay good money to make it easier. But it's not. If someone can find a way to invent and actual genie to come and dispose of diapers, now we're talking about money well spent.

As for how to keep your house from smelling like a dirty diaper--you need Publix/Target/Walmart bags, and lots of them. I have a small trash can in my garage that I throw all the diapers in. Before tossing them out there, I tie the ripe ones up in a plastic bag (sorry environment, I love you, I really do, but I love my sense of smell more). Each night the diaper can gets emptied into the outside can along with the kitchen trash. If your outside trash is close and convenient enough (mine is not) skip the mini can middle man.

I know this sounds like a pain, but trust me, there is nothing out there, absolutely nothing, that can contain the odor once a baby is on solid food. And keep in mind you're not changing diapers nearly as often as you were during the newborn phase. Your other option is to keep the Diaper Genie for pee diapers and only toss the stinkers outside. BUT I will caution you--if your Genie is already reeking, ain't nothing going to get the smell out. Once it starts stinking I swear it's ingrained in the plastic or something. Toss it and invest in a new one.

That's just what the Diaper Genie company was hoping you'd do!

Gotta question? Email steppedonalego[at]gmail dot com.

Maybe I Don't Support the War, But I Sure Do Support the Troops

Back when he was in high school, Rey's little brother Brandon joined the JROTC. His passion for it was quickly evident to everyone, and as such after he graduated he enlisted in the army. To say that it changed him would be an understatement. To say that becoming a solider morphed him from a boy into a man would be a very accurate assessment. What he does is not an easy thing, and we are a proud family.

As was to be expected and perhaps even inevitable, he was deployed. He left behind a pregnant wife and was thankfully granted leave to fly home for the birth of his baby Ava and also to attend Lila's baptism, as he is her godfather. But swiftly back to Afghanistan he went, father of a newborn baby, off to another world for the following 11 months.

Last night, he was safely delivered back to Fort Hood, Texas where he is stationed. His long 15 month tour has come to an end. My in-laws, his wife Brandi, their baby Ava, and Rey's other brother Bryan were all there to greet him and welcome him back. He's got a week of work and then a whole entire blessed month of leave. We all can't wait to see him.

At Lila's baptism, Father Glackin said a special prayer for Brandon that he be able to return safely. It was a moment. A thick one. You could feel the prayers of people, of his family, laced with hope and fear, of pride and consternation. And our prayers were answered. There are families across America with sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters fighting. I hope and pray they are all as lucky as ours is to see their soldiers safely returned home.

The end.

Dear Life:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

1. I love Lila and her new interest in talking. She's a parrot and will repeat (or attempt to repeat) anything we say. My favorite is simple--"Hi". She stares, intently, at my mouth as I say "Hi!" "Hi!" like a babbling fool and she repeats to the best of her ability.



LilaGirl's Love Letter to Life would go something like this: "Dear Whoever Invented the Dolly, THANK YOU. Love, LilaGirl"




2. I love how much Cole loves school. He is happy-go-lucky to begin with, but he is SO happy on school days and always excited to go. He loves having friends and seeing them and opening his -ogurt (yogurt, he also things I do -oga) at lunch time "all by muhself." That's some fine motor skills for ya.






3. I love how Mason is a boy now. I'm not sure when it happened, but he is a child now, no longer a baby or a toddler, but a real child. I think I'm supposed to feel sad about that, but my gut is just ever so pleased at how he's grown, and the things he's learned and is able to do, like bring me the phone when I need to call poison control.






4. I love how Rey is stoked that the boys love Star Wars now. It is fake love since they have never seen a nano second of the movies, but all the same they love to play with Darth "Favor" figurines and R2D2. If anyone sees a C3PO somewhere, hit me up. That little gilded guy is hard to come by.




5. I love the new color of the boys room, even more so because I really detested the old color. New furniture (bunk beds!) will arrive on Saturday between 8:30 and 10:30, or so a computerized phone call from Pottery Barn tells me.

6. I love the thrill of Craigslist (recently discovered). Last week I sold a couple of no-longer-needed baby items that were cramming up my space. It gave me a high. I've never done drugs, but I imagine the high I got from trading my no longer useful crap from very useful money was akin to that.

7. I love that my buddy Amber is coming to the Sunshine State, bringing Mason's buddy Sebastian, the ever-lovely Siennah, and my and Rey's goddaughter Savannah with her. Yes people, there will be six kids living in my house for a week. Come by on August 1st and there might be one or two in the front yard with a "Free to a Good Home" sign hanging around his or her neck.


(KIDDING People! Only Kidding!)

Signed,
Ashley

P.S. Take advantage of my burst of positivity. It's a limited time offer!

Ask Ashley Becomes Ashley Asks...

Okay, so someone answer this for me...

Where do all the Tupperware containers (and/or their lids) go? Why can I never find a matching set? Are they off hiding somewhere with the socks that escaped from the dryer?

Can you explain the mysteries of life? There's a shiny quarter in it for you if you can...

Run, Don't Walk

And get yourself an iPhone.

After the debacle of the Blackberry Storm (which was a total friggin' joke) and the even bigger cluster you-know-what of trying to return it and purchase a Tour (which I was refused because I am a current customer and they are only selling the Tour the NEW customers, total BS), I felt so very, very wronged by Verizon. Here I had been their faithful patron for years, touted their praises, and refused to leave despite my burning desire for the convenience of a phone and ipod all in one...

I was so mad. Infuriated. There aren't really even words. My only recourse was to take my money elsewhere, which wasn't my first choice. But I guess it was my first choice, cause it was my only choice. I would rather pay them $175 to cancel my contract than pay them $2400 in monthly fees over the next two years.

So I had sorta settled myself that in order to screw Verizon, I would switch to AT&T and get an iPhone. Rey thought even if I switched that I should get a BlackBerry, him being a BlackBerry man and all. I had already written that off... Keri and I were going to dinner at Coconut Point, and just happened to stroll by the Apple store after our meal.

We walked in. They had rows and rows of them to try out. (They also had rows and rows of computers, all hooked up to the internet. That Apple store is a super fun place, I tell ya.) As soon as I picked one up, I was sold. Everything I tried with it had me exclaiming, "This is so much better!"

The keyboard: "This is so much better!"

The screen lag (or lack thereof): "This is so much better!"

The fact that the touch screen doesn't place a three way call to China when you're on a call: "This so much better!"

All the bitchin', kick A things that it does: "This is so much better!"

So I signed up, paid my money and left happy as a clam. In one day, a mere 24 hours, I was able to set up my phone with my email address(es), add my contacts, upload my iTunes, etc. I couldn't manage that in an entire TEN days with that blasted Storm. Piece of crap that it is....

Don't even get me STARTED on the App Store. That commercial that says, "There's an App for that" is so frickin' true it's not funny. There is an app for absolutely anything and everything. I read online that it would cost something like $144K to buy every app in the app store, which considering most of them are $.99 or $1.99 is saying a lot, not to mention that there are thousands of free ones.

Want to have GPS tracking while you run? There's an App for that.
Need some info on pet First Aid? There's an App for that.
Want to track your period? There's an App for that.
Want to make it easier to text while intoxicated? There's an App for that.
Need something to help you make grocery lists? There's an App for that.

And the Shazam app that tells you what song is playing the coolest thing ever.

Sure, it's a mighty fine piece of technology and as such I still haven't figured out how to power the thing off. But so far I'm in love, more in love than I've ever been with an inanimate object. Maybe one day I will regret my Verizon defection, but that day is not today.

When your kids are doing dangerous things...

...grab your camera.

Multimedia Message

Cure for boredom or Halloween in July?

1-800-222-1222

Today I became a real mother--I made my first ever call to Poison Control. I feel like I experienced some sort of right of passage or something, seriously!

We painted the boys' room yesterday I was using a small cup while I did the trim. Cause you know, standing on a ladder with a giant paint tray is not such a smart idea, so I downsized. Since I did at least 80% of the painting, I thought it only fair that Rey did the cleaning up, and for reasons beyond my comprehension he tossed the almost empty cup in a trash can that is in our garage where not only Lila, but my crazy sons, have full and easy access.

Lila has recently learned how to back herself down the step to get into the garage. And today I was out there doing a million things in about 45 seconds, and she followed me. I was literally out there for a minute or two and had her kinda in my line of sight. All I had to do was look up and I could see her. How I didn't notice her get into that trash can is beyond me, but then again I would never have though there'd be freakin' PAINT in there either... to be fair and all.

So I am ready to go inside and start walking towards her as she started coming towards me and I noticed she is FREAKING BLUE. Not blue as in not breathing blue, but blue as in painted blue. Her arms, legs, hands and mouth.

I grabbed some wipes and yelled for Mason to bring my phone. Bless his heart and the wonders of having a four year old because he a) understood my request and b) could tell it was an emergency and promptly responded with a look of concern on his face. Of course I am in cell phone hell, and while the Poison Control number is safely programmed into my old phone, this new POS doesn't have anyone's number...

So I wiped her mouth as well as I could, as quickly as I could and took her inside to Google the number.

Man: "Good Morning, Poison Control." (I was very surprised at the casual nature of the whole thing.)

Me: "Hi, my 14 month old just got into some paint and she might have eaten a little of it." Remain calm, people. Calm in a crisis, that's me.

Man: "Interior latex paint?"

Me: "Yes."

Man: changing to an it's all good tone of voice 'She'll be fine' "Years ago paint was dangerous only because it contained lead, but today's paints do not so it's not unsafe to ingest. Just clean her up and give her a drink. She may have an upset stomach."

Me: "Okay, great!" crisis averted

The man took her name, my name and zip code, which made me feel slightly criminal, but other than that I was surprised by the lack of mother judgement. I do wonder if he was thinking how in the blazes did this woman let her kid get into the paint. But I thoroughly appreciated how knowledgeable, friendly and helpful the PC turned out to be!

After a good scrubbing Lila no longer looked like a member of the Blue Man Group, but her poor skin was red from my effort. Maybe tomorrow I will give her a bigger breakfast to thwart future attempts to eat potentially hazardous materials.

P.S. I'm usually quick with the camera during kids looking odd times, but seriously this time I was a little fearful for her life, so there is no photo evidence. I'm hoping this bumps me up a few on the "Bad Mother Totem Poll" that I didn't run for the Canon.

Ask Ashley - VBACs

There are those of you out there who love c-sections, think they are the greatest way to give birth ever--the bees knees, if you will.

If you are one of those people, click the little x at the top right corner of your screen, 'cause this post is not for you.

Today's question:

Hey Ashley,

I have a question. Who was your OB/GYN that "allowed" you to have a VBAC? I have a lot of friends and my sister that want to try it but can't find a Dr that will agree to it. Thanks for the advice. Keep them commin'.

Miranda

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Ahhhhhh..... the age old "how can I find a doctor who will permit me to use my vagina as it was intended" inquiry. (Sorry if it's crass to use the big "V", but it is what it is.) God made our bodies to function a certain way, but doctors have grown themselves a God complex. You have to remember, doctors are also businesspeople. This is their livlihood and they have to find a way to make money. Being as this is America and he have the whole capitalism thing going, when people find a way to make money they like to do more of it. Doctors are no exception. C-sections take up less of their time, are obviously more predicable than vaginal delivery AND doctors charge more money for them (as much as 30% more!). Add to that the health care climate in our nation and the fact that we like to sue our doctors every chance we get, and doctors don't have any real motiviation to attend VBACs anymore. (Disclaimer: I know some doctors aren't bad, but for my purposes--Guilt by association).

Only in America is the surgical birth rate (a.k.a. c-section rate) approaching the 40% mark.

I covered in my previous "Ask Ashley" that it was Dr. Crandall (the son) who attended my VBAC. Dr. Crandall (the father) will as well, as will Dr. Heitmann, or so I'm told. It is not as simple as just finding a doctor who "claims" he will agree to a trial of labor. A lot of times doctors will use the "bait and switch" routine--tell you what you want to hear, and then when you're 39 weeks and dying to pop that eight pounder out, they start dangling a c-section in front of you like it's food to a starving man. YOU have to decide. Then, you must commit and persist.

Full disclosure: Mason was a vaginal delivery. My second, Cole, was my c-section. So I had a very big point on my side with my VBAC fight that I've already had a vaginal delivery.

If your friends or sister are serious about VBAC, they should know that they are in for a fight. I fully believe it is a fight worthy fighting. There are a few important keys.

1. Educate yourself. Nothing scares doctors more than women who know what they're talking about. Doctors are basically smart people who have read books. You can read books too and know what they know and aren't telling you. Read all you can read about VBAC and its risks. Also read about c-sections and their risks (cause they are plentiful) and decide for yourself which is the set of risks you'd rather undertake. I recommend all women who are pregnant or thinking of becoming pregnant to read Pushed by Jennifer Block. It's a bit heavy at times, but eye opening as to what how women have been lead along like cattle when it comes to childbirth. Keep in mind as you read all these risks, opinions, stories, etc. that even first time women delivering vaginally have risks. Nothing is 100% safe and without risks. Nothing worth having ever is.

2. Have the people around you on your side. When you are in labor, in the throes of pain and agony, the last thing you need is someone trying to sway you towards what they want. This is about you. YOUR experience. If your mother-in-law is against it, thinks it's too risky, don't tell her. Call her when you're holding your baby in your arms. If your husband is against it, make him understand. The bottom line is, it's your body and people need to respect your wishes for it. Have someone with you that knows your desire for VBAC and will stick up for you when you can't stick up for yourself. If someone needs me and they live in Naples, I will be that person. I feel THAT strongly about VBAC and helping people achieve it. It's my gift to my daughter to empower her, and I do that by empowering other women. I don't want her to grow up and give birth in a world where all babies are sliced out of their mothers.

I could go on and on about this, and even venture into reasons behind and ways to avoid a primary c-section, which would of course make the VBAC issue a moot point. But I suppose that's another post, should it happen that someone wants to hear my rant about that, too.

I don't judge people who elect to have c-sections for whatever reason. It is, after all, not my body. But I do judge the doctors and that fact that their methods, greediness, and misleading ways are leading women down the wrong path. Knowledge is power and a lot of people lack the power because they lack the knowledge.


Gotta question? Email steppedonalego[at]gmail dot com.

My First Mobile Blog Post

Last week I got a BlackBerry Storm. I have not blogged since because I have spent every second since trying to figure this damn thing out and/or returning missed calls (because I never hear it ring and cannot seem to get the sound settings right) or returning calls that I have accidentally hung up by my cheek touching the blasted touch screen. Listen people I am rather good with technology but this thing is impossible. I hate it. And hate is a strong word.

I Am Tired

So very, very tired.

I am tired because I basically have not slept in five years. Cole gets up every night to pee, and while it is lovely that he no longer requires the use of a Pull Up, it'd be even lovelier if he just went in his own bathroom and went back to bed, instead of waking me up and requiring an escort for what is definitely a one-man job.

I am tired because, as usual, Mason was literally in. my. face at 6:48am asking when I was going to make breakfast, cause he's "really, really hungry." Probably because he barely ate his dinner because he "didn't love it.

I am tired because, all before 7:30am this morning, I made three meals for three children, each with its own variation, each with a different beverage, and each with a lot if whining.

I am also tired because one of the toilets was overflowing this morning (for whatever inexplicable, cruel joking-universe reason) and thus I had to use about a hundred towels to dry up the flood, do five loads of laundry to clean the aforementioned 100 towels, and mop the floor clean of toilet water (twice, to be on the safe side).

I am tired because my kids fight every second of every day. They fight over everything. And Nothing. At the same time. They are currently in two different rooms watching two different DVDs. It's bad parenting, but it affords me peace.

I am tired because to alleviate all this stress, I went to the gym this morning and ran three miles, at which point I decided it would be a good idea to run sprints up a hill. 45 second intervals of running at an 8.5 with a 4.0 incline. That will wear your ass out.

But, despite all of this, it is safe to say that I am not as tired as Cole.

Ask Ashley - Night Walker

Dear Ashley:

I am stumped -- maybe you have some advice for me about my 4.5 year old who wakes up at night and sneaks out of his room. He knows he is not supposed to come out of his room before 7, but he sometimes gets up in the middle of the night (he woke up at 2:11 on Tuesday). He comes into the office and plays on the computer or watches TV, sometimes he has a snack. He never wakes anyone up, so we don't know that he's up until we wake up in the morning. We have tried locking his door, but that creates potty problems. I have resorted to turning off the computer and hiding the remotes, but that doesn't seem like the real solution. Having him roam the house at night makes me nervous -- he could get hurt and I'd never even know. He needs to learn to stay in his room, but how?

Thanks,
Ellen

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Hmmm, that is a predicament. My first thought was "Lock that boy in his room!" but I can see how that would be a potty access situation. Maybe if you get a chain long enough to reach the potty and tether him to his bed? Kidding!

In all seriousness, I suppose it stands to reason that even kids get insomnia sometimes. I think instead of figuring out how to stop him you must first figure out why he's doing it.

Is there a reason he might not be sleeping well at night anymore, maybe he saw something scary and is having dreams? Does he still nap during the day? Maybe try cutting out drinks two hours before bedtime to prevent potty wakings? Could this be a cry for some sort of attention or do you think he really just wants to watch TV and play computer games?

Assuming you don't think the problem is one of the above and you don't suspect any sort of health issues...

Have you asked him why he gets up in the middle of the night? If you have, I'm going to assume he responds, "I want to play on the computer and watch TV." My first try would be to explain to him that he is not allowed to do that in the middle of the night. Explain that it's important to get enough sleep and the sun goes down to tell us it's time for sleep. I always use the "so you can be big and strong" health reasoning.

If he still gets up after you've told him he's not allowed, it's time for consequences. He is old enough to understand that his behavior is against the rules. This of course must be tailored to each kid because what one thinks is punishment another might consider reward. If it's the computer he wants, don't allow him to play with it following a middle of the night rendezvous. Or put his favorite toy in "time out" for the day.

Also, I think you need to catch him in the act. I'd suggest borrowing some baby monitors from friends and putting one in his room, one in your office and maybe even on in the kitchen. This way maybe you'll hear him and be able to get him back to bed sooner. And when you do hear him, shuttle him right back to bed with no pomp and circumstance. Perhaps if he realizes the middle of the night isn't all fun and games he won't bother himself with getting out of bed anymore.

Lastly, the next time you're at the pediatrician with one of your kids I would run it by him/her. They are a whole wealth of knowledge on quirky kid behavior and might have some helpful suggestions.

Good luck with your little "night owl!"


Gotta question? Email steppedonalego[at]gmail dot com.

Farrah, Michael, and My (Sister's) Cat Meemers

My father hates cats. As long as I can remember, his fervent hatred of them has been a major part of things I would use to describe him. Loves to fish, really knows everything about everything, has no qualms about eating expired foods, hates cats.

The summer I was 14 my sister decided to get a cat. Diana was in college but still living at home. I don't know how the circumstances came about, but one Sunday we ended up driving to a trailer park that I want to say was somewhere on Marco Island. I know it was a long drive... This lady was selling pure bread Persian kittens, but they didn't have papers so they were cheap.

We fell in love with this white one. I remember thinking this was a really, monumentally stupid idea to bring this cat home, but we paid the $50 and loaded her into my sister's white Chevy Cavalier.

I said to Diana on the way home, "Dad is going to be really mad, and when he is you better not say to me, 'Ash, maybe we should take her back.' " She was beautiful--perfectly white with stunning blue eyes. We named her Mindy. She hated the car.

We walked in the door with the kitten and past my mother sitting in the living room. She looked for a second like she couldn't believe her eyes, and then the freaking out began.

It was a lot of her saying "You can't have a cat!" and my dad saying, "I'm going to use it as fish bait." Tears and crying on our parts, natch.

And sure enough, my sister buckled under the pressure and said, "Ash, maybe we should take her back."

My sister called the lady we bought Mindy from the next day who told us she'd take her back but she couldn't return the money for a couple of days. If it weren't for the assumption that we'd get ripped off of our $50, Mindy probably would have been returned to her trailer park.

Instead, for reasons beyond my utter comprehension, my parents let us keep her. My sister was moving to Gainesville for college at the end of the summer, and she was to take "our" cat with her. That was profoundly sad for me, but at least we got to keep her.

Fast forward a lot of years, and my sister had a son. He was allergic to cats. By that time, we had Mike, our German Shepard, and Jack, our now deceased Jack Russell Terror, er I mean Terrior who was diabolical to say the least, so she couldn't live with me. So, she went from a house cat to lanai cat who loved it, and eventually became an outside cat. A declawed, pure white, outdoor Persian cat that milled about the streets.

And she loved it.

She was known as the neighborhood cat, and we called her the alley cat. She had an array of favorite bushes she would nap under, and was often caught drinking out of the gutters and swimming pools. It was so strange to see such a fancy looking cat roaming the streets. But she did, like she owned them.

Mindy was probably never ever actually called Mindy. We are a family of nicknamers, and she quickly went from Mindy to Mimi to Meemers. I actually have to think really hard if someone asks me her real name, cause Meemers pops right up in my head.

Meemers passed away today. My sister's father-in-law (a veterinarian) says it was likely a heart attack that claimed her. My best estimate of a foggy mind ages her at about 14 years.

She will forever have the distinction of going to heaven on the same day as Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. I can almost see her sitting with them now, getting yelled at for trying to drink out of God's swimming pool.

I don't imagine there are gutters in heaven. But in Meemers' heaven, there might be.

Things I Don't Understand...

Because there seems to be so many of them today...

• Why I ate two of these stuffed cookies sandwiches I bought from Sam's last night, even though I knew it would make me sick to my stomach
• Why people are so obsessed with this Twlight nonsense--perhaps I should read the book and find out
• Why the Gossleins still have a TV show
• Why since we got Windows Vista two years ago, I still have to reboot my computer each time I print something in order to get the next thing to print, despite the fact that I am constantly downloading new printer drivers
• Why it is so hard to come up with dinner ideas
• Why kids don't like to take naps--if someone told me to sleep I would gladly comply
• Why I own such a small amount of clothes and yet do so much laundry
• Why I never eat a real meal and yet do so many dishes
• Why the guy our Homeowner's Association pays to manage our neighborhood is so very bad at his job
• Why Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus
• Why it has taken me so long to unsubscribe from all these promotional emails that stores I never shop at send me (it has been rather liberating!)
• Why even though the teachers remind me ten times and I write it on my calendar, I can never remember when it's Water Day at camp
• Why bad things happen to good people
• Why Al Gore hasn't fixed global warming yet
• Why Mason wakes me up at 6:30am and begs for breakfast, but then when I make it for him he plays space ship games with his food instead of eating it. Maddening!
• Why I have two kids with blond hair and blue eyes and IF I should have them DNA tested to make sure they weren't switched a birth
• Why people stop their cars right in front of Publix to wait for someone instead of parking in a parking space since it is after all a parking lot
• Why people ask "Why?"

Ask Ashley - Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Dear Ashley,

My baby is seven months old. Recently, I have noticed I am losing a lot of hair. A lot. I have heard of this hair loss phenomenon, but what can I do to stop it! At this rate I feel like I will be bald soon!

Signed,
Stephanie

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Dear Stephanie,

This is a situation we all go through postpartum. Yet another downside to being a woman!

Your hair loss, like most of the world's ailments--can be attributed to hormones. Hormones have the highest of highs and the lowest of lows!

Here's the deal--normal people lose about 100 hairs a day (this was confirmed through Dr. Oz, who is the Master of the Universe, I am convinced). Whether it's when you're washing it, combing it, running freely in the wind down the beach with your locks bouncing behind you... about 100 strands a day fall out. When you're pregnant, many women note how thick and lovely their hair has become--part of that whole pregnancy hormones induced beauty boost. It's not that anything has happened to your hair to make it better, per se, but you no longer lose as many hairs during pregnancy so it is a lot thicker.

Somewhere around 4-6 months post partum, your body gets the message that the hormones have abandoned ship and you start to shed like a dog. Ruff. And Rough.

Stop it? Well you can't. Like a bad rash, it's just something that has to run its course. Some people go through it quickly, but it sometimes lasts up to a year post partum.

Point in case--me. I am still losing a lot of hair and Lila is 13 months old. I am being patient about this predicament, mostly because I have bigger fish to fry at the moment. My friends and I like to stand around and compare bald spots, thin patches and short spikey pieces of regrowth. It's just another lovely change your body goes through during your metamorphosis into a mother.

Now, all post partum women have a period of hair loss, but if you get to the point where you're 12-15 months postpartum and still shedding worse than a Labrador in June, you might want to talk to your doctor. A simple blood test could tell you if there's a problem with your thyroid that is causing the hair loss. Thyroid problems are common, and in new moms they often go overlooked since the main symptoms are weight issues and feeling tired. Find me a new mom without those symptoms and there's a Dairy Queen Blizzard in it for ya.

And my last note of caution--if you have long hair (like me until about 6 weeks ago!) be careful of all of your shed strands of hair. Little ones are usually starting to crawl around this age and hairs can get tangled around their digits (sometimes fingers, but more likely toes) and cause real circulation issues. Especially if you wash everyone's laundry together, sometimes your hair can get in the feet of PJs. And take special caution with little boys! Penises are not immune to the hair wrap issues, so be wary of that as well. I am a very frequent vacuumer (critics might call it obsessive, but hey) and pretty much every day I'm having to free some strands of hair from Lila's toes.

Gotta question? Email steppedonalego[at]gmail dot com.

'Til Death--or Reality TV--Do Us Part

There used to be a time where I really loved watching Jon and Kate Plus 8.

Back when they lived in the normal house with the fugly green carpet and Kate wore clothes that all normal stay-at-home moms wear, I remember hoping that this show would go on forever so I could see those kids grow up.

I can remember exactly the moment I realized its metamorphosis from cute show into money-making machine--when the episode aired of them moving into their McMansion.

That episode really pissed me off.

Sure, the episode after episode of free trip here after free trip there, those were clues pointing at Money-Making Machine status. I guess I was in denial...

On the season finale a couple of weeks after the McMansion Moving In episodes, as Jon proclaimed he didn't want to do the show any more and Kate dissented that she did, I thought for sure that would be the end of it. First, I feel like it's run its course as a relevant and enjoyable show and it's time for it to go. After all, the 'tups are going to Kindergarten here soon and what in the world are those camera crews going to tape? Second, what kind of wife keeps forcing her husband along a path that he's obviously uncomfortable with?

But, back it came. And inexplicably, I continued to watch.

As the news of their rocky marriage broke a few weeks back, the show obviously displayed their inability to breathe the same air, and it has literally become painful for me to watch.

I sit there, unable to take my eyes of this train wreck, and I have a pit in my stomach. I put myself in that position as a wife in a failing marriage. I put myself in that position as a mother whose kids are about to watch their parents split up. My sympathy for her literally makes me a little sick.

There is something about them each sitting alone in that interview chair. It's so... wrong. Their banter is gone, and even if it came along with Kate's "love taps" you could tell they were a happy couple, albeit stressed from raising small children. And not to mention how annoying it is to listen to two people tell the same story at different times.

Watching her spend her birthday alone hurt my heart. Her kids are 8 and 5--they know that Daddy should be around for Mommy's birthday. I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking.

And now, unless you live under a rock, you know they are divorcing.

To see this extremely private matter handled on television is horrific to me. To see Kate, obviously raw with the pain of her failure, and to see Jon, obviously flippant about his, makes me feel like a voyeur. This is a part of someone's life that we should not be witnessing. I feel like watching a couple go through a divorce is akin to watching pornography--it just ain't right.

After seeing all the previews, I anticipated that last night's show would be announcing their separation. I also wrongly anticipated this would be the end of the show. I am shocked--absolutely shocked--that they are going to continue on.

Kids generally don't handle divorce very well. They have eight of them, so the odds are that they are going to be dealing with at least a couple of kids reeling from the split of his or her parents. As a mother, as a parent, I cannot imagine putting my kids in front of a camera during a life changing transition like this. Really.

(As a side note, Mady is going to grow up to hate her parents. Every time we see her on the show she is an outbursting display of immature tantrums, set next to calm, cool and collected Cara. I am predicting she will end up in therapy over this.)

I think we can all agree Kate's a bit of a bitch. I don't pass judgement on her for this because I have my moments. And if you try to tell me that you don't have moments, I will call you a liar. And if anyone, even Mother Teresa, was followed 24/7 by a camera crew, I'm sure there'd be enough moments to paste together a pretty unsavory picture. I can't imagine what kind of shrew I would be if I had eight kids that age.

As for Jon, he would never be leaving his wife if they weren't loaded rich. They simply wouldn't be able to afford it. How would he pay child support for his eight children without a reality TV paycheck or his half (since they're married) of his wife's lucrative book deals? I distinctly remember a show where they said they would never get divorced. I think the topic of affording it was brought up, and that they were in it together for life. I think the judge should dig up that tape and use it as grounds to refuse their divorce.

For some insane reason, I feel sad for these people like they are my friends. I guess it's because they opened their home up to the world, and honestly because of this I know more about them that I do know about some of my friends.

I wish they would get over themselves and shut off the cameras. Get real jobs, and focus on raising your beautiful children.

At least that's what I would tell them if they were my friends.

The Happiest Place on Earth

Each year, thousand of happy parents plan vacations to take their thousands of happy children to The Happiest Place on Earth - Disney World.

And then we all become raging maniacs.

First off, did you know there were entire message boards with millions of threads related to how to plan a Disney vacation?

Second, did you know there were thousands of messages on this message board just to help you figure out how to make a flipping dinner reservation?

Bear with me, cause this is where it might get a little nutty.

Ninety days prior to your desired date for a meal, you must have the foresight to want to eat that meal and call Disney's Advanced Dining Reservation people, a.k.a. Those Who Hold the Keys to the Universe. You may call starting a 7am, although travel agents can call as early as 3am, so even if you call at 7am you might STILL be shit out, I mean shut out. If you are staying at a Disney resort, you are able to provide your hotel confirmation number and starting 90 days before your check-in date book Advanced Dining Reservations (ADRs) plus 10 days after your check-in date. There is a definite advantage to this game if you stay at a Disney resort. Normal, non-Disney staying folks who don't have shiny Mouse Ears tattooed on their behinds can still only book 90 days ahead of time. I like to call them "The Commoners" cause I guarantee they don't have good dinner reservations and there's not a chance in hades they're getting in to Cinderella's Royal Table (the most coveted reservation in all of WDW).

There are pages in Disney planning guide books devoted to how to synchronize your cell phone clock to the atomic clock (which is, by the way, three seconds faster than Disney time). It also instructs you to call a few days before and practice going through the prompts so on your "Big Day" 90 days out, you can get through to an ADR agent asap. Then, you are supposed to cut the person off as they announce their name and tell them you want "Cinderella's Royal Table for _____" be it breakfast or lunch (don't bother with dinner, Cindy's a no show in the evenings and you're only graced with the Fairy Godmother).

Amber and I are hell bent to get in to CRT. If nothing else, for poor Siennah who gets stuck partaking in so much boy stuff since Mason, Cole and Sebastian are forces to be reckoned with. We want to get her to see the princess.

Then last week, online reservations were launched, to further complicate this insanity. Now, you can book online beginning at 6am with the same 90+10 days rule if you're staying in a Disney hotel, you just have to provide your confirmation number and phone number.

Does all this makes sense?

It gets nuttier still...

So Amber and I, our husbands and our six children are taking an 8 day vacation (if it's legal to call it that) to this Magical Place in September. Today is the first day we can make ADRs. We were up at 5:30am in preparation for making said ADRs at 6:01am. Of course, Disney's lovely web site is allowing neither of us to sign in with our confirmation numbers, saying "Sorry, your reservation can't be retrieved at this time."

Have a Magical Day!! You'll never get in to have a meal with that bitch Cindy! And your kids will nag and whine and generally make your life miserable, and we here at Disney will love it! Because really, this is our diabolical plan. We masquerade as this wonderful place for children, but the reality is you're being Punk'd. We sit and watch you on close circuit television as your children melt down in line to meet Mickey. We laugh as you stand in the sweltering Florida heat in line to ride Dumbo, when your kids don't even know who the flip Dumbo is cause we put his movie in the vault. And unless you want to pay $59 for a scratched up used copy on eBay, they never will!!

I wanted to throw the computer out the window. After cussing and swearing and a 5:30am phone call between me and Amber that involved some more cussing and swearing, we relegate ourselves to calling in at 7am and hoping for the best.

We start at 6:59. I got a "Sorry we're closed message." I hit end and a split second later a text came from Amber saying "GO!" So I quickly hit "Send" twice to redial, went through the prompts (I had not practiced, FYI) and got the "You will be connected to the next available rep." No sooner had some jammin' Disney tunes started then I got a new message: "Due to heavy call volume, your wait time may be more than thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes!! THIRTY MINUTES?!!! I called at 07:00:01am. How many crazy people were able to get in one second ahead of me?!?!?

I am lamenting that we will never get to dine with Cindy. I am so annoyed with the ridiculosity that is Disney that I want to shred up a stuffed Mickey Mouse.

In the end, we were able to secure the ressie at the castle. So as low and my angry low got, my happy high is pretty high.

Until September, when we arrive, and that mouse starts screwing with me again!

I'm telling you, it's a conspiracy!

Ask Ashley - Laying off the Sauce

Today's Question:

Dear Ashley,

As a mom, I need suggestions on how to stay sane, preferably without crazy pills or alcohol.

Jen

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Your question is short, sweet and to the point. I like it!

Okay, well, first and foremost, I think it's important to remember that all moms have these moments. Even if your friends seemingly have it all together, whose children are well-behaved in public, who say "please" and "thank you", those who have the clean homes, and even those who cook gourmet meals seven night a week... Their appearances say that they're great, perfect mothers, deserving of some sort of Nobel price.

But what they really deserve is an Oscar. Cause I assure you, it's all an act.

Never let those moms fool you, cause underneath the Bree van De Kamp facade, they are just as unhinged as you.

None of us are perfect and we all struggle. Some of us are just a little more open about it. I think one of the greatest disservices mothers do to other mothers is to pretend that things are better than they are. We see these moms, we read their blogs about how wonderful their children are, we see pictures of them with a perfect face of makeup as they execute an intricate art project, we hear recounts of their apple pie with homemade crust. You can almost hear the theme song to "Leave it to Beaver" in the background. And it makes you want to grab some pearls so you can try to be like June, too.

But you're not. And you know what, neither is your perfect-looking friend. Deep down her kids are driving her bananas, she's dying for a nap, her skin is screaming for a break from the makeup, and she is getting fat from eating the apple pie.

So, my first piece of advice: cut yourself some slack. There are only so many hours in the day, and if you're feeling like you need to hit the bottle to cope, you are probably trying to fit in too much. Go back to basics. When we were kids, our parents didn't shuttle us to a zillion playdates, library storytimes, karate, dance, gymnastics, paint your own pottery, and underwater basket weaving lessons. Stay home more and just enjoy your kids instead of taking your kids places to enjoy other things. All they really want it you, anyway. You have to listen to their cues--when I see a kid having a meltdown in the store checkout line, I know that kid needs either a meal or a nap. And when I see a kid with a streak of bad behavior, more times than not he just wants attention from his parents, be it good or bad. I'd put money on it. Your kids will pester the crap out of you if they aren't getting the proper amount of attention. Sometimes just listening to them for a few minutes can abate the endless refrain of "Mommy? Mommy! Mommy... Mommy!!??!!?!?!" (And you might even get lucky and they'll say something funny. Like today when Mason pointed to the word "Play" on his shirt and said, "That's what makes the show turn on." : ) He has no idea what the word is, but he knows it's next to the triangle button that makes the TV show go. )

Second, and this goes a little bit against my last paragraph, it's important to carve out time for yourself. Yes, your kids need truckloads of attention, and you should give it to them. But also do one random act of kindness for yourself every day. Whether it's exercise, a healthy meal, a long bath, reading a good book, or even a fancy homemade cup of coffee. As important as it is to be involved with your kids, you have to take time out to remember that you are, after all, an adult! But when your son starts chucking train tracks at his little brother's head, it's time to put the coffee down and forget mommy time for the day. I speak from experience on this one.

The old me had my priorities all screwed up. I used to make sure everyone and everything else was taken care of before I did things for me like daily exercise, showering, taking a book break during naptime, etc. Now, after the kids are fed and dressed for the day we hit the gym. I leave the breakfast dishes in the sink and the beds unmade. (Trust me, it was a major feat for me to make this concession!) But it dawned on me that people rarely see the inside of my house, but they see me everyday. And the baby weight carrying, no makeup wearing, anxiety ridden me was an abomination that wasn't worth seeing. So now I put my children's basic needs first like keeping them fed, healthy and clean, and after that I workout, shower and put at least a minimal amount of makeup on so I can feel good about myself. Still, everything manages to get done somehow.... Do I make it to as many playdates as I used to? Nope. Am I able to hang out with friends as often? Nope. Am I a lot less crazy now that I pay attention to my kids and myself before the chores and everyone else? Absolutely.

Life has become more about doing things and less about getting things done.

And to conclude, I highly recommend yoga. In fact, I can't recommend yoga enough. There's a reason that BKS Iyengar is 90-something years old and still in better shape than most Americans, but I digress. Not only is it a great physical workout, it improves flexibility and balance (so when you're an old biddy you won't be as likely to fall and break a hip), and it also forces you to relax and focus on yourself.

I think of it as a natural version of crazy pills and alcohol.

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Gotta questions? Email steppedonalego[at]gmail dot com.

There's a Toddler In My House--I'm Not Sure How She Snuck In...

Once upon a time, a mama gave birth to a baby girl.

She was the sweetest little thing you ever had laid eyes on. Charming, genial, lovable, even-tempered, agreeable... she was everything a mother could ask for in a little baby girl.

The baby girl turned one and the mama thought how lucky she was--surely her daughter was the most precious daughter ever.

Then one day, there was a change in the winds. Suddenly the baby girl wasn't so charming--she was surly. Her genial, lovable personality was replaced by unfriendly and testy displays. She was downright cantankerous.

Her mother, ever the optimist, was certain this was just a phase.

Surely the ear-piercing screeching whilst banging on the high chair as a method of summoning her food of choice was just a phase.

Her defiantly dangerous scaling of the boys' Anywhere Chairs would come to an end tomorrow, her mother was confident.

When she made a habit out of swatting toys out of her baby friends' hands, her mother's diagnosis was fatigue, not brattiness.

Then one day, the sweet baby girl launched her sippy cup, and as it went whizzing by her mother's head it occurred to her--the baby girl was now a toddler girl.

The glory days are over.