Baby's Definitive Guide to Driving Mommy Crazy...Feeding in public

1. Wait until Mommy takes you into a public place. Score more points the more public it is.

2. Smack your lips greedily. Root anything and everything you see, including the stroller. Score extra points for sticking your entire fist in your mouth. Act as if you haven't eaten in twenty-four hours even though Mommy just fed you thirty minutes ago.

3. Begin with a whine. Work your way up to a full blown OMG-My-Cruel-Mother-Is-Starving-Me scream.

4. Be careful not to grin when an embarrassed Mommy picks you up and adjusts her dress to feed you in public.

5. Do NOT take the exposed nipple directly into your mouth. Sniff it to make sure the right Mommy is offering you her breast. (Just in case, you never know.)

6. Lick around the nipple. We all know that dry nipples are not as fun as wet nipples.

7. Take the nipple into your mouth for a taste test. Roll it between your tongue. Swirl it in your mouth. Spit it out. (All good wine tasters do this, so why not a baby?)

8. Repeat steps 5 through 7 at least three times while Mommy pleads with you to start nursing.

9. By now, the stimulation should have caused Mommy's breast to let down. Milk should be dripping. If not, repeat steps 5 through 7.

10. Take a quick peek. Score points if Mommy's face is red with embarrassment. Score extra points if people are quietly chuckling with amusement.

11. Give the breast a final critical sniff. Put your mouth close to it, but do not latch on (since that was never the point of this exercise anyway.)

12. Close your eyes.

13. Snore.

To my unborn son...

We need to have a serious discussion about timing, or in your case, the complete lack thereof.

First, you're not due until January 25th, and you have ignored my subliminal messages of arriving on January 22nd so that you can help your father remember his parents birthday...

Next, it is incredibly rude to trigger mild contractions through the day when I'm awake, only to escalate it at 9 p.m. when I'm about to go to bed.

Now it's 3:06 am and sleep is impossible.

Your timing sucks. Looking forward to seeing you later today though.

Kisses and cuddles,

Your mom.

p.s. I still love you, but we are going to work on timing for the next several decades of your life.

Good intentions thwarted by an absence of bad habits...

If the title of this blog post sounds ironic, that's because it is.

I recently subscribed to a monthly publication of the Magic School Bus, which provides parents and children with fun science experiments that they can do together at home. The kit provides some of the harder-to-find tools, whereas the families are expected to come up with the more common items.

I was so excited to receive my first copy of the Magic School Bus. I opened it, and the very first thing it needed and expected the family to provide toward an experiment was...

a two-liter soda bottle.

Seriously? We haven't had a two-liter soda bottle in our house for YEARS. Soda isn't good for anyone--adults or kids--and my husband and I have tried hard to keep our children from heading down the path of sugar and carbonation addiction that leads to cavities galore.

And now the science experiment is asking for a two-liter soda bottle. GAH!

Yes, we'll improvise and find something else to use in its stead, but really, it's the first time I've ever seen a good intention thwarted by an absence of bad habits...

I just got conned by a four-year old...

My younger son comes to me with a winsome smile on his face. It's the smile he uses when he wants to play a game. "Leave the room, mommy."

I ask, "Where do you want me to go?"

"Just leave for one minute."

Okay, so it's an obscure game he's made up. Fine, I get up from my chair and leave the room for a few minutes. He doesn't follow. Some game. Whatever. I go back to my seat and continue working.

About a half hour later, my husband asks. "Where are the electronics?"

"On the brown shelf by my desk."

He looks. "They're not there. Did he take them?"

I look at him. My jaw drops.

No freaking way. Did my sweet, honest, and innocent child lure me away from my desk so that he could take the neat pile of Kindles and iPads from the shelf next to my desk? 

We search the house. The kids are not in the obvious places--not in their bedroom, their playroom, the kitchen, the living room, or the dining room.

The door of the rarely used guest room is closed. My husband opens the door. A flurry of activity takes place inside as two children scramble to hide. Electronics are concealed. "I don't have a Kindle," the younger child insists, holding up both hands. He is leaning against the bathroom counter, the Kindle pressed up against his back.

I am so amazed by his slick ingenuity that I don't even scold him. He gets a hug and a kiss (I know, I need to work on more appropriate punishments) though we do confiscate (and hide) the electronics this time.

How much did you miss mommy? "ZERO PERCENT."

Yesterday, my elder son (7 years old) returned from his first overnight hunting trip with his father. In theory, they were supposed to go hunt hogs. In reality, it was a nature walk since no hogs were to be found. They did all the other camping things though, like set up a tent, hang out around a campfire, etc, and all in the midst of a freezing winter (well, it was fifty degrees, which in Florida, counts as a freezing winter.)

My son comes back, bright-eyed, and relates with relish how there were NO toilets. (Yes, darling, I know there are no toilets, which is why mommy, who is obviously sane, is not out there with you all...)

The real test, however, of how much fun he had is this question, "How much did you miss mommy?"

His immediate answer, accompanied by a flashing grin, "ZERO percent."

Yup, he had fun out there. :-)

Parental management 101: How to manipulate your mother

I'll confess that I'm something of a distracted parent early in the morning and late at night when I do most of my writing. My kids know that.

My kids however also know that I'm always up for a game.

My younger son comes out of the bathroom this morning and says, "Let's play Simon Says!"

"Well, sure, okay!"

"Simon says, Get out of that chair!"

Stifling a chuckle, I stand up. "What's next?"

"Simon says, Eat breakfast!"

Smart kid. He may have learned how to manipulate his mother, but he's still just four and a half-years old. As he scampers off to the kitchen, I shout after him, "Wait! Come back and put on your pants!"

He doesn't stop. Obviously, I forgot to say "Simon Says."