Baby Got Back


You should know that disposable diapers, like everything else, have a breaking point. If you’ll note the photo above, you’ll see that my toddler’s waterlogged diaper makes it look like she has had a butt augmentation. Which is silly. We’re simply too cheap to spend that kind of money on our kids. 

When I went to take the diaper off, two things happened:

1. It popped a seam—Until this moment I had no idea diapers even had seams.

2. Little absorbent crystals were everywhere Even where the diaper never was, these crystals were. It should be noted that these absorbent crystals do not clean up. Off of anything. They’re like the Velcro of garbage but more adhesive.

The discovery of the disposable secret came about when I ran out of cloth diapers. I only had two and both fell victim to poop, mixed with water, and no running faucet to wash them out with.

My solution was to simply burn them and buy more when we got home. However, my husband, Practical Pete, decided it would be best to quarantine them in a trash bag until we got back to a place where he could hose them off. Hosing off two day old poop out of a diaper would be like trying to pressure wash rust off the Titiantic. Needless to say if he got any poo tainted water in his face during the process, I don’t want to know.
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Week 20: Half-Time


This week marks my halfway point: 20 weeks down, 20 weeks until a zipper on my pants has meaning again.

It should be noted that in pregnancy, half-time isn’t getting a break. You don’t get to take off your belly and enjoy a cold turkey sandwich while laying on your stomach. Half-time is the halfway mark that indicates in 20 more weeks you can have a cold turkey sandwich and lay on your stomach. Hitting the halfway mark in pregnancy is a little less glamorous than an actual half-time show. There’s no wardrobe malfunctions—because everything covers me like a tent—and Adam Levine isn’t crooning from my living room, which is too bad because he’s another person that could go on a food run at 11:00 p.m.

However, to me, hitting the pregnancy halfway point is pretty exciting, especially since I was convinced my first trimester would last forever.

Read the rest over at Pregnancy & Newborn’s Knocked Up Blog…

20 Random Things My Toddler Packed For Vacation


We just got back from a two week vacation up to Minnesota to spend the 4th with family. For anyone who hasn’t been to Minnesota it’s the land of 10,000 lakes and about 80,000 Mosquitoes per capita.

Sadly the airline industry doesn’t haul travel trailers, so we had to road trip. My kids are a lot older this year compared to their late infancy and early toddlerhood of last year. They can’t tie their shoes yet, but they get the right shoe on the right foot, most of the time. Actually it’s about 30/40. The other 30% is reserved for them putting their shoes on their hands.

Anyway, I saw this as an excellent opportunity to get my 3-year old to think about the responsibility of packing her own items. Understanding that the toddler mind is not interested in bothering with frivolous items such as, a toothbrush, or shampoo, or clothes, I took the liberty of packing the necessities. Her job was to pack what she felt she needed to take to Grandma’s.  [Read more...]

Happy Anniversary!


Here’s to five years, two and 1/4 kids, a dog that had chronic diarrhea, a huge cat who’s life ended way too early, a goldfish, and an unknown amount of birds who have flown into our kitchen window, later.

We’ve had ups, downs, good times, and bad times. Through all of that and all these stretch marks, you still love me—and I still love you more than ice cream. Not way more than ice cream, but more. 


Week 19: Let Me Eat Cake!


This baby is already working in sync with my other two children—one from the inside and the other two from the outside—to give me a serious run for my money. So much so, that with 20 weeks of incubation time still left, I’m already excited about an overnight hospital stay, because it’s like a mini “me”

  • No cooking. 
  • No dish washing.
  • No laundry.
  • Nurses to help with the baby. 
  • A baby who sleeps almost the entire hospital stay.

It’s like the Ritz Carlton, but instead of fluffy, fleece robes it’s tacky hospital gowns, mesh underpants, and maxi pads so thick you could absorb the entire Pacific Ocean in them. 

Read the rest over at Pregnancy & Newborn’s Knocked Up Blog…

Week 18: Just Breathe


I never took Lamaze classes. I was lazy and overconfident. I can breathe. I don’t need lessons. I knew the point of Lamaze was to “boost my confidence in my ability to give birth.” As if how I breathe would somehow alter how this baby would be birthed. Like a choose your own adventure novel:

A. You  don’t use Lamaze and suffer unnecessarily.
B. You use Lamaze and your baby slips out of you like a deflating balloon. With no pain.

Turns out, Lamaze is a little more helpful during contractions than holding your breath which is pretty useless unless your end goal is to pass out—which would be an entirely different method of pain management I don’t think many people have explored.

Read the rest over at Pregnancy & Newborn’s Knocked Up Blog…

The Don’ts of Being a Birthing Partner: 15 Things I Wouldn’t Do If I Were You


Now that I’m working on baby number three, I’m kind of an old hat at this pregnancy/childbirth thing—Literally. I have AMA (advanced maternal age) on my file. I’m 35.

I know what to expect this time around when I go waddling into that delivery room in anticipation of pain, exhaustion, nausea, and the promise of a cold turkey sandwich at the very end. However, during my first pregnancy, I simply had no idea what to expect when it came time to deliver my baby. Like most first time moms I was plagued with wonder and worry. But, out of everything I experienced the single most surprising thing about giving birth was how easily annoyed I got.

Read the rest over at the Mile High Mamas…



My daughter recently found a party hat in our pantry. Nothing special. Just a simple, cheap, cone-shaped party hat made out of thin cardboard, a glorified construction paper, decorated dark blue with orange and red party streamer print on it. As you can probably guess this means it’s a much better toy than any of the ones she currently has. 

This hat, was a special hat. Because it was the most excitement she’s had, since the day before when she got a red balloon from the grocery store. She played with the balloon like our home was without toys. It was the end all and be all of play things. Until her sister did a flying belly flop and popped it into four parts. The balloon suddenly became less of a toy and a very realistic choking hazard. I was bound by morality, and the state of Colorado’s child services division, to throw the pieces in the trash. 

“It’s a rocket, Mommy.”

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That’s Not An Apron. It’s My Stomach.


The miracle of childbirth is less about the creation of human life and more about your skin’s ability to stretch so far that you can reupholster an armchair. Followed by a total reversal of elasticity. Well, sort of. I’m three years postpartum and I can still pull my stomach skin over my head.

It’s a bit disconcerting to have the ability to use my lower stomach as a tablecloth or an apron. Although easy to clean, it’s a little weird, especially when guests are over for dinner.

Them: “What an unusual apron design. What’s it called?”
Me: “Stretchmarks.”

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