Tips for New(ish) mommies: Part I

·         Mirror Mirror on the Seat-- Babies that are generally a little older, around 3-6 months, are fascinated with mirrors. When I was nannying for my most recent family, we used to put a mirror on the back of the seat that she was facing in the car. She would stare at it for the whole car ride and never make a peep. Plus, when you are driving, you can look in your mirror up front and see the baby’s reflection in her play mirror that is attached to the car seat that she is facing (these are in the first few months when the baby’s car seat must face the back window instead of the front). This is a perfect trick for making sure the baby is okay while you are driving.  

·         Mirror Mirror Everywhere—You can also place your baby in a boppie (pillow for babies) and put it in front of a mirror at home. This will occupy most kids long enough for you to take a quick shower!

·         Tummy Time—Many babies get frustrated with tummy time because it’s a lot of work for them and it is uncomfortable but it’s very important and they have to work through it. The baby I work with now didn’t do enough tummy time and it was part of the reason she was delayed in crawling.

·         A little Screen Time Never Hurt Anyone. Baby Einstein works! Just use it. Don’t feel guilty about putting your child in front of a screen for a little while so you can relax. They will be fine and they won’t become couch potatoes. Mothers, especially new moms, have enough to worry about and feel guilty about. Enjoy your time with your baby and when you need a break or you need to drink your cup of coffee, strap the baby into a bouncy chair and let them enjoy a little bit of the tube.

That’s it for now. Check back for more tips for your growing baby and also for the list of best baby books!

New Post for New Mommies—

My best friend just had her first baby boy. She is going to be a wonderful mother who will learn quickly, but she has NO experience with children prior to getting pregnant. I am no expert, but since I spent the better part of my life babysitting and nannying, while my other friends made money waiting tables, she came to me for some help. So here it goes--this goes out to all the new moms, moms-to-be, or just moms who relate with a crying infant and an undeniable desire to just take a shower… 

10 Tips for New Mommies

1.      Drown out the noise during naptime--put music or a fan on in your baby’s room when they are sleeping to drown out any extra noise. They sleep longer and it allows you to get stuff done around the house without worrying that you are going to wake your baby up when you finally get him to sleep.

2.      Treating a colicky baby without medicine—Colic stinks for everyone because the baby can’t get comfortable (and neither can you). The baby I nannied for had terrible colic and her doctor suggested that we lay her on her back and bicycle her legs. This really helped her. You can also try holding her facing outwards so her legs are free to kick, and sometimes, if you hold her face down across your arm so her head is kind of peeking out around your elbow, that helps as well.

3.      Strap on Your Bjorn--infants love the beating of your heart; it soothes them and replicates the womb, so one of the best way to calm them is to strap on a baby bjorn and put her in it. You can do most everything (dishes, taking care of your other kids, laundry etc) with one a bjorn on and they tend to fall asleep and are pretty relaxed in it (just make sure to hold their heads when/if you bend over since they might slip a little).

4.      Rocking Time on the Dryer-- If your baby is having trouble sleeping, try putting her in a car seat and putting it on the washer/dryer while it’s on. My friend’s mom used to do this when she had twins and it kept them quiet and asleep for twice as long as they would normally sleep—probably not so good for your electrical bill though, so just use this option if you’re desperate

5.      Let them fall asleep on you. I know there is A LOT of opinion about whether or not to let your kid sleep with you, but in these first months, your goal is to spend as much quality bonding time as you can. They will NEVER be one month again. A lot of people will tell you not to let her sleep on you because she won’t ever be able to fall asleep on her own, but you can train babies to do that at 6 months almost as easily as at 3 months, so just enjoy it and let them sleep with you!

6.      Offer your thumb--If your baby is acting hungry and it’s not time to eat yet, let her suck on your thumb or the side of your thumb, and it will hold them over for awhile (if he doesn’t like pacifiers).

7.      Put it on Repeat-- Babies tend to like soothing music and if they are upset and you sing the same song quietly in their ear, this tends to quiet them down. I have sung Row Your Boat and Twinkle Twinkle more times than I could ever possibly count.

8.      Keep Your Ears Open-- Babies tend to have different cries for different needs. If you listen for it, you will be able to gauge whether your baby is tired or hungry.

9. Open a Book—it’s never too early to instill a love for reading in your child. Babies like to read books no matter how old they are; they are fascinated by them. Start reading those 5 page board books now, so they get used to it and by the time they are old enough to hold them, it will occupy them long enough so you can have a cup of coffee or read one page of the newspaper. *check back for the best baby book suggestions

10.   Have your baby’s favorites at arm’s reach—It is difficult to have everything you need exactly when you need it when there is an infant around. Once you get into a daily rhythm (and you will), the baby will go through phases where he/she likes certain books, toys, blankets etc. better than others.  Have a basket in the rooms that you spend the most time in and keep those baby savers close by. Trust me, once you are finally comfortable with the baby on the couch, you don’t want to readjust the baby just to run upstairs to get his favorite pacifier.

Does the price of having well-rounded kids had to include so much driving?

In an article I read a few weeks ago, a mom revealed that she decided to limit her children’s participation in activities in order to regain some of her sanity. She felt bad at first, but quickly realized that her sanity was more valuable to her husband and kids than was her ability to drive them to and from every activity in town.

This article brought up the question: is it really necessary for kids to be involved in so many after-school activities? Isn't it enough that a five year old is expected to sit calmly in a classroom for 8 hours a day? Do we really need to make him/her go to soccer, dance, art, Spanish; the list goes on and on… Do kids really enjoy being shuffled from one activity to the next day after day? Why do moms feel so compelled to make their child aware of every possibly activity for someone their age? And, is it really worth all of the craziness that inevitably ensues from it?

Carpooling is Cruel and Unusual Punishment

I nanny for three kids, the oldest girl is 9, the middle boy is 6, and the youngest little girl is 19 months. I have been with the family since the baby was born and I love them, but sometimes I don't really like them.

 One of those times is when I am asked to do the carpool (I call it carpool, but it really just involves the kids in this family and chauffeuring them to and from all of their activities). I dread these days when something in the schedule is amiss and the mom has to leave me to tend to all three kids in the car...during rush hour... in their Volvo which I hate driving.

 The car pool consists of getting to school 15 minutes early (why I am still not sure) waiting in the playground area while the youngest who has just mastered the art of walking or should we say waddling (she was a late bloomer), attempts to climb up the steps and go down the slide while a few bigger kids rush around not caring whether they pummel her over or not. Finally, after I go down the slide with her a few times, the other two kids come out, and I attempt to quickly direct them to the exit gate and away from the playground.

Ok, first 30 minutes successfully completed.

 First debacle-- Both kids throw their book bags down expecting me to carry them and we go through the same conversation we've had a million times before, "That is your bag, you have to carry it. Oh, it's too heavy? Well then wheel it along, that's why mommy bought you the bags that look like luggage for school."

Second dilemma--Once we finally cross the street and get to the car, we then have to decide who gets to sit next to the window and who gets to sit in the middle. I swear I think I do more negotiating in a day that any CEO. Shiloh gets the window seat, while Evan gets the middle. This negotiation was not an easy task. We decided that whoever has to sit in the middle gets to control the radio. This was a huge adjustment that I had to make as a carpooling nanny-- I quickly realized that I would never ever get to listen to the music I wanted to hear during carpool time--EVER. So, I put on Evan's kiddie cd and off we go.  

Third Dilemma- All three kids have demanded their afternoon snacks and as usual, they each get a fruit and a string cheese. I start off using the GPS to get me, first to Shiloh’s dance class and then I take Evan to his soccer practice. Shiloh refuses to change in the car like she is suppose to, so she goes into dance class and has to put on her leotard by herself in the dance studio bathroom while I have visions of some crazy person stealing her and taking her out the exit door in the back of the building.

 Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Dilemmas--Once I drop Evan off, I literally turn around and pick Shiloh up from dance and then I go back and pick Evan up from soccer. All the while, Kiley has taken a crap in her diaper and is screaming to get out of the seat she's been attached to for two hours. We negotiate the seat arrangements again and we are on our way back home. Of course, there is some fighting about how Shiloh’s choice of music sucks while the baby continues to scream, cars are beeping in traffic, and the dad is calling me up to find out when I will be home with their car. I finally get home, park the car, and pat myself on the back for managing to get everyone home alive despite the six dilemmas I faced, and I pray to myself that I avoid driving my car off the nearest cliff on the way home after work.

Daddy Dearest PART I

I am among a select group of girls who had an absentee father growing up (he will be referred to as either the sperm donor or my biological father from here on out). Thankfully, I had an amazing mother and a fabulous "stepfather" who quickly became my dad both legally and emotionally, so I am not too tarnished as a result. I don't think I have "daddy issues" and I don't think I hesitate to be in committed relationships because my father left me when I was 6. This is simply part of my past and I appreciate that if I had to have some sort of challenge in my life growing up, that this was all God gave to me. I can handle it. Really...

After cheating on my mom, destroying our house in a fit of rage, placing us in a lot of debt because he bought a house for his mistress and tried to start 2 unsuccessful businesses, he saved us all a lot of future trouble and walked away. On a late summer afternoon, during one of our designated time slots to see each other, I awkwardly hugged him good bye and got in the car with my mom, not knowing that it would be the last time I saw him for 7 years. Good riddens.

My mom and I moved into a new house with her new boyfriend and planned for her big Italian wedding. I loved my cozy little room in my new house. I finally lived in a house where I felt safe, where there was no chance of anyone coming in late at night and waking me up, no one destroying my toys or yelling at my mom, no one stomping around the house and barking orders at me. The only thing I was scared of at this new house was dropping food on the new carpet. I adapted, as they say, quite well to my new surroundings.

I was "well adjusted." That's what the counselor called me in my "Kids of Divorced Parents Group" at school. My mom and dad (my stepfather, but I started calling him dad within a few years since I didn't want anyone to know he wasn't my biological father), made sure that I was happy and healthy. We lived a completely normal life and it suited me. My personality wasn't really conducive to drama and it still isn't.

From the age of 7-14, my life was complete with school, a major geeky phase which lasted for about 3 years in which I had horrible 90's clothes, big bows in my hair, a set of bangs that my mom styled as if I had a wave on my head, and of course, glasses (no braces though!), and friends. I tried very hard to find my place among a whole new set of friends in middle school and succeeded in becoming closest with the girl I considered to be the coolest one of the bunch.

By 14, I was in high school and I was about to finish up my first season of field hockey. It was a cold night in November when my parents walked in and my dad's eyes were puffy and my mom was holding a letter looking very nervous. My dad could read the panicked look on my face knowing that I would probablyimmediately assume something was wrong with my mom. He didn't hesitate and said, "He's back. He wants you back." I stood there for a second, I was shocked and speechless.

This was my dad's worst nightmare. If my biological father ever came up in conversation, he would say how he was always a little scared that he would come back and I would leave him. My dad would be replaced by the sperm donor. In his weakest moments, he would say that. I would tell him it was totally ridiculous. I felt more comfortable and connected with him than I ever felt in all my 7 years of growing up with my biological father. I felt a connection instantly on that day many years ago when I met him for the first time after being picked up from playing in the pool at my friend's house. I was in my bathing suit and all wrapped up in a big towel when my mom picked me up and told me she was going to introduce me to a good friend of hers. I remember asking if it was a girl or a boy. When I walked into the house and met him, the first question I asked him was if he had any other children that I could play with. I always hoped I would have siblings and with my dad just walking out, the chance of it happening looked slim. I guess I figured maybe this person could bridge the gap and give me some new playmates.

We got along quite well except for a few minor mishaps--one day I told him that his "five minute" time slot with my mom was up and it was time for him to leave, but other than that, we were fast friends from the beginning. He loved my mom and knew I would have to love him if she was going to love him. He bribed me occasionally with candy and took me to the teacher store and let me pick out whatever I wanted to have for my pretend classroom at home. I was never a barbie kind of gal. My new barbie dream house got destroyed when my biogical father had his "mental breakdown," so I stuck with playing school which was more up my alley anyway. I played school before school and I played school after school and I played school during the summer. Pretending to be a teacher was all I ever wanted to do and I took it seriously and I needed real materials....So, we went to the teacher store and he treated me to an expensive grade book. He still laughs about how he must have really liked my mom to buy such a ridiculous "toy" for me. He used to bring me lollipops and gum too and he would play school with me for hours and be my student. I would teach him simple math and read to him and he would answer all of my questions and fill out my "homework" for him in my extra math workbooks. He would tell me stories about his trip to Disney World and the water slides he went down and we had certain cartoons that were shows that only we watched together.

It was as if we were always meant to be parent and child and something just got mixed up for a few years. God had corrected everything. We looked like we could be related. We talked the same way. We worried about things in the same way. We had a lot of similarities, the cause for some major arguments, but he was my dad. When I see little girls with their dads now, I mourn the time I lost with my dad because we hadn't found each other yet, but I have learned to just be grateful that I got him at all.

Anyway, I digress. My parents told me that my biological father had contacted a lawyer about getting visitation rights for me and that my mom was due into court to address the situation. I was shocked. I guess I figured this day might come, but I really hadn't ever thought about it. My father was a loose cannon the last time I saw him, he was completely unreliable, he destroyed my house, on visits when he would actually come to see me, he would take me out on his bread route and allow me to sit in the back of the truck in old bread boxes that would spin around in the back of the truck. I guess I thought this was amusing. He left me more than once in one of these trucks late at night while he would go into a bank. I had no idea what he was doing and I remember being scared and hiding in the truck so no one would see me. This was the same bank that he met his mistress at, that he offered her a line of credit and then got fired since they thought he was embezzeling money. He lost his job at this bank and put us on welfare and this was the same place he was taking me in the wee hours of the morning.

I remember being scared in his presence and wanting to go home. I would beg my mother not to make me go and see him. She tried to do the right thing and keep my relationship with him going. When she realized I was riding around in trucks without a seat belt and being left in a truck at 2 AM, she pulled the plug on his visitation rights and never said anything else about him unless I asked questions...which I rarely did. I happily moved out of our old house with the unhappy memories and moved on with my new life. I barely looked back. From my short time in psychology classes, I learned that I was at an age where adjustment was easy.

I was numb for awhile. I walked out of the kitchen. I went into my room. I stood there and stared at the floor. My mom came in and asked me if I was okay. I said yes. I was more concerend about them than myself. I felt fine. I told her I didn't want to see him. I had legally changed my last name. My "step father" was my dad now. I didn't want the sperm donor imposing on my life. I was well adjusted damn it! My mom reassured me that everything would be fine and I trusted her.

The next night, a limo pulled up to my house escorted by a cop car. Someone knocked on my door and I knew exactly who it was. I ran into my room and hid in my closet. I was 14 and I was hiding in my closet. It was a bit ridiculous, but there I was, quietly listening and waiting for the limo to start up again and drive away. I was back in the same crouching position I found myself in 8 years ago when I hid next to the garage while my father destroyed our house. Apparently, he had a gift for getting me to my knees in fear.

I know it sounds weird that he came with a limo, but don't worry. He wasn't coming to sweep me in some limo and take me to Chucki Cheese's which he promised to do and never came through on. He was merely working...at one of his 3 jobs which included and still does, apparently, driving a limo. The cop was there to keep things civil and he advised my dad to not come out and confront my biological father. The cop said he understood why my dad would want to but, for his own sake, he really shouldn't. So, while my father was pacing up and down the driveway in typical fashion, my mom spoke with the cop and told him I wasn't home. The cop then advised my mom to make sure she contacted a lawyer and to make sure that she and I were both there for the next meeting that was sure to come. He warned her that she could get placed in jail if a judge made an order that we did not follow. And indeed he did. The judge didn't spend enough time looking over our history and made it mandatory for me to see my father and tell him myself that I did not want to rekindle a relationship with him. This was a real treat for me.

My mom was extra attentive to me that week asking me if I was okay and telling me that it was okay to talk about it, cry, scream, whatever I needed to do. I told her that I was fine and I just wanted the whole scene to be over. And, I truly believed that. I wasn't holding back tears and I didn't feel that upset. One day after school, my inevitable stress showed itself in a fit of me screaming and crying as I threw my school books across the living room floor. When my mom ran into the room and asked me what was wrong, I explained to her that I was angry because I couldn't find a sharpened pencil. Looking back on this moment, I laugh and realize how bad I was at expressing myself at the time...I got a night of ice cream out of it.

So, we made the plan to meet him at the local mall. My mom and dad, my uncle and three of my mom's best friends all hid behind a big planter with fake plants and spot lights that they always have by the food courts at the mall. There was a fountain nearby as well. I tossed a penny in and made a wish as I walked away from the group and left my mom. Two of my friends were posted up two tables down from me and another two friends were hanging out by a kiosk that was directly in front of where I was sitting. It was around the holidays and the new kiosk was selling packaged cheese and sausage. I remember laughing to myself at the ridiculousness of the situation. I was scared to see a man that was suppose to be my sole male protector in life while my friends were hiding behind a kiosk selling sausage.

As I sat at the two person table at the sandwich shop where we were to meet, I looked up and realized that I was safely surrounded on all sides by people who loved me. One way or another I was going to be okay. I took a deep breath and waited for him to get there. As I saw him walking in, he was wearing a long black overcoat, his hair was slicked by, he was much taller than I remember, and he looked like a foreboding creature. I started to tear up and quickly stopped myself. I did not want to break down in this moment. I wanted to say what I had to say and get it over with.

He walked up to the table and awkwardly gave me a hug. I looked at him and tried to feel something. I felt nothing. I felt disconnected and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The only thing that comforted me was knowing that I had a lot of eyes watching to make sure I was okay. The meeting went quickly and he basically told me that his mother, my grandmother was dying and that she would love to see me. He also took out papers and showed me that he had an insurance policy for me. I was 14 and had no idea what that meant. I realize later that this was his sad attempt at buying me off, at showing me that he had done at least one thing responsibly and set money aside for me in the case of his death. He was, as I always remember him to be, a quiet talker, a serious man who lacked warmth and sincerity. I was instantly transfixed back to being 5 years old in his presence.

I couldn't understand what he expected from me and I didn't know why he went about meeting me in this way. Why didn't he send me a letter and request that I see him? Why did he have to bring lawyers and judges into it? Why did my mom have to be threatened with prison? It didn't make sense to me. The evening came to a quick halt when he reached over the table and touched my face. I flinched and save farther back in my seat. He said, "Oh you have chocolate on your cheek. I was trying to get it off for you." This is when I was compelled to say, "Well it looks like this meeting is over. That chocolate you were trying to remove is a birthmark. As my father, you should probably know that." Both he and his mother tried to remove that mark on different occasions. I did what the judge requested and I told him that I did not want to see him. That was that. He respected my wishes and stayed out of my life.

After that fiasco, I didn't see him again until my cousin's father's funeral when I was 23. I was a first year teacher at the time in my hometown and I had just come back from a month long trip with my cousin traveling and we were very close. Even though I hadn't seen her father in years and I would have to travel a good distance, I felt that I needed to go and support her at the funeral. It wasn't until my long drive there that I thought it might be possible that I would run into my father. I knew he was friends with my cousin's father at one point, but I didn't really expect him to be there. I walked in with my other cousins and stood in the funeral line. I faced forward and kept my head down. I didn't want to look around and I didn't want to make eye contact with anyone. I was essentially hiding behind my cousin. I whispered to her what I was concerned about and she understood. I asked her to look around for me, but she had only seen my father in pictures and probably wouldn't recognize him. Of course, he came in through a side door and it was impossible to miss him.

Once again, I choked up and this time I couldn't control it as well. I ran to the bathroom with the speed of someone who was about to hurl and I let myself bawl for just a minute or two. My cousin knocked on the door and I let her in. She told me it was okay and that I could do whatever I wanted. If I needed to sneak away, she would go with me. I kept splashing my face with cold water hoping to clear away the red eyes and blotchy cheeks, it wasn't working. I cried, I washed, I dried, and then I cried again and started the whole stupid ritual over again. This is exactly why I never cry, I thought to myself. Someone knocked on the door wanting to get into the one-stall bathroom. I wanted to jump out the window. I pulled myself together and came out. I saw my father's sister who wrapped me up in a big hug and wouldn't let me go for far too long. She was always sweet and I felt for her, but I wasn't about to let my guard down to anyone. He gave me another awkward hug and asked me if I would be willing to go outside to speak with him. I was stronger than I was at 14 and felt like I could do it by myself this time. Everyone stayed in the funeral home and I went outside. He was in a long foreboding black overcoat again. He looked fatter and older than he did 7 years earlier. Both of his parents had died of heart disease at this point. His father and brother (and probably him) were drunks and he feared dying young like both of his parents who had heart problems. He wasn't too worried about it or he would have lost some weight and stopped drinking so much wine and beer. It seemed he was illogical about this issue as well. As usual, he was focused on himself and told me how rejected he felt when I told him I didn't want to have a relationship with him at 14. I asked him some of the questions I always had-- did I have a sibling? why did you leave? was there something mentally amiss? what happened when you destroyed my house? I didn't really get any answers on anything except for a firm no on the sibling part. The one good thing he could have given me, he failed at that as well. He told me he was a creative writer too. He said that whether I liked it or not, I had pieces of him in me, that I was probably more similar to him than I thought.
I said good bye in a colder, firmer fashion than I had 7 years earlier. He tried to tell me we could eat at a local restaurant near my house. I told him that I was moving to CA. I told him I had no interest. I watched his face fall again for the second time in my life. I had rejected him all over again and I didn't care. I didn't feel anything.

6 months later, I made my trek across the country and started a new life on the West Coast.