Yours, Mine & Ours

Just 16 days into it and Big Sister's already hip to the power of pronouns.

"Who else would like a turn to meet my new baby brother?"
"Look, Mama! My baby is holding my finger!"
"My baby brother likes to watch me dance."

"Mama, make your baby stop crying! I think your baby poopied in his diaper."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Things I Had Forgotten

Oh, the things I had forgotten between Baby #1 and Baby #2.

Dress in layers. That way you can simply peel clothes off layer by layer as the baby spits up on them throughout the course of the day. Jacket, sweater, shirt, camisole... if you get that far before you're ready to head home, you'll just have to turn your clothes inside out and start again.

No matter how much the baby sleeps at night, you will sleep less. Because after the baby slips into a nice, cozy "milk drunk", you lie awake listening for the baby's breathing, or waiting for one of those delightful middle-of-the night toxic diapers, or wondering if the "Vaccines Cause Autism" people are right, or trying to calculate how much a college education will cost 18 years from now, or trying to remember where you stashed the last Cadbury chocolate almond bar.

The 20-minute rule. That is, add 20 minutes to everything you need to do. For example, start to leave the house 20 minutes before you actually need to, because on your way out the door you'll remember that you took the car seat out to clean it, and you never put it back in. You'll need every one of those 20 minutes to wrestle the thing back in and hook all of the hooks to the right hook holders.

Frog Bodies. I forgot how difficult it is to dress or diaper a human frog with legs that never straighten out.

How much there is to say about nothing.
Diapers. Bottles. Stain removal. (Someone, please, get me a Wall Street Journal!)

The wonder. I hadn't forgotten it, but the memory had softened. There's nothing like the smell of fresh baby to reframe the day.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Our Triangle Becomes A Square

I've got a good excuse for not posting last week. In fact, I'm holding the excuse right now.

Little Mister was born last week and we're all happy, tired, and incredibly grateful for our fourth corner.

Enjoy your blessings, whatever shape your family is in.

Sally


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

New Space

Hello! I'm glad you're here. We outgrew ourselves at New Mommy Sally, so we moved here. I hope to see you here often.

Make a great day!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

How Many Times?

I frown, "How many times do I have to tell you not to jump on the bed?"
She grins, "Mama, jump with me!"

I give The Look, "How many times do I have to ask you to chew with your mouth closed?"
She licks her lips, "I can't make my mouth stay closed when the food is delicious."

I sigh, "How many times do I have to remind you not to drum on the table?"
She shrugs, "But Daddy says I'm "an Erin girl for rhythm"?

I yawn, "How many times are you going to go to the bathroom before you settle down in bed?"
She wraps her arms around my neck and says, "How many times can I kiss your face before the sun comes up tomorrow?"

She's my kryptonite.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

My Complex Electra

At breakfast this morning:

"Oh, Daddy, you look beautiful! I like your shirt and your belt and your pants. You're beautiful, Daddy (stroking his face). You look like a doll. A Daddy doll."

Turns and gives me the once over, then "Mama, you can't wear that to my school. That's not beautiful. No way."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Bedtime Prayer

Dear God,
Thank you for... I had a great day today.
I love you, God, and I like you very much.
I know you always love me and I will be your friend forever.
I hope you have a good sleep, so you don't be crabby tomorrow.
Good night, God.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

I've Got Three Words For You

"My ear hurts."

Three little words with the power to unhinge my entire day. Forget the article I need to write and the conference call I scheduled and the birthday cake I should have baked last night. Yeah, we're looking at a keep you home from school - travel to the pediatrician - confirm an ear infection - wait at the pharmacy - pray for a nap that probably won't happen kind of a day. Beautiful.

It got me thinking about other three-word phrases, like "Is this yours?" Great when it's a stranger holding up a $20 bill; not so great when it's your boss holding up your offer letter from another company.

"Just forget it" brings a rush of relief when offered by a friend after a misunderstanding, yet the same three words are like a dare when flung over the shoulder of a spouse storming out during an argument.

I guess a lot of three-word phrases are situation-dependent, like "I swallowed it" from my preschooler. Button - bad. Migraine pill - worse. Mouthful of brussel sprouts - all right.

"Are you done?", "Who is it?" and "Just a minute!" can all signal happy, groovy things or portend grave interpersonal cataclysm.

"I love you." "Hug me tighter." "Hold me, Mama." "I missed you." Those are always music to my ears!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

First Poem

I floated like the stars
I shiver like the sky
I kiss you like the moon
I think and I cry
(age 3 1/2)


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Gift of Song

I got the best birthday gift today when I was awakened by a little voice singing her special version of Silent Night.

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Barnyard virgin mother and child,
Hold the infant so tempt her a while
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Truly, this is a heavenly peace.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

She Learned the 'B' Word at School Today

It was bound to happen. I knew that. I just didn't expect it at three. I doubt I'll ever know who she first heard say it, and I guess it doesn't really matter. It's part of her experience now.

It's obvious that she knows how to use it, too. She leveled it at me when I pulled out into traffic this afternoon. First a dramatic gasp, then the horrified accusation, "Mom! You BUDGED in front of that car!"

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Breakfast of Champions

Nothing better than a half-inch piece of Cherry Chapstick and a shiny penny down the hatch to get you going on a snowy morning. Bonus points for making the Lifeline operator laugh. That's my girl!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Age of Reason

"Mama, how did God grow me in Meghan's tummy?"

When God was ready to make you he planted a teeny, tiny seed in Meghan's tummy, and you grew and grew and grew until you were ready to come out and be our daughter.

"Mama, how did God put the seed there?"

Well, God had help from Meghan and your birth father.

"Mama, how did God put the seed in Meghan's tummy? How?"

Hmm... God brought them together and they made the seed that would grow to be you.

"But Mama, how did the seed get in there? With a shovel?"

No, not with a shovel, Sweetheart. When grownups love each other very much God teaches them a special way. We can talk more about that when you're older.

"When I'm four, Mama?"

Maybe when you're four.

"Mama, does God eat cranberries?"

I don't know.

"It's OK, Mama. You have precious eyes."

Would you do me a favor and stay this age forever?

"No, Mama, I can't. Sorry, Charlie."

(yeah, me too.)


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Reasons to Home School

This was written by a woman I know only as "Eva's Mamma". These are excerpts from her list Reasons to Homeschool. I love it.

"Jesus" is not a curse word. "Crap" and "stupid" are.

Real world experiences, going to the grocery stores and bank constitute a math lesson, gazing at stars on a beautiful summer night and seeing bats inhabit our bat house is science.

Your child can be taught to problem solve and to be creative and to know how to find answers for himself instead of only knowing how to find the answers he is asked to find.

I believe as a parent it is my responsibility to see that my child has the best possible education, and I don't want to hire that responsibility out to someone else.

Freedom to talk about and do activities about the holidays we celebrate without having to worry if we are being "PC".

You don't have to put a child who still rides in a 5pt harness in the family car on a bus with absolutely no safety belts.

I can teach my child to listen to her body - sleep when she's tired, wake when she's rested, eat when she's hungry, stop when she's satisfied. Our schedule is not regulated by rushed early mornings, late nights of homework, or scarfing lunch because there's not enough time to eat. Plenty of time for that stuff in college; no need to start it when she's 4.

The home schooled child can learn about mom or dad's job by going to work with them on ANY day, not just the once-a-year "take your child to work" holiday.

The support system for home schoolers today is so great that most groups in larger cities have high school graduation and many have football and other sports available for home schoolers. There are even national groups for extra-curricular involvement in home school debate and forensics speaking.

They learn early on that only they are responsible for their education, actions, behavior, and reactions. It’s up to them to choose the path they wish to follow, but they know that they have a hand to hold if they need it and a willing ear and heart for support and listening. They know they are never alone in any of the journeys.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Grossed Out Beyond Belief

Little One has a tiny cut on her tiny thumb, and as Little Ones typically do, she spends a great deal of time inspecting it, commenting on it, and offering it for my inspection and commentary.

Tonight at a restaurant she occupied herself by squeezing lemon slices into her ice water and then fishing the seeds and pulp out of the water. When she interrupted her game for an urgent potty break I didn't bother to dry her hands, figuring that we'd dry them soon enough in the bathroom.

She hopped up on the potty and almost immediately held her thumb out to me, whimpering "It stings." Seeing that her thumb was wet and knowing that lemon juice stings an open cut, I leaned forward, put her whole thumb in my mouth, and sucked the lemon juice off.

I'm a good mother. Always a solution. Takin' care of my Baby... My moment of self-congratulations ended abruptly when I saw the most bizarre expression on her face - a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"Mama, why did you eat pee pee?"

What? Eckgh! It's burned into my brain!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Why Don't You Want To Hold Your Baby?

Last night I watched a young mother swinging her baby in an infant carrier. Back and forth, back and forth, the woman's arm extended unnaturally far from her body in order to allow the carrier to swing freely without bludgeoning her legs. "He likes to be moving all the time," she volunteered. "I have to keep him swinging or he fusses."

Having watched the pair for almost 15 minutes I found the toll on the woman obvious, as she stopped frequently to stretch her back and chest and switch the precious load from one hand to the other, so I thought she might be open to another way. Yes, a better way, in my opinion.

"Have you tried holding him yourself?" She looked at me blankly. "Have you tried holding him in your arms instead of the carrier? He might be happier closer to your chest."

No, she didn't think so. And besides (she explained), she can just snap the carrier back into the car seat rather than unbuckle and buckle the baby to hold him. "Really, the carrier is so convenient," she gushed.

"More convenient than your own arms", I asked, playing along as if convenience really were the measure of a good idea. Apparently she decided that walking briskly in the opposite direction was what her baby needed right then, and as I watched her walk away I just felt sad.

Sad for all the babies who spend more time in a cushioned hunk of molded plastic than in their mother's arms. Sad for all the mothers who are simply doing what they see other mothers doing. How can they not want to hold their babies as close as they can whenever they can? How can they not want to brush their chins on their babies' downy heads... flutter their lashes on those ultra-soft cheeks... and simply breathe together?

I don't get it at all.

Personal thoughts aside, the medical community weighs in: Excerpted from St. Luke's website and other pediatric forums.

Are there problems associated with overuse of infant equipment?

• It's ok to use infant equipment. Infant equipment can be fun for your baby and useful for parents.

• However, infants develop in response to their experiences and their environment. Recent research showed that infants who spent lots of time in equipment were actually slower to meet their developmental milestones than babies who spent less time in equipment.

• The shape of a baby's head can change in response to pressure from the back of the car seat, bouncer seat or swing. A study of infants who spent a total time of more than four hours a day in their car seat/carrier, bouncer or swing found they developed flat spots on the back or sides of their skulls that changed their head shape. Positional plagiocephaly is the medical term used to describe this asymmetrical head shape.

• Researchers found that babies whose parents reported using infant equipment for a total of one hour a day or less had fewer of these problems.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Mustang Sally

Apparently Little Darling enjoyed the concert in the park this weekend. She's been singing a song from the concert all day:

"Muh-staken Sally... you better slow your muh-stakin' down..."

LMHO!! (laugh my heart out)

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Overheard

(Three year-old talking to herself during a time out in her crib)
crying, indignant blustering, etc.
Wait a minute. I can get out of this crib!
shuffling, rattling, muffled thuds
Aghhhh... I can't. Dennis! Den-nis! (calling Daddy by his first name!)
Awwwww! Can't somebody get me out of here?!

(Three year-old and her best friend, also three)
We're friends, Anna.
Yeah... friends forever.
I love each other.
Yeah. Next time we see each other we will hug.
And dance.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

"Chubby Mama"

"You're chubby, Mama. You're my chubby wubby."
I am...? Hmm...
"Yeah... (giggle)...you're my chubbiest Mama I ever had."
What does "chubby" mean, Baby?
"It means special... and tiny... and pretty."
Lucky me, I'M CHUBBY!!!!!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Every Mother Needs a Good FWOK

A FWOK is a "Friend WithOut Kids", and I've come to realize how much I rely on a good FWOK every now and then.

Sure, it's not easy to find a good FWOK, but it's so worth it. A good FWOK gives you a chance to forget about everyone else for a while and just focus on yourself and your needs. I always leave a good FWOK feeling refreshed and renewed... and looking forward to the next time.

The best FWOK I ever had is someone I count on for a reality check when I feel myself sliding down into the pit of self-absorbed motherhood. Having no kids, she is neither obsessed with nor even mildly interested in Developmental Milestones. She once asked, "Is that good?" when I told her that my two year-old can write her name. With either hand. In Sanskrit.

This FWOK is completely wild. She actually cooks on the front burners - with the pot handles turned out! She totally pushes the bounds of decency by leaving her sliding glass doors open with nothing but a flimsy screen between her and a set of concrete steps. Dice, coins, fancy earrings, lipstick, camera batteries, even permanent markers... she let's it all hang out and she doesn't care who touches it.

I've gotten used to living without sharp corners or a closed bathroom door, but I have to admit it's a thrill to hear her say things like, "Help yourself to my nail polish. It's in the second drawer... between the Ambien and the razor blades." Wow! Did I ever talk like that?

If you can't remember the last time you had a good FWOK, it means you're overdue. You deserve one!!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood