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

The Word of God

Last night I was ready for Most Precious Two Year-Old to go to bed before she was. With my strong recommendation she reluctantly pulled her pajamas on and dragged her toes all the way to the bathroom sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth. Sensing that her day was, in fact, ending despite her best efforts to the contrary, she repeatedly flicked the light on and off, on and off, on and off in an obvious attempt to gnaw through my one remaining nerve and claim "the win."

I finally put my hand over the light switch and declared, "The light stays off. No light." She immediately roared, "Yes, light! God said let there be light!"

Laugh? Cry? I did both and said (with misty eyes), "If God says it, we better do it. Let's have light."

"Mama, God said 'DON'T GO TO BED!'"

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

How Long Can You Stay?

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
--- Robert Frost

My Little One, my golden one, how long can you stay?

You’ve never been denied, betrayed or left unchosen.
You’ve never watched a face collapse under the weight of something you said.
Your whole being vibrates with the sheer delight of being delighted.
How long can you stay?

A moment lurks - I feel it closer - when you will feel the first frost of regret in your throat, when your cheeks will redden from the sting of rejection and your tears that now mist pure and clear will slope and stagger with real pain.

How long can you stay? Twirling breathless in the rain. Sturdy-legged, nose to ant. Half-on, half-off, half-in, half-out, no doubt, all mine, green and free and light.

I know not how long you can stay. I only know it's not long enough.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

What Motherhood is Really Like

A pregnant friend asked me what motherhood is really like. I thought for a moment then said, "It's looking at a face so streaked with dirt, sweat, snot, glue, jelly, dust, honey, pudding, or chalk that anyone in their right mind would turn away, and finding it so incredibly beautiful that you can't help but kiss it."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Good Ship Malaprop

When you asked me to watch you dance, I never imagined that you would sing, too. What a treat to watch you shuffle, stomp, and patter as you belted out
"On the good ship Lollypop
It's a sweet trip to a candy shop
Where pom-poms play
Nah nah nah nah on the peppermint bang!"

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

A Cup of Tea

I wish I could take credit for this guaranteed laugh. Friends emailed it to me. Thanks, Cheryl and Jason!

Cup of Tea
One day my mother was out and my dad was in charge of me.

I was maybe 2 1/2 years old and had just recovered from an accident.

Someone had given me a little 'tea set' as a get-well gift and it was one of my favorite toys.

Daddy was in the living room engrossed in the evening news when I brought Daddy a little cup of 'tea', which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Mom came home.

My Dad made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was 'just the cutest thing!' My Mom waited, and sure enough, here I come down the hall with a cup of tea for Daddy and she watches him drink it up.

Then she says, (as only a mother would know... :)

'Did it ever occur to you that the only place that baby can reach to get water is the toilet?'

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Daddy Gives Thanks

I give thanks when you run to me.

I give thanks when I see your morning face.

I give thanks when you ask "Daddy, will you dance with me?"

I'm grateful that you want to have breakfast with me.

I'm grateful that you think I can fix everything.

I'm grateful that I can make you laugh.

I'm thankful for velcro and cuddle time and stories by the fire.

I'm thankful that you want to hold Mama's hand while you fall asleep.

I give thanks every day that I have you and your Mama to remind me what really matters.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Mama Gives Thanks

I give thanks every time I hear you sing Amazing Grace to yourself in your bed.

I give thanks when you say "Look, Mama!" and flash me the 'I love you' sign in the rearview mirror.

I give thanks when you whisper "Mama, look at that beautiful sunset."

I'm grateful that you want to spend as much time with me as possible, that you have faith in me, and that you like my singing.

I'm thankful that when I say "I love you", you take my face in your small hands and say "I love you too, Mama."

I'm thankful for car naps and hand-me-downs and giggling in the dark.

I'm thankful that you want to hold my hand while you fall asleep.

I give thanks every day that I have your Daddy to help me raise you, and that we have you to show us the way.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

William Tell Mom

This is one of the Top 10 funniest things I have EVER seen!! Turn your speaker on...

William Tell Mom

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Little Miss Malaprop

After our morning skrits (grits) we drove to the local pet store to visit the skinny pigs (guinea pigs). Among the CDs we listened to in the car were Elephants Gerald and Bob Erin, who you may know as Ella Fitzgerald and Bob Dylan. :)

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Morning Has Broken (Into A Million Pieces)

I slip into your (strangely suspiciously) too quiet room
and though it's half-dark
there's no mistaking the
poop on your hands
poop on the wall
poop in your crib
poop in your hair.

I believe I'll cry
but you cock your head
reach up with your (smeary smelly) little hands
and smile with all your might
and poop in your teeth.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Product Recalls

Help keep your family safe by checking product recalls and safety news from CPSC (Consumer Product Safety Commission).

Visit www.cpsc.gov/cpsclist.aspx to sign up for free email alerts. Expect to receive them at least daily. There are far more product recalls than I ever imagined!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

La Cosa Nostra

"All done with your bath, Little One. Time to put your lotion on." (I said)

"I can do it." (replied my two year-old)

"Oh, that's Mama's job. Mama will do it." (me again)

"I want to do it." (my two year-old)

"I'm sure you do, but Mama's going to do it."

"But I'm going to do it."

"Honey, Mama will put your lotion on."

"IcandoitIcandoitIcandoit!"

"No, Child, I will do it."

"No, Mama, I will do it."

"I will do it... I'm the boss." (I said firmly, and a touch exasperated)

"I'm the other boss."

Will I lose my last finger-hold on authority if I laugh?

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Why I Love The Splash Park

Hanging out with toddlers in bathing suits - almost everyone's thighs are chubbier than mine.

It opens at 8 a.m.

When my hair's wet no one can tell that I haven't showered.

No one wants to get their cell phone wet, so they don't stand around having loud private conversations into their phone.

Water play in the sun has been scientifically proven to induce euphoria. (The euphoria lingers almost as long as it takes to pull out of the parking lot; ironically, that's exactly how long it takes your ravenous, exhausted kid to realize that the snacks are gone and wet bathing suits turn cold in the air-conditioned car.)

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Where Have All The Dollies Gone?

I’m looking for a doll – a baby doll. I don't need her to speak Spanish. I don’t want to hear a heartbeat when I pick her up, or mix a tablespoon of warm water with a packet of powder so she can “make” a diaper.

I just want a regular baby doll. The kind that has a smooth rubber head with little hair lines etched into it. Eyes that slide closed when she lies down and a fixed pink mouth parted just wide enough for her tiny bottle. No bendable knees or flexible fingers. I want the stiff plastic arms and legs that rotate 360 degrees in the socket and pop out of the torso if they’re pulled in any other direction. Slightly rounded belly, slightly webbed toes, and a little v-shaped crease for her bottom. That’s the doll I’m looking for.

I find Barbie dolls, Beanie dolls, Dora dolls and Doodle dolls. Dolls that shop, dolls that bop, cowgirls, schoolgirls, newsgirls, American Girls… no plain old baby dolls.

Grrls for teens, Bratz for tweens, Snap & Style, Design My Style, Little Mermaid, Little Mommy, Mommy Make Me Better (for the junior co-dependent in your life). Cabbage Patch dolls are back with the same freshly-punched-in-the-face-look that shoppers punched each other in the face for in the early-1980’s.

Doesn’t anyone have dolly dolls anymore?

There’s a whole section of aroma-therapized dolls. Corolle Lila is “infused with a delightful vanilla scent.” Better be pretty darn delightful for fifty bucks! Smell-errific Berry Beautiful Babies share a shelf with the new and improved Strawberry Shortcake - now with perma-scent! – and something called a Thermal Doll. What the heck is that?

I don’t know what these Only Hearts Club dolls are either, but they’ve got to be better than the scary Chucky dolls and this line of Ugly Dolls that definitely live down to the name.

For $49.99 I can have two-way conversations with the artificially intelligent Amazing Amanda. She laughs, talks, cries and changes her facial expressions to reflect her mood. She even interacts with her play pieces. Please, for fifty bucks I’d like a doll that at least pretends to need me.

Oh, thank goodness. Baby Alive. I remember her! Soft skin, soft curls, and a sweet smile… hmm… today’s version slurps and spits. Very nice. That’s what you want to teach your kid.

That’s it. I’m hitting the dollar store on the way home. I’ll surprise my daughter with another colorful, lead paint-tainted puzzle instead of the baby doll I wanted to give her.

Puzzles, puzzles, where are the puzzles? Wait a minute. What’s this? Rubber head. Molded plastic torso. Little comma-shaped belly button. Dolly?

It is you! Oh, Dolly! Of course. I should have known that the only place to find an all-American baby doll anymore is in a store full of Third World sweatshop goods!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

What's So Great About Being Two?

Knowing how to use the potty
Only using it when you're in the mood
Jumping up and down in the bathtub
Guessing whether Mama will drop her last Excedrin migraine in your dirty bathwater or into the open toilet when she sees you jumping up and down in the bathtub
Hiding play-doh under your tongue when Mama checks to see if you’re eating it
Jumping on the bed
A black olive on every finger
Jumping on the bed with a black olive on every finger
Calling Daddy at work and licking the phone
Arranging eggs and ice cubes on the kitchen floor
Jumping on them
Spinning the Lazy Susan without pinching your fingers
Not eating the bread crust
Eating the sunscreen
Reaching Mama's iced coffee on the counter
Jumping in the rocking chair
Hiding silently
Drinking water from the hose
Sticking the hose in your diaper
Drinking more water from the hose
It's only noon.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Fast Food Fast Talk

It's Friday afternoon of a very busy week, and I decide to treat myself to a vanilla iced coffee at McDonalds. I pull into the drive-thru... roll my window down...

"Welcome to McDonalds. Would you like to try our new sweet tea for 99 cents today?"

Before I can say anything a little voice hollers from the car seat, "No fank you! Can I have a yogurt parfait... wif strawberries... a cup of ice water... um... formaggio (Italian for cheese) and a rice cake. Pwease. Fank you very much!"

Good thing I keep my wallet out of her reach!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

National Hug Day

Happy Hug Day!

I've been away from my post due to a family emergency, but I'm back with a lot to share. I'm looking forward to re-connecting with you, so I hope you'll check back soon.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

National Memo Day

I know that National Memo Day was last week, but I have just one more.

Memo to everyone who uses public restrooms: "handicapped accessible" doesn't mean "handicapped exclusive". If you're an able-bodied person at the front of a 22-person line and 12 of the people in line are shorter than your mailbox and trying very hard not to pee in their pants, for crying out loud, use the handicapped accessible stall or get out of the way!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Ultimate Mother's Day

Some days it seems like all I do is fill and refill. Just once, I'd like to have everything full at the same time.

My husband, my kid, and myself, so no one needs to be fed.

A drawer full of full pens. A head full of new ideas. A vase full of fresh flowers for inspiration.

I'd like to have the maximum recommended air pressure in all of our bicycle tires.

How about the diaper bag, the gym bag and the lawnmower gas can - all full at the same time?

My water bottle. My gas tank. My windshield wiper fluid. Full, full, and full.

The fire extinguisher, the first aid kit, the linen closet, sock drawers... dare I dream of a full can of new tennis balls?

I'd like for every box of tissues in the house to be full. Every spice jar in the rack and every cup in the egg carton... full.

How 'bout a full jug of soymilk to wash down my full cookie jar? And speaking of wash, I'd even like a full laundry hamper, so at least I'd know where I stand.

I'd like my printer full of toner, my fax machine full of paper, and my Inbox full of acceptance letters. My Outbox, of course, should brim with a column, a few articles, and a book manuscript - all complete and brilliantly crafted.

Please, for Mother's Day, will someone fill the ice cube trays? Fully charge the dust buster and fill my prescription? Would you replace my old, flattish pillow with a full, fluffy new one?

Maybe tomorrow morning (having gotten a full night's sleep) my husband and I will watch as our daughter is fully content playing by herself for a full five minutes. And maybe my husband will gaze at me with eyes full of love and a pot full of steaming coffee. And as I reflect with a full heart on our wonderfully full life, I'll know that although I usually see the glass as half-full, in fact, my cup runneth over. I hope yours does, too.

Happy Mother's Day!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Cadbury-vascular workout

Against all odds, I made it out for aerobics tonight. I really pushed my intensity level, and I think I managed to work off the Cadbury Creme Egg I ate for dinner on the way to class, so score that a win.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Red Light-Green Light

"Green light. Green means go."
That's right, Honey, green light means go.

"Yellow light. Yellow means slow."
Yes, yellow light means slow.

"Red light. Red means stop. Mama's makeup on."
What can I say?
:)

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Hold Your Applause

"Go potty now. Sit. Sit potty now. Pee pee now. Pee pee in potty now. All done. Yea, Mama! Mama pee peed! You did it! Yea, Mama!" (clap, clap, clap)

I don't know how far her voice carries in Borders, but I'm afraid to walk out of this bathroom!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Found in Translation

I finally got my hands on a bootleg copy of the Parent-to-Toddler Dictionary (never mind the particulars; I don't want to drag anyone else into the anarchy of the Secret Toddler Underground) and let me just say... I've been blind, and now I see!

Who knew that to a toddler, "Use your fork, please" means "Dip a green bean in your milk and stuff it up your nose"? This changes everything!

I'll be a much better mom knowing that "It's time to put your tea set away" means "Hurl yourself against the glass-front fireplace. Twice."

"I have to let go of your hand to unlock the car, so I need you to stand right here while I do that. DO NOT MOVE." means "Run, Child! Run like the wind!"

"Where's your bib?" means "Would you be so kind as to rummage through the kitchen drawers until you find a rusty antique pickle fork, and then comb your eyebrows with it?"

"Yucky! Don't put that in your mouth." means "Cram it into mine while I'm talking."
(variation - "Honey, don't rip pages out of your book." means "Rip pages out of mine instead.")

"This part of mass is called the Homily." means “Mama has a scrambled egg in her pocket. Don't be fooled by her whispered denials. Just keep shouting "egg now!" until she gives it to you."

Now I'm ready to face the day. (Wait! I'd better look that up. Yep, here it is: "Call Mama to your crib, wrap your little arms tightly around her neck, and vomit."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Little George Jesus

One of the fun things about being a parent is hearing the world through your child's ears.

Two of my favorite sound bites are the morning you asked for cottage cheese and "pie mumble" (pineapple) and the first time you hailed Daddy with "There she is!" (his usual greeting to you).

Yesterday dawned with a new delight, as I heard you sing Brahm's Lullaby as "Apple bite, and good night."

This post would not be complete without mentioning my niece Sam's remake of the classic Christmas carol, Away in the Manger:
"Away in the manger, no crib for his bed.
The little George Jesus lay down his sweet head."

Keep 'em coming!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

And How Was Your Day?

By 10:30 this morning she had pinched her finger in the pantry door, crushed three raw eggs between Dolly's feet, "helped Mama" several times by unbuckling herself from her high chair, and gutted the toy cabinet and piled everything on the couch, then had a meltdown and flung it all onto the floor because there wasn't enough room for her to climb up.

Time for hydrotherapy.

She wanted to use her "big girl potty" before bath.
Great.
Hop on... sit... hop off... turn to look. As she chirped,"Enty! Twy agin next time!" she spread her little legs and peed on the floor. Of course, she then stepped in the pee, slipped, and landed on her butt.

As I scooped her up, I slipped in it, and having no other way to break my fall, drove my knee into the side of the tub on my way down to the floor. I managed to catch my elbow on the tub rim and dump her in just as I felt my rotator cuff tear away from the bone.

"It's OK, Honey. Mama's just pretend crying. And pretending to turn pale. No, no. No standing in the tub. You're going to fall-" as my arm shot out to catch her I realized that it was my newly "bad" arm, but it was too late.

"Sit, Honey, sit in the tub... Mama's going to take a little nap..."

Through a haze I heard her voice, "Poopy. Poopy-d. Poopied." And indeed she had. Right between the bubbles.

I somehow managed to pull up onto my good knee and hoist her out with my untorn arm. "It's OK. You stand right here while I clean the tub and your bath toys. Oh! Where did you get that cup of water? Did you scoop it out of the tu-- No, no, don't drink that! That came from the poopy wat--"

"All gone!"

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Raise Your Voice for Women

March 8th is International Women's Day 2007

This year's theme is "Ending Impunity for Violence Against Women and Girls". I hope that you will decide to make a difference. Our action is the only solution.



Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Self-reliance

"Good morning, Sunshine. How 'bout a nice, dry diaper to start the day?"
"Self."
"Come on. Mama will help you go down the stairs."
"Self."
"Yes, I'm pouring your milk right now."
"Self."
"It's time to get dressed."
"Self."
"We can go outside after I put your shoes on."
"Self."
"Wait, wait. You need your coat."
"Self."
"That was fun! Let me brush the snow off of you before we go inside."
"Self."
"Are you ready for a story? Sit right here and Mama will read to you."
"Self. Self!"
"How 'bout a---"
"Self."
"I want to---"
"Self."
"We're going to---"
"Self."
"Can I---"
"Self."
"OK, honey, it's time to put your toys away."
"...... Mama do it."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Observations of an 18-month-old Daddy

He's as bewildered by her tantrums as he is by mine.

At some point in every tea party he will build a tower with the refreshments.

If I put her on my lap when we're eating dinner, I'm "spoiling her". If he puts her on his lap when we're eating dinner, he's "spending time with his daughter".

I can't get him to wear a heavy coat and gloves when it's 11 degrees outside, but she decks him out in a pumpkin bib, Mardi Gras beads and a Pooh Bear skull cap, and he can't stop smiling.

I love him more every minute.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Observations of an 18-month-old Girl

If she asks for help putting her shoes on, she doesn't want you to put them on for her; she wants you to change the world so that shoes go on more easily.

She is absolutely enchanting, even on her potty chair.

She loves to push buttons on the phone, the computer, the remote... but nothing tops pushing Mama's buttons at the end of a busy day.

She's incredibly intuitive. If you say something like, "We're late! Gosh dammit, where are my car keys?" she will understand that "dammit" is the only word worth turning into a song to sing for Grandma.

I love her more every minute.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Out of Town

Just a couple of things before I go…

Remember that it's prunes in the morning, banana at night, and no eggs or broccoli after 2 p.m. Milk before you leave the house and only water in the car. Under no circumstances does GloWorm leave the house.

Oh, and don’t forget, you’ll need to pack a back-up outfit and extra books for Grandma's. You have to send her with enough milk for the whole day and divide it into separate cups, or Grandma will let her have all of it before noon.

I’m sure you two will be fine. Just try to get everything in the car before you get her out of bed, because it's too cold to leave her in the car seat while you pack and you can't leave her alone in her high chair (she might choke, and if you try to park her there with some toys she'll throw them against the wall in protest) so you'll have to carry her on your hip while you shuttle back and forth.

Make sure you leave the hatch open, because when you bend down to pick up her diaper bag she'll pick your pocket and take the keys, and if you get locked out of the house you'll have to call a locksmith, which you won't be able to do since you left your cell phone on the counter to remind you to make sure the oven is off before you leave, so you'll have to drive to a neighbor's house to use their phone, which you won't be able to do unless the hatch is open because she will have pushed the "LOCK" button just before dropping the keys in the crack behind her car seat, and the only way to reach them is to crawl through the hatch, so definitely leave the hatch open.

Unless it's windy, because every time you walk past the garage door opener she'll press the button and you'll end up with a back seat full of snow and old newspapers.

I guess that’s it. You have the number to the hotel, right?

I noticed two new teeth coming in, so if she’s cranky and chewing on everything you can give her a dropper of the infant Tylenol. Don’t let her hold the dropper because she’ll wave it around and get Tylenol in her hair.

And you know that rash she gets when she’s teething? There’s a new tube of Balmex on my vanity. She recognizes the tube, so you’ll have to give her something to hold, or she’ll slide her fingers in it and put them in her mouth before you can stop her.

The pink aspirator is there too, because she’ll probably get a runny nose. I know, I know, you’ve done it a hundred times… you’ll be fine.

Just make sure you hold her really still or she’ll toss her head just as you put the bulb in her nose and she could rupture her nasal passage.

That’s all.

Oh, yeah. Remember to put all of her musical toys away by 7:00, otherwise she has a hard time winding down for bed. If you change her diaper in the middle of the night, don't make eye contact and don't whisper anything soothing into the semi-darkness, or you'll never make it out of her room alone. And if she wears non-footy pajamas you have to put her socks on underneath the pajamas, or she'll pull the socks off and wake up in the night with cold feet.

All right, I guess I should go.

Dr. Martin’s number is on the refrigerator.

She’s tall enough now to open the kitchen drawers. She can’t reach into them yet, but she can smash her fingers when she closes them, so keep an eye on her. I know you always do!

Kiss, kiss. I love you!

Do you want me to take her ponytail out before I go? If the rubber band slides off she may find it and put it in her mouth. OK. I’m going. I know you two will have fun. I love you!

See you tomorrow!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The ABCs of You and Me

A is for angels who guard day and night
B is for batteries to keep GloWorm bright
C is for Corduroy and colic cured
D is for Dada - your very first word
E is for Elmo (whether I like it or not)
F is your first year - we've all learned a lot
G is your giggle, more precious than gold
H is the heaven your little hugs hold
I is for ice pack and instant relief
J is a jewel-colored early-fall leaf
K is for kicking through puddles and snow
L is for love - and someday, letting go
M is for Mama and melodies sung
N is for "no" at the top of your lungs
O is organization (my ongoing mission)
P is for prayer and pediatrician
Q is for questions and quiet and quest
R is a rascal resisting a rest
S is for silly and sweet and spontaneous
T is I treasure time just for the three of us
U is understanding that unfolds, unexpected
V is Daddy's voice saying, "We've been selected."
W is wonder and wander and wow!
X is for X-ray (headfirst from the stroller somehow)
Y is for you and Yahweh, we've been blessed
Z is your zeal and your unbridled zest!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Myth of Sisyphus' Mother

Get out of bed. Take toy box and bucket of blocks out of the closet.

Get baby out of bed. Change baby's diaper. Dress baby. Unfold baby's chair. Feed baby. Wipe baby clean. Wipe baby's chair clean. Fold baby's chair. Wash baby's dishes. Put dishes away.

Play with baby. Baby takes blocks out of block bucket. Baby takes shoes out of shoe boxes. Baby takes cups and bowls out of cabinet. Baby empties diaper bag. Baby takes books off of bookshelf. Baby takes toys out of toy box. Baby takes magazines out of magazine rack. Baby tears pages out of magazines.

Change baby's diaper. Unfold baby's chair. Feed baby. Wipe baby clean. Wipe baby's chair clean. Fold baby's chair. Wash baby's dishes. Put dishes away. Take baby's soiled clothes off and put clean clothes on. Rock baby. Put baby to bed.

Put blocks back in block bucket. Put shoes back in shoe boxes. Put cups and bowls back in cabinet. Re-pack diaper bag. Put books back on bookshelf. Put toys back in toy box. Throw magazines away. Collect pages torn out of magazines and throw them away. Empty the trash. Replace trash bag.

Get baby out of bed. Change baby's diaper. Unfold baby's chair. Feed baby. Wipe baby clean. Wipe baby's chair clean. Fold baby's chair. Wash baby's dishes. Put dishes away.

Play with baby. Baby unfolds basket of folded laundry. Baby disassembles cordless phone. Baby hides pieces of disassembled cordless phone. Baby scatters Cheerios through three rooms. Baby unrolls toilet paper. Baby shreds unrolled toilet paper. Baby takes toys out of toy box. Baby dances on scattered Cheerios and crushes them to a fine powder. Baby discovers Inbox on desk. Baby empties Inbox. Baby takes blocks out of block bucket.

Change baby's diaper. Unfold baby's chair. Feed baby. Wipe baby clean. Wipe baby's chair clean. Fold baby's chair. Wash baby's dishes. Put dishes away. Take baby's soiled clothes off and put clean clothes on. Rock baby. Put baby to bed.

Re-fold basket of laundry. Search for pieces of disassembled cordless phone. Reassemble cordless phone. Vacuum Cheerios. Empty vacuum. Collect shredded toilet paper and throw it away. Replace roll of toilet paper. Put toys back in toy box. Refill Inbox. Find another piece of cordless phone. Disassemble and reassemble cordless phone. Put blocks back in block bucket.

Put toy box and bucket of blocks back in the closet. Go to bed.

Get out of bed. Take toy box and bucket of blocks out of the closet...


(The Myth of Sisyphus tells of a figure in Greek mythology who was condemned to spend eternity pushing an enormous rock to the top of a mountain. Each time he reached the peak the rock rolled back down and Sisyphus had to push it all the way up again.)

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

My Dream House

My dream house is round. There are no corners to hide wheeled toys or hair brushes from unsuspecting feet; no sharp edges to threaten tender temples or shins. If I can't find my keys or my kid, I just keep turning until they appear.

There are tiered shelves along the wall all the way around, and every twelve inches there's a hook attached to the bottom shelf. I never have to put anything away, because everything sits on a shelf or hangs on a hook.

My floor is an extraterrestrial material that looks like hardwood, wears like berber, feels like warm sand, and smells like fall. It absorbs crumbs, spills, dust, lint, odors, calories and fatigue.

The large windows are smudge-proof, streak-proof and break-proof. They're made of one-way glass, which means I can wear morning face with confidence and dance around in pink long johns and an orange Xanadu sweatshirt without fear of discovery.

Instead of a ceiling I have a domed skylight that never leaks or ices over. The glass retracts with the touch of a button, as a floor panel gently lifts me to the roof deck where my husband waits by an outdoor fireplace - with a gourmet organic meal and an unquenchable interest in my day.

There are no phones. There is no television. There are complete, mint-condition collections of Emily Dickinson, Ernest Hemingway, Robert Frost, Maya Angelou and Corduroy.

Clusters of self-feeding tropical plants maintain a perfect humidity balance and an internal temperature of 70 degrees.

There's a sound wave vacuum system in the wall that automatically adjusts a toddler's piercing scream to an "inside voice".

But the very best thing about my dream house is my bathroom. It's spotless, soundproof, completely impenetrable, and invisible to everyone on the planet except me.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Things I Hope I Never Have To Say Again

Please don't lick the baby.

No, honey, don't wipe your hiney with mama's toothbrush.

Honestly, Doctor Martin, I have no idea how she did it.

As a matter of fact, I know exactly how many balls of wet paper towel fit into our VCR at one time.

She was here just a second ago...

I think she ate a piece of rotten apple, but it could have been a sponge.

Dear God, what is that smell?

Really, I wish you'd let me pay you for the damage.

How on earth did you get up there?

I hope that was oatmeal, not vomit.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Meaning Of Life

From where I stand at the kitchen counter popping cicis out of their skins for your dinner, I watch you and Daddy playing "Who's Your Favorite Traveling Wilbury?" (you always say "Jeff Lynne") and I understand that this is it.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

I'm Back

A series of professional and personal developments has taken most of my time since early July. I'm happy to report that things are settling down and I'm beginning the work of bringing this blog back up to speed.

I'll talk with you soon!

Sally

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

From the Mommy Dictionary

one-year-old
wun-yeer-oeld
function: noun
1. a 20-23 pound amoeba wrapped in fly paper

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Olden Days

Little One, someday you will know that the world existed before you.
You will discover that Daddy and I were people before we were parents.
By the time you're curious about who I was before you were born, I may have forgotten, so this is for both of us:

Before you were born I spent money on myself.
I drove with one hand and tried to beat the light.
I had my own bathroom.
I wore earrings.
I was always on time.

Before you were born I had long, interesting conversations with your father several times a day.
I expected parents to be objective about their kids.
I secretly thought Mother's Day was overrated.

Before you were born I didn't know the fastest route to the hospital.
I didn't know how long I could run on a packet of oyster crackers and a handful of smoked almonds.
I had never fallen asleep while standing in my closet.

Before you were born I thought my floors were clean.
I subscribed to magazines.
I sometimes sat and thought about nothing in particular.

Before you were born I thought getting licked by someone with a mouthful of pureed squash was gross.
I wondered why mothers never ran out of things to talk about.
I was sure that most kids had too many toys.

Before you were born I thought I was busy.
I listened to talk radio in the car.
I imagined you with blond hair and blue eyes.

Before you were born I ate sitting down. At the table.
I left the door open at the top of the basement stairs.
I wanted twins.

Before you were born I had more time, more space, and more money.
I thought that mattered.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

WWMD

What Would Mary Do?

That question has been my daily prayer for the last eleven months.

What would Mary do if Jesus had colic? Would she hold him while he screamed nonstop for 2 hours, or would she leave him on his pile of hay to cry it out?

What would Mary do if Jesus developed an obsession with the oil lamp? How many times would she patiently move it out of his ever-expanding reach before finally losing it and shrieking, "This is why I can't have anything nice!" 7 times? 70 times? 70 x 7 times?

What would Mary do if Jesus pulled himself up at an olive tree and scraped his cheek on the trunk, and then, as soon as she had dried his tears, pulled himself up at the very same olive tree and bonked his head as he turned to flash her a triumphant smile?

Did Mary ever set him down on the dusty road to Bethlehem just-for-a-minute so that she could take a drink of water? If Jesus, in that just-for-a-minute snatched something gooey and unidentifiable from the underside of the ox cart and crammed it in his mouth, what would Mary do? Would she yank Jesus up and try to get him to spit it out? Would she yell to Joseph, "Quick, do a finger sweep!" Maybe she would just take another drink of water and wait to see what happened.

At some point Jesus must have fallen headfirst off a donkey. He must have smacked one of his brothers with a wet palm frond, and spent an entire temple visit hollering MamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDadaMamaDada at the top of his lungs just to hear the echo.

What would Mary do if Jesus figured out how to unfasten his diaper or unlock Joseph's tool box? What if his favorite food was incense?

How would Mary explain God to Jesus?

What would Mary do to prepare Jesus for the rest of his life?

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Five Stages

With apologies to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Denial
(1:45 a.m.)
That's not her, is it? It can't be. She's been sleeping through for months. Must be a garbage truck... or a cat... or a snow mobile... something. I don't know what, but it can't be her. Why would she be up?

Anger
(3:00 a.m.)
Over an hour, now. I don't believe this! How am I supposed to function tomorrow? It's not like I can take a day to recover. I have to write a column and make phone calls and answer emails and do finger plays and sing songs and pick up toys and make dinner and tickle & feed & haul 22 pounds of wiggling dead weight up and down the stairs, in and out of the stroller, the car seat, the bath tub, the grocery cart... How am I supposed to do all of that without any sleep? This isn't like you!

(3:35 a.m.)
You're obviously tired. Just put your head down and go to sleep. Down, Baby, down. You know 'down'. Why are you screaming at me? Believe me, I was much happier with you asleep. I sure didn't tell you to wake up.

Bargaining
(4:00 a.m.)
OK, Baby. Let's have a nice, refreshing bottle. Then Mama will give you a new diaper, and I'll rub your back and hum to you in the rocking chair. And you can peacefully drift off and sleep for what's left of the night. OK? If you go to sleep now, we can have a fun day together when you get up - several hours from now. Doesn't that sound good?

Depression
(4:35 a.m.)
That's it, then. This is my life. To teeter interminably on the razor edge of exhaustion, never released to either sleep or wake. Like a character from Greek mythology. I won't be able to write because my mind is like wet cement. I'll be permanently cranky and lose most of my friends, and I'll forget the ones I don't lose, because my memory is like a sieve. It's just as well, because I'll never again have enough energy to clean the house or... what is that other thing... that I do when people come over...? Bake. Yeah, bake. Much too tired to bake...

Acceptance
(5:15 a.m.)
It's all right, my love. We'll sleep another time. I'll stay with you as long as you need me. That's what it means to be your Mama. I'm sorry you had such a tough night. I love you. I'm here, Baby. Shhhhhhhhh. Mama's right here.


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Gift of a Lifetime

On Mother's Day last year a young woman gave her mother flowers and a card and breakfast in bed. She thanked her mother for the years of unconditional love and encouragement. She thanked her for keeping God's presence alive in their home. She thanked her for adopting her seventeen years ago and giving her the only life she was meant to have.

They held hands and prayed that they would find another mother who would love and encourage unconditionally, who would keep God's presence alive in her home, who would adopt the young woman's baby - due a month later - and give her the only life she was meant to have.

On Sunday I will celebrate my first Mother's Day as a Mom. I'll sleep an extra half hour, finally find out the surprise my husband's been teasing me about, and not have to wash any bottles all day.

We will hold hands and pray for this extraordinary young woman who will never teach her first-born child to hold a spoon, or sound out the words in The Pokey Little Puppy, or say her prayers before bed. But we will.

Our daughter will know our love for the rest of her life because of her birthmother's love at the start of it.

Happy Mother's Day to mothers and birthmother's everywhere.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Grounded!

Yesterday was the stuff of January dreams. Beloved Spring exploded into a stellar day of warm breezes and fragrant colors. The air at dusk was gentle and exquisite, coaxing even the sun to linger long and luxurious.

As I watched my 10 month-old, button-obsessed daughter play with the telephone I thought, "This is a great life. We've been blessed with our baby, we live in a good neighborhood in a wonderful town, we're healthy, happy, and--"

Why is there a cop at the front door?

Yes, officer, everything is fine.
Yes, I'm sure.
911? From this number?
No, I didn't call...
Oh... oh, gee...

I'm awfully sorry to have inconvenienced you.
It's kind of funny, don't you think?
I mean, really, what are the odds that she would randomly dial 9-1-1?
Thank you for understanding. And for coming out so quickly. I'm really sorry!
Yes, thank you. You have a good night, too.

Phone privileges revoked.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Mommy Mail Bag - Teething

Dear Sally,
What kind of teething biscuits do you recommend?
Thanks,
First Time Mom

Dear FTM,
I suggest keeping a box of Zwieback and a box of Arrowroot in the house at all times. Teething babies love them and so will your friends and neighbors who pop in unexpectedly, most likely when you are freshly decked with slimy drool and don't have time to fuss in the kitchen. (It's not that your friends and neighbors have bad timing; it's that you will be freshly decked in slimy drool for most of the next three years.)

Sprinkle a bit of powdered sugar on the Zwieback and serve your "homemade vanilla biscotti" with confidence. Or wrap a frisbee in aluminum foil, slap down a paper doily and dump a box of Arrowroot biscuits on top. No one will guess the secret behind your lovely "shortbread tea cookies". If a summer birthday sneaks up on you, squash a glob of ice cream between a couple of Arrowroots for a festive party treat!


Dear Sally,
My daughter is 11 months old and is finally cutting her first teeth. The problem is that she has no interest in teething rings or chewy toys. I know she needs to bite, but other than my fingers, what can I give her to chew on?
Thanks,
Bitten Up

Dear BU,
If your daughter is able to scooch, crawl, walk, or otherwise get around the house, she will find plenty of things to chew on. You can help her by leaving the bathroom door open as often as possible. Most babies will chew enthusiastically on a toilet seat, a cabinet door knob or a bathroom scale.

If you have a Dust Buster or other handheld vacuum, by all means leave it in the middle of the family room floor. She will consider a mouthful of dust bunnies a small price to pay for the pleasure of gnawing on the vacuum nozzle.

Keys, computer flash drives, padlocks, pocket knives, and travel alarm clocks are delicacies to a teething baby. If you're afraid she may choke, tie a shoelace around the object for no-fuss, no-muss extraction.

Above all, relax and enjoy your daughter's development. Before you know it her teethmarks on the gas line will be all you have to remember this time.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

National Day of Prayer

Tomorrow, May 4th, is the 55th annual National Day of Prayer.

The National Day of Prayer was established by a joint resolution of the United States Congress and signed into law by President Harry S. Truman. The United States was born in prayer and founded on a relationship with God, while instituting His biblical principals and moral values.

Events are scheduled across the United States to create awareness of the power of prayer and to:

Protect America's Constitutional Freedoms to gather, worship, pray and speak freely.

Encourage prayer for the challenges facing our families, our towns, our country and our world today.

Respect all people, regardless of denomination or creed.

National Day of Prayer is not a function of the government and, therefore, a particular expression of it can be defined by those who choose to organize it. It is about prayer, not about religion.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Nine Months

Nine months.
You've been apart from her for as long as you were a part of her.
How different were your months with her than with me...

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Three Things I Don't Understand

1. The expression, "It's as easy as taking candy from a baby." Must be a heck of a lot easier than taking an uncapped marker, a nail file, a nickel, a Ziploc bag, a bar of soap, a bottle of saline, a computer mouse or a battery from a baby.

2. How my 21 pound 8-month old currently wears clothes labeled Newborn, 0-3 months, 3-6 months and 6-9 months. The weight-based clothing doesn't make any sense either, because she fits comfortably in clothes labeled 8-11 lbs., 9-16 lbs., 12-18 lbs. and 12-26 lbs. (I wish I had clothes that would accomodate a 14 lb. swing!)

3. I bought a board book yesterday that has a sticker on it: Warning. Choking hazard for children under three. What child under three can fit an entire book in her mouth? The only choking hazard I can find is the sticker itself.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Et tu, Baby?

I thought that we were the exception, you and I.
That our bond, spectacular and incomprehensible, would make a difference.
I see now that it was hubris to expect that you would leap-frog over your preordained curriculum for my benefit.
For in spite of the endless rounds of "You Are My Sunshine",
in spite of the grocery carts I abandoned half-full because you were tired,
in spite of the homemade baby food, the 2,501 faked pratfalls, and the time I went out at 4:00 in the morning (unfit for a dog fight) because you somehow outgrew your diapers in your sleep,
in spite of all the times I let you poke me in the eye to satisfy your curiosity...
Here they are. Your first words. Pure and deliberate...
"Hi, Dadda."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

You Showed Me The Light

I'm sure glad we installed all of those outlet covers yesterday, so now (as you just demonstrated) you have something to pry off the wall and suck on while you're trying to poke your fingers in the outlets.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Daily Dose of Vitamin See

I love watching you sleep. Today while you napped, I gazed down lovingly and thought, Your whole face would fit on the side of a grapefruit!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Loosen up!

There must be a special place in Hell for crib sheet designers. I spent the last 25 minutes trying to change a sheet... I sprained my thumb, pulled a hamstring, taught Baby some not nice words... and she'll be napping without a sheet until Daddy gets home.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Jus rockin'

Don't want no knock,
don't want no phone.
Wanna rock my baby
'fore my baby is grown.

Don't bring the news,
I just wanna muse
on Baby's amazing, gazing blues.

Say, Old Mister Clock,
can you float me a loan?
I need more time--
all I had is flown.

Don't knock my door,
don't ring my phone.
I'm rockin' my baby
'fore my baby is grown.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Self-actualization

You are vibrant, joyous, and gloriously uncompromising.
You laugh or cry, accept or reject, do or don't, without apology or explanation.
Grown men compete for your favor, falling to their knees and offering treats to win your smile.
You eat only when you're hungry. You sleep when you're tired.
You sometimes spend an entire morning clutching your toes and rolling back and forth just because it's fun.
You'll try anything at least once, and you never pass up the opportunity to play in water.
You are wiser at six-and-a-half months than I am at... my age.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Nirvana

Every bottle is clean and ready.
All of the laundry is folded and put away.
Every primary-colored piece of furniture in the house is freshly swabbed and dry.
All things chewy, squeaky, crinkly, rattly, squishy, squashy, clacky and boing-y are resting quietly.
The baby has been fed, burped, bathed and changed.
There are no dishes in the sink, no newspapers on the table, no crumbs or beds or empty ice trays needing attention.

There is only this moment. This shining, perfect moment.

Nobody move!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The Path to Enlightenment

There is a Buddhist saying,
"When the student is ready the teacher will appear."

And you did.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

The First Six Months - An Adoptive Parent Primer

What you really need to know:

The same baby who sleeps peacefully slumped over a rock in 96-degree sunshine during a Blue Angels Air Show will awaken from a deep slumber in the middle of the night if you drop the cap to your toothpaste.

Begin now to live every day as if you will be snowed-in for a month starting tomorrow.

You can not imagine the things you will extract, touch, sniff, sample, examine and discuss. You will do so without hesitation, and you will even save some of them. (I didn't believe it either.)

Pray for the generosity of friends who cook.

Ultimately, everything is washable. (I just took a shower with an exersaucer.)

Babies produce an astounding amount of earwax. Most of it Cheeto-colored.

Take time now to locate as many drive-through establishments as you can. I mean way beyond just a bank and fast food. Pharmacy, drycleaner, grocery store, gas station, car wash, post office, bakery, photo lab, oil change, coffee shop, church, AAA, video rental, library, cell phone repair... you will need every opportunity to conduct your life without getting out of the car. If you can find a drive-through pediatrician I suggest you get on the waiting list now. I’m sure he or she has a full patient load.

Some days it's a marathon,
some days it's a sprint,
most days it's a marathon sprint.

Trust your instincts.

Keep a journal. Those first special moments, the ones you’re sure you’ll remember for the rest of your life, will be crowded out by the next special moments, which will eventually give way to others, and so on... write it on a napkin, a diaper box, the mirror, a changing pad, anywhere. Just write it. Please.

If you grow impatient waiting for a child to adopt, remember that God is finding exactly the right baby for you. When you bring your child home, you will be grateful that He took His time.

No matter what you do, time will pass too quickly.

You will be your baby’s first true love.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Things I've Learned From Your Daddy

If you want French fries, order French fries.

Stubble may be sexy on a man, but it’s never sexy on a woman.

Holding the door is an expression of affection, not politics.

It’s impossible to argue with someone who is smiling.

Make time.

Men don’t like to carry anything. Except money.

A hotdog at the ballpark can be a romantic dinner.

Don’t read Dave Barry with food in your mouth.

Cold feet on a warm back is only funny if the feet are yours and the back isn’t.

An hour in the electronics store isn't too much to ask.

Let it go.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

I feel most like a mother...

I feel most like a mother when you don't know that I'm taking care of you. When I gently change course to avoid a loose shopping cart. When I shift you on my lap to keep you from a draft or an edge or a light in your eyes. When I deliberately linger a few steps behind because I smell smoke on the people walking ahead of us. When I smile at you and make casual conversation so you don't realize that my heart just stopped and restarted because you almost slipped in the tub or almost hit your head or almost swallowed a penny.

I've been surprised to realize that your birth didn't end my anticipation. It just changed it.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

My Pompei

I know exactly what I was doing when you were born, because it’s still unfinished, just as I left it. My private Pompei.

I was cleaning my office. Not cleaning it, actually. On my way to organizing Important Things I stumbled on the assorted This and That of the last several years, and meaning to spend only a few minutes visiting, looked up just in time to see the last light tiptoe from the room, having whittled the whole day away right from that spot.

Everywhere are piles of ideas. Some that I abandoned, others that abandoned me. Outlines and rough drafts, clever titles, opening lines, unresolved poems, manuscript middles without beginnings or ends. A writer’s unborn children.

An old address book. People and places I can neither remember nor forget.

A sympathy card I never sent. Simon & Garfunkle sheet music. A note from your Daddy.

My weights are in the corner with my step bench, half on either side, next to a box of things I keep for Reasons I Can't Explain. A set of bamboo wind chimes, an old sketch pad, a cone of vanilla incense and a mini stapler. A single garden stake. Brown shoelaces, still in the wrapper, caught with a pin shaped like a Treble clef.

Now you’re here, and you are my Important Thing. You are my This and That. You are my ideas and my address and my Reasons. And since I don't see any prospect of cleaning my office for at least the next eighteen years, I can show you exactly what I was doing while I waited for you.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Three Strikes and You're In

I generally have a three-strike rule for people who spit up while I'm kissing them, but you have a way of making me break my own rules.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Over/Under

Conventional wisdom is to dress a baby one layer warmer than you dress yourself. It's a typical mid-November in New York and I'm wearing two pairs of socks, flannel pants, an undershirt, a turtleneck and a flannel top. My husband (in the same house) is barefoot, wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. So...

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Diaper Wrassle

Changing a four-month old is like wrestling an alligator that laughs and pees in your face.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Poem: baby love

I lean close and let my hair fall soft, like sunlight on your sill.
Two handfuls...tiny, waving fists, tug my face down to yours.
Cheek on cheek I whisper, “Mama loves her baby. Mama loves her baby”, and I feel you smile.
Always too soon I move to stand,
but you hold fast and chuckle, as if to say, “I’m not done with you yet.”
So I whisper again... and again... and again.
And it’s the best day ever.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

True Love

People say that when you're in love, you just know. Like when you pee on my pajamas or drool on my face, and I just know.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Heart's Capacity 2

I guess it won't.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Heart's Capacity

My little girl… my sweet, sweet bundle. I think that if I love you any more than I do today, my heart will burst.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Mommy Math

Each serving of Nacho Baked Doritos provides 4% of my daily calcium requirement and 2 grams of fiber. Each bag contains 13 servings. So, by eating 2 bags a day I get 104% of my calcium and 52 grams of fiber. Not a bad deal.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

First Separation

This morning Daddy and I moved your bassinette from our room into the nursery. It's midnight, and just now, walking in the dark from the bathroom into the bedroom I swerved my hips so I wouldn’t bump into your little bed. Then I remembered. I miss my little buddy. I want to run in there and drag your bassinette back into our room, but I won't. My first letting go.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

I'm Really a Mom

I hardly slept at all last night because I was thinking about you growing up. I wonder what kind of a relationship you and I will have. I hope that we’re close, and that you share your life with me.

I’ve adjusted to having a baby... I’m still working on realizing that I have
a daughter.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Sunday Best

We made it to mass for the first time since you were born. You and I both wore pink and spit-up.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Sleep Deprived

Anyone who says "You'll sleep when the baby does" is deliberately exploiting your naivete.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Lost & Found

Today you lost your cord and found my bangs.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Growing Pains

When I dressed you this morning in your pink and white bunny onesie I didn’t understand why I had such a hard time getting your arms into it. I finally realized that you’ve outgrown it. It’s just a piece of cloth... but it's your first piece of cloth. This is the outfit we brought you home in.
Mama's crying because I don't want you to grow anymore, Baby.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

Eleven Days

Eleven days... already I can't remember what Daddy and I did before you.

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

No Time to Eat

My husband: "Honey, I'm worried about you. I don't think you're eating enough."

Me: "No, really, I am. I had some pretzels earlier today."

My husband: "You had pretzels on Wednesday. This is Friday."

Me: "Friday already? Oh, yeah. I also had a handful of cherries."

My husband: "That was last Friday."

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood

My First Lesson

3 onesies aren't enough!!

Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood