Baby Squared

Browse by Tags

(RSS)
  • Taking it Silly and Slow

     

    As you may have picked up if you've been reading this blog for awhile, I am a very silly person. Or, perhaps more accurately, I have an intensely silly side which balances out my incredibly serious and sophisticated side (cough cough).

     

    So I am therefore quite psyched that my gals are now entering the age of prime verbal silliness -- you know, when you crack up over words like "underpants" and (my personal favorite) "poop" and where nonsensical utterances like "you're a waffle head!" win big, gleeful giggles. (Just a few months ago, this kind of thing was more likely to get a solemn disputation: "No I'm not, I'm just Clio.")

     

    Read More...


  • Parent Shock

    This weekend, we went up to Maine to introduce the girls to their new cousin, Deklan, who has now attained the ripe old age of three and a half weeks. He's a cute little dude. On Saturday night, my brother and his wife went out for a few hours, and my mother, Alastair and I babysat for him. I was reminded of how simultaneously sweet, exhausting and dull the newborn weeks are. It also made me think back on the surreal-ness of going from being childless to suddenly being a parent.

     

    Once, when the girls were just a couple of weeks old, and my parents were in town, Alastair and I snuck out for a quick dinner at a Thai restaurant. It was the strangest thing to be suddenly back out in the world, doing something we might have done on a typical weekend night just months before. Since our babies were born, our lives had changed dramatically, but we hadn't yet made the full psychological shift. It was as if we were in a strange, prolonged dream, so that this -- being alone together in a restaurant, surrounded by mostly twenty- and thirty-somethings -- felt more like reality.

     

     

    Read More...


  • Fear of Poop

     

    After my recent post in which I goofily tried to set a new world record for the number of times the word "poop" ever appeared in a parenting blog, I feel rather ridiculous for giving bowel movements top billing in yet another installment of the ongoing parenting saga that is Baby Squared. But I must. Because we need your help!!

     

    First, let me once again apologize to future Elsa for making this public. If technology allows, and the apocolypse of 2012 spares us, I swear I will remove this post from the Internets long before you're in fifth grade, when children turn cruel and evil. (Or did in my experience, anyway. Maybe it's earlier these days.)

     

    So here's the deal: the girl is terrified to go #2. Clio has mastered the practice quite nicely, but Elsa wants no part of it. She's also regular as clockwork, which means that every evening, right around bedtime, the same drama plays out: every couple of minutes she runs desperately to the potty, on the brink of tears, saying she needs to go pee-pee (the girl's in denial; we know it ain't just pee pee she needs to do) and will barely even sit down before she's up saying "I didn't make any." Repeat ad infinitum until finally she can't hold it anymore, and ends up going in her pants, and gets very upset about it, even though we tell her it's OK. (Whereas, a minute earlier we were telling her we wanted to her to do it in the potty.)

     

    Read More...


  • Now we're cookin'

    For over a year now, I've read and been told that cooking / baking is a fun activity to do with toddlers. Yes, well, maybe I was doing something wrong, but the several attempts I made at this resulted in chaos, messes, and major intra-sibling brawls over whose turn it was to mix / pour / etc. And the girls didn't quite grasp the concept that you mix with a spoon, not with your fist. So, maybe cooking is a dandy activity to do with one preternaturally calm toddler, but with two boisterous ones like mine, it's been pretty much impossible.

     

    Lately, though, I've given it another shot, and the results have been quite good. In the past couple of months we've made oatmeal cookies, pumpkin bread and, most recently, pretzels, using this recipe. This latest one was particularly fun, because the girls got to play around with the dough and make it into shapes. Sort of. Mostly they just put little clumps of it onto the cookie sheets, which I then stealthily reworked before sliding the trays into the oven. (They particularly liked the big "E" and "C" I made for them.)

     

     

     

     

    More pics after the jump

     

     

    Read More...


  • Positive Reinforcement

    We're trying to do more of this around the Baby Squared household, as a means of fending off the whacking, kicking, hair pulling, whining, shouting, pants-pooping and other nastiness that seems to have proliferated 'round these parts over the past month or so.

     

    Partially as a result of the suggestion made by several fabulous readers/commenters on this very blog, we got ourselves a couple of "Responsibility Charts" by Melissa & Doug. (This is not a paid endorsement, however if Melissa & Doug, Inc. would like to send me some free stuff, I'd be more than happy to be a total blog whore and write about it here.) There are a bunch of "responsibility" magnets to choose from, ranging from very preschool-appropriate stuff like "keep your hands to yourself" to stuff I hope we won't have to use for awhile, like "Don't use bad language." Next to each one, there are spaces to put happy face magnets.

     

    There are also a couple of blank responsibility magnets you can write stuff one (dry erase!) so on each girl's chart there's currently one magnet that says "Poop in potty." (This is still a bit of an issue for Elsa.) Alastair pointed out that "potty," probably would have been sufficient. But I say, anyone who comes into our home had better be prepared for the fact that poop is a frequent point of discussion.

     

     

    Read More...


  • A Not So Happy Halloween

    I don't know if it's the full moon, daylight savings, Halloween, or perhaps all three -- and maybe a molar coming in? -- but Clio has been having a rough time of things lately.

     

    At the girls' preschool Halloween parade / show / party whatever thing last Thursday, she wouldn't wear her costume, started crying when her class went up on stage to sing "I'm a Little Pumpkin," and spent the rest of the event being held by her teacher. It was a little bit heartbreaking to see the pictures (Alastair was there; I wasn't) but I really did sympathize with the poor girl. It's no fun being forced to wear a costume if you don't feel like it. And getting up on stage in a big room in front of dozens of parents and kids is absolutely scary. (To sing a stupid song about gourds, no less.)  In fact, I'm sort of surprised more kids didn't melt down.

     

    Read More...


  • Telling stories

    When I was a little kid, my mother used to tell me "e-Jane" stories. "e-Jane" was the main character, and she had all sorts of e-ventures, wherein she encountered e-goats and e-elves, flew e-planes and climbed e-mountains, and engaged in other silly e-xploits. The "E" prefix wasn't because my mother was way ahead of the technology curve or anything. (While e-Jane might indeed have gotten e-mail in one of the tales my mother spun, it was most decidedly of the paper variety.)

     

    She came up with e-Jane as my fictional handle because I went through a phase when didn't like being called "Janey." But everyone called me that, and there was no way they were going to stop -- Jane is such a serious name for a preschooler -- so she liberated me from the name in fiction, as e-Jane. And I loved hearing e-Jane stories. They were a bedtime treat that lasted well into my grade school years and beyond. Books are great, and being read to is great, but there's nothing quite like being told a story.

     

    Thing is, it's not that easy to make up stories on the fly. You'd think that, being a writer, I'd know how to spin a tale out of nothing. Au contraire, mes freres (et soeurs). Actually, I think it's in part because I'm a writer -- I do most of my thinking on paper or onscreen -- that I'm not the best impromptu oral storyteller. This was clearly evidenced last night when I made my first serious attempt at telling the girls an "Elsa and Clio" story before bed.

     

     

    Read More...


  • A cousin for Clio and Elsa

     

    I'm pleased and proud to announce that yesterday morning at 3:09 am, my brother's wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Deklan Patrick. He's my first nephew and the girls' first cousin. That is, the first cousin they've ever had. (Who also happens to be their first cousin.)

     

    I'm all for cousins. I have seven of them myself, varying in age from ten years older than me to eighteen years younger. I saw them all on a fairly regular basis growing up, some more regularly than others. Family get-togethers were always so much more appealing when cousins were involved. Adult relatives were all well and good, but not terribly exciting. Cousins, on the other hand, were this cool cross between a sibling and a friend. They were (sometimes surprisingly) different from you in terms of appearance and personality, and yet you had a sort of conspiratorial connection: you were all from the same crazy family, with parents who grew up in the same house, and you a shared set of grandparents. (Although, actually, in the case of one of my grandparents, this last fact made me jealous sometimes: She's my grandma! Not yours!)

     

    I am glad that the girls will have a cousin not too far apart in age from them. It seems like a big gap now, but it's almost exactly the age difference between my brother and me, and we have always been good friends. I'm looking forward to bringing the girls up to meet the little guy, hopefully in a few weeks, once we're in the clear from a recent H1N1 scare. (A kid in the girls' preschool class was diagnosed last week, so we've been on symptom-watch, but nothing so far....unless holding in your poop so you don't have to go on the toilet because you're scared and then letting it rip in your pants counts as a symptom, in which Elsa's had H1N1 for two weeks now.)

     

    Read More...


  • Clio's Afternoon Nap, 2007-2009: A Eulogy

    Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of Clio's nap, but to celebrate it. Because that's what the nap would have wanted us to do. It would not have wanted us to dwell on its absence with weeping and lamention, although certainly that is a natural reaction to a loss of something so, so, SO dear to us. Excuse me -- sorry, I just need a minute, I'm fine, really -- does anyone have a tissue? Thank you.

     

    As I was saying, this nap had a long, happy life -- longer than many afternoon naps. So let's remember the good times we had while it was with us -- all the things that the nap brought into our lives: time to write or relax or catch up on email; time to recover our energy and patience after a hectic morning; time to nap ourselves. And let us not forget the powerful sense of hope that the nap brought us. For even on the days when we were up far too early, and the morning was far too exhausting, and everyone was in far, far too crappy a mood, we could always draw strength from the knowledge that soon, very soon, we'd get a break. The nap would not let us down. Almost never, anyway.

     

     

    Read More...


  • The frog in my throat, and other calamities

    I've had a cold this week, no doubt partly as a result of the exhaustion and sleeplessness of our potty training intensive last weekend. The other day, my voice sounding particularly scratchy and ridiculous, I told the girls that I had a frog in my throat. Of course, I quickly realized that this would sound absurd to them, and explained that I didn't actually have a frog in my throat; it was just an expression. (Like that would really clear things up.) "Sort of like a joke," I clarified. They chewed on this for a little while (not literally), and somehow it became, "You have a frog in your mouth so that's why you make a funny joke!"  

     

    I rather like this interpretation -- that there's some kind of comedian amphibian in my mouth, and every time I open my mouth to speak, he comes out with a joke -- "What is the deal with toads? I mean, they look like frogs, but the fuckers can't swim!" --  in his hoarse (not horse) froggy voice.

     

    Pic after the jump

     

     

    Read More...


  • A Potty Training Saga

     

    Well, we did it. We survived our hardcore 3-day  potty training weekend. And we've got two little big girls in underpants to prove it. It was such an intense and dramatic event, I feel like I should be writing about it in epic poetry form. Or rhyming couplets or something. But I am a writer of prose, not poetry. And I guess potty training isn't quite on par with the Pelopennesian war. Almost, but not quite.

     

    The important thing is that, we -- like the Spartans -- triumphed. To anyone out there who feels like they're not getting anywhere with the gradual approach to toilet training, whose little ones seem perfectly content in diapers and who (like us) haven't been particularly proactive or consistent about making the move to a diaper-free existence, I'd highly recommend this cold turkey training approach. 

     

    There are lots of books and websites -- not to mention recent commenters on this blog -- who sell books and eBooks on the subject. We followed the guidelines in one lent to us by a friend. But you don't necessarily have to drop $49.99 on some kind of Guaranteed As Seen on TV Top Secret Potty Training Method with FREE bonus DVD and -- if you order now -- Handheld Diaper Shredder, to do this. It's pretty simple.

     

    Read More...


  • Potty Boot Camp: Dispatch

     

    Potty boot camp began this morning at approximately 0900 hours. Elsa was (quote) very excited to be wearing underpants! (end quote). Clio, more reluctant. Sat half-naked on a pair of them for awhile before finally conceding to put on a pair. (Not the pair she'd been sitting on.)

     

    Next maneuver: proceeded to pitch all remaining diapers into a trash bag (to be given to the first worthy size 5 toddler we can locate), pitch the changing pads and diaper pails onto the porch, and start pushing liquids. No action until approximately 1.5 hours later when frequent urination began. 

     

    Read More...


  • The Girl Who Cried Potty

     

    Make that girls. And they don't actually cry, "Potty"; They cry "I'm makin' pee-pee now!" and "I'm makin' poo-poo now!" And (what a suprise) they do this most frequently at bedtime, typically right after I've put new diapers on them and changed them into their PJ's, or -- more nefariously -- right as I'm kissing them goodnight. Suddenly, they desperately need to sit on the potty or have their diaper changed again. And the law of twin physics applies here: if one of them wants something, the other one wants it too. So if I give in to one child's demands, I'd better be damned ready to do it in duplicate.

     

    This is obviously a stalling technique, right? But the question of how to respond still stymies me. In the interest of potty training, we've been encouraging them to tell us when they need to go / are going / have gone, and I feel like ignoring their pleas just because it's bedtime sends the wrong message. Even if I suspect they don't really mean it. So, I usually give them a chance to sit on the potty, or I check their diaper to see if it's actually wet. (It almost never is, and they pretty much never actually do anything on the potty, except point out various things in the bathroom and ask for toilet paper.)

     

    Read More...


  • Rock-n-roll Toddlers

    Clio and Elsa will never be as truly rock and roll as some of the other blogster young 'uns here on Babble, but as the children of a performing musician, they do get the occasional opportunity to rock out. (At least, as much as it is possible to rock out when your dad plays mostly in the folk / roots / singer-songwriter scene. It's not like he does death metal.) Most of his shows happen after the gals' bedtime, but we've brought them along to some of the daytime gigs.

     

    It's been a little tricky for them, so far, to understand that when Daddy is playing onstage, it's not like at home -- they can't just go up to him or try to talk to him or tell him to play "Nana phone." (He doesn't actually know how to play Nanaphone -- a.k.a. Banana Phone, and has told them this repeatedly, but it's still one of their favorite requests.) At a show a few months ago, they were dancing in front of the stage, then Clio got freaked out by the applause after a song and started crying, and ran up to him for comfort before I could stop her. So, of course, Elsa went up to him, too. One of the other performers, the lovely and talented Rose Polenzani, artfully defused things by letting them play her glockenspiel during the next song. I'm not sure either of them has a future in percussion, but it's probably too early to judge. 

     

     

    Rose Polenzani and back-up glockenspielers

     

    Video after the jump!

     

     

    Read More...


  • Bedtime madness

    We all know how important it is to have a consistent bedtime routine for our children, particularly when they're under the age of three. Establish rituals, create a sense of security, establish limits, yada yada yada. We're pretty good about sticking to our routine for the most part, either abbreviating or elongating it depending on the hour and the mood of the girls. (Abbreviating doesn't go over too well when they're tired or cranky -- ironic since those are the nights we're *most* inclined to abbreviate.)

     

    Over time, the routine has evolved, as the girls' needs have changed. When they were still babies, I read to them in their cribs, but as they got more engaged and interested in books, we moved reading to the rocking chair. For a long time it was two books, and then goodnight. Nowadays, the reading routine is a bit more unpredictable -- Clio wants to sit on the floor instead of on my lap / Elsa wants to read a book herself / Both of them want to read books on their own in their cribs, etc. But it's all good, yo.

     

     

    Read More...


  • Not Yet

    This is one of the girls' favorite phrases these days. Can you please give Elsa a turn with that toy now? Not yet. Are you all done with your English muffin? Not yet. Are you ready to get off the potty now? Not yet.  

     

    As the girls grow and change by leaps and bounds, it's amazing how much more able they are to communicate their needs and wants, and it's delightful to see them able to participate in an increasing number of activities. This weekend while we were in Maine visiting my parents (and giving my sister in law a baby shower -- my first nephew is on the way!) it was fun to see them doing things that just a few months ago they would not have been able to do: playing downstairs in the basement playroom independently for a good fifteen minutes or so while the grownups were upstairs -- without needing toy refereeing; riding tricycles and actually starting to use the pedals; making sardonic comments. (OK, this isn't exactly true. That is, I'm not sure it was intended to be sardonic. But if it hadn't been spoken by a two and and a half year old, it certainly would have come across that way. Then again, it was Clio, who has a pretty good sense of humor. I said:  "Clio, how about we go upstairs and take a bath now." She replied, "How about no.")  

     

     
     
    Clio played with my old childhood dollhouse for nearly half an hour, on her own. Amazing!
     
     
     

    Read More...


  • "Working" from home

    Yesterday morning, due to some childcare issues, I had to work from home. At least, that's what I was officially doing -- what I told my co-workers I was doing, anyway. (Some of whom read this blog. Hello, co-workers!)  But the reality is, it is not possible to get any meaningful quantity of work done while simultaneously trying to take care of small children.

     

    And you end up feeling like a jerk in the process: You're not paying enough attention to your kids, who you've either plopped in front of the TV or are trying desperately to keep occupied with toys, crayons, books, etc. ("Hey! I know!! Why don't you guys see if you can build me the biggest lego castle ever!! Take your time!! Make it really, really big!)  Meanwhile, you're not really giving your work the attention it needs or deserves, because some kid is tugging on your leg asking you to look at their big dumb lego castle.

     

     

    Read More...


  • "I was a little sad, and then I was happy."

    So speaketh Clio, when asked how preschool went. As predicted, she had a rough start -- a whole lotta crying and screaming. Alastair stuck around at the school office for a while (along with a few other parents in the same boat) then left when one of the co-teachers reported that Clio was down in the low-simmer territory, as opposed to a full-on, rolling boil of misery. (Metaphors inserted by the author.) When A. picked her up at the end of the day, on the playground, she was still sticking close to one of the teachers, but at least she wasn't crying.

     

    I expect this will be the pattern for awhile, until she really gets comfortable. Which she will. But in the meantime: How about that sentence, huh? "I was a little sad, and then I was happy." Two thoughts in one sentence, a sense of time, an awareness of emotion! This is a far cry from "Pick up!" and "More milk!"  Which, admittedly, are more representative specimens of the general tone and quality of toddler-speak in the Baby Squared household. But gradually, the sentences really are getting longer and more complex, and the thoughts they express more nuanced and coherent. 

     

    One thing in the area of language development that I'm finding particularly fascinating -- as a self-professed grammar snob -- is hearing the girls tussle with the mechanics of language. Pronouns still trip them up, so we often get sentences like "her was playing with me" or "We go home to we house." Often, in these cases, I'll repeat the phrase back, with the correct pronoun, and sometimes they'll give it another shot. But they's a long way from really mastering this particular linguistic skill. Past tense is still a work in progress, and irregular plurals are still pretty much a lost cause, but hey, that's English for you. (Is there any other language in the world that has so many irregularities and inconsistencies?)

     

     

    Read More...


  • Preschool

    The girls had their preschool orientation yesterday, and start preschool for real tomorrow. The orientation was, well, a little harrowing. For starters, I wasn't in the greatest state of mind. My moods have been playing havoc with me of late, and I was feeling a bit unhinged and over-emotional. Granted, it's an emotional thing to grasp the fact that your babies are old enough to start preschool. But in my un-depressed state, I'm not one to tear up repeatedly in the midst of this kind of thing, as I did yesterday. Meanwhile, the fact that I was feeling foggy and depressed on this significant occasion made me feel even worse. (Depressed about being depressed -- who needs that?) 

     

    Fortunately, Alastair was there with me, and able to play the role of sane and stable parent. And Elsa, not surprisingly, was totally in her element. When we arrived at their classroom, she was off to the races, immediately checking out all the new toys. (We even witnessed our first interaction between her and a classmate! She yelled "mine!" when he tried to take a play teacup from her. Ah, our feral, un-socialized children.) Clio, though, clung to me and didn't want to let go. After a few minutes, we managed to get her to go over and play with a tea set on the play table that she'd been eyeing, and she soon seemed quite happy, pouring imaginary tea and serving up plates of plastic waffles.

     

    Read More...


  • The marketing onslaught begins

     More than two years (!) ago, I wrote about the logistics of going to the grocery store with two babies in tow. A little over a year ago, I tackled the subject again, commenting on the near impossibility of grocery shopping with two 18 month-olds. (Which made going with two infants seem like a cakewalk.) For awhile, I didn't dare bring both girls to the supermarket at once. But for whatever reason, over the past six months or so, I've given it another shot -- short excursions for basics only -- and it's gone pretty well.

     

    Coming armed with juice boxes and toys helps.  Free cookies from the bakery section help even more. (If free cookies are not out for the taking already, I've actually asked the bakery folks for them a couple of times, and they're happy to oblige. Behold, the amazing power of cute little kids!) Letting the girls hold an item or two also helps (hint: things in boxes or bags, not produce of any kind. Elsa actually took a bite of a lemon once.) Letting Elsa get out of the cart and walk for awhile toward the end of the trip when she's getting restless, is also a good tactic, and not too hard to pull off, now that she listens and understands when I tell her to stop, watch out, stay near us, don't pull every bag of bread off the shelf, etc.

     

    Read More...


  • The Fall Fashion Issue

    I have never been terribly concerned with clothes where my children are concerned. I mean, I make sure that they have enough of them, and wear them as appropriate for the weather and, to a lesser degree, the occasion. But as much fun as it would be, we just don't have the time or energy -- let alone the money -- to dress Elsa and Clio super-adorably.

     

    Their wardrobe consists of a motley combination of gifts from grandparents and others, hand-me-downs from friends, things that I buy for them second-hand at tag sales, and a few supplemental store-bought items as needed, generally from Target or Marshall's. The dresses in the closet go largely unworn. Anything that requires ironing or hand-washing is pretty much never worn -- at least, not more than once.

     

    As the girls outgrow clothes, I toss them into a shopping bag in the closet and periodically bring them up to the attic, where I transfer them into other bags and boxes, which I intend to sort through any day now, I swear. Meanwhile, the girls share one big dresser, which I am convinced is haunted by some small, slovenly poltergeist that gets its kicks by unfolding everything we've just folded and pulling dirty clothes out of the hamper to mix in with the clean ones. In short, I never feel quite in control of the clothing situation. But it's never been high on my list of worries in life.

     

    Read More...


  • Regression, anyone?

     We're back in the saddle, after a lovely vacation week in New Hampshire followed by a weekend's stay in Vermont. Fabulous weather, beautiful scenery, lots to do, and even a bit of relaxing thrown in there. I managed to get several hundred pages of good reading in, which, to me, is the sign of a good vacation. And the girls did remarkably well, all things considered, adapting with aplomb to a slew of new places, people, and situations. 

     

    They were, however, a bit clingier than usual, always wanting to be picked up, and acting particularly attached to me. They've also been doing this weird sort of "baby talk" thing where they say "mama" and "dada" and talk in babbly, indistinct voices. Clio has been espeically prone to this. I would say that it was a result of vacation -- the unfamiliar people, the disruption of routine -- but the fact is, it actually started a few weeks earlier.

     

    Pics after the jump!

     

    Read More...


  • Please Stand By

     

    Last weekend, we brought the girls down to the recording studio where Alastair has been working on his forthcoming kids' album, A Cow Says Moock. (Yes, yes, he loves the puns.) I sang harmony on one of the tracks -- my first studio singing experience since I was ten years old and sang on a commercial for Duncan Hines cookies (Crispy, chewy! Crispy, chewy! To the tune of "Love and Marriage." Anyone remember it?) It went fine -- the harmony track, that is -- though I don't think I have much future as a recording artist. Elsa and Clio, on the other hand...

     

     

     

    Read More...


  • Welcome to Chez Elsa & Clio

    Please, won't you come in? Right this way to your table. It's a little bit sticky; the last patrons were eating canteloupe, and we didn't have time to wipe it off. Oops, look out. There's some peanut butter on your chair. Here, let me take care of that for you. Please, sit down. But feel free to get up and attempt to run out of the room whenever you feel like. Or ask to be picked up. The rest rooms? Oh, sorry, we don't have those yet. But here's a diaper. Enjoy. And can I put on your bib for you? No bib? That's fine, please, feel free to tear it off and throw it on the floor. Not a problem.

     

    Now, I'd like to tell you about some specials we have tonight: There's some delicious leftover chicken from the grown-ups' dinner last night, served with a nice salad, and some lovely wild rice. We also have some of the macaroni and cheese you didn't eat at lunch, which the chef tells me is perfectly good once it's heated up, with a little butter in it -- No? Not interested in the specials? Of course not, I didn't think so. Between you and me, I'd stick to the menu. All of our most popular items are here, and really, they never get old.

     

    Read More...


  • Break it up, you two

     

    Someone asked in a recent comment if my girls break into fights pretty much any time I leave the room for more than five seconds. And the answer, sadly, is yes. YES! It's ridiculous how much of our parenting these days involves playing referee. And damn, it's tough. We're not even to the stage of She said / She said yet. There's no "she started it," or "she's lying." There's just...fighting.

     

    And it seems to go in waves where it's either Elsa's fault all the time or Clio's fault all the time, and I start questioning my ability to be a fair and impartial judge, because I fear I am biased against one child or the other, based on her recent behavior. Or I worry that I'm subconsciously trying to even things out by under- or over-reacting to one or the other of them. (If you're having trouble following this paragraph, then you can begin to get a sense of how confused I often feel in the moment.)

     

    Read More...


More Posts Next page »

in

About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

GROUP BLOGS

  • Strollerderby

    The smartest, funniest, most exhaustive parenting blog in the blogosphere.
  • Droolicious

    Modern design for modern parents.
  • FameCrawler

    Your daily baby celebrity fix.
back to blog homepage