Things I'm Buying For Baby

With baby number 3, I'm trying to be as minimalist as possible. Both for frugal reasons and just plain common sense reasons. Here's a list of my basic baby needs/wants.  If you're interested, then read. If you're not, then don't.


1. We will not be purchasing a crib. At least not right away. Since I'm a breastfeeding mama, it'll be easier to keep him close to me. Plus I want him close to me. So a co-sleeper it is. As he outgrows his co-sleeper, we will probably get a crib. But we'll purchase one of those mini-cribs, or a low-cost (I hate saying cheap because that implies that the quality is bad) Ikea cribs.


2. Slings. Two or three of them. Strollers are annoying and they get in the way of everything. So I want to avoid them as much as possible. Plus a baby close to the heart is a happy baby.


3. I'm not stupid. I realize I will need a Stroller. A lightweight non-bulky one. Because the reality is, it will be hard to aways carry baby. So to make life a little easier, a stroller will be needed.  


4. Vibrating bouncy chair thingy. There's a whole baby wearing movement (of which I am all for!) that says people should just wear their babies when they're cleaning, cooking or doing things around the house. Good idea.  I will do that some of the time.  But ALL the fucking time? Sorry baby wearing community, but you are completely nuts sometimes. For my sanity, I will need to put baby down. Let him sit and doze in his vibrating chair so I can get shit done, thank you very much.


5. A baby bathtub. I'm stuck between getting him one of those super cool bucket baths or one of those rubbery bath thingys that conform to your sink. Bucket baths. You know, it's a bucket especially made for babies. You fill it with a little bit of warm water, put baby in, and he curls up in the fetal position. It's supposed to be really soothing. It's very European, okay? Or there's those cool rubbery kinda baths that mold to your sink. Those are kinda cool. Not sure yet. I'm leaning toward the bucket though.


6. Diapers. Ah yes. The diaper debate. Cloth vs. Disposable. I've struggled with this one. I really wanted to go the cloth route. Simply because I've already contributed thousands of diapers to the landfills. And apparently all the diapers I've contributed to the landfills will take a good 300 to 500 years to break down. This makes me feel like a horrible person. And guilty as hell. But you know what? I don't have the money to buy two to three dozen cloth diapers. Okay that's just an excuse. I just don't feel like using cloth diapers, okay? You know how many loads of laundry I have to do a day already? Fuck that, my friends. Call me selfish, but I don't want to add another load of laundry to my list, thank you very much. If you use cloth, I think you're awesome. If you use disposables, I still think you're awesome. Therefore, I'm awesome too. Bring on the Huggies!


7. Clothing. Basic clothing. Do newborns need a shit ton of little cute outfits? No. It's a waste of space and a waste of money. Baby doesn't care what he wears. Don't get me wrong, I'll get a few cute things. I want him to look cool of course. But newborns sleep a lot. Or they just lie around a lot. So onsies and sleepers it is. Throw in some sweaters, a few jackets, hats and booties. He'll be a fall/winter baby.


8. Other stuff. Other stuff includes blankets, bedding and a floor mat with a few old fashioned baby toys.   Babies don't need a ton of stuff. I will get more things as I need it...if I need it. When I was a first time mom I received and bought too much shit. Half of it I never used and it ended up being a waste of space and money.


9. Oh yes. Almost forgot. Breastfeeding bras. I don't buy actual breastfeeding bras. I just get the ones that are really elastic that you can pull down easily so the baby can latch on.  


10. Oh and things like shampoo, baby oils (great for cradle cap), fever reducers and thermometers etc. A rectal thermometer is the most accurate for newborns. Underarm (axillary) temperatures are also used a lot. Axillary is how I took baby temps in the hospital. It's not as accurate as rectal because it can be up to two degrees off the actual temperature. For axillary temps, always add one degree (or is it two?). Ear thermometers are inaccurate on newborns, so I'll purchase that when he's a toddler.


11. Yes, and a car seat. But we already bought that. It's a convertible one. Because I hate those heavy baby carrier infant car seat thingys.  


Yay. I made my list. I feel better. I'm probably missing a few things, but that's the basics.

Evil Bitch Mother

Ryan is behind in math.  He's behind in reading as well (according to the Montgomery County school system), but I'm not too worried about it because he loves to read.  His reading will catch up pretty soon I think.  But it's the math.  The effing math.  I'm generally a very patient person.  Low-key.  I don't fly off the handle very often.  But when it comes to teaching math, I turn into Evil Bitch Mother.  


Evil Bitch Mother is mean and she doesn't care.  She yells a lot. She sounds scarier than hell and she scars her children for life. I'm sure of this.  Evil Bitch Mother makes her husband cringe, and if he's here when Evil Bitch Mother is teaching math, he usually has to step in and take over.  He has to save sweet Ryan from a wild-eyed crazy woman.  


Yes, Evil Bitch Mother hates math.  She hates teaching it.  And she doesn't understand why her son can't count simple change.  Or do simple fractions.  But Evil Bitch Mother needs to realize that she totally sucked at math too.  That her own parents got frustrated with her.  But I don't think they were as mean as Evil Bitch Mother. They didn't yell at me the way I yell at my son.  They didn't yell things like, Why can't you get this into your brain?! or This is simple Ryan! If you THINK for a minute MAYBE you'll GET it! 


I know.  Maybe he's bad at math because of me.  I'm embarrassed that I behave this way. Totally and completely ashamed.  I don't know how people home school their kids.  When I teach math, my sweet ass self turns into a vile person.  I think the only solution is to have Ernesto take over the math.  I have never met a more patient person than my husband (besides my mom).  When he teaches Ryan, Ernesto never yells.  He talks in a low, even tone and calmly corrects Ryan if he's wrong.  He explains things.  He just has a knack for teaching. The only way for Evil Bitch Mother to go away is if I resign my post as math teacher.  So honey if you're reading this, you are now Mr. Math.  I leave it to you.  My sweet, patient husband.  Who would never turn into an Evil Bitch Father.

There's A Baby In There

See? I'm pregnant.  23 weeks pregnant as of today. See my belly? You ain't seen nothin' yet my friends.  It's gonna get fuh-reakin huge.

The first picture I took had a very un-made bed in the background.  There were also massive streaks on the mirror from my lovely children.  So I cleaned.  Maybe I should take more pics of the house so I'll be motivated to clean.

Forced Learning vs. Cultivated Learning

Kiera had a Kindergarten play date a few weeks back.  It's to help all the incoming Kindergartners get familiar with each other so they can ease into the first day of school.  I thought this was a great idea.  However, I was quickly reminded of the dominating presence of  overeager, micromanaging parents.  A father I was talking to was asking me about my son's experience with Kindergarten.  He wanted to know what kind of work his daughter would be expected to do.  I told him that Kindergarten isn't what it used to be with nap times and chocolate milk; that it was more academically centered.  I explained that our little five year olds are plunged into the world of reading and math and endless testing.  He just shrugged his shoulders, "Well, I'm not worried about my daughter.  She's been reading since she was two." 


I wanted to puke.


But I laughed and said, "Oh we're moving a little slower.  We're just working on letter recognition right now."  He smiled kindly at me, which annoyed me even further. 


Yes, I'm a slacker parent.  So fucking sue me.  Don't get me wrong.  The man was nice and we continued talking and made plans for potential "play dates" (I really hate that term, but I say it anyway).  Luckily Ernesto was there to remind me that I'm not screwing up my daughter by taking it slowly and waiting to teach her to read.  I know that what I'm doing works for me and is right for my daughter.  I'm just glad that she now recognizes the letter "J", which took her forever to learn.  By the end of summer, my daughter will hopefully be in the beginning stages of reading.  At least she'll have a basic understanding of letters and sounds and not base her reading skills solely on memorization (which is what two year olds tend to do).  But whatever.  If you teach your child how to read at the age of two, then more power to ya.  But why the rush?  Let a two year old explore books on her own.  Let her look at the pictures and turn the pages.  Let her grow to love books.  Don't we want our kids to have the desire to read?  Why push it when they're barely out of the womb?


Just my thought for the day.  

Good girl bad girl

I get compliments on how sweet my daughter is.  She hugs everyone.  She proclaims that she loves the entire world.  She's extremely outgoing and befriends people where ever she goes.  People say, "That girl is special! What a sweetheart!" or "That girl will be a leader someday!" or "She's made for the stage! What a personality!"  Yes, I get it.  She's amazing and I love her.  She makes me laugh every day.  Her bright outlook on life gives me more reason to have a positive attitude.  She's a sweetheart.  But then...

...she turns into the most aggravating creature on the face of the earth.  Where do I even begin?  How about today at lunch?  I told her to eat her food instead of play with it (yes a typical parent thing to say...but damnit it's got to be said).  Her reply? She rolled her eyes at me and said, "I WOULD if you would stop annoying me."  Oh man.  Off to her room she went.  No lunch.  No snack.  No movie from the library.  Yes, as much as my days are filled with a little ball of sunshine, my days are filled with blood boiling aggravation.  When I tell her to do something, it's "I don't know if I can do DAT," and when I tell her it's because I said so (yeah yeah I can't help saying it!) she replies with, "I don't know what said so MEANS!" And when I send her to her room, she falls on the bed in hysterics saying, "You're da meanest muthuh in da en-tie-uh wold!"  Yeah whatever kid.  And you're the most frustrating creature in the entire world.  So there.  So as much as I've tried to be consistent with my discipline, I feel like I've been sliding a little bit...partly because I'm pregnant and so damn tired all the time.  Because of this, she's starting to push her boundaries a bit more.  So back to no nonsense consistency!  And then some.  There's gonna be a no tolerance rule for her behavior.  No more warnings and threats.  Just immediate punishment when she's rude, disobedient and just plain snotty.


Yeah so in your face Kiera!   

Wine (Whine)

The first two times I was pregnant, I kinda liked it.  Kinda.  Now I'm a little older and maybe a little more selfish or perhaps a little wiser.  I hate being pregnant.  I want a drink.  A glass of wine.  A vodka and cranberry.  I want to stand outside and have a smoke (I'm not a regular smoker by any means, but damn it's nice to have a smoke or two whilst gulping down a pbr).  I want to stay up late without getting tired.  I want to be able to MOVE without running out of breath.  I want to take the kids places and run around all day without wanting to collapse.  I'm utterly amazed at the amount of energy I had before I got pregnant.  This is all for a good cause, I know.  I have a baby boy inside of me, depending on me.  And I already love him deeply.  

But I just want to be skinny again.

I want to be skinny while having a drink.  I want to be skinny while having a drink while running after my kids.  I want to be skinny again while having a drink while running after my kids while hanging out with my husband without being snarky.  I. Just. Want. To. Feel. Normal. Again. 

But I really want Beckett.  I want to hold him and love him and kiss him.  So I guess I'll be tired, snarky and fat for the next four months.  At least I have a good excuse.

Here.  Look at some old pics of my fabulously adorable kids.  Definitely worth nine months of discomfort.

Pho - Toes

I'm tired of not having a camera. And I'm too lazy to use my cell as a camera (too much work).  So until I get a new camera (which I hope will be very soon), I shall post some old pics of the kids and perhaps some old pics of myself (gasp!).  The following photos are from 2005, around the time I moved from California to Maryland.  Around the time of my separation and divorce from my ex-husband.  Good times.  No really.  Good times.  Leaving was the best decision I ever made.  It was the beginning of my own liberation (with all due respect to my ex).  And I wouldn't be married to the fabulous Ernesto if I had never made that life changing decision.  So take a look at my cute kids circa 2005.

My dear Ryan.  Five years old.  Super hero with a Burger King crown.  

Kiera top, 6 months old.  Eating grass and being fat.  I think we were in Montana.

Ryan bottom, age 5. In a garden in WA state.

As I was typing the above paragraph, my daughter was pretending to board an airplane and exclaimed, "Why CAN'T I take on five carry-on bags?!"  Seriously.  What am I gonna do with that kid?