Disarming Babies

This is a post sponsored by Livie and Luca. I don’t do many of these, so I hope you all like this. Because the shoes are cute, right? Also, really awesome.

JQ Grip

Late one night, as the baby screamed “Mamamamama!” from his room, I turned to my husband and asked. “On a scale of one to 10—10 being dead right now—how much does the baby want to kill me?”

My husband paused. We could hear more shrieking. It was three in the morning.

“Maybe somewhere between a five and a seven? It’s hard to know.”

I got out of bed and rocked the baby. He was teething and refused to be put down. So, for the next three hours I slept on and off in the chair in the nursery. The next morning, I was basically dead and the baby spilled my coffee. And I know, science tells me that babies are not actual trained assassins, but I am not convinced.

Since turning one year old in July, the baby has made it his mission to destroy me and then himself, in that order.  Once, I lost him for five minutes and found him in the dishwasher gumming a butter knife. A few weeks ago, while we were playing outside on the front lawn, he found a discarded cigarette butt and shoved it into his mouth. He screamed and bit me when I tried to rescue him.

Then, while I was on the phone with poison control, he scooched a chair up to the counter. Climbed up and grabbed a knife. As he waved it frantically in the air, I listened to the poison control woman’s instructions (“Babies have a surprisingly high tolerance for tobacco…”) and wondered how exactly one disarms a baby with a knife. If I grabbed, he might cut someone. But if I didn’t get it away right now, someone would die. Probably him. Do they train for this in the FBI? Because, “Drop your weapon or I will shoot,” does not work with a baby. I know, that was the first thing I tried.

Eventually, the knife slipped from his hands and went flying across the room. The poison control lady assured me everything would be fine (I didn’t tell her about the knife. Is there a knife hotline? I might need that.) But it wasn’t, really. Once my husband got home, I ran to the store for some whiskey.

I have since learned how to disarm a baby with a knife. (Sneak up behind him, grab his wrist with one hand and the knife with the other. You are welcome. Learn from my mistakes.) But he is still finding new ways to kill. He has bruises from knocking a whole shelf of library books onto his head and a cut on his chin for insisting that he could climb on the bookshelves. He repeatedly tumbles off our little trampoline, which I’m renaming the “$30 heart attack thing.” Right now our stairs are blocked off with an ottoman, a fisher price washer and dryer, a bunch of blankets and two baskets. He still finds a way to climb up.

But at least I’m still alive (for now) and I have whiskey.Grip Close Up

A few weeks ago, after I told Dave about JQ trying to flip over the couch, he suggested we get the baby some shoes. Like real shoes. Because the baby’s toes were all scuffed up and he’s started asking, nay DEMANDING outside time. He does it like this: Stand by the front door and scream until we let him out. So, that’s fun.

Around that same time, Livie and Luca contacted me. They sent a catalog and I thought the shoes were freaking adorable. Honestly, they were a little pricey. But since I usually cobble my kids’ wardrobes together from hand-me downs, grandma gifts and garage sales, I thought it might be something we’d do. I really try to make sure that what I promote over here is stuff I would actually buy if no one sent them to me. And I can honestly say, I would. I so would.

The shoes are great. Easy to get on. Pretty hard core. And great soles for walking…because JQ is trying to walk now. Everytime he does, I push him over and start sobbing. So hopefully we can forestall that apocalypse. Ellis calls the Ruche her magic golden shoes and JQ hates taking his Grip shoes off. (He toddles around saying, “Sheesh, sheeeesh.” I think it means “Shoes.” Or “I will kill you in your sleep.”) But the shoes match everything (see above where I talk about our hand-me down style). And they stay on.

The powerful gods of Livie and Luca have offered you all a discount code (giveaways only benefit one person anyway, right?). Ready? It’s….


Next month, I’m buying E these boots.  She straight up refused to wear boots last winter because they weren’t fancy enough. Do you know how many times I had to carry her through the parking lot in -30 degrees because she was wearing sparkle shoes and didn’t want the snow to touch her sparkle? Do you? No. I didn’t think so.

It’s too bad they don’t sell straight jackets for the baby, though.

Ruche close up

Ellis HidingAlso, can we discuss how do other bloggers do this? Get their kids to cooperate for pictures. Because, this was about the best E would give me.

Dear Little Boy, You Will Never Be Ruined

I wrote this letter as part of the End Medicine Abuse Project in conjunction with Listen to Your Mother. You can read more about the project here.  Yes, this post is sponsored by The Partnership at Drugfree.org as part of a blog tour with listentoyourmothershow.com in an effort to End Medicine Abuse.

I took part in it because as much as I like a good laugh, part of what I believe so desperately about parenting (and everything) is being honest and upfront with your kids, self, random internet strangers, you get it. And because I hadn’t thought much about medicine abuse in my kids (they are so little), the project challenged me to come up with an honest way to talk to them about the issue of drugs. I was honored to do this because this is one of those important honesty moments we all need to have with ourselves and kids. I chose to write a letter to my son, baby Jude. Part of this is me imagining him grown. I chose Jude because he’s so new here, that I wanted to take a moment and talk to him. If you have questions about why I wanted to take part in this project, leave them in the comments (or email). I’ll answer.

Part of this project was a Google hangout where I and the other bloggers in this project read our posts out loud. If you missed it, you can view the videos here: part 1, part 2, part 3

Dear Jude,
Forgive me for believing in your infinite potential. For seeing all the universes inside of you. I am your mother. I was there when you became my guy; my XY from an XOXO. Don’t make dry heaving noises at me. It’s true. I was there when you became a pronoun from a verb. So small, I didn’t notice until you were my upset stomach. My frequent urination. My growing hope. You started as a “no sushi, no tuna, watch the coffee” and grew into a “no clothes fit.” And then you emerged a person, fully formed, with a silly wide mouth that both your father and I stared at in amazement. And then prayed it didn’t end in orthodontist bills.
I will never stop being awed by you. How your fingers and toes exist. It sometimes seems like magic that you are here. I know too well the miracle that you are.

And that’s what I want to tell you. I want to tell you to look at your hands, your face and your feet. They once were mine and I took care of them. Buying hypo-allergenic lotions because you might be allergic to god-knows-what. Cutting nails. Binding little hands into little mittens. Applying Mickey Mouse band aids when needed and sometimes when they weren’t. But those days are over. Your skin that is yours now; every hair, every cuticle and cell now belongs to you. Sometimes you wash. You fight me on haircuts. Remember deodorant? Right, exactly.

And with all of this, I know you feel like you are something indestructible. And that whatever you do, you will be able to continue forward. That there is no end.

That’s a lie. Those hands and feet that now belong to you. That brain, those earlobes, the space between your fingers. It can all be ruined in a careless moment. A curiosity for drugs, for cigarettes. Or a weak moment where you want something to help you study to help you have fun. I know you don’t believe me. I know you are rolling your eyes. But you were created in a moment, you can be destroyed in one. And if that moment comes and you choose to say “yes,” when you should say “no.” Just know that to me, you will never be ruined. To me, you will always be beautiful. And I will always help pull you back.

Remember you are a miracle. What you contain is immeasurable. That you came from a spark and now you are here. Big hairy, with a wide-mouth grin and a gangly legs. There is nothing you need to make you feel how other people think you should feel, there is nothing you need to have more fun, to end your boredom to make you “cool” (if that’s what the kids are still saying these days), that you don’t already have within you. I know this for a fact. Because I made you. And yes, I will always hold that over your head.

I love you.
Your mom

Join Me Tonight In a Discussion to End Medicine Abuse

The Medicine Abuse Project- The  Partnership at Drugfree.org Logo

So, most of my high school and college life was spent desperately following the rules both because I wanted to leave my house and because I didn’t want the cops to send me back. As a senior, I was once at a party with underage drinking and I asked the host to kick the kids out because I didn’t want to lose my position as an RA, because it was the only way I could afford to live on campus. If I lost my RA position, I’d have to leave college.  If I left college, I’d have to move home. If I moved home? Well, global thermal nuclear war would be the obvious result.

Consequently, I’ve never used drugs illegally and having that talk with my kids never crossed my mind. I’ve thought about the sex talk, the alcohol talk, but I’ve never thought about the drug talk, not in any serious way. So, when the fabulous ring leader of Listen to Your Mother (Ann Imig) asked me to participate in discussion about drug abuse, I almost said “no.” I have nothing to share. But then, I realized, I actually have to discuss this stuff with my kids one day. And how am I going to do that? I don’t want them to be like me, making decisions out of fear. But I also want them to make right choices. And if I believe that it is monumentally important to give them right information about sex and alcohol, why wouldn’t I believe the same for information on drugs?

So, please join me and I and some other talented ladies talk about drugs, drug addiction and how we are talking to our kids about it. Here is all the info.

Date: The evening of Tuesday, September 10th, 2013
Time: 9 PM EST
RSVP (optional for Google + users)
View live: http://www.youtube.com/user/LTYMShow/live

For the first time, LTYM has joined forces with The Partnership at Drugfree.org to host an exclusive live-streaming event via Google Hangout On Air, taking place on Tuesday, September 10 at 9 p.m. EST. The live readings will feature 11 leading women voices on the subject of medicine abuse – a health issue that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention now calls an “epidemic.”

These readings will feature new and original work about each of the women’s personal connections to addiction, substance use, and/or what they want children to know about the medicine abuse epidemic in a powerful story-sharing hour. Join us at this engaging kickoff to a blog post tour featuring these wonderful writers. Watch the livestream broadcast at the Listen To Your Mother YouTube channel ( http://www.youtube.com/user/LTYMShow/live ) beginning at 9 pm EST.

This live event will feature:

Janelle Hanchett – http://www.renegademothering.com 
Brandi Jeter – http://mamaknowsitall.com
Sherri Kuhn – http://oldtweener.com 
Heather King – http://www.extraordinary-ordinary.net
Lyz Lenz – http://www.lyzlenz.com/
Judy Miller – http://judymmiller.com 
Lisa Page Rosenberg – http://www.smacksy.com
Alexandra Rosas – http://www.gooddayregularpeople.com
Ellie Schoenberger – http://www.onecraftymother.com
Zakary Watson – http://www.raisingcolorado.com
Melisa Wells – http://suburbanscrawl.com

For more information and to join:

RSVP on the Google Event Page

and/or join us at http://www.youtube.com/user/LTYMShow/live

The Medicine Abuse Project is a multi-year initiative of the national nonprofit, The Partnership at Drugfree.org. Its goal is to prevent half a million teens from abusing medicine by 2017. The Project provides comprehensive resources to parents, educators, health care providers, law enforcement officials and others about the growing problem of teen medicine abuse. The effort aims to mobilize parents and the public at large to take action. This includes learning about the issue, talking with their kids about the dangers of misuse and abuse of prescription drugs and properly monitoring, safeguarding and disposing of excess Rx drugs in their homes.

LTYM is thrilled to be working with The Partnership at Drugfree.org. Working with nonprofits is a big passion of ours, and the fact that we both involve storytelling as common thread to both of our missions is wonderful.

Please join us to empower many families across the country to take action and end medicine abuse.

To learn more about The Medicine Abuse Project, visit drugfree.org/medicineabuseproject and follow the conversation online at #endmedicineabuse


This live event and blog tour are sponsored by The Partnership for Drugfree.org, LTYM’s 2013 National Video Sponsor. Also, this post and my post for the project are sponsored and I’m so honored to be a part of this.

No Pants 2012: What I’ve Learned About Fashion

Back in January, I gave up clothes shopping for a year. You can read about my journey here and here. This post is part of my effort to reinvent my wardrobe and look good, without being a rabid consumer of cheap crap.

In approximately 27 days I can shop again.

It’s almost been a year, since I gave up clothes shopping. In that time, I’ve purged over 10 black trash bags of clothes from my closet. Two bags of shoes and one bag of purses and belts.  And yet, today, I still managed to clear out another half a bag full of clothes from my drawers. After a year of saving, I’m still surrounded by excess.

Last year, I looked at my dismal wardrobe made up of cheap Target finds and thrift store salvage and calculated the cost of my habits. Over $50 a month, and nothing to show for it except well-worn graphic tees and ill-fitting pants. [Read more…]


Dave, my husband, is a pilot.  He got his license in High School and flew in college. He hasn’t flown in a while, this is partially due to airplanes being so expensive, and also due to an incident where his alternator failed and he hand to land without power at night in rural Texas.

For our first anniversary, I rented us some plane time and he took me up. I almost barfed. I could trust him enough to sleep next to him at night, but behind the controls of an airplane? I mean, he’s the guy who broiled on a cookie sheet and fed me silicone chicken.

I wanted to fly too.

I’ve said this before. I don’t believe in bucket lists. If you are going to do something, do it. Make it happen. Too much of life is spent planning. I mean, how many of those Pinterest ideas have you actually done?

Six years later, thanks to some delicious crackers, I flew. I don’t think I realized how scared I was until we landed. When I stepped off the plane, my shoulder blades relaxed, my eyebrows separated, my jaw unclenched. Every part of me was trying to keep us in the air.

As a kid, my parents took me on a family vacation to Kitty Hawk. There we raced in the sand dunes where Wilbur and Orville Wright first took flight. I remember thinking how amazing it must be to be the first man to soar with the birds. To let your feet leave the ground. To be suspended in the expanse.

I forget that. Sometime in between the first time I looked up at the sky and saw a plane and met wonder, and when I shuffled angrily onto a commercial airline, I forgot the horror and awe of flying. Taking my seat between a man who smells like wet onions and the aisle where the flight attendant kicks my foot and rolls his eyes when I ask for water, I forget that for those three hours I am peers with the clouds.

Today, I flew. An instructor was right next to me. Dave was behind me. Yet, I kept mumbling, “Oh god!” into my headset when the wind rattled the plane. But there was a moment, when I took my eyes off the horizon, and I thought how beautiful this ugly little Cessna was for letting me step off the edge of earth, just for a few minutes.


Thanks, you crazy crackers.

And the winner of the giveaway is….Jen Visser! Congratulations! You win some tasty crackers and $150 toward an experience on Cloud9Living.com.

I used Random.org to pick the winner from the comments.

Yes, I was compensated for this post and this contest by Pepperidge Farm. But all the opinions and experiences were mine.

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