Toddler Times
Where I Address A Really Obnoxious Opinion

I'm getting my hair done & drinking a crisp glass of wine at 11am. Oh, wait. This is on a Saturday in my two hours of spare time per week. Man! ::snaps fingers::
Earlier this week, I wrote about having a live-in nanny. Because of her relationship with my son and my need to now work 40 hours per week again from home, it made the most sense for all of us if she moved into our guest room four days per week. 40 hours per week, just like a normal full-time job, she watches my son in our home while I work upstairs on spreadsheets and scripts and conference calls. At 6pm, my husband comes home and we make a family meal and yes, our nanny joins us for the meal. Then she usually goes out with friends while we put our son to bed and wind-down after a day of working. Our nanny does not cook or clean at all; she does not care for our child when I am not engaged with my employer. I’m still the gal behind dinner and sparkling toilets. So contrary to the popular belief of Babble’s Facebook page, she is not watching my child while I lounge at home eating bon-bons and watching my soaps.
Although that might be nice. WHERE IS THAT REALITY?! Oh, right. It’s in Hollywood and I’m in North Carolina.
But scrolling through the Facebook page, I noticed several people commenting that if I can’t take care of my child, why did I even have a child? My eyes grew wide and I got all Hulk-like and I must admit, THE RAGE WAS STRONG when I read that.
Dirty Mom versus Primped Mom
Last week, Curvy Girls Guide posted a guest piece on “Why I’m Not a ‘Dirty Mom’.” You know, the moms that roll up in sweatpants & three-day hair under a baseball cap on the regular because there’s nobody to impress in the carpool lane.
I think we’ve all been guilty of that at least once. I’ve been guilty of it way more than I’d like, although I wish I was one of those moms that enjoyed doing my nails and wearing heels on weekdays. So I wrote about it on my own blog:
I’m a total crap-shoot as a mom when it comes to fashion. I either look cute or I look like a dog & there’s really not too much in-between. I could blame my workload but I’m going to be honest – my physical appearance is usually a good indicator of my mental health. If I look pretty, it means it’s a good day & I’m feeling self-confident & in control. My to-do list is being checked off, dinner is planned, & the kid’s face is scrubbed. If I’m in yoga pants, it’s probably because they were the first thing on top of the laundry pile that I managed to recognize.
People were enraged at the article, claiming that there is more to beauty than looks (true) and more to motherhood than carpool fashion (also true). But the other side argued that a basic form of self-respect is putting the best face forward each day and that having even a small beauty routine instill confidence.
I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane
Once or twice per year, I pack a suitcase and fly to another state where I spend four days with friends and inspiration at a blogging conference. This week, I fly to Blissdom in Nashville, TN thanks to the good people of Oreck and I’ll be a Community Leader for the writing sessions. It’s my fourth blogging conference, so I’m less anxious and mostly just ready for a weekend away for inspiration and growth.
When I left for BlogHer 2010, my very first conference, I knew I would miss my baby but also knew he was in the very capable hands of his father. After battling severe postpartum depression for a year, I was ready for a weekend away without the stresses of motherhood and therapy.
Now that my baby is a toddler and I’m healed and whole and far less dark and twisty? I don’t know how to handle leaving.
We Have a Live-In Nanny

Before the nanny arrived: me with a laptop, napping dog, toddler at my feet.
A month ago, I found myself staying home for the first time since maternity leave. I ADORED IT. Was it hard and frustrating being with a two-year-old all day? Yes. Did I watch the clock for 6pm when my husband would walk through the door? You bet. But I adored that our routine was on my time and that if we didn’t get out of jammies until 10am, it wasn’t a big deal. I cleaned or blogged or tried a new hairstyle at nap time. There were no performance reviews or risk of being fired and if the kid was alive at the end of the day, I did my job.
Then I received an email and phone call inviting me to work for Microsoft. I felt like pinching myself, said yes, and a week later found myself with an @microsoft email address. We needed the money and I needed the resume booster, so it was a no-brainer when I agreed to join the team at 20-40 hours per week.
At first, I kept Harrison home with me and I worked from the table on our screen porch while he ran circles in our backyard. Then I’d stop for an hour to make him lunch and read some books, picking my laptop back up at naptime. Then I began working more hours and conference calls scheduled outside of naptime. Projects began taking 8 hours at times and it was 8pm before I’d look at my husband and shrug over the question “what’s for dinner?” As much as I wanted to balance motherhood & career perfectly by myself, I had to respect my job at home just like I did in a five-story office building. I needed my full-time nanny back.
Toddler Fevers: When To Call The Doctor
There is simply nothing worse than feeling under the weather, except when it’s your small fry that you’ve sworn to protect and nurture forever. Then it’s you, the momma, versus the fever in an epic battle. As a momma, I get this feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that turns me into a grizzly bear, always on high-alert and ready to pounce at the first sign of worry. But there are pretty easy guidelines to remember when dealing with fevers.
Remember, the fever is the body’s natural way of fighting an infection!
Super Heroes and Little Boys

I grew up in the 1980′s, which means I grew up with Michael Keaton as Batman and Christopher Reeves as Superman. We watched these heroes on Saturday morning cartoons and dressed up on Halloween and pretty often, I made cat ears out of felt and pretended to be Catwoman.
There’s something magical about super heroes, these ordinary men that turn into something extraordinary. They fight for the greater good and make a normal life into something spectacular and yes, they always get the girl. The villains are always brought to justice and lessons are learned about being true to yourself.
In short, I would be over-the-moon if my little boy fell in love with a super hero.
My Toddler Belongs on Hoarders

Harrison just waking up...
I am constantly amazed at the amount of stuff my toddler wants to sleep with.
It started off innocently with one stuffed monkey, who we named Templeton. Templeton was the center of Harrison’s universe and I even went on a tangent regarding toy scalping when we thought ol’ Templeton went missing one day. Then came Hank, Harrison’s car lovey that somehow made his way inside the house. These two guys were the “friends” that were required for bedtime and I always tucked my boy in bed with a smile, remembering how I used to sleep with a stuffed puppy and a hankerchief.
But then, my boy fell in love with cars and trucks and all things with wheels and started wanting to bring them to bed. A garbage truck one night, a Matchbox car the next. Then he started sneaking books into bed and I even found a toddler flashlight under his sheets one night – if I remember correctly, I didn’t start sneaking flashlights under the sheets until I was seven years old and obsessed with horse books.








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