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Well, folks, we're headed on a family trip to a cabin in New York (near Syracuse). And I know *exactly* what to expect on our travel day tomorrow.
I assure you this will be the scene as my husband and I are loading the car tomorrow morning. BEFORE we even start driving to the airport to get on the plane to get on the *other* plane to drive to the cabin.
Ah, kids.
See you back here next weekend.
You know that moment right before you realize you've done something stupid? You have this vague feeling that something is amiss, but *what* you've done hasn't quite hit you yet.
This happened to my sister last week. She parked at the My Gym place, got out of the car, got her 11-month-old son out of the car and shut the door. She was on autopilot - you know how it is.
After the door slammed, she experienced a split second of hesitation... wait for it... wait for it... DOH! She realized she accidentally locked *everything* in the car (except for her son, thank goodness).
I didn't even think this was possible. Aren't new cars supposed to have special lock systems that protect you from yourself? At any rate, she evidently pushed the lock button then threw her keys IN the car (as she was getting her son out), then closed the door.
Everything was in there. Her purse, her diaper bag, her son's bottle, even her phone. The funny thing was she had her earpiece in and she was *talking* to her husband as all of this happened. So the phone was in the car, but the ear piece was on her head, and she could keep talking.
"Don't hang up!" she told him. "We have a problem!"
Since this was the last phone call she would be able to manage until her car was unlocked, she stayed on the line while Matt called our mom. Arrangements were made to drop off the spare key.
Big production. Oh, and did I mention that the baby really needed a new diaper?
Momnesia strikes again.
Looking for some exercise this weekend? Try the "Pile Up" (page 15 in our book). I will be doing this on Sunday night. But first I need to reassemble my huge pile of mail, magazines, etc. I actually broke it into smaller piles to fool myself into thinking it was "being managed." When really it was "not being managed at all." So now I will turn it into an exercise.
From the “Dads Do Things Differently” file:
My co-author Shannon, who lives in Madison, Wisconsin, went away one weekend, so her husband was in charge of the two boys. The day after her return, Shannon spoke to one of her neighbors (a very proper lady from South Carolina), who told her about a scene she'd witnessed when dad was in charge. I’ll let Shannon tell it from here:
“Evidently she drove by my house one afternoon. Bless his heart, my husband was trying to do yard work with both boys running around. He had ordered a huge amount of mulch and was attempting to spread the stuff around to different parts of our yard. At the time my neighbor drove by, however, my boys were sledding down this enormous mulch pile...naked.”
Ah, dads. We love you, we really do. Actually, we should probably take a page from your playbook and learn to relax a little more. The kids are jumping around naked in a ton of mulch? GREAT! Let’s follow that up with 10 cookies and no bath. Everyone will survive.
So there you go: the next time you’re feeling anxious about kid-related decisions, just ask yourself What Would Dad Do (WWDD)?
P.S. Then proceed to do the opposite.
P.P.S. Just kidding! We love you, dads!
P.P.P.S. Seriously – just do the opposite.
Breastfeeding moms, you know one of the classic Momnesia Moments is when you can't remember which breast goes first at the next feeding. You thought for *sure* you would remember. You were confident. Then, three hours later, you have no idea.
So here are some tips - taken from our first book, If These Boobs Could Talk. To remember which breast should go first at the next feeding:
Tilt your head to the proper side and hold it there until the next feeding.
Apply lipstick only to that side of your lips.
Only turn that direction in your car.
Switch the part in your hair.
Walk with that foot first.
Write only with that hand.
Respond to everyone by saying either "Right-O!" or "Let loose!"
Or I suppose you could just jot a reminder note down. But come on, that's no fun.
Two weeks ago I made a grave, grave error. I forgot that it was "Tropical Shirt Day" at my daughter's school. She was quite annoyed by this, and ever since she has been (rightfully) suspicious that I'm forgetting other things too. So most mornings she will appear in the door of my home office and ominously ask:
I get all freaked out and reply, "I don't know, what AM I forgetting?" And she says, "I don't know! What are you forgetting?" And I'm like, "I don't know!" And it goes round and round.
Such a lovely way to start the day... Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go remember what I'm forgetting.
I was talking to my co-author Shannon and she was telling me about her youngest boy (age 3). Get this: evidently, he will only eat Wall-E toothpaste and ice for breakfast.
What's with toddlers? They are so weird.
I suppose Shannon could try to sneak some nutrition in there...
But something tells me that strategy is doomed to fail. Anyway, she's not really sweating it. As she puts it: "At least his teeth won't fall out, right? And he's hydrated."
Anyone in the Laguna Beach, CA, vicinity? If so, I'll be signing copies of Momnesia and If These Boobs Could Talk. Come by Laguna Beach Books between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. on Thursday, June 4th.
To entice you, I'm providing refreshments and freebies (bookmark and gift cards I made).
I did a book signing last month at Barnes & Noble, and it was fun. But I couldn't quite figure out what expression I should have on my face. I mean, you're sitting there and people are walking by. So you want to smile, but you don't want to look like a dork. I pretty much settled on this:
This seemed to be effective, but was a bit boring and trite. So I've been thinking about a few other strategies I could employ. Here are some ideas:
I'm partial to the "under the table" one, but we'll see how it goes.
