Momnesia The Book

Finding the right expression

Check out the page below from our first book, "If These Boobs Could Talk." I know, I know, you can barely read the writing, but the more important part is the drawing:

 

Believe it or not, it took me a while to get the expression right on that flying super-hero-breast. I was going for a subtle mix of pride, self assurance and dedication. I mean, that IS the expression a super-hero-breast would have, right?

Some of my initial attempts at the expression were off the mark. In this one, it looks more like the boob is thinking, "Oh great, it's 5:00 p.m. and I don't know what I'm making for dinner."

 

In this one, the breast looks all determined and enthusiastic... and a little crazy, actually. Maybe she's about to compete in a triathlon?

 

And since we're on the topic of breasts and their expressions, I did a few drawings today just for fun. Here is a gal who is totally engorged... waiting for baby to freaking latch on already!

 

Or maybe she's panicking because her nose fell off. (Ooops.)

Here's the boob after the baby finally latched on and had a good feeding. Ahhh....

 

Finally - here is our fearless friend after all the breastfeeding is done. She thought she would return to her former glory. But surprise! Those days are long gone, honey.

 

Smart, Not Smart

In our book (pages 16 - 17 for those following along at home), we ask, "How smart do you feel today?" Then we offer a scale and propose that you plot yourself on it.

Depending on how much sleep you got last night, maybe you feel pretty good this morning. Maybe you even feel smarter than a:

Or maybe you're running on only 90 minutes of sleep (for the whole night). In which case you may feel like you are about as smart and driven as:

When we were trying to come up with these "measurement items" for the scale, one of the first ideas I had for the LOW end was a june bug.

I don't know if you encounter these bugs where you live, but they are truly shocking in their un-intelligence. They fly right at your head, they bonk into walls. They careen around wildly through the air. I'm petrified that one (or more - ack!) will get stuck in my hair.

For the high end of the scale, we were considering many options. Thomas Edison? Marie Curie? Mahatma Gandhi? But then we realized, no. There was someone wiser and more influential than all these people combined. Yes, that's right:

 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy the fruits of this discovery. So I can feel as smart as a robot vacuum today.

She's a doctor and she works out a lot

In the book we talk about “Easy Outfits.” Our idea was that if you have a few ready-made ensembles, getting dressed will be one less thing you need to think about.

 

Here are a couple ideas from the book:

 

  

  

 

 

This concept started with the work out outfit. I frequently don the work out gear and proceed to engage in NO exercise whatsoever. Unless managing to strap my three-year-old into her car seat is considered a “work out.” (Which it should be.)

 

Anyway, I started with that idea and tried to think of other easy outfits. Brainstorming... brainstorming... A few ideas, but nothing great. Then later, in the shower, it hit me: scrubs. Scrubs! They are the perfect ready-made outfit. Official, authoritative, cool.

 

I actually did an Internet search to see about buying some (they come in a wide range of styles, it turns out). I haven’t made the purchase… yet. But I’m pretty close. I figure people will think I’m a nurse or doctor who works out all the time. My only concern is that it will go too far. That I will be called on to provide actual medical assistance at some point. Like the classic scene in Seinfeld (“Is ANYONE here a marine biologist??”).

 

“Is anyone here a medical professional?” someone will yell, as a kid lies on the ground with a hurt leg. All heads will turn to me. Me and my official scrubs. I will, of course, sprint away faster than anyone could imagine. But I’ll yell back to them, “Sorry! It’s time for my work out!!”

 

A crunchy circle of danger

 

In the book, we don't just talk about memory lapses -- we also talk about the ways that your brain *improves* after you have a baby. For example, you are way more perceptive about things that might harm your little one. I bring you this illustration from the book:

 

I came up with this cartoon because it reflects my deep, ongoing fear of choking hazards. "Adrienne," you say, "that is a normal fear." Well, my friends, I have taken it to a new level. Case in point: when my kids were starting to eat solid food, I was scared to give them Cheerios. I was certain they would choke.

Cheerios. You know, the cereal that dissolves into mush soon after you put it in your mouth? Oh, and by the way, it has a *hole*, so even if it did get temporarily lodged in your windpipe, it probably wouldn't obstruct airflow.

Still, I was freaked out. I guess we all have our irrational fears, right?

Right??

Anyway, now that they are ages 6 and 3, I allow my kids to eat Cheerios. With a warning, of course: "Let it soak for five minutes," I tell them. "Then chew each bite 100 times."

And guess what - it's working. No Cheerio-induced choking so far. (Feel free to use this advice with your kids as well.)

Welcome to Boot Camp

In the book we talk about how exercise can help boost brain power. Sure, sure, sure. But as we were writing that part, we thought, "When you're a new mom, getting to the gym isn't your top priority." So we started thinking about the *other* ways that you get exercise.

The idea I had: Changing the crib sheet. What is with that, anyway!? Why is it SO HARD? The fitted sheet is ever so slightly smaller than the mattress -- so you get the three corners, but the fourth one is basically impossible. (Do they plan it that way?) Of course you have to navigate the hand-tied bumper guard and perfectly positioned crib skirt as well.

My method (not ideal) was to pull the mattress out of the crib entirely. I would stand it upright and wrestle with it, swearing under my breath, until I either managed to get the sheet on or I toppled to the ground. Mostly it ended with the topple.

Boot camp, indeed.

This is real life, people. Real life.

When we were working on Momnesia, Shannon and I found inspiration in real-life situations. One example: We were writing a two-page spread about "The Good Old Days." Our point was that even if you feel like an emotional basket case on some days, a good laugh is only a memory away.

We reflected back on our adolescent years (a treasure trove of humor)... I remembered all the hours, styling products and concentration that went into sculpting my bangs. They were something to behold, I tell you.

Shannon, on the other hand, remembered belting out the wrong lyrics to Duran Duran songs.