How to keep mum

A research study at work revealed that 'new moms' were the most opinionated cohort among all cohorts ever. (Explains why there are so many mommy blogs out there and why P&G is dying to get these mommy bloggers to talk and write about their superior products, huh?). I heard this when I was an exhausted, confused new mom who had just returned to work and was baffled. What - me? New mom - opinionated? No way - I had no clue how to do anything when it came to babies.

Fast forward to a year later and....I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut. Especially when talking to other moms. and ESPECIALLY when we start talking about my favorite topic- baby sleep.
Sleep - or the lack of it - was my state of being for the first nine months of motherhood. S was AWFUL about sleep. Since then, I rolled up my sleeves and decided that I was not going to crib, vent, rant or blame the baby for my sleep deprivation . Not any more. A and I devised a plan and taught S to sleep on her own. and wow, best decision ever. That was the start of teaching our child good sleeping habits. I admit, I tend to be quite fussy/rigid about when, where and how S should sleep and almost NEVER compromise on her sleep.

Now that I've written it loud and clear, am sure the Jinx God will come knocking at my door tonight! Darn.

Anyway - since then, I started to believe that if the mom (usually the primary caregiver) is not disciplined about the baby's sleep, the baby cannot be disciplined and independent about falling asleep on her own. I also started to have a very low tolerance for mom/dad/other well-wisher fatalistic, moralistic, helpless statements such as -
"Children will learn to sleep when they are ready. You need to suck it up now"
"We never slept for the first 2-3 years of our kids' lives so you should not expect to"
"I haven't slept for the past 6 years since I had my daughter"
"I make my child sleep at 10PM but she still wakes up early...I don't know why"
"This is the price of parenthood"
"Let the maid make the baby sleep, I'm done trying"

Of course, baby sleep sucks when the baby reaches new milestones or is unwell. I'm not talking about those exceptions here. I'm talking about a healthy, happy baby who wakes up  at night for no real reason.
Now, when S was born, I understood immediately that all children and unique and different and of course, there is no one formula that fits all. They are not robots. However, since witnessing that teaching S to sleep on her own was the only way we got any sleep and became, therefore, human once again, I've been dying to spread the joy to other sleep-deprived moms. In fact, when other mom friends started calling me for advice, I became more confident that my way was a great way...no...the only way.

Sigh. I need to learn to shut up! When my dear friends comment that they are exhausted and wish they never had kids, I get all worked up and emotional for them and get into my 'Helpful' Sleep Nazi mode = lecture mode. I typically dislike people who moralize, lecture and think there is one way to do things/live life. Sadly, I've observed myself fall in that category when it comes to baby sleep. I'm tired of seeing all my mom friends tired and can see the 'mistakes' they are making when it comes to their baby's sleep.

One fine day, though, I realized that you know what - some moms need to crib just to vent about motherhood. Because motherhood is the hardest job ever. Some moms DO have it harder than others. Some moms have almost no help with the baby and have to plod on alone. They have no village helping them raise their child. and some moms have babies who are fussier than others.

All of us have good days and bad ones. and babies who sleep well and babies who don't. I just need to remember that and accept that if my friends aren't sleeping well, they have a good reason for living that way and it's not my business to 'help' them out.

#nomoreinterfering

Tell me, I'm curious:
When do you find it hardest to keep your mouth shut and not share an opinion?

Typical sleep story in my home

Shoes Blues

Our little cutlet is toddling all over town and we decided to buy her shoes. Since A and I are simple, straightforward humans, we expected the whole experience to be somewhat like this:
Step 1: Go to store
Step 2: Go to the shoe section, ask someone to come and help measure her feet
Step 3: Choose a bright, happy kiddie color and buy the shoe
We imagined that she would happily wear her shoes and toddle with giggly glee all over the store and we would be so proud.
End of imagined sequence of events.

Unfortunately, since our little one has inherited my somewhat drama-queen-esque gene, here's what reality had in store for us
Step 1: Went to store. Zeroed in on the downtown Nordstrom because our wise friend D had once told us 
Nordstrom shoes are bloody expensive but hey....they give you a balloon.
Step 2: Go to the shoe section, ask someone to come and help measure her feet.

and that's where the predictability ended. 
Step 3: Held suddenly-screaming baby in front of the shoe rack, clueless about what made her so upset. 
Step 4: A and I launched into a slightly stressful parental conversation
a: Did she poop? Maybe she needs a diaper change
me: Lemme check. Nope. She is clean
me: I think maybe something's poking her...maybe she has a sharp object...like a pin stuck to her dress
(I frantically check)
oh no...nothing like that.

so we went on for a couple of minutes...checked the usual stuff...is she hungry? nope. is she thirsty? nope. Is she possessed? nope. Is everyone at the store glaring at us? Yup. Is someone going to call 911 or Foster care? Highly likely if we don't quickly detect the cause of the problem.
We finally realized that it was the shoes. SHOES! A picked up the bright pink, absolutely adorable shoe our  meek store assistant had brought out, and held it in front of S.  

Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Waaaahhhhh!!! Screeeammmmmm! Huge drops of tears fell out of her big baby eyes. She flipped. 
He held up a plain white shoe and wow - no crying. 
This was bizarre. Our daughter was terrified of a cute little happy shoe.
My extremely logical, rational husband had to admit defeat to this illogical baby he had fathered. 

I'm happy to conclude that we left behind all the adorably bright pink, green and purple shoes and bought the simple white ones. She can buy her own colorful shoes when she's 18. We continue to remain a happy family.

Tell me, I'm curious:
Do you know any babies who reacted weirdly to normal stuff?

You're invited

to HAHAHA's first birthday! Yup - can you believe it and time flies and etcetc. but can you just believe it? She's going to be a grand ONE year old and we're celebrating in style this weekend. Come, one and all. Wish her, bless her and eat some cake.
Now talking about cake - I've never really baked a cake. Done the baking cookies, muffins, different types of breads, brownies and all that stuff but somehow, never really baked a cake. Maybe because a cake is too large for 1-2 people to gobble up. (Who am I kidding, right? With the right cake and the right person...;) ) 
Anyway - my news is that I am planning to bake a really large cake for 30-odd guests who are going to show up at my place this weekend. Now THEY don't know that they are going to be the honored guinea pigs. Eeeyahahahahha (evil grin and under-the-table-snigger comin right up)
My guess is that all the kids at the party will be so darn cute that the adults will be fully distracted and won't really observe fine details of whatever they're wolfing down. Very different audience from discerning, hungry Top-Chef kinda judges. So there you go - a fine opportunity for an amateur bakest (the word baker sounds like it lacks the confidence to be a superlative bakest) to unleash her inner talents, don't you think?
Chicago is known for some really great birthday cakes you get at the bakeries. I almost placed an order for The Very Hungry Caterpillar cake because it's my Precious' favorite-est book. BUT- hang on- this was before the sweet lady on the other side of the phone told me it was going to cost around 250$. Really? That many dollars for a cake? So I decided that I'm going to bake a cake every year and keep aside 250 bucks for my daughter's 'mommy-ditched-my-cake-fund'. That'll probably cover quite a bit of college tuition, don't you think, huh?!
This blog post was supposed to be an invitation to all - so please come to the party....have fun, dance to the music and hey - break a leg...or in this case...break an egg, everyone!

Update: I did end up baking a huge cake which, thankfully, tasted pretty good! Hurrah!

Tell me, I'm curious:

What's your go-to cake recipe?

Lanky's blankie

Precious has been getting taller and taller. Lanky monkey. She's definitely got that from her dad, I like to think of myself as the petite, dainty types (whenever I'm not the tall, towering pillar of inner iron strength, of course).

Well anyway, the update these days is that she's fallen head over heels in love. You know that mother-baby bonding look in babies' eyes? That's the look she gets when she sees her white fluffy blanket. Gah! It's a square piece of soft cloth, a little larger than a standard sofa cushion. But oh my, the little one carries it all over town and refuses to part with it. She cannot bear to be away from Blankie for more than five minutes. Pull it away from her and be prepared for a siren-like never ending wail that's sure to alert child-care and foster home authorities. Of course, since the day Blankie became an extension of herself, S has dragged the poor ragged cloth over spilt milk, bread crumbs, sticky melted cheese on the floor, spit-up and water. Thankfully, nothing worse yet. As far as I know.

All these adventures meant that Blankie needed to be washed really often. And achieving this required some Hercule Poirot- level sleuthing. Once S was asleep and definitely in her deep sleep cycle (body movement faithfully monitored via infrared-night vision-equipped-baby video monitor), dear husband A tiptoed into her room, gently picked up Blankie when S was NOT sleeping on it, and quickly put it in the washer and dryer. Around midnight, A took the clean fluffy Blankie and gently placed it back beside S.

Sick of all the unpaid detective work, I wanted to buy a duplicate Blankie but simply couldn't find one on Amazon (who always has anything anyone needs). After much online research, I found that Blankie was officially known in the sales world as Macy's First Impressions Baby Boy or Girl Swirl Boa Blanket.

I finally bought a duplicate Blankie last week and am happy to report that our family has temporarily stopped monitoring S's light, deep and REM sleep cycle patterns. Huzzah!

Tell me, I'm curious:
Did you have an attachment object growing up? Have you...err..outgrown it yet?

Baby Kong

Aaaaaahhhhhh you tiny little insignificant particle on the floor! Just you wait. I have arrived. And guess what? I'm walking. Yesssss you read that right. I'm walking, strong, menacing, big and SO tall compared to you. HAI I'm talking to you, you sticky piece of cello-tape... and you, Amma's blue-rubber band-that-was-surely-lost... and ooh! I almost missed seeing you, you tissue paper that didn't make it to the trash can. I am here. Stomping high above you, I rub my hands gleefully before my famous pincer-grasp picks you up and tosses you into my mouth. Die, you sticky tape, di...uh oh??! Why is this thing that cannot walk stuck to my finger? Huh? Wha...? WAAAAAAAAHHHH...ammmmmmmmaaaa!