A Tail of Toys

Dear Toys R' Us,

Please come retrieve aisles 4-17 from my home.

Sincerely,  Mama Bug

Everyone has their must-have-couldn't-survive-oh-my-goodness-my-life-would-end-if-it-breaks baby entertaining item.  Swings, bouncers, jumperoos, blocks, books, gym mats, foam mats...

My nightly routine consists of condensing the piles of colorful plastic and foam so if I had to make a sudden escape in the middle of the night, I don't trip and crack my head open on the way to the door. And while each of these billion dollar must-haves have had their run, none of them have distracted June Bug from what he really wants...

All these proclamations of "you must buy this" and "you must have that" are a giant cover. I want to scream "SAVE YOUR MONEY!!!" I'll admit what no one else wants to:  Those dangly bells and whistles of my jumperoo are only there to distract the average observer from what June Bug really drools on: my iPhone, iPod, the cat's tail and Tupperware.

We have cycled through a gazillion toys that June Bug loves for a fleeting minute. But the steadfast devotion to cell phones and kitty tails have long outlasted any Toys R' Us wonder-of-the-week.

Dear Steve Jobs:

Drool Protection, just a friendly suggestion.

Sincerely, Mama Bug

Snack Break

Sleep sack be damned...Kitty ahead

Tag!! You're it!

Booty Battles

Parenting Fail:    June Bug standing up butt-naked on the changing table


I'd post a picture, but it would have been a bigger fail to run off and find the camera. I am amazed by the speed with which he flings himself from back to feet; he's breaking records somewhere. I however am not.

I'm convinced diaper changing will be featured as the newest sport in the 2012 Olympics. And unless I step up my game, my apparent inability to:  
A. pin down a squirming June Bug and  
B. complete a diaper change with one-hand,
means I will not be winning any medals. I'm fairly certain my child crawling away naked and laughing  probably won't even win me style points.

After an embarrassing number of attempts to diaper his bare booty, I opted for plan B and let him romp around and air out his backside.  Team Parent was losing its moral and needed to regroup. Until then all changes have been relocated to ground level for the safety of all parties involved. 

Team Bug: 1        Team Parent: 0

Bathtime Bible Blunder Brought to you by the letter B

My husband is astounded by my apparent lack of biblical knowledge despite being a regular Catholic church goer. My theology-teaching-Catholic coworker will tell you I'm a "good" catholic for allowing someone to read and interpret the bible for me a la 16th century Spain.

Either way, it's true. I can't even attempt to deny this after I named June Bug's whale-shaped faucet cover Jonah. In case you're like me, Jonah is not the whale. I was sure it was Jonah the Whale not and the Whale.  Frankly,  I think it's sad that the whale is nameless and maybe if he hadn't been I would have read the story. This is where my husband tells you I watch too many Disney movies.

Meet Jonah, the whale who DID have a name

But the name stuck, our bathtub whale is Jonah  and June Bug is a big fan of him. So much so I've had to dump 36 foam letters and numbers into the tub in order to distract June Bug from standing up to give Jonah hugs or to eat his tail fin. For the moment June Bug's deterred by this new bath time treat, which means he's also not trying to drink the bath water.

Oh, and like any good mother I did taste the water to make sure it was safe. What it wasn't was tasty, not even close. I do not recommend trying it.

 

Splish Splash Splat!

That would be the sound of baked potato hitting my walls; I wish I was referring to Splat the Cat, our favorite baby literature kitty.

As of late there seems to be a disgusting amount of food decorating my walls. Somehow the "all done" baby sign was mistranslated into a sling shot motion; you can imagine the result. Good thing sweet potato orange, pea green, and banana yellow are the in colors.  Ok, I may be making that part up. Or maybe I'm bringing them back, a little retro? You decide.

Luckily June Bug loves a bath, the place he promptly ends up after all the food flinging. Sunday however we opted for a rain shower instead of a bath. Ok, I didn't really use the massive amount of rain as a bath alternative, but we did go for a walk where we did ::gasp:: get wet!

I never did understand all the "new mom" freak out that their infant could not possibly go out in the rain. I didn't get this memo from the hospital, that or June Bug ate the memo (paper is pretty tasty), so ignorance is bliss!

Rainy Day Glory!

June Bug loves water (understatement of the year) and rain is no exception.  The normal parent has a white noise machine, I play rain sounds. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted to steal June Bug's fancy iPod clock so I could listen to rain showers as I sleep.

I think June Bug thoroughly enjoyed the surround sound effect since out of habit I hit play on the iPod  despite the downpours.

So while he's not quite ready for puddle jumping and the open seas, we'll enjoy bath time splashing and pretend ships.

At Sea!

Shamrock Shuffle

Stomp your feet, clap your hands, everybody ready for a June Bug dance!

I'm not sure how in my right mind I thought it was okay to teach my nine-month old to shake his booty. But somewhere between Dance Party Friday (thank you dad) and Barnyard Dance (thank you Sandra Boynton) June Bug learned to "shake his money maker" as my husband so eloquently puts it.

I'm not sure if who's more proud of June Bug's moves, Dad or June Bug himself. But when that diapered butt gets a movin' I can't help but giggle like a school girl.

Unfortunately catching it on camera is another feat. But in the spirit of St. Patty's day, June Bug decided honor us with a jig, along side Stride-to-Ride dino.

Bedtime Battles

Somehow ::knock on every piece of wood in site:: I feel like I've always had the upper hand in this war. Which is a huge feat considering I'm not just dealing with an infant plotting new ways to avoid his bedtime but also an overly-dedicated-saxophone-playing neighbor, ie. every single night for at least an hour.  On day 10 as neighbors, it was charming.  By day 372 I can tell this:

1. My child will never ever play the saxophone
2. I may or may not be teaching June Bug how to use super-glue and tennis balls to plug said sax.

As devoted as my jazz-loving neighbor, June Bug is intent on finding new ways to avoid bedtime and he's quite good at it.  From rolling over, sitting up, crawling, standing up, teething and cruising, he's tried it all but I was still winning. Until this week.

June Bug pulled out all the stops and decided to start playing dirty: he decided he loved giving hugs and snuggling on the rocker.

::sigh:: how I can resist? So amisdt the tears and tantrums of an anti-bedtime fit the little arms fly up and wrap around my neck. So I cave, pull him from the crib and we snuggle and rock and he'll flash that coy little smile that says, "I win."

No my son, I win, as long as you want to curl up and snuggle with your mama, I can't lose.

Baby Love!

Party Animal!

I am terrible with dates. My husband will tell you I could not remember his birthday for the first year of our relationship. Particularly humiliating since we have the same birthday. Now it's hard to forget with the barrage of  ID-ing waiters who never fail to ask us if we know we have the same birthday.
What??!!! We do??!!!

One date no woman EVER forgets however, is her due date. I had a LOT of close friends who were due in the 9 months pre-June Bug. So my due date was marked not by how many weeks I was, but rather by when everyone else was due, first K, then A, then O and so on.

So now we're celebrating all those first birthdays. Actually those first birthdays are saving my social life. Luckily  for us, June Bug is still at the age where party invites also include the parents. Soon enough he'll be asking me to drop him off a block away so I don't embarrass him in my Uggs and skinny jeans...but until then, Mom and Dad get to enjoy the party too.

Today we celebrated another 1st Birthday.  This was a scary one for me. A year ago, my BFF of 20 years and my favorite stay-at-home mom shared a due date. One D-bug came a week early, the other D-bug a week late (yep, double D's).  

Life of the party!

Little D 1 & 2 were the last of the due dates marking the countdown to June Bug's big day (still an assumed May Bug at that time). 

In two weeks my BFF's little D will celebrate his 1st and then....

I can't go there just yet.  Instead I'll enjoy my 9 month peanut. All 18 lbs of him loving the swings at today's fiesta!

My Lucky Little Shamrock

Southern California, you're missing the Irish gene. You might think this topic is 9 days early but my Chicago roots tell me otherwise. No one does green like the Windy  City: green beer, green pizza sauce, green river. I'm fairly certain most Chicagoans have no idea it's St. Patrick's Day not "Days". But we're not in Chicago, so we had to be green the California way:

The Skirball Center's Noah's Ark exhibit: a crazy floor to ceiling, multi-room wooden ark exhibit  full of giant animals all made from recycled materials and everyday objects.

It's quite the phenomenal exhibit complete with projected quotes from L.A. area children sharing their tips on being green.  My favorite: the child who claimed he was green because "I ride in the back of a Prius."  Brilliant.

"Organic" (local?)  Meat

June Bug's plan: "to eat boldly colored vegetables and learn to hug without crying". He truly is all about the organic, locally grown veggies but he's not quite the tree-hugger yet. Apparently hugging is scary.

So while it's not quite the St. Patty's day celebration I'm used to, it is better than a Shamrock Shake, which I do find to be a vile vile form of food. Blasphemous, I know.

Post Hug Tears

Wine o' Clock

The time of day set aside for enjoying a glass of wine; usually around 5pm daily

I did not invent said activity, but I do think it's genius. So thank you to my hubby's friend P for what I would say will forever be your crowning achievement.

This week calls for something sweet, something to make me smile and a glass of wine. Luckily the first two were quickly fulfilled by a smiling, giggling June Bug. The second will be coming shortly.

I hope all your weekends are as sweet and loving.

Pimp My Crib

That's what June Bug's been doing for the last few months. He took it upon himself to "distress" his crib and I had no idea to what degree, until yesterday. There aren't words.

I swear I purchased a new crib contrary to the picture. It's all the mad work of a teething little woodchuck.

In the months before the holidays we merrily sang  "All I want for Christmas are my two front teeth."  Well June Bug got his wish times three for a total of six teeth, two miserable nights of zero sleep, and a million tears from both a pained June bug and an exhausted Mama Bug. But in the came and cute they were.

June Bug has a new smile and Mama Bug a whole new game: avoiding the bite. June Bug has yet to learn that hugs and kisses do not involve teeth. If you look closely at my right arm in this post, you can see where I lost a battle.

So while I'm fairly certain I own every teething toy on the market, including the famously expensive and notorious Sophie the Giraffe, he still prefers gnaw on iPhones, cords, and furniture.  Lucky for me and my little woodchuck Shabby Chic is a la mode and he loves brushing his teeth, keeping them a pearly white despite any wood varnish that may or may not have been ingested.

I swear he thinks this is fun!