I thought about writing out a bunch of resolutions for 2006 today. However, I haven't really thought of any yet. Resolutions generally come to me close to midnight on New Year's Eve, after a drink or two. Which, of course, makes me oh so likely to keep them.

Instead, I thought I'd look back on the year that was 2005 for me. It was a year of tremendous change, some hard decisions, and a little hardship. But it was also a year of tremendous growth, joy, and love. This may be a bit boring for many to read, but I feel the need to recap 2005. And it's my blog, so I can write what I want. Nyah.

January
I started off 2005 in turmoil. Cordelia was three months old, and I was an exhausted, emotional wreck thanks to the double whammy of postpartum depression and a baby with colic. To make matters worse, on the first work day of the new year I was expected to be back in the office for work.

Now, I had worked from home as a telecommuter for my company for over 4 years. One of the reasons Aaron and I decided to have Cordy when we did was because we knew I could stay home with her while still working full time. Funny how things can change. While I was on maternity leave, the company abruptly laid off 20 people, and decided to end all telecommuting. This forced several people to quit, but we couldn't live on one income alone, so back into the office I had to go.

With only a month to find daycare for a three month old (ranks right up there with trying to find a hamburger in a Hindu temple or a babysitter on New Year's Eve), we thought all hope was lost. A small miracle came in the form of Aaron's aunt, who was the director of the daycare for the Columbus Jewish Center. Even though there was a waiting list, she pulled a few strings and got Cordy in. So the first week of January, I went back to cubicle life, and Cordy started at daycare. I cried most of that week.

Oh, and to add more insult to injury, I was denied the private room for pumping that I had been promised before I came back. On my first day back, I asked my manager where the private room had been set up. He told me, "Oh, we didn't do it. You can just use the bathroom." Heh. I could use the grimy single stall bathroom to pump for 30 minutes, thereby locking out every other woman on the second floor. Pissed off doesn't even begin to describe how I felt.

March
I had made an effort to be positive about coming back into the office, but it wasn't working. I hated being there for 8 hours a day, knowing I could do my work in under 5 and then be out doing something else if I was at home. I also missed Cordelia so much. I saw her for a half hour in the morning, then after picking her up from daycare, I'd see her another hour or so before she went to bed. The lack of pumping and fewer nursing sessions caused me to dry up as well. I felt like I wasn't living - I was just going through the motions of life. And this little baby was more and more a stranger to me.

Cordy's colic had subsided, but she was a very poor napper, especially at daycare. While they were always extremely nice to her, I could tell that her cranky attitude and poor sleep skills were not winning friends. Every day's verbal report would start with, "She only napped [some terribly small amount] minutes today," spoken by an exasperated caregiver. While they always said she had a great day, Aaron and I could tell in their voices that she was a real pain in the butt. That's our little girl.

April
I was done going through the motions. Cordy was beginning to sit up on her own now, and as she accomplished new tasks, I found myself needing to be with her more each day. I was determined to get to know my daughter again!

Aaron and I talked it over, and I started applying for other jobs. I had a great lead on a contractor position for another e-learning company, and the first interview went great!

May
I interviewed for a part-time position for a local university as a student advisor. With my background, I was a good fit, and I was offered the job. But giving up my full time salary (which was more than double this part-time job, and which was also more than Aaron's salary) was a difficult decision. However, the other e-learning company had promised me work, so we thought I'd be able to do contract work from home to supplement the income. I accepted the university position, and started my training in mid-May.

June
Cordy was still in daycare until I could finish my training. I was waiting to hear back on my first project for the e-learning company. I waited. And waited. And waited. I sent an e-mail, and the owner told me he was just waiting for the project to be finalized. I waited some more. I e-mailed again, and he said they were still working out the details. I e-mailed one more time, offering to work on a different project. This time I got no response.

It seems I had been dropped, without the decency of telling me they didn't need me. Damn! I knew I should have asked for something in writing. Now there was no extra work, and the paychecks were already getting slim. Things between Aaron and I were fairly tense, because all of my assurances that the financial situation would change little had proven to be wrong. I had given up our financial security that we had worked so hard towards for the past year.

July
The second day of July, Cordy crawled for the first time! I was so excited and happy that she chose to save that special event for me and not daycare. Also, by the end of the month, my training was complete, and we were able to take Cordy out of daycare. Things were really looking up!

September
We celebrated Cordy's first birthday was a great party. Lots of family and friends, the requisite cake all over the face shot, etc. My job was challenging enough to keep me happy, and working 24 hours a week gave me so much more time with Cordy.

October
I had been working 4 days a week (two 8-hour days, two 4-hour days), but with the price of gas being so high, I hated making the drive that many days a week. I spoke with my supervisor, and asked if I could switch to three 8-hour days. He did a little checking into it, and approved my request! Once again, I realized how much I loved my new job. I had a supervisor who actually cared about my work-life balance.

During this month I was also hit with a huge bout of mommy-brain. Somehow, I forgot to pay nearly an entire month's worth of bills. I honestly have no idea how it escaped me, since I am usually very money smart. We were hit with a few late fees, but I did eventually get everything straightened out.

December
We had a crazy holiday marathon with three days of visiting family and celebrating. Cordy also started walking on her own this month! Her vocabulary is also growing at a rapid pace of about one new word a week. As a family, we are so happy together.

I'm amazed all of this happened in just one year. At the start of the year, we were tired fledgling parents, frazzled yet financially doing well. Now we feel more confident in our roles as Cordy's parents, and a routine has been established. We're barely squeaking by now financially, but the change has given us so much more.

Since Cordy left daycare, she's only been sick twice, as compared to the near-continuous cold she had the entire time she was in daycare. She's happier now, I think, and she appears to feel more secure. She sees so much more of us - since I work different hours than Aaron, he and Cordy have their bedtime routine established now. It's adorable. And I have the time to take Cordy to the zoo, to the children's museum, and lots of other places.

I am in no way saying daycare is horrible. Long ago I worked in daycare, and I really enjoyed my time there. I am grateful for those who cared for Cordy, and I have no doubt that she enjoyed her time there. But now I am a little closer to what I had intended when I was pregnant with Cordelia. I only wish I could have had a more family-friendly employer to avoid all of this.

And my God it's harder, too. I will happily stand up and salute those parents who stay home with their kids. On my days off, I occasionally wonder why I decided to put myself through so much work as I chase Cordy around the house, trying to clean her messy hands before she puts them on every surface available at her height.

But then she'll walk up to me, place her little sticky hands on each side of my face, give a wide grin and say "Hi!"in her little happy voice before collapsing into me for a hug. At that point I know everything was worth it this year.

Over the past few weeks, Cordy has made some amazing transitions. Some for the better, some for the, well, let's just say not-so-better. Three that stick in my mind right now:

Walking:
At her birthday party in September, Cordy could toddle stiff-legged behind a push toy, but couldn't walk on her own. Actually, she could only go in a straight line with the push toy, then whine until I turned it around.

November showed some progress, with her taking 2-5 steps between Aaron and I, as we showered her with praise to encourage her. She still showed no interest in really stepping out on her own.

Finally, in early December, she started to take those few, unassisted and unprompted, steps. As the parent who thought my daughter would be crawling to elementary school, I was thrilled. But while she started walking on her own, crawling was still the preferred method of locomotion. I again wondered why she insisted on crawling so much when the world was so much more interesting from a higher vantage point!

Today, she spent this afternoon trying to figure out how to get out from under the dining room table. She had crawled under it to retrieve a toy, then tried to stand up and bumped her head. Instead of just crawling back out, she continued to try to stand, cracking her head each time. I reached under the table, trying to convince her there were easier ways to test the height of an object, but she cried in frustration (and likely a sore head).

Then I realized: my crawler now favored walking over crawling! I'm not sure when the transition actually happened, but it's wonderful to put her down someplace and not worry about her immediately dropping to her hands and knees, finding the most germ-ridden spot she can crawl to. Now she can walk to the spot and bend down to put her hands in filth. I finally have a walker.

Bathtime:
As a newborn, Cordy tolerated and possibly even enjoyed her bath. She would lay on the soft cushion, kicking her legs in the water and gazing up at us with that infant sense of wonder.

Then she learned to sit up, and somewhere around the same time developed an intense fear of water. Bathtime became nothing but a struggle. She did not enjoy splashing, she did not have any interest in her bath toys. She just. wanted. out. NOW!

And Cordelia was quite good at convincing anyone in earshot that we were bathing her in hydrochloric acid and not water. Her screams echoed in the hallway, down the stairs, and filled the house. Once she learned to pull up and stand, it got worse. Bathing generally involved two people - one to wash her, and one to hold her down as she fought like a wet cat to climb out of the tub. We discovered just how strong a determined child can be - it's quite amazing, really.

Aaron and I used to argue over when to give her a bath. A typical conversation:

"She doesn't smell too bad, we can wait another day, can't we?"
"Her hair is greasy, and she just rolled all over a dusty floor."
"OK, fine, she's dirty. Can we just clean her off with wet wipes?"

Once again, sometime around mid-December, things changed. Cordy would peer over the side of the tub when the water was running, and tried to reach in to touch it. One day I placed her in the tub, and she stood there, but didn't cry. Stunned by this, I didn't force her to sit down.

I gave her time to get used to the water, and soon she willingly sat down! As I looked around, wondering what cleaning solution she got into under the sink to make her behave this way, she took a bath toy and started splashing and laughing. From that day, she's taken her baths without complaint, save for complaining about having to get out of the bath.

Sleeping:
Like I said, some transitions have been good, some bad. This one has gone downhill, and is starting to get to me. Prior to Christmas, Cordelia was sleeping through the night 6 out of 7 nights a week, on average. It was lovely. No - it was heavenly.

Then came Christmas Eve, when Aaron and I had to take Cordy to a family gathering that started after Cordy's bedtime. That night, she was up nearly every hour screaming and exhausted. It was her first experience with being overtired, and each hour, while I comforted her, I cursed the family for insisting that Cordy be at that party.

Since then, we have yet to get back to the way it was. One waking each night, generally around 2am, requiring the offering of a bottle in order to calm the child and convince her to go back to sleep. At this point, even Benadryl is starting to look like a sleep option. (I'm kidding. Really.)

Three big transitions all in one month. *Sniff* My little baby is growing up.

I often tell my daughter how lucky she is to have parents who love her, a comfortable house to live in, good food to eat, and an extended family always there to help her. After reading this article today, I can add two more things to the list: she's lucky to live in a country where women are (almost) equal to men, and she's lucky to have a father who isn't fucking insane and wouldn't kill her in the name of "honor". (Yeah, the language is a little strong today, but I'm feeling pretty strongly about this, too.)

A man in Pakistan killed his stepdaughter and his three young daughters, and forced his wife to watch while he slit their throats. Why would someone do such a thing? Well, he claims his stepdaughter was committing adultery. OK, I'll say at least that's an almost-semi-sane reason, although the punishment seems a little, well, extreme to fit the crime. And the claim of adultery came from the stepdaughter's husband, with no real evidence to back it up.

But why kill the other girls, who were 8, 7, and 4 years old? "I thought the younger girls would do what their eldest sister had done, so they should be eliminated."

Yes. They were killed because they might commit the same crime in the future. Killed for something they might do later in life. Apparently just hearing that a relative did something bad would clearly taint the girls and automatically lead them down the same path, and so the best option is to kill them before they have a chance to shame the family. Well, they certainly won't be shaming anyone now.

This is the most crazy reasoning I think I have ever seen. And the article claims that while this man could face the death penalty, this crime is often not punished in areas like this that see honor killings as just. And those that do make it to court are usually settled by giving money to the families of the victims. You know, just like you'd pay someone for accidentally killing their cow.

I don't understand how a father could murder his innocent daughters just because they might be like their older sister someday. Even without her committing adultery, they could have gone on someday to do something wrong - why even let girls live at all, if they're such weak-minded and sinful creatures?

Growing up in the US, it is amazing to me that there are still places in the world where women are treated as property of their fathers or husbands, and are considered just as disposable as any property. The mother of these girls was originally married to this man's brother, but after the brother died, this man married the widow, as is the custom. She probably had no say in the matter.

Thankfully, times are changing, and stronger laws against this type of killing are being put into place. I hope that soon this type of behavior will be universally condemned.

Oh, and the man had a son also. Did he kill the son? Of course not. The son will carry on the family name and bring honor to the family.

OK, this is my final holiday post.

As always, there is the gift hall of shame. Before you get ready to send me a comment about it being the thought that counts, I want to say: I agree. It is the thought that counts. But the hall of shame is reserved for those gifts where it is clear there was no thought involved. Gifts that make you wonder, "Do you even know who the hell I am?" Gifts that make you feel embarrassed for the giver. Gifts that make it clear that, sometimes, no gift really is better.

This year's gift-giving winner, and current reigning champion, is my Great Aunt Dorothy.

Aunt Dot has a knack for seeking out and collecting junk. If it's on clearance and marked down 99.9%, well then, it must be PERFECT for a gift. Past award winners have included: slippers that were 5 sizes too small, Reese's cups that were so old they were white, a set of mismatched silverware for only 3 place settings, a bag of generic toilet paper (yes, seriously), and a Santa Claus for my Jewish husband. She also set a new record for bad birthday gifts earlier this year when she gave Cordelia a beat-up, half-broken, downright filthy ride-on toy that she proudly told us she had pulled out of the dumpster.

This year's bad gifts:

The "Overall Worst" and "Most Random Gift" winner:


It's a map of Millersburg, OH for Aaron. I have no idea where Millersburg is located. According to the map, it's somewhere in Amish country. We've never been there before or heard of it. I don't even think Aunt Dot has been there either. There was no explanation for it being in his gift bag, but it was clear that it was supposed to be there. We're still pondering just what she's trying to tell Aaron by giving him a map of a city we've never seen.

The "Clearly You Must Hate Us" award is a tie this year, but both of them are from Aunt Dot for Cordelia. First up:


It's a Nutcracker. And it sings. And dances. It is clearly a masculine figure (note the moustache), yet it sings with a feminine, childish voice. Thank God she didn't get us more than one, since the box claims that if you put two or more together, they use infrared sensors to sing in harmony and dance in unison. I wish I knew how to post video on the web, because you really can't get the full experience without hearing it sing. Loudly, I might add.

And the other winner:


It's a singing, dancing Santa hat. Again, a video would do more justice to this one. The music is tinny, shrill, and loud. Amazingly, even through the loud music, you can hear the mechanics straining to make this little hat dance back and forth with enough force to make the little bell on top jingle. Even the cats are terrified of this thing.

And while we're on the subject of Aunt Dot, she also gets the "Grinch" award this year for upsetting Cordelia and constantly teasing her the entire day. Her favorite game was to take Cordy's bunny (a bunny head lovey that is her security object, and something that Cordy adores as much or more than mommy and daddy) and dangle it just out of reach. Cordy would reach for it, making her "unh! unh!" begging sounds, but Aunt Dot would then move it further away, saying, "Come on, get the bunny! Show me you can walk!"

Cordy had a sad, urgent look on her face, upset that she couldn't get to this precious object. She looked around, as if she was trying to find someone to help her, and it broke my heart. Yes, I should have stepped in sooner, but even I didn't think Aunt Dot would continue this cruel game for so long. Finally, after asking her several times to give Cordy her bunny, I ordered Aunt Dot to give it back.

Even my grandmother, who normally tries to make excuses for Aunt Dot's rude behavior, scolded her and told her not to tease Cordy. Aunt Dot later kept trying to poke Cordy, but I'd pick my daughter up and move her away each time. When it was time for everyone to leave (and while my aunts were arguing over which of them had to take Aunt Dot home), I practically shoved Aunt Dot out the door with her bags full of leftovers (because she always demands as much of the leftovers as she can get). Sigh. There's one in every family, right?

So, once again Aunt Dot sweeps the Hall of Shame awards this Christmas. I'm scared to think of what she's gathering for Easter: if I have to smile and eat another handful of stale, rubbery, chewy cashews and thank her for remembering that I like cashews, I might just explode.

Tonight we celebrated Hanukkah with Aaron's family, and now our holiday marathon is complete. It was a nice evening, filled with good food (yum, brisket!), good conversation, and some very thoughtful gifts. It went very smoothly, aside from Aaron's step-grandmother calling Cordelia 'Samantha' for half of the evening, which was just amusing.

Aaron and I each received some cash, so that we could buy exactly what we wanted. For Cordy, she'll be getting another addition to her college fund. She also got a beautiful wooden truck that hauls wooden cars, and a soft doll bigger than she is. No bad gifts here! I really enjoy how much thought is put into each present in Aaron's family. So many gifts are crafted by local artisans, and each one has a special meaning to the recipient. Aaron's step-mom made me a lovely sun catcher, and Aaron received a copy of the music from De-Lovely (knowing that he loves musicals).

Each adult was assigned another adult to buy a gift for. I was given a member of the family who I didn't know very well. Luckily, he seemed to really like the gift I got him: a chunk of honeycomb straight from my mother's bees on her farm. She got into the hobby of beekeeping a few years ago, and this year she was able to harvest some honey for everyone. It's very light, sweet honey, and you can't find it anywhere else. I think his immediate family may steal some of it as well.

The schedule for the evening wasn't the best for Cordy. Food was served before gift opening, then the candles were lit, and then it was time for presents. By the time it was her turn, she was snoring away on mommy. Crankiness was oozing from her before this, and I secretly hoped she would fall asleep, so I wouldn't have to keep chasing her back into the living room. No one seemed to mind that she didn't get to see a single gift.

After the gift opening, Aaron scooped up the sleeping child, and I gathered up our belongings and said our goodbyes. It was a very peaceful ending to a hectic three days.

Oh, and for those who are wondering about my mom: she is doing much better. Last night she felt so awful, but she took some anti-nausea medicine, and it helped her sleep. This morning she was able to eat a little, and had enough strength to drive herself home. I hope she's taking it easy today, although knowing her, I'd guess she's not.

We have survived round two of the Holiday Marathon. Christmas Day went well, with only a few snags.

Last night was rough - Cordy was overtired from being up too late. I've never understood being overtired, probably because I never pass up a chance for sleep. But apparently being overtired means that you're too tired to sleep, and so every hour Cordy was awake, shrieking for us to rescue her from her crib prison. It finally ended around 3am and she slept until 7am.

This morning, we got more bad news. My mom stayed with us last night and she planned to get up with Cordy this morning. However, when Cordy woke up, mom came in and told us that she had been up since 4am with the stomach flu, and she couldn't take Cordy. No big deal for us to get up, but sadly my mom missed the entire Christmas Day and stayed upstairs in bed. She was too weak to drive home, so she's staying with us tonight as well. She feels miserable. All of her gifts are still downstairs, waiting to be opened.

With mom out of commission, getting everything together and ready was left to us and my aunts. Since my mom and Aunt Dona were in charge of food, I had no idea what needed to be done to prepare the food, and Aunt Dona had no idea where anything was in my kitchen. It made for a slightly frustrating morning. Until then I never realized how much my mother did to keep things running smoothly on Christmas. Everything finally came together, the meal was prepared, and MY what a meal it was! Ham, turkey, stuffing, potatoes, green beans, fresh rolls, beets, cranberry sauce, and FOUR types of pie!

The gift opening was only slightly controlled chaos. While we used to always take turns opening one gift at a time, this year we saw Cordelia's mountain of presents and decided to open a few of hers each time. Cordelia, for the most part, was uninterested in the opening of gifts, preferring to beg for mommy's attention and throw her stacking cups around the room.

The child made out like a bandit: a toy workbench to pound pegs into, more Little People, a hand knit sweater, tons of really cool books (Aunt Dona is a librarian), and so much more. The most appreciated gifts were the hand knit sweater and the donation to her 529 college savings account.

After keeping my secret for far too long, Aaron opened his gifts and was thrilled to get an iPod. In black, no less. Since Thanksgiving, I've been sneaking around to all of our relatives, asking them to contribute towards this gift. I certainly couldn't afford it on my own, and it was really the only thing he was asking for. Many people pitched in and made it possible, and I was so happy that we could get this for him. At this moment, he's still uploading CDs to iTunes, and trying to figure out how to get video onto it. Saying he loves it is an understatement. I wouldn't be surprised to find it in bed with us tonight.

We also were given several gift certificates for dinner at restaurants we love. The gift of eating out - yay!

Stay tuned. The next post will be my Christmas Gifts Hall of Shame. There are always some truly hideous gifts each year, and this year did not disappoint.

Today was the first of three days of family greeting, gift-exchanging, and sinful food eating. Thanks to Hanukkah being celebrated by Aaron's family on Dec. 26 this year, we have are running the gauntlet of holiday gatherings.

Luckily, Cordelia was feeling much better today. She slept fitfully last night, but today there were no blow-out diapers or vomiting stains. Whew.

Our first challenge was my father's side of the family gathering. One of the "benefits" (curses, really) of a divorced family is having multiple celebrations.

Dad's family are very nice people, but we have little in common with them. They live in grand, well-styled houses, talk sports and fashion, and we're poor geeks. That always makes things a little uncomfortable.

Plus my father and I have a currently on-again, but usually off-again father-daughter relationship. Let's put it this way: he boycotted my wedding and didn't speak to us again until he was a grandfather and suddenly wanted to have a grandchild to brag about. As you can probably tell, I trust him about as much as I'd trust a new AA member at an open bar: always a wary eye on him.

The theme for this Christmas could have been "over-compensation". Cordy got a few nice gifts from the other relatives: a Toys R Us gift card, a Little People set, some clothing. And then my dad: the Cinderella DVD (which will be great in two years), a Snoopy (because she needs another stuffed animal to go with the other 859), a toy cell phone (that we already have), a musical book (seriously, what circle of hell is for people who buy kids loud, annoying toys?), and an effin' solid wood rocking chair. They're great gifts, but I just felt like it was a little bit of overkill.

For Aaron and I, we got a gift card to a restaurant we like, which is always appreciated, and an AMC movies gift card, complete with babysitting. We'll use the card, but skip the babysitting. Cordy barely knows my dad, and at this time I don't trust my father enough to leave her alone with him.

Cordy, for all the chaos of 20 kids running around, was a trooper tonight as well. The party started at 6:30pm. Cordy normally goes to bed at 6:30pm. See the fun that can come from this? She was cranky the entire night, but managed to hold in her meltdown until just after 9pm, when one of the kids took the ball she was playing with. At that point, all the candy canes in all the North Pole wouldn't keep her from laying down in the middle of the floor and wailing with fury.

She fell asleep in the car, and when we got home, she was quickly changed into PJs and put to bed. Tomorrow morning will be a new crop of family members - this time from my mom's side of the family. But at least we'll be at home, where Cordy feels comfortable, and it will be during a time when she's normally awake.

Monday will be the real test. Hanukkah at Aaron's parents house, starting around 4:30pm. It will be the third day of having barely known relatives up in Cordy's face, and it will be pushing her bedtime. If she can make it through this, she's ready for anything.

For now, it's late on Christmas Eve, the house is clean, the gifts are wrapped, the child is asleep, and I have a glass of wine. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a peaceful sleeping through the night.

This morning I was sleeping in while Aaron got up with Cordy. I heard him carry her downstairs, then drifted off to sleep again.

Suddenly I was awake again, hearing "Oh, yuck!" from downstairs, followed by unhappy cries from Cordy. It turns out that she had a blow-out diaper sometime overnight, and Aaron didn't notice until he got downstairs. We're talking a big, something's-not-right-with-the-digestive-system blow-out diaper. It was Poop Fest 2005: there was watery poop up the back, up her chest, down the legs, and eventually on Aaron and on the floor.

The unhappy cries were from Cordy as she was being cleaned with wet wipes. Wet wipes, while mighty and capable of many things besides cleaning baby butt, cannot withstand a mess like this.

After cleaning her up, Aaron wisely disposed of the toxic waste by putting it in a bag and throwing it in the outside trash can, instead of in the diaper genie. Good daddy.

Then they came upstairs, and when I picked her up, my suspicions of a blow-out diaper were confirmed. She was no longer in her sleeper, and she still smelled horrid. I made the executive decision that a bath was in order. When we stripped her down, I could see the redness and the rash extending from her belly button to her knees. Poor thing.

After a happy bath, she was dried off and moisturized to take care of that rash, then dressed in new clothing. But I could still tell something was off. She wasn't all that interested in food, including when we went out to eat. If my bottomless-pit just picks at her grilled cheese, then I know there's something wrong.

We went out shopping in the afternoon (what the hell was I thinking?) and after sitting in traffic for far too long, we came home. As I sat down to look at the mail, I noticed the smell again. Damn damn damn.

I stripped Cordy down, and was greeted with oozing tapioca poop. I guess she didn't want me to feel left out of the Poop Fest. Once again, poop was everywhere. After cleaning her up, cleaning myself up, and cleaning the carpet, I put some toys out for Cordy to play with. She was on clothing change #3 for the day, I was on #2.

She was showing no interest in playing, so I tried a little Wiggles therapy. That worked long enough for me to call her pediatrician and ask if this was some weird reaction to her shots from Wednesday. The nurse on call said it was probably just a bug, and to keep her on clear fluids and away from dairy. I was still not convinced, since her only symptoms were diarrhea and a bad rash.

15 minutes later, Cordelia convinced me by throwing up on me. Damn damn damn. To make it worse, she also wanted to cling to me and only me - daddy wasn't good enough. So I sat there in wet, vomit-covered pants for a few minutes to calm her down. Of all the times that she only wants me, I wondered why it had to be now?

I got free and changed into outfit #3 and changed her into her sleeper after she vomited a little bit more. She was clearly exhausted. A little Tylenol, and a small bottle later (yes, we went against the nurse's orders - without a little bottle of milk, this kid won't sleep) she drifted off to sleep and Aaron placed her in her crib. We'll hold off on the second bath until tomorrow - I don't think her red, chapped and rashy bottom can handle any more abuse right now.

As long as she's not any worse tomorrow, we'll spare her the visit to the doctor's. I'm praying that this will pass before tomorrow night. We're pretty much required to show up at my father's family gathering - well, Cordelia is required to be there, and I think Aaron and I are optional.

It's really the worst time to be sick - she has the opportunity to be a plague bearer and infect many, many people over the next three days. Maybe it'll make people think twice before snatching her from us and kissing her?

I find it interesting that someone found my site by doing a Google search for "stage combat Columbus Ohio". I decided to check out where I ranked in that list, and wouldn't you know it? I'm first.

Gee, I feel so special, considering I mentioned Aaron's stage combat in one post. Wait, that would be two now, I guess.

Must tell my husband to update his site and include more talk about stage combat.

See, Aaron? This is why you should get certified and start teaching in Columbus. It's clearly an open playing field.

Oh, and in case you're searching for stage combat choreography in Columbus: Aaron is for hire.

Now back to your regularly scheduled mommy blog.

Today my daughter is 15 months old. Just 15 months ago I was at the hospital, having her cut out of me, because she was too damn stubborn to turn head down. I now believe that a person's personality can be seen even before they are born: Cordelia is proof of that. But that story is for another day.

We celebrated the 15 month anniversary of her birth with a visit to the pediatrician for her well-baby checkup. She was happy at first, showing off her new walking skills in the waiting room, smiling at the other kids in the room, and being damn cute. But then her name was called, and as I started to walk her back the hallway to the examination room, her eyes widened as if she had a flashback and remembered that she did. not. like. this. place. Then the crying started.

First up were the statistics. She weighed in at 25 lbs 12 ozs. That put her in the 90th percentile for her age. No big surprise there, since she's always been near the top. Her height was 32.5 inches. This was a big jump - at 12 months she was 30 inches and in the 75th percentile. Now she's back up into the 95th percentile again.

Finally, they measured her head size. 19.5 inches. I snickered while the nurse placed the dot on her chart at, oh, around the 120th percentile mark. Yes, my daughter has a large head. "Would ya look at the size of that kid's head! It's the size of a planetoid and it has it's own weather system! Looks like an orange on a toothpick! I'm not kidding, that kid's head is like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy at parts!" (bonus points for naming the movie here)

The nurse then left her alone, and Cordy calmed down and decided to explore the little room we were in. The fun was soon dispersed when the doctor came in the room. Cordy gave him the evil eye and hugged my knee as if it was a shield between her and the mean guy with the pokey things.

The doctor's comments:

"She's growing well." Well, duh. It's clear the kid is an amazon. My mom is already dreaming of her being a basketball player. Or maybe hockey. Still, I have to admit I love seeing those stats. You'd think I was judging her stats like a report card - everything in the 90's, so she's getting an A. I must tell myself, it's not a race.

"As long as she's eating well, she doesn't need vitamins." Good to know. And as long as you consider ice cream, chicken nuggets, and PB&J eating well, then she's great. Eating fruits and veggies is often a bit of a battle, though.

"What made you think she should be wearing soft shoes? Put her in hard soled shoes for normal foot development." OK, this one made me a wee bit angry. Gee, where did I get a crazy idea like that? Maybe it was from reading the quotes of pediatricians recommending soft shoes, or maybe it was this research done by Dr. Lynn T. Staheli, director of orthopedics at Children's Hospital? Or it could have been the information I found from the Canadian Pediatric Society, but, well, they're Canadians, so we can't trust them, right? Or maybe it was something I read from those quacks over at the American Academy of Pediatrics, but what do they know, anyway?

"She certainly has good lungs." Yeah, and if you put your finger any closer, you might even get to experience how strong her teeth are as well.

"Oh, we're all out of the flu shot." They gave my daughter a half dose of the flu vaccine a month ago, but didn't think to keep any back for when she needed the other half? *bangs head against wall*

Don't get me wrong: I sorta like Cordy's pediatrician. He's friendly and seems like a nice guy, but he doesn't have the touch that our old nurse practicioner had (she retired when Cordy was 9 months old). And he looks at me funny when I tell him of research I've read, or when I tell him we give Cordy organic whole milk. He's young, and probably fresh out of med school, and clearly seems a little nervous around educated parents. I'm going to give him another try or two, and then switch doctors if my opinion of him doesn't improve.

Finally, what doctor's visit could be complete without shots? Cordelia got two today, including her first MMR, which the nurse informed me was probably painful for her. Great. Cordy was so upset at that point that she didn't even want me to comfort her. Probably thinking I'm the worst mommy ever for putting her through that. Sigh...this isn't the last time you'll have to do things you don't like, child.

The good news is that Cordelia is as healthy as can be. Her reflux is pretty much gone, so we can discontinue her meds for that. She's right on track developmentally, including her temper and stranger anxiety. And, barring any illness, we won't have to see the inside of that office again until 18 months.

Today I found out that our natural gas bill will be going up 49% for January. That's not a typo: forty-nine percent! This is after several other smaller, although no less significant, rate increases over the past few months. They say the rate increases are due to the hurricanes in the Gulf, and that things won't return to normal until this next summer, when we won't need the natural gas as much. How convenient for them.

According to Columbia Gas, this means that the average family here in Ohio will be paying $315.90 to heat their house this January, versus $212.66 this month.

Looking at our past gas bills, the highest we have paid was about $200, and that was last January. We were shocked when our fairly low usage November bill turned out to be $130. If the weather continues to confuse Ohio with the Arctic Circle, we'll probably have a $400 gas bill for January.

That amount is more than a budget breaker - it's downright painful. We'll be able to cover it somehow; as a last resort, we can always use money from our small emergency savings account (which I think this would qualify as a proper use for). And there's a chance we'll be getting some cash for Chrismukkah, which could partially go towards the bill.

But what worries me far more is how will those who don't have an emergency savings and those living on strict budgets make it through the winter?

Most homes in this area are heated using natural gas. Portable space heaters can only do so much, and they pose a huge fire risk: just last night a father and daughter were killed in Columbus when their heater caught fire. And I can't imagine going without heat.

When I drive to my father-in-law's house, I pass a run down house that shows signs of people living there, including children. But several of the windows are broken out. One window has cardboard covering it, and another has a blanket over it. I can't even imagine how cold it gets. I want to run up to that house, give them all coats and warm blankets and somehow magically fix their windows.

Our governor (you know, the one who got impeached) is releasing extra welfare money for heating assistance this winter, but I don't know how much it will help. I think this situation shows that there needs to be a more permanent solution for helping people heat their homes.

As for us, we can count ourselves lucky that we have all of our windows and even though it will hurt, we'll be able to pay our gas bill. Tonight I'm going out in search of heavy curtains for our house. While our house is less than 2 years old, it still seems to have several air leaks, and there is always a draft near the living room windows. Hopefully heavy curtains will help keep the warm air in a little better.

We'll also continue washing all of our clothes in cold water and taking shorter showers to keep the use of natural gas to a minimum with the hot water heater. The house temperature is set at 68, and I hope we won't have to lower it more than that. I found a good list of natural gas conservation tips here.

I think I now know what I want for Christmas, but I don't know if the gas company sells gift certificates?

Cordy and I enjoyed a fun morning of Wiggles and playtime before I went to work today. She slept in until 8:40 (which is AMAZING - she's normally up by 6:30!), and best of all: she woke up in a good mood! I was amazed at my luck! Normally Aaron gets up with her in the morning, but he had to go into work at dark-thirty today, and I was left to get up with her (sorry dear, guess it was my lucky day). So, to celebrate, here are some pictures of Cordelia doing what she does best: look cute.

Some kids teeth using teething rings and toys. Mine? She prefers a sock:


Attack of the spoon-baby!!

Impish smile:


Now, I've seen a lot of discussion on the blogosphere and forums about how to have a Christmas tree and toddler live together peacefully in the same home. Some suggest not decorating the bottom third of the tree. Others say to put only unbreakable ornaments down low.

Our solution? Cage it:

And for those looking closely, yes, it is a geek tree. You can probably spot several superhero ornaments, and the Darth Tater hiding on the shelf behind the tree.

Kristi has tagged me to tell the world 5 weird or quirky things about myself. OK, you asked for it:

1. I am not squeamish, and in fact, have a fascination with death. This in no way means I am seeking it out, but I find the rituals and taboos surrounding death very interesting. I love watching the Discovery Health channel. Yes, I watched it all the time for Special Delivery and all the other labor and delivery shows when I was pregnant, but I'm also a big fan of Dr. G, Medical Examiner. She spends her time examining dead bodies to help discover what it was that killed them - how cool is that!? OK, yeah, I said it was weird. Oh, and I love the new TV drama Bones - about a forensic anthropologist solving crimes by using evidence found on a dead person.

2. I know more than the average bear about Tudor and Elizabethan England. After all, that's what I got my degree in. I also spent 10 years working at the Ohio Renaissance Festival as a performer and historical advisor. It was an amazing time in history - the English Reformation, the first great English Queen, the fabulous clothing! If you ever need help writing a paper on it, I'm a wealth of information. Just don't take me to see a movie about that time period - you'd get sick of me muttering, "That didn't happen" and "That's not quite right" and "What a horrible attempt at costuming!"

3. I love to start new things, but have a lot more trouble finishing them. That's why I currently have 6 cross-stitch projects that are unfinished (including the ABC's quilt that was supposed to be for Cordy when she was born), 1 knitting project that may never be finished, lots of baby slings that I need to work harder on selling, and countless books that I have started yet never made it to the end. I guess I get really excited about new things, but then once I'm into them, it's not as exciting anymore, and so I lose interest. Good thing I'm not that way about parenting.

4. I'm incredibly blase. My husband loves to point this out. It takes a lot to really get me upset or excited or impressed or anything (unless it involves my daughter - any action by her gets a response from me). His best example: when the title of the second Star Wars film was announced (Attack of the Clones), we had a discussion about it with some friends. At one point, our friend Jonn picked up a pair of fabric shears (scissors, for those of you who don't sew), and pretended to stab himself with them repeatedly, saying "Kill me now!". Without losing a beat, I said "Jonn, don't use those. They're only for cutting fabric." Apparently everyone found my lack of emotion hilarious. To be honest, fabric shears should only be used on fabric; cutting anything else will dull the blades.

5. Like Kristi, I'm so not a girlie-girl. Nearly all of my favorite outfits involve a pair of jeans and a sweater, sweatshirt, or t-shirt. I only dress up for special occasions, or for the Renaissance Festival, but that's different (I'm the one in red & gold). Pink is usually not something I can stand. I made it a point to have no pink decorations when putting together Cordy's nursery. I also rarely wear makeup, and I always ask that my hair is cut in such a way that I can wash it, comb it, and go. Bangs are forbidden.

So, there you go, 5 weird things about me. Now, will anyone keep coming back to read my blog after this, or did I scare everyone away?

When I was a kid, I was an expert at Christmas lists for Santa, or for anyone who would buy me gifts. I would carefully craft my list for the family, precisely detailing each item. It had to be the Butterscotch My Little Pony - if you got me Snuzzle I'd throw it out the window. And if someone was getting me Voltron (yep, I loved girl and boy toys), it had better be the metallic lions, not the crappy plastic version, or worse - the Voltron made of cars. Ick.

Of course, I also had to make sure it was as easy as possible for people to find these toys. So on my list I included where each item could be purchased, even noting the prices and page numbers if they were available in the J.C. Penney Wish Book. I may have even included the catalog's phone number as well; after all, I didn't want to risk getting clothing because they didn't know how to order my toys!

And like many girls, I also always included a real pony on my list. Not surprisingly, I never got that item. It was probably for the best: we lived in town and I doubt the landlord would have given us our deposit back for hoofprints on the walls.

I found myself having trouble this year coming up with a Christmas list for my family. I was happy to receive their lists and start planning what to get them, but when it came to me, I was drawing a blank. What do I want, anyway?

Most Christmas wishes I can think of are either intangible gifts or gifts that would be considered "for the house". I'd love a small chest freezer so I could stock up on frozen foods when they go on sale. Or maybe a day where I escaped wearing any of my daughter's meals in any form. And what mom wouldn't love more sleep? That would be a great gift - sleeping in until noon.

I'd also like my house to magically clean itself to spare me the upcoming work of making it presentable for family. We have to rearrange furniture to make room for all of the people coming to our house on Christmas Day, vacuum, dust, mop, and in general turn our house into something it hasn't been since, um, last Christmas.

However, an item someone can purchase for me? I just don't know. Last year I got a gift card for Bath & Body Works so that I could spend some time pampering myself (ours has a partial spa in it). I still have over $60 on that $100 gift card, because while I'd love to have more massages and facials, it's very hard to do so when I have a toddler to keep my eye on. I managed to get one facial when I had a day off work but still took Cordy to see her grandfather for the day. Since then, I haven't been able to find time to schedule another. Hell, I barely find time to shower 4 of 7 days a week (5 days if I'm lucky).

I'll ask you: what are you asking for this Christmas (or Hanukkah, or other holiday)? And can it be found in the J.C. Penney Wish Book?

Today I was happy to read this article on the NY Times web site. It discusses the trend of babywearing in New York City, describing a "try-on" party being held in a sandwich shop to let parents try out new types of baby carriers.

While not an expert on the subject, I happen to know quite a bit about babywearing and I love seeing positive news about it. When Cordelia was born she was, um, not a happy baby. A shrieking banshee is how I described her, I think. She refused to come out and greet the world (full breech requiring c-section), and once she was yanked out unceremoniously to a cold, harsh world, she made her feelings well known.

The first week at home was a nightmare. There was crying, there was wailing, there was thrashing - and that was just me. Cordy was determined to prove to us that we were the Worst People Ever for taking her from her warm womb. We were given a ring sling from a friend of mine who sews slings. She made her first one as a response to having a first child much like mine, and from there decided that all the new parents she knew must have one. Bless her.

We used the sling the first week, and oh, how it helped! Along with tight swaddling (we love our nurses for teaching us this!), our colicky daughter loved being held tight up against my body in the sling. I could walk around the house, and to her it was just like old times, complete with hearing my heartbeat, feeling my warmth, and being swayed by the same movement as before. Aaron and I would take turns wearing her, walking around the living room, gently bouncing up and down on an exercise ball - anything to quiet her down and make her feel more at home.

I read up on the use of slings, including the wisdom of Dr. Sears (like Dr. Spock, only crunchier), and realized that there was actual research to back up the use of these things. The NY Times article mentions this:

Aside from using the fabric as a fashionable way to feature their infants, who are, after all, the most winning fashion accessories imaginable, they saw baby-wearing as a wise, age-old practice. Babies who are worn by their parents cry less and are more engaged in the world around them, according to experts on raising children.

People, listen to me: screw fashion. Pay attention to the last part of that quote, because that's the nugget of Truth. Cordelia lived in that sling at least 4-6 hours a day during her first three months. Without it, I don't think I could have survived. Or at least not without far stronger antidepressants than they were already giving me.

As she got older, we needed the sling far less, although it was still a very convenient way to travel. If I was running errands, it was much easier to throw on the sling and put her in it at each stop, rather than lug the SUV stroller out of the trunk each time. I could also get things done around the house without the worry of her waking up the second I set her down (and she was so good at popping open those eyes the second she touched the cotton sheet).

The ring sling also gave Aaron extra bonding time with Cordy. Hollywood be damned: there's nothing sexier than a man wearing a baby. OK, maybe a man wearing a baby doing dishes.

As Cordy got older, we started trying some other carriers. She never liked the Bjorn or the Snugli, so we sold them. I bought an asian-style Mei Tai, and that worked very well once she was sitting up and more mobile. It can be worn either on your front or back. I preferred the backpack style.

I also bought a Mei Hip carrier. I love these things! It's a lot like the Playtex Hip Hammock. It has a single strap that goes across you, a strap around your waist, and the baby sits in a fabric seat at your hip. Very comfortable, very easy to use. It also helps that I've got, ahem, "good" hips for carrying a baby like that. The Mei Hip saves my arms from tiring at least.

My only complaint with the NY Times article is that it is far too short and doesn't have enough information. The author briefly covers the topic, but other than the one passage I quoted, doesn't even begin to cover all of the benefits of babywearing. I will happily sing the praises of babywearing to any who will listen. Hell, I even got myself quoted in Parents magazine.

If you're interested in learning more about babywearing, or seeing the research that the NY Times refers to, I'd suggest checking out TheBabywearer.com or Nine in Nine Out. They can give you information on the different types of baby carriers, match up which carrier is right for you, and you can find support from other moms and dads who believe in babywearing.

*This Public Service Announcement brought to you by a happy babywearing mommy. Oh, and the letter Y and the number 4.

My little Baby Einstein was playing with her Noah's Ark set today, and left it like this:


Oh, if only Noah had been given his own helicopter! Maybe it would have been less than 40 days and 40 nights, and maybe those doves could have had a rest!

I consider myself very lucky that we were able to ditch the expense of daycare when I switched to a part-time job. I work Monday thru Wednesday, and then have Thursday thru Sunday off. On Mondays, Cordy goes to Aaron's dad's house. He lives in town, is a freelance Web designer and writer who works from home, and he loves spending the day with her.

Tuesday, she goes to my friend Lisa's house. Lisa is a SAHM with a little boy 5 months older than Cordelia. I pay her for her trouble, because well, she's not family, so she's in no way obligated to this little girl. It's good for both kids - they get to socialize and deal with the fact that other kids will play with their toys, so they'd better learn to just get along.

Wednesdays are really great, though. My mom, who lives 45 min. away in my hometown, drives up to our house to spend the day watching Cordy. She willingly gives up one of her two days off a week to make the drive up. It's just one of many reasons why I think my mom is awesome.

My mom was divorced when I was a little over a year old, and she raised me on her own while working full-time as a laboratory technician (which doesn't pay well). She's always been there for me for anything, and after Cordy was born, she was just as willing to help out with her, too. She was here at least once a week helping me when Cordy was a newborn, and when we needed to get rid of daycare, she volunteered to babysit.

Now, there is one odd thing about when my mom comes up to our house. If she sees something that needs done, she does it without asking. It's something most of our family does, although that particular trait seems to have skipped me. This often means coming home to the dishes washed, our clothing washed, or some part of the house cleaned. She also often takes Cordy out and goes shopping for us, or other times shows up at the door in the morning with bags of diapers and wipes for us (she's supplied about 75% of Cordy's diapers thus far). This Wednesday, she bought more overnight diapers for Cordelia. I thought that was all she did, but then I found the pile of clean baby clothing and noticed the bathroom upstairs was cleaned.

We don't ask her to do these things at all - I swear! But Cordy isn't as clingy with her as she is with me, so my mom can get more done around here than I can. Anytime I try to clean when I'm alone with Cordelia, she throws a fit that I'm not right next to her watching the Wiggles. Mom has yet to share with me her magical skills of getting everything done while keeping Cordy happy. I really, really wish she'd let me in on the secret.

Of course, not all is sunshine and rainbows with this deal. In return for her doing all of these things, we often must listen to lectures about how cluttered our house is, how we need to spend more time doing this or that, how we need to better manage our money, etc. This doesn't bother me - I've been living with that arrangement with her for my entire life, and I have to admit she often speaks the truth.

Aaron, on the other hand, really gets annoyed. The two of them get along, and Aaron often proudly claims that he is one of the few he knows who likes his mother-in-law. But Aaron doesn't like being told that we're bad housekeepers. Lately, he's started washing all the dishes sitting around every Wednesday morning so my mom won't have any to wash. He'll also pick up any personal items lying around and put them away to keep her from putting them somewhere he won't find them.

I'm starting to wonder if my mom is using some kind of reverse psychology on him? I mean, I don't think she's sitting around thinking, "OK, if I just do his chores, but do them slightly differently than him, it'll drive him crazy! Then he'll start doing them just to make sure I don't mess up his system! Mwahahahaha!" But if she is trying to make him do his chores more often, it seems to be working.

I'm very thankful that we have so much help from our families. Without them, the parent gig would be much more difficult. I don't know how those without family around manage everything, and I don't know how my mom managed as a single mom. But I do know I consider myself very lucky for the help we do have.

** Oh, and we're not the total slobs I'm making us sound like here. We just have a lot of clutter, and a child who likes to throw all of her toys into the middle of the floor. There's a big difference between dirty and cluttered. And in a week it will be spotless for Christmas, because the rest of my family will be here, and there's no way Aaron wants them to start in on the housework also.

Scene: The living room, last night

Me: Well, after an hour of crunching numbers, I'm done balancing the checkbook.

Aaron: (not looking up from his computer) And?

Me: I've determined we eat out too much, and it's killing our budget.

Aaron: We knew that. So, how is our financial situation at the moment?

Me: Currently? Our 14 month old daughter has more money in her account than we do.

(Pause)

Aaron: (still not looking up from his computer) Hmmm...guess she's buying the Christmas gifts this year, eh?

I can't put it off any longer. Tonight I must sit down and balance the checkbook. The receipts have been stacking up, the debit card is looking worn out, and the bills are starting to menace me from their shelf above the computer. I'm also a little scared by what I see on our online account balance, because, well, I thought we had more than that at the moment.

In our family, I've always been the money manager. Aaron will admit without any shame that he has a serious allergy to money: when given any, he will buy stuff as quickly as possible to get it away from him. He also dislikes the tedious task of entering each transaction into the register and tracking what has cleared and what hasn't. I love balancing the checkbook, however. Thanks to the beauty of Microsoft Money, I can track when bills are due, enter transactions with ease, and run fun reports showing me just where all of our money is going. Well, mostly fun reports; seeing that much of our money goes to gas, fast food, and Aaron's comics isn't so much fun.

When we were living together in years BC (Before Cordelia), I'd sometimes balance the checkbook every day. I'd collect the day's receipts, enter them, pay any bills that we got in the mail the day before, and reconcile everything with the online account summary. I'd check off each transaction as the bank processed it, smug in knowing that every penny was accounted for.

That doesn't happen so much anymore. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but suddenly managing the money is much more difficult. There are stacks of receipts in the little box next to my computer, waiting to be entered.

And then there are the receipts that never make it to the box, causing me to curse under my breath while adding an entry for a purchase I have no memory of.

The bills, which at one time barely left the mailman's hands before they were paid, are now living a dusty life of days or weeks on the computer desk before they are given any attention.

In October, I (somehow) was late on 75% of our bills. Before this, I had never once, in my entire life, missed a payment deadline. Never! Not even when I was a drunk sorority girl in college!

How did one little baby cause me to fall so far? Well, my time is certainly more precious these days. I can no longer agonize over Microsoft Money, trying to figure out if tickets to wrestling should be categorized as Cultural Event or Sporting Event.

Any time that Cordelia is awake makes it impossible to balance the checkbook, since if I stopped in the middle of adding receipts, I'd never remember where I was. I'm now forced to do my financial duties at night, when she is asleep, but this often means I'm so tired that I don't give a damn and put it off for another night. And so two weeks will go by before I'll even glance at the receipts box again, which by that time makes the job a full-hour of entering data and marking off items that have cleared.

To add to the "joy", we also don't have nearly as much money coming in now that I am working part-time, which makes it even more important to keep a close eye on our account balance.

Oh how I miss those days of running reports and casually balancing the checkbook each day. But thanks to my lack of time and forgetful mommy brain, I consider it a good month when we make most of the bill payments on time and don't fall into the red in the checking account.

In January, we'll be packing up the family and making our annual pilgrimage to Chicago. We have no family there, but every January there is a stage combat workshop help at Columbia College and Aaron attends to learn new ways to pretend to kill people on stage. I go along to visit the Field Museum, the Art Institute, and the Mecca they call Ikea.

Why they have this thing in winter, in Chicago, is beyond me. Do they laugh at those of us who pray for good weather, hoping we don't have to drive the five hours in a blizzard? Our luck over the years has been so-so: three years of good to decent weather, two years of snow, ice, and subzero weather. Last year was the best year yet, which means we're likely doomed this year.

This is also the first year we're taking Cordelia with us. Last year my mother convinced us at the last moment that taking a 4 month old to Chicago was a bad idea. She stayed at our house while we were gone and cared for Cordy. Now my mom is coming along with us; with Aaron gone all day each day, I'll need all the help I can get, and mom's a great mother's assistant.

However, I realized that I need a new stroller for the trip. Aaron thinks I'm insane. OK, I'll admit it: we have three strollers. But each has a very distinct purpose.

The first: the Graco Quattro, or as I call it, our "SUV Stroller". It held the car seat when Cordy was tiny, and now it's the ultimate in cushy comfort, with a huge basket as well. But it's also heavy and enormous - not something to cram into an already overpacked car, and not easy to carry up and down steps.

Next, the $12.99 Babies R Us umbrella stroller. Very lightweight, folds down to nearly nothing. But it's also just barely off the ground (if there's snow, it would never move), has no basket, and it's rather uncomfortable for Cordy to sit in for long periods of time.

Finally, our Graco CitySport. It's the medium stroller: not too big, not too small. But it was a garage sale purchase, and it's starting to show its age. Wheels that squeal, a recline that doesn't work very well, and the basket is tiny. It also folds down thin, but it's still wide and hard to carry.

So, I've decided that I need another stroller for Chicago. Something lightweight, but also roomy and lightly padded for Cordy's comfort. Preferably easy to carry and easy to fold. It has to have a basket as well, and be able to recline for naps. The seat needs to be decently high off the ground if I'm pushing it over snow. And it needs to have good steering and wheels that can handle uneven pavement. A tricked out sound system would be nice, too. Wait, I'm kidding on that last one. Maybe.

Finally, it can't cost too much. We're a little cash poor right now, so I'd prefer nothing over $100. Actually, Aaron would prefer nothing over $100.

And now the stroller hunt begins. I'm realizing that this stroller probably doesn't exist, but it's not going to stop me from scouring the web to find it. After all, if you can find a ghost in a bottle for sale, you can find anything on the web.

Cordy's first experience playing in the snow:

Last week we noticed that Aaron's brake lights had gone out on his car. We realized that driving with them out was, well, illegal. But it seemed silly to pay someone to put a lightbulb in the car. Coming from a family of all women (feminists, too!), most of whom are well-educated in not only cooking and gardening but also car and home repair, I figured this would be a simple fix. After all, they had done this type of thing dozens of times! I looked in the owner's manual, found the light bulb part number, and bought the bulbs for him to replace them.

Aaron wasn't sure about it, but I reminded his that he can change a tire, and, well, this is far easier than changing a tire. He braves the cold to make an attempt at this. Fifteen minutes later, he comes back in and asks me to check and see if they're working. I check. "Well, dear, there's no brake light, still. But now there's no turn signal either." He erupts into cursing (his normal response when he's angry and Cordy isn't around).

My mom came up the next day and took a look at it. Having replaced headlights, tail lights, etc., she hoped to find what he did wrong. She couldn't. Aaron then told us that we should have taken it to Wal-Mart to begin with, since they fix car lights.

OK, fine. We take it to Wal-Mart last night. They take a look at it and tell him it's not the bulbs. Well, hell. So now we have to take it to the dealer.

We then take his car to the dealer today. Turns out it was originally just the bulbs, but Aaron managed to screw up the wiring and broke the socket when he tried to replace them. Damn. He was right - we should have just taken it to a professional. But it was a friggin' lightbulb! How can you screw up a lightbulb?

$189 later, I have learned my lesson. I will never again assume that my husband can do minor repairs on a car to save us money. It will, in fact, end up costing us even more if I urge him to try it. Keeping this in mind, I think I will refrain from asking him to do any home repairs as well.

Today my friend Lisa and I decided to take our children out to see Santa at the mall. Bad idea? Obviously. I suppose we were suffering from some delusion that our toddlers would happily waddle up to Santa, sit on his lap, smile a big toothy smile for the camera, and gladly get back into their strollers afterwards. Heh, right.

My first clue that this would be a disaster should have been when Cordelia decided to abort her nap in the morning. Normally I have the rule that we don't leave the house until she takes her nap, but I blissfully decided that she seemed fine even though she refused to sleep.

We met at the mall, and there was no line to see Santa. Fabulous! I thought, Now at least if they take some time to warm up to Santa, we won't be inconveniencing anyone else. We go up to see Santa, and the "elf" (twiggy blonde teen girl in a skimpy elf costume - do her parents know she's wearing that?) tries to sell us a package. I take Cordy out of the stroller, and she immediately twists herself out of my arms onto the floor. Just when I think she might crawl right over to Santa and make a mommy proud, she bolts for the exit ramp and I have to chase her down. I tell Lisa to go first, while I wrangle with my now shrieking, thrashing monster child who is clearly pissed that I won't let her crawl down the exit ramp.

Lisa has no better luck. While she has the most gentle, mild, well-behaved child I've ever seen, he's also very sensitive. And the thought of getting close to the big man in red with the big white beard, sitting in the massively oversized chair made him burst into tears. Lisa sat with him in the chair with Santa, and Twiggy Elf snapped several shots. Meanwhile, Cordy had decided that now Santa was cool, and she stood up and walked right into several of the pictures. She again resorted to her tazmainian devil impression when I tried to pull her back.

I glance around me and see that somehow, out of nowhere, there is now a line of 7-10 mommies with their beautifully dressed children waiting to see the big man. And the eyes of every single mother were fixed on me as I wrestled with Cordy and tried to bribe her to be good with Goldfish and Gerber puffs. Apparently God hates me for some reason. But I was determined to go through with this, because, well, I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.

Lisa picks the best pic of her son (the pouty-faced one, where he was at least looking at the camera), and Twiggy Elf informs me that we're next. I can feel the heat of the moms in line staring at the back of my head, probably using all of their mental powers to will Cordy to cooperate. I decide not to even risk handing her to Santa, knowing that not even her grandpa can hold her if I'm in the room. I sit down with Santa, and Twiggy Elf, clearly tired of dealing with us, starts shaking her jingle bells to get Cordy's attention while I shove one more goldfish in her mouth to keep her happy. My friend Lisa, with her son back in the stroller, sits under the camera and does a song and dance to also attract Cordy's attention. Cordy sees Lisa and laughs. Twiggy Elf snaps several pics in rapid succession and says, "Well, I think I got one of her smiling."

We get out of the way of the next kid and view our pics. There's not a single one that's good overall. I'm torn between two: one where I look decent and Cordy looks retarded with her mouth half open, or one where she's smiling (although looking away from the camera and from Santa), but I look, well, drunk. I decide to be the selfless mommy and choose the good pic of Cordelia, while adding this to the list of Things I Did For You to present to her whenever she's a rotten teenager someday.

I thank Santa (that man surely does not get paid enough), and we move down the exit ramp to the cashier and to wait for the pics. Cordy thrashes and screeches until I nearly drop her, and then tries to crawl as fast as she can towards the Origins store (I had no idea she was so interested in skin care). I drag her back to the Santa station, which results in her frantic "I'm being tortured" screaming. Plopping her into the stroller, I attempt to strap her in while she does her best to resist my efforts.

Once she's strapped in, she wails and arches her back and shakes the stroller. Now all of the moms in line, along with half of the mall, are staring at us. My face begins to turn red from embarrassment as hers reddens from anger. People walk by, staring at Cordy in a mix of horror and amazement at the sound she's producing. I try to offer her snacks, but she smacks my hand away.

I wait for what seems like an eternity (about 5 minutes), get the pics and make a hasty retreat. Aaron then calls as we're walking out of the mall, asking how things are going. "Well," I respond, "I think most of Easton now thinks we are either the parents of a demon or the worst parents in the world." "Oh, OK," he responds, "Well, I'm going out to get some lunch. I'll talk to you later." Sure, great.

After the Santa fiasco, we rest at Lisa's apartment for awhile, and then I meet up with Aaron. As we're heading home, the snow begins. I knew this was coming. It had been on the news all day. I just didn't realize how fast it would come. The roads are covered in snow, the visibility is squat, and, as usual, Ohio drivers are being stupid. I watch a man take a left turn far too fast and plow his car into a lightpost. I quietly pray to anything that would listen to get us home safe. I've always been annoyed with stupid drivers in bad weather, but Cordy is in the backseat, and the thought of someone hitting us and hurting her is terrifying.

When I was a child, my mom and I were in an accident due to icy roads and I was asleep in the back of the car - the hatchback flat part of the car (yes, no car seat!). I was lucky that it was a slow speed accident - it could have been much worse.

So, we're home now, and the snow is still coming down, and the fireplace is on. I'm pretty sure I earned my glass of wine tonight, along with a nice chocolate and almond bar.

Oh, and the Santa pic? Here you go, but remember that I normally look much better than this:

I left work a little early last night and got home around 7pm. As I walked in the door, I noticed that the lights were low, and the TV was off. I assumed Aaron had just put Cordy to bed. Aaron looked up at me from the couch, where he was playing City of Heroes on the computer. "Hi dear! You're home early."

"Yeah, well, I finished all my work early. How are you?"

"Doing fine. We're having a little bit of quiet play: I'm playing on the computer, and she's playing quietly on the floor."

At this point I realize I haven't seen anything else moving in our living room. I thought she was already in bed. I scan the room for a moment, panicked that perhaps the gate was down and she had climbed the stairs, and then notice this:

"Um, Aaron, she's asleep."

"What? No, she's just playing with the basket on the floor, see?"

Examining her more closely: "No, dear, she's out. Out cold." I stroked her cheek, which normally wakes our light sleeper, but she gave no response other than sighing quietly. Oh, those baby sighs, how I love hearing them!

"But...no! She was just playing with the basket! I saw her playing with the basket!"

I don't know when he last looked up from his game to check on her, but it hadn't been recently. Or if he did glance at her, it wasn't long enough to notice that she wasn't moving, and that she and the basket had not changed positions since the last time.

As I tried to get her ready for bed, she didn't even wake when I undressed her. She was sleeping deeply, and had probably been sleeping deeply for at least 10 minutes before I got home. The flash of my camera didn't even disturb her.

As I was perusing the Columbus Craigslist, looking for good deals on used toys and gear, I came across this ad. Now, I love cutesy little gifts for new moms, but this was just disturbing to me.

It's soap, hand-carved in the shape of a baby. It's creepy. Besides the fact that each of these soaps looks like one of those weird 3-D ultrasound images, there's the question of what do you do with it?

You might choose to save it as a keepsake. But then you've got a piece of soap sitting on the shelf next to your baby's picture and other knick-knacks. And a piece of soap on the mantle just seems out of place.

On the other hand, you could use the soap. I don't know about you, but I'd feel oddly guilty about washing myself with a baby's backside, causing it to deform as the water wears parts of it away unevenly. Then it would be this horrible, disfigured baby, and I'd have to throw it away or risk having nightmares about children with no arms or no noses.

So if you're considering something "unique" for that new mom in your life, please stay away from this unless you really want to send that poor mom into years of therapy and an aversion to cleanliness.

After years of trying to lose weight, I learn that I've been doing it all wrong! According to this article, researchers are finding that people who drink moderately (that's only 1-2 drinks a day for you boozers out there) have a lower risk of obesity than those who drink heavily or don't drink at all. I've been doing it all wrong - I should be drinking more, not less!

It all makes sense to me. Think of the French. Lovely people, and my God they're thin! What do they do everyday? They drink a glass of wine with their meals! If a glass of wine can take on a French pastry and win, that's enough proof for me. Also, the Italians are another perfect example: a little alcohol keeps the pasta pounds at bay.

Of course, the study researchers say that the findings don't prove that overweight people should take up drinking to lose weight. I say that's just what the government is making them say to keep people from being regular drinkers. It also covers their asses, so people don't drink and do something stupid and sue them. Besides, I've given diets with far less plausible evidence of success a try ("Eat all the high-fat food you want and lose weight!"), why not this one? And it's not like they're telling people to go out and get smashed; one to two drinks a day (consider a drink is 4oz. or 1 shot) is not a lot.

So, if you'll excuse me, mommy needs a glass of wine right now.

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Originally uploaded by A Mommy Story.

For her first birthday, we bought Cordelia this adorable little chair that was just her size. Our hopes were that she would sit in it instead of screaming for us to pick her up and put her on the couch. Being on the couch inevitably led to her falling off the couch and hurting herself. She needed furniture that was less dangerous.

And as toddlers are well-known for, she showed us that she wasn't about to do what we want her to do. She preferred to stand up in the chair, sit on the arms, and generally use it every way possible except the way that involves her butt on the seat. As for it being less dangerous? Oh no, she found ways to make it dangerous! Leaning back while standing on the seat to tip it over, sitting on the arm and falling off backwards - Cordy has proven that there is no such thing as a safe piece of furniture.

Over the weekend, though, we saw her sitting in her cushy chair. As in, butt-on-the-seat. I was shocked. She looked at me, grinning her "You didn't expect that, did you?" grin, then said "Sthit." She then stood up and sat back down, repeating "Sthit."

It appears she has learned the word sit (or I suppose it could be shit, as Aaron is known to say that a lot around her), as well as the action of sitting down. We applauded her and praised her, which led to more Sthit-ing and sitting.

The next new trick was the old "where's your nose?" game. For months we've been pointing to our own noses and hers and repeating, "Mommy's nose. Cordy's nose. Daddy's nose. Kitty's nose." She usually just looked at us like we were some weirdos with a nose fetish. However, this weekend we asked her "Where's your nose?" and she pointed to it! Yay! The little girl has given into the urges of society and mimicked it! Wait, that's not supposed to be a good thing...

Just to add to her language explosion, today she was reading a book while I changed her diaper (getting her started on bathroom reading early, I guess), and she lifted the book up to look at me and said, "Bouuuuk." She now knows the word book, although she pronounces it in a haughty, over-enunciated, strange accent: "Booouuuuk."

It seems she's been holding out on us, vocabulary-wise.

So today Aaron was ready to hand in his parenting badge and quit. On a long drive we had a conversation of short, annoyed sentences with long silences inbetween each. During this conversation, I learned that Aaron felt like he will never be able to do anything simply again because we have a child. Everything takes more work, and half the time we don't get to do what we want because we have a baby. While I realize it had been a tough weekend for him (he got some daddy-daughter time both mornings while I was out working or volunteering), I admit I was surprised by what he said.

He told me that all we did this weekend was made incredibly difficult because Cordy had to be considered. We went to lunch with his father on Saturday in a market that can only be described as a zoo, and had to restrain a cranky toddler while begging her to eat something more than goldfish crackers and the napkin. He wanted to drive two hours to visit friends and game with them (staying the night), but couldn't because I needed him to watch Cordy this morning while I was volunteering. And we agonized over going to a holiday party today because we weren't sure how Cordelia would handle it (and, for the record, she threw her best tantrum yet for the entire party, then spit up all over me, prompting an early exit).

OK, maybe I can see his point a little. But part of me was also angry at him. "Kids are work! Kids require you to be selfless!" I said to myself over and over, but I didn't voice these comments for fear of setting off a big fight (I hate confrontation, especially over dumb crap like this). Part of me wanted to say, "Well, tough, you can't give her back now, so shut up and deal with it." I didn't understand his frustration, because it doesn't affect me that strongly.

Why do I seem to handle the crimp put on our social life more than him? Can it be something deep down in the mommy genetic code that makes a woman more capable of being less selfish and doing whatever needs to be done for her child? I'm not saying I don't long for the way it was from time to time. I miss hanging out with friends, going to the movies or dinner at the last minute, and sleeping in until 10am (oh, how I miss sleeping in until 10am!). But I don't get angry about it, and certainly not at Cordy. I know it's all part of the parent deal - a cute, loving, pain-in-the-ass and inconveniencing child. I've come to terms with the fact that arranging a date night involves consulting the schedules of all of our friends and family, balancing that against what movies are showing and what time Cordy will go to bed, charting the phase of the moon and synchronizing watches. It's more work, but we still get to go out every now and then.

Luckily, Aaron's trip to the "pity me" party didn't last all that long, and on the way home from the holiday party we both peeked into the back seat and our hearts melted looking at our little angel, sleeping peacefully snoring loudly in the backseat. I think it was just a moment of weakness for him - he is a good daddy and I don't think he would give up his little girl for anything.

Hi, I'm Christina. I currently reside in Columbus, Ohio. No cow-town jokes, please - I've heard them all before. Sharing this house with me include my husband, Aaron, and our two children, Cordelia (7) and Miranda (4). A couple of lazy, heat-seeking Siamese cats are often seen near the fireplace, too.

My background:
Long before I was a mom, I had dreams of being a professor of history, with my focus on Elizabethan England. For 10 years I played the reality show version of the Renaissance as a performer at the Ohio Renaissance Festival, where I met my husband. Grad school didn't go how I wanted it to, though, and soon I was working from home as a tech writer. Life was pretty good.

Enter parenthood. I soon quit my job to pursue a part-time job at a local university and a larger role as a mommy. Two years later, I became a stay-at-home mom when Mira was born.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that once I switched to part-time, I also went back to school for nursing. I graduated in June 2009 and became a labor & delivery nurse as soon as I got my RN license. I now work for a call-in service that helps new parents with questions about caring for their baby.

Why blogging?
Starting my blog was an attempt to not only chronicle my child's life (the empty baby books still taunt me), but also to find other moms who could reassure me that no, I'm not crazy, and yes, whatever my child is doing has happened to someone else, too. Since then, blogging and social media have brought me a wealth of new friends, and a community that is sometimes scary and awe-inspiring in how unified and supportive it can be. Has my life changed because of blogging? Yes, and in most ways for the better.

More?
I can be reached at amommystory [at] gmail [dot] com if you'd like to send me e-mail. I love mail, as long as it isn't spam or a message telling me how much I suck. I'll admit that while I try to keep up on my e-mail, it's hard to respond to everything. And sometimes that response comes slowly. (Sorry, mom. I swear I'll e-mail you again soon.)

You can also find me on Twitter, where I'm @mommystory.

If you're interested in my opinions on products and services relevant to parents, check out Mommy's Must Haves. PR folks, please direct your inquiries to that site. I'm currently accepting offers of products for reviews, although due to my full time nursing job, I've cut down the number of products I'm reviewing at any given time.

Those interested in advertising opportunities with this site should contact me at amommystory [at] gmail [dot] com for more information.