Archives for June 2006

Browsing through my sitemeter is a terrifying interesting activity. I especially love seeing how new people find my little blog. After all, I rarely earn enough credits to get much exposure on BlogExplosion or BlogMad, and unlike big-name websites, I have no marketing budget for advertising. Many hits to my blog are thanks to Google and it’s semi-omnipotent search engine. Google provides a wealth of information just by typing in a question and pressing submit, and more people than I thought possible use Google to ask questions on nearly any topic imaginable.

And so, based on some of the Google searches I’ve received, I’d like to provide a little assistance to those who are searching for help in the virtual world encyclopedia. Clearly there are a lot of people out there relying on Google searches to find the answers to their life problems. Just consider it giving back.

Benadryl dose travel with toddler
This is probably the #1 Google search that brings people to my blog. I guess I’m not the only one who panics at the idea of traveling in the car or plane for 6 hours with a cranky baby or toddler. That bottle of Benadryl looks so tempting, doesn’t it? Let me keep this simple for you: don’t do it. Don’t dose your kid with Benadryl hoping they’ll sleep, because if you’re like me, Murphy’s Law will come into effect and you’ll be left with a now cracked-out toddler with saucer-eyes who can’t sleep and screams to hear her own voice.

Oh sure, only about 10-20% of kids react this way to Benadryl, but are you really willing to play this game of Russian Roulette? Because if it ends bad, it ends very bad, and you’ll wish you had not given this drug to your screaming monster child at all.

But, if you won’t take my advice, then at least know this: it’s usually 1 tsp. Don’t OD your kid.

only child vs. siblings
My #2 most popular search string, this one is clearly bothering a lot of people as well. Do we have 2 or more kids or be like the Chinese and stick with one? It’s certainly easier to just have one: less cost, and hey, with no aunts and uncles, then you won’t have to worry about having the crazy aunt who buys you cake mix as a gift.

I was an only child, and unlike the stereotype, I did not grow up to become an antisocial, selfish, spoiled brat. Yes, I had moments of feeling very lonely, but I also never had a sibling to annoy the hell out of me. My husband has a little brother, and while they fought a lot as kids, they’re now closer than ever. So there are pros and cons to both situations.

I’m pretty sure Cordy will have a sibling. It’s far cheaper and far less hassle to have only one kid, but Aaron and I both want another child. We want the experience of having a multi-child family, and I am clearly clinically insane and want to go through pregnancy and have an infant again. Besides, with two kids we have double the chance that one of them will become rich and famous and take care of us in our old age.

how to shake butt like Shakira
Um, OK, first you need about 15 years of bellydance lessons. Then some low-rise pants and skirts, and abs of steel (which should be a result of the bellydancing). That should just about do it for you.

Won’t take milk juice water from sippy cup
It took us forever to get Cordy to drink from a sippy cup. She refused it for months. Then when she did give in, she forced us to hold the cup for her while she drank. I am happy to say that at 19 months she was finally holding her own sippy cup and drinking from it.

So give it until 19 months, and then come ask me for advice. Oh, and if you could tell me how to get her to drink from a straw, I’d appreciate it. Because the kid won’t give up the sippy cup now.

toddlers hitting mommies
My beautiful little girl has a hard head, strong teeth, and a wicked backhand. I’ve been slapped around, bit, and headbutted more than I care to admit to. Sometimes she means it, but often she doesn’t realize she’s hurting me. My technique is generally to get down to her level, give her a firm “No [hit, bite, punch, kick, karate chop]!” and then move away from her for a minute or so. Generally she cries, but then after a minute I go comfort her and explain that hitting hurts.

the story about the woman that was put on a boat as a child that came here this week?
…what?!?!?

Q-tip stuck in baby’s nose
Go to the hospital or urgent care. Go directly to the hospital or urgent care. Do not pass Go, do not rely on the internet for self-help guides. And find better ways to pick your child’s nose.

poop diaper blow-out stories
Wait, people look for these kinds of stories? Clearly you’re either a sick person who’s not a parent, or a parent at the end of your rope facing a rotavirus looking for some company with your misery.

baby einstein bad dreams
I totally understand. They give me bad dreams, too. Especially that duck.

I think that’s enough public service for today. But have no fear, I am still keeping track of those Google searches, and will be back another day to lend some support to those who have no one else to turn to but the little search box on Google.com.

And for those not seeking help, a cute picture:

Thoughts that go through my mind right after I’ve fallen down the stairs:

• Ow
• Thank goodness I wasn’t carrying Cordy
• I hate carpeted stairs
• Ow, ow
• Damn, I wasn’t even wearing socks this time (socks make it easier to slip)
• Wow, first time I’ve really fallen down the stairs here.
• Ow, ow, ow
• For once, I’m glad my butt is well-padded

Yes, in fine klutz form, I fell down the stairs yesterday afternoon. It’s been over two years since I really took a tumble, so it caught me by surprise. I was upstairs doing laundry, then started walking down the stairs and around the second step down I overshot the step and slipped. At this point, the slow-motion fall took effect as I skidded down the stairs, unable to stop thanks to the evils of carpeted stairs. Finally, about half-way down, I managed to grab the handrail and stop myself.

Aaron was away for the day, so I was home alone with Cordy. She heard the loud thumps and came around the corner, looking up the staircase at me with her toddler innocence. Mama! she said, holding her empty sippy cup up to me. Who cares that you fell down the stairs – this sippy cup needs juice!

After sitting on the steps for a minute and assessing the injuries, I slowly got up and fulfilled the requests of my toddler boss. No rest for the injured mommy.

I have a history of falling down stairs. (Maybe that’s why we always lived in ranch style houses growing up?) A genetic predisposition to being clumsy + big feet = a danger to myself and others around staircases. I had become over-confident since my last fall, though. I wasn’t holding the handrail. I wasn’t consciously keeping track of where my feet were. There was no thought to the possibility of falling. Complacency is evil, folks.

Today I’m sore, but no permanent damage, other than making me extra cautious around the stairs again. And it means I will continue to hold Cordy’s hand when she makes any attempts to walk down stairs. Seeing her so far, there’s a good chance she’ll inherit my stunt-work.

Aaron’s third interview went extremely well. All they’re waiting for now are the results of a background check (state required) and drug test. When he passes those (which there’s no reason he shouldn’t), he’ll be given an offer! Yay!! I can’t even begin to express how excited I am.

I got dinged from ClubMom. Last month I had received an e-mail saying I wasn’t selected for the first round, but they planned to bring me on for the second round of bloggers. Yesterday I got the final e-mail, saying after some thought they changed their minds. I guess they’re just not that into me. I understand, although I am a little disappointed. I had some big hopes to write the story of planning my second pregnancy via a ClubMom blog, but it wasn’t meant to be. Boo.

Thanks to the recommendation of Kvetch, I went shopping for clothing today at Lane Bryant. I was able to get past the stigma of wearing “big girl” clothing, simply because I’m so sick of not having clothing that fits properly. If it fits in the hips, it’s too big in the waist, and shirts are never long enough. This was different, though, and I got to feel happy trying on clothing. Clothing that fits, is fashionable, and comfortable – what a concept!

However, I do have one complaint: women who wear a size 2 on their fat days should not be allowed to work at Lane Bryant. Not only is it depressing, I simply cannot ask these women for fashion advice. “Do you think this would make my butt look big? Oh wait, I forgot: you don’t have a butt.” Seriously. You can’t tell me these women are working there for the discount.

I am 19 days away from turning 30 (on June 21). I still don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t know if I’m ready to no longer be a 20-something. But I do know what I want for my birthday:

With this chain:

I simply LOVE these necklaces. So elegant, so basic. If you want to see their other designs, you can view more of the Blend Creations designs here.

It’s the first of the month, which means it’s blog exchange time again. This month’s theme is What’s in a Name? Please welcome this month’s guest blogger, Amy from Chicken and Cheese! And don’t forget to check out my post over at her blog!

I never liked my name. Call my name in a crowded mall and you’ll see at least five heads swivel. My name is so common among my age group that I was “Amy H.” until I went to college. While this allowed me to frequently skip a particular class in high school – the teacher always blamed it on Amy I. – I felt I deserved a more unique moniker.

I grew up and grew into my name. It wasn’t just my name, it was my byline — of which I was very proud. I worked hard to achieve my dream, and here it was. A byline! My name! In the newspaper! On a story! That I wrote!

Years later my Plain-Jane Name begat my husband, Channing. He relishes his unusual handle, and it suits him perfectly. He could not be an Albert, or a Harold, or even a Tom or Jim. He is, without a doubt, a Channing.

So when it came time to choose a name for our baby we both understood how daunting a task was at hand. She would carry this label for life. It would, to a great extent, define her in the eyes of others. Let’s be honest – how many people would hire a woman whose resume announced her as “Peachez?”

We had a list. We bought a book. We love traditional names like Genevieve, Evangeline, and Madeleine. Beautiful as they are, we feared they were too trendy. After months of debate, we narrowed it down to two – Matilda and Emmeline.

Both names got mixed reviews, but we didn’t care. I leaned toward Matilda (a family name) while Channing lobbied hard for Emmeline.

Sitting in the doctor’s office after our first ultrasound, we debated again. I caved. Channing won.

Today we have Emmie. She is Emmie, Emmeline, The Poo, the Poodaloo, the Poodalee, Emmie P., Bubbaloo, Baby Girl, Sweetheart and Lovey.

She carries the name of Britain’s leading suffragette, Emmeline Pankhurst. She carries my maiden name in honor of my father. Her name is suitable for Chief Justice, an architect, an engineer, a novelist, or a mommy.

And when she grows up we’ll tell her we almost named her Matilda. She’ll look at us and wrinkle her nose. “Matilda?” she’ll say. “I’m glad I’m Emmie.”

I’m glad, too.

– Amy is a SAHM to her high-energy toddler and a freelance writer. She is soon to be transplanted from her upstate NY home to the Midwest, where she plans to learn 1,000 recipes for corn.

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This post is part of a June Blog Exchange on the theme “What’s in a Name?” Click here to read more. And, if you’d like to participate, email Kristen at kmei26 at yahoo.com.