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September 2, 2010
My baby turned two yesterday. She is toddling and talking and oh dear God wearing UNDERPANTS but I don't care, she is my BABY. My sweet little chubby-cheeked precious darling BABY. Who is busting out of her size 18 month footie pajamas. GAH.

My baby is two and you guys, I can barely remember the days when I had Two Under Two. Oh the accolades I received for something so arbitrary as parenting Two Under Two. To me it was simply the way it was, and I rarely interpreted the not-even-sixteen-month age difference as My Cross to Bear or Lot In Life or what have you. It was tough, it was definitely a lot of work, but isn't that the case no matter how your children are spaced? (I recently spoke with a woman whose two children are twelve months and one day apart. Now THAT woman is allowed her accolades.)  Read More

September 1, 2010
Have you ever been on the outside of a mom clique?  I have.  Sitting in the waiting room of a class my daughter was taking a few years ago, I found myself surrounded by other moms but feeling completely alone.  The other women with children in the class all seemed to know each other.  They volunteered together.  Their husbands were friends.  They shopped together, played together, worked out together and hung out on weekends.

Now this question’s a little harder.  Have you ever been part of a mom clique that excluded someone else?  I have.  But this is harder to pinpoint because when you’re part of the clique, you’re so comfortable and self-absorbed that you often don’t even realize what you’re doing. Read More

August 31, 2010
© Erin Zammett Ruddy
I’m not sure how this happened, but there are almost 100 people coming to Alex’s birthday party. A good portion of that number is under the age of seven and most of them are family but still, that’s a lot of bodies. And a lot of mouths to feed. And you know what? I couldn’t be happier. We didn’t even have a party for Alex last year so this one is all about making up for lost time. It’s also to celebrate the end of an amazing summer (it said so right on the invite) so the over-the-top festivities are not just for the little man. Who, yes, I know, will not even remember this party. If I’m being completely honest, I’m mainly throwing a bash because I love to entertain and I haven’t had a single party this entire summer and we’ve done a lot of work on our backyard and I want to show it off (miraculously Nick kept the lawn and all the flowers I planted alive during the rainless summer).  Read More
August 30, 2010
Dear Preston,

I can’t believe it’s been a year already. You came into this world on August 29, 2009 at 11:39 a.m. via a scheduled c-section, at 7 lbs., 5 oz., 20 ½ inches tall. And whoa, was I nervous. Not to become a mom, no, I was nervous for the surgery. So much so they had to sedate me before I even made it into the OR. You should’ve seen how cute your dad looked in his scrubs though – like a giddy new father, he couldn’t wait to meet you. Thank god he was able to keep me calm while we waited and waited for the good doctor to deliver you. Dr. Sibul is his name, and he’s one of the finest OB-GYNs in Chicago. Only the best for my baby! So what if his watch seems to be two hours behind everyone else’s… Read More

August 28, 2010
I’ve always been fascinated with religion, or with what it reflects of the human condition. I was raised in an only recreationally religious home; my parents were non-committal-- not in a free-spirited, exploratory sense, but in that they made vague and somewhat awkward mentions of utilitarian Christianity in the course of holiday toasts, and left it at that. I was intrigued by friends’ families who displayed a more active engagement in some kind of religious life. I attended various religious services and activities with these friends, and appreciated the community and family cohesion that their structures fostered (I had an absolute ball at a Rosh Hoshanna dinner early in high school, for example, where I took some advantage of the fact that I was offered wine). I didn’t feel particularly invested in any one tradition, though; I found it puzzling, even as a child, that friends confidently espoused their beliefs as fact when, next door, someone else believed something else entirely. Read More
August 26, 2010
She’d called me into her office, this lady boss of mine, newly charged with running what was then the 6th-largest newspaper in the country. Honestly, I thought I was in trouble; let’s just say that folks didn’t really appreciate the lone black girl in the features department proclaiming loudly and proudly her disdain for Jimmy Buffett and her undying, unyeilding preference for Donny Hathaway and Biggie Smalls.

Anyway, boss lady calls me in and I’m all, “What did I do now?” and she’s all, “If you repeat any of what I’m about to tell you, I will deny I said it and fire your ass.” Wide-eyed and gape-jawed, I listened as she explained the pay disparity between me and my mostly male, mostly white counterparts with the same experience (and less drive) than me; seemed that every one of them was making, on average, about $20K more than me, and, get this, they were getting bonuses every year.

In womanly solidarity, boss lady upped my salary and hit me off with a bonus; it wasn’t what the men were making, but the extra in my paycheck sure was appreciated.

All of this came rushing back to me recently when I read this story celebrating the 90th anniversary of the enactment of the 19th Amendment—the amendment that granted women the right to vote—and imploring the U.S. Senate to pass the Paycheck Fairness Act, a new equal pay law that would make it tough for businesses to get away with discriminating against women. President Obama, who says he'll sign the law once it makes its way through the Senate, says the law would help not only women, but the economic security of our families. For sure, women are still making only 77 cents for every dollar earned by equally qualified men. And the wage gap is even greater for women of color, mothers, and women with more years of work experience. Even crazier? There’s also a HUGE disparity between the salaries and hiring of mothers vs. non-mothers. 

Now what are we going to do about it? Read More

August 26, 2010
The two-year molars are killing me dead, people. 

Fairly soon I'll voluntarily commit myself to the psychiatric ward and the head shrink will scribble "two-year molars" on my chart. The nurses cluck their tongues sympathetically and give me extra drugs. I'll be in there so long my husband will tire of waiting for me and cite "two-year molars" on the divorce papers. The two-year molars are going to RUIN MY LIFE.

  Read More

August 25, 2010
There seems to be a lot of crying going on around my house lately.  Most of it comes from the kids but I’ll admit that I’m not immune from shedding a few tears from time to time.  Once I get started it’s sometimes hard to stop.  There are several things that make us cry and each one of us is unique.

As Wanda approaches her first birthday, I find myself concerned about her emotional stability.  She really does cry WAY more than the rest of us.  Sometimes she is such a baby. Read More

August 24, 2010
© Erin Zammett Ruddy
The past few days in the northeast have been positively fall-like. Thanks to the lack of rain all summer, the leaves are already falling from the trees and the once sweltering temps have dipped into the 70s. It’s been gray and damp and windy--and I love it. I’ve realized that while all the funning and sunning we’ve been doing has been great, I’m kind of over it. I know I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t been a big fan of summer in recent years and I always long for fall, but this year was different. I wrote about just how much I love being a mom in the summer. And posted pictures that illustrate the amazing time we’ve been having.

And, full disclosure, I am gearing up for two more chaos-reigning weeks of summer, starting in a few hours when I pick up my college friend (and her two kids) from the airport for a visit, then my sister Meghan comes home, we go out east, we have a big family party, more house guests and then, finally, a Ruddy rager for Alex’s third birthday (more on that later). So, I’m still in full summer mode and enjoying every second of it. But I’m not gonna lie: I’m exhausted. And I’m more than excited about the impending change of seasons. I know my teacher friends will hate to hear this, but I’m ready for summer to be over. Here’s why: Read More

August 23, 2010
I’d like to dedicate this post to all the hands-on dads out there. If you’re anything like my husband, you deserve big props. Not bigger than, say, a hands-on mom deserves. But still, you deserve a pat on the back as well. Because without you guys, this parenting thing would be a lot harder, a lot more challenging. Not impossible, of course, plenty of moms do it alone and do it well -- but having two pairs of hands instead of one, with just about any challenge, usually makes things easier.

I am very fortunate that my husband -- a part-time SAHD -- sees his role as every bit the hands-on parent that I am. If we’re keeping score, he actually does more of the heavy lifting. He’s responsible for replenishing the nursery, and does the weekly Target trips -- for that alone he gets Father of the Year. He’s home a lot more than I am, due to a less demanding work schedule (he owns a Chicago hot dog and Italian beef joint, and thus works for himself). Sometimes it feels like I am the less hands-on one, frankly, which is something I’m still trying to come to terms with, as a full-time working mom. But the guilt doesn’t plague me the way it used to, for better or worse. Read More

August 20, 2010
Kaspar is moments away from crawling. He’s close. He can swivel, and he can shuffle himself backwards. He can definitely roll (fast, and far). He can get his butt up into the air and he can get his torso up in the air, and although he can’t yet manage both simultaneously, I can see the moment coming when he does, at which point we will need to baby proof our home. Read More
August 19, 2010
© Denene Millner
Mari was three when she practically scalped herself with scissors—fluffs of her curly afro clumped like polka dots across our beige carpet. With her father and I surveying the scene of said scalping in sheer horror, girlfriend asked us all slick and sly, “Now can I get long hair like Missy?” Missy, mind you, was her BFF in her daycare class—specifically, a white girl with long blond hair.

You want a black mom to die a thousand deaths? Have her daughter tell her that she would prefer long blonde hair to her kinky afro.

Trust: We considered a Drop Squad-styled indoctrination—you know, kidnapping her, putting her in a dark interrogation room with a harsh, bright light, with a table full of down-ass natural sistas who would spend hours reading “Happy To Be Nappy,” and “I Love My Hair” through a bullhorn until she publicly swore off any delusions of silky, swinging, blonde hair. But seeing she was still a preschooler and all, we figured that would be a little much. Read More

August 19, 2010
Before I had kids I used to worry about what I would DO with them. I mean, I liked kids and I certainly wanted some of my own, but talking to them? Playing with them? Um, no. Other people's kids would look at me blankly, waiting for me to somehow engage them which only filled me with inexplicable and completely ridiculous terror: what do they want from me? Read More
August 18, 2010
Please indulge me for a few paragraphs while I share the tale of a truly crap-tastic day.  It’s 10pm and I just want to beat on something or go run 20 miles.  There’s nothing in my house to beat.  The gym is closed.  I don't run.  I’ve got this here post to write.  So get ready.  I'm about to unload.

Our four-year-old fridge broke down again this morning.  Last time it cost over $500 to repair a similar problem so we decided we’d better get a new one.

We’re getting used to the idea of spending thousands of dollars we don’t have because two weeks ago Laylee misplaced her hearing aids and after tearing our house to shreds of oblivion looking for them, today we decided to go ahead and order another pair.  We’ll just refer to them as the most expensive glasses/retainer ever lost by a seven-year-old. Read More

August 16, 2010
Preston's at a turning point in his little life right now: He's desperately trying to get rid of one nap, while I am desperately trying to hold onto it. Guess who's losing this battle? Yep, me. I want to keep him on two naps a day, because A) Two naps means two separate breaks in the day for us; B) More importantly, two naps means he'll be able to maintain the late bedtime which, as I've mentioned, is key for my work schedule; and C) If he goes down to one big nap in the middle of the day it makes it really hard for us to go anywhere and do anything in the afternoons. I work all week, so weekends are prime bonding time for us, and it's also when we see our families who happen to live in the suburbs. Translation: We spend almost every weekend commuting back and forth for up to an hour each way. When he was taking two naps, they were at 9/9:30 a.m. - 11:30/12, and again at 3/4 p.m. - 5/6 p.m. That worked out perfectly for everyone involved because we could go out to breakfast before the first nap at the crack of dawn when there were no lines and no hassle; and then we could have an afternoon playdate or trek up to see our family. If he moves to one nap a day, it will likely be around 1 p.m. - 3/4 p.m. How does one make plans around that? Read More
August 13, 2010
Before becoming pregnant, I wore heels—and I’m not talking about kitten heels here— 24/7. Aside from the fact that they make absolutely no sense as shoes, per se, there’s no denying that high heels look sexy on women, and vice versa. They don’t have to look sexy in a slutty way, either; stick a pair on a t-shirt and jeans and you’ve got yourself a winning outfit with a certain panache that onlookers can’t quite put their fingers on. Wear a pair with a little black dress and you own the room… Wear a pair and nothing else, and you’ve got yourself a baby. Much more than simply an all-purpose accessory, high heels were my standby style staple for years. Then I got pregnant, and the axiom proved true; I wanted nothing to do with shoes. I walked around barefoot whenever possible. I even sat barefoot in my desk chair at work.  Now, post-pregnancy, I still like to be barefoot, and I still love to rock the high heels when I get dolled up. Bouncing back and forth between these extremes is an easy one-step process, too-- no shoelaces to contend with. But bouncing back into a really workable style in the first year after pregnancy is another story. Read More
August 13, 2010
Mazi Chiles, stepson of MyBrownBaby blogger, Denene Millner
© Denene Millner of MyBrownBaby
I can’t stop the water. He’s gone. And I know that, really, my tears are perfectly ridiculous. I mean, the boy had to grow up some time, right? His moving out was inevitable—the starting of his life without us as essential as water. The sun. Love.

And besides, this was the point of it all. We raise our children and love on them and pray for them and prepare them as best we can to go out into the world and succeed. Maybe even be better than us. And if we’ve done our jobs right, then their leaving should be met with pure, unadulterated joy.

Still, it’s the leaving that’s the hard part—the day you hug them and kiss them good-bye and close the door behind them, knowing full well that when the lock catches and your hand, clammy and unsteady, loosens its grip on the knob, everything is… changed.

I didn’t expect that I would feel this way about Mazi going on to college. If I’m being really honest, I didn’t think I would feel this way about Mazi ever. He is, you see, my son. But not really. Specifically, he is my stepson, and, when I'm being honest with myself, I can admit it took me a minute to love him sans conditions—as if he were my own. Read More

August 12, 2010
Right now my kid is sitting on the floor in his room, surrounded, no, DROWNING, in puzzle pieces. I keep maybe a dozen wooden puzzles in his room and he often gets them out during "quiet time" (MORE ON THAT LATER). Today he pulled ALL the puzzles out and dumped out ALL the pieces and it's been forty-one minutes since I told him he has to put all the pieces back and put the puzzles away, or he can't come out of his room. Forty. One. Minutes.  Read More
August 11, 2010
© Kathryn Thompson
Wanda’s getting tubes put in her ears this week.  The sweet little Squishable Jub is just winding up her 7th ear infection at age 11 months and we need a little relief.  All of us.  But I’m a bit scared.  The surgery doesn’t scare me so much.  What freaks me out is the anesthesia. 

I’ve talked to other mothers whose children have undergone surgery, some much more drastic than this little outpatient job, and they’ve described how eerie it is to watch your baby be sedated and just go limp on the table.

The image gives me the willies and I’m not looking forward to it.

What I am looking forward to is going for more than two months without another infection popping up. Read More

August 10, 2010
We are just getting back today from our “official summer vacation.” I put that in quotes because in some ways I feel like this whole summer has been a vacation. Thanks in part to the awesome weather and largely because of the newfound can-do, embrace-the-chaos attitude of yours truly.  We spent the past five days in…Florida. I know what you’re thinking: Why would you go to Florida in the middle of August? Yes, the temps are so hot that your sunglasses fog when you walk outside. And the humidity, well, let’s just say that even Nick’s hair is curly and it’s usually pin straight. But we came because it was free (we stayed at my parents’ house) and because hot or not, it’s gorgeous here. And there is a beautiful ocean nearby and pools to swim in and cold beer to drink and air conditioning and lots of other things that make the heat bearable.

I love this picture! Read More