-
Hot Jogga-mama
My quest to find a jogger stroller might be over! My neighbor, a guy I like to call “The Friendly Dad”, is going to hook me up with a free one. FREE! Rock on. Blogs are good for something. Actually I don’t think he read that post where I asked about jogger strollers. I think he just knew somebody who had one and being the friendly guy that he is, he offered it to me while we were chatting at the park and swinging our babies.
Have you noticed how much friendlier people are when you have a kid? It’s like having a puppy but less flirty. I can’t believe it. I meet people every day who want to hang out with me and my kid. It must be because she is so cute. I don’t think it’s my captivating conversation skills because I’m shy in public and I have a mouse voice that nobody can ever hear.
Back in the day when I was a singleton I used to mope around coffee shops and pretend to read or draw in my journal, just wishing that some stranger would come up and say hi to me. Nobody ever did. Now I’m minding my own business, wishing to be invisible because I have baby food smeared all over my fore arm, and people are coming out of the woodwork to talk to me. It’s kinda nice.
I’ve actually contemplated making up cards with some kind of funny illustration of a mom and then a line for a play date time and day and my phone number or email or something. I don’t know, that idea is still percolating but I think it might be a good idea because I’ve wished I had something handy and cute (but not too pretentious) to hand out more than one time. I’ll keep you posted on that. Maybe even make printable pdf’s. (It’s about time I gave away something on this site.)
So back to the Friendly Dad. (I hope you don’t mind me calling you that Mr. B.) I’m just not accustomed to my neighbors actually being nice to me. I’ve been invited over for lemonade, I’ve met his wife and kids. I was invited to a block party, but I chickened out last minute and didn’t go and now I’m getting the hook up (hopefully) for a FREE jogger stroller. The Friendly Dad rules.
Hopefully since I’m blogging about this I’ll actually get up in the morning and take a jog with the stroller. You’ll have to keep me accountable, internet.
-
Snap Crackle Pop
I’ve been sitting on this post for a silly reason. I’m afraid of the United Mothers of the Web. (Lovingly referred to as UMW or “UmWuh”) I’m afraid that if I admit that I feed my baby rice crispies, everybody is going to jump on my case for giving my baby cereal that contains sodium that may or may not be harmful to her liver. Arg! I’m such a wus. But you understand. Unconventional mothering ideas don’t always go down smoothly here on this blog. Still, better to be nagged than end up in the ER right? So here goes:
I discovered that Baby Bug LOVES rice crispies. It wasn’t really my idea. Her smarty pants scientist Auntie Tickle gave them to her when I was visiting. I figure if her scientist Aunt thinks they are okay, then they probably are. Who knows though. New studies come out every day. My mom gave me cows milk at six months and now that’s like giving your baby blueberry cheesecake or bubble gum or something. It’s impossible to keep up on everything.
Anyhow, Baby Bug LOVES rice crispies. Loves them, loves them, loves them! Maybe even more than she loves me! Just kidding. She does give those little puffed pieces of rice more undivided attention than she gives me though. She loves the way they taste and she loves to grab them with her little chubby fingers. It keeps her occupied for many many many minutes. I think they could keep her occupied for days if I would just keep putting handfuls of the cereal on her high chair tray. But I don’t, because I worry about things like sodium.
Let me tell you, rice crispies are a dream come true when I need to do a sink full of dishes or microwave the next serving of baby food. She’s as quiet as a mouse and doesn’t mind sitting in her highchair while I busy myself doing other things. No more grunt grunt grunting or whine whine whining. I can take a little breather from fetching the sippy cup off the floor or shoving spoonful after spoonful of pureed green beans into her little birdy mouth.
Rice crispies, I love you too.
