How To Install a Convertible Carseat

You know, I don’t consider myself an expert on many things

(besides, you know, Sex and the City and Dirty Dancing, and Disney Princesses.)

and therefore don’t write many “How To” guides.

However, this one, I’ve got in the bag.

How to Install a Convertible Carseat:

Step 1: Buy a cute carseat once your baby has grown out of her infant seat. (I mean, it may be called a Snugride, but once you’re unable to buckle the straps over her faux fur coat, you know you need to upgrade.)

Step 2: Wait, patiently for the new, cute carseat you’ve ordered to arrive on your doorstep.

Step 3: Race to the door once you hear the thud from the delivery man and tear open the giant, cardboard box with glee.

Step 4: Pout once you realize that the big brown box was actually your diaper order.

Step 5: Repeat Step 3.

Step 6: Jump up and down when the adorable new convertible seat does arrive, and get ready to begin installation.

Step 7: Tell husband that it is time to install the new carseat. Send him outside, during the blizzard, to do so.

Step 8: Wait 6 minutes before tapping on the front door to signal your husband and once you get his attention, tap your watch and shrug your shoulders, as if to say “Are you DONE yet?!”

Step 9: Go into the kitchen to refuel with some graham crackers.

Step 10: Peak out the dining room window to gauge the progress.

Step 11: Repeat Steps 8-10.

Step 12: Ask Questions. Suggestions include: “What’s taking so long?” and “Is this more difficult than the other carseat or something?”

Step 13: Repeat Step 9.

Step 14: ( And this is very important) Remember to brush the graham cracker crumbs off of your face and clothes before your husband comes back inside to tell you that he’s finished the installation, and that he continues to be the handiest Jewish man in the world. You must hide the evidence, as you’ve told your husband that you were busy working on “very important matters” inside and therefore were unable to help him in the car. Husbands don’t think that graham crackers are “very important matters”.

Step 15: Dress baby as a Disney Princess and take her for a joyride in her adorable, huge, safe new seat, while singing “I’ve Had the Time of my Life” and sipping on Mocktail Cosmopolitans.

Step 16: Just kidding

Step 17: But only about the Mocktails.

2 bloggers blogging (or, not blogging, as the case may be)

I am sorry I didn’t blog yesterday.

I have a good excuse.

My computer broke.

It’s at the Mac hospital.

It misses you, so!

Mama Gaga of The Gaga Diaries, a favorite mommy blog of mine, didn’t blog yesterday.

She had a good excuse.

Her water broke.

She’s at the baby delivery hospital.

Okay, pun stops here.

Baby Gaga was born!!!!

I am quite excited, for not only is Mama Gaga my first mommy blogger friend to have a baby (and I have followed her pregnancy online since the start)

but her new baby Brady Grayson,

is adorable and precious and tiny and gorgeous.

And seeing his little face next to their big smiles makes me miss having a newborn

a very lot.

So yeah, neither of us blogged yesterday,

but today is the start of many new exciting beginnings

at the end of a very new exciting year.

Congrats, Gagas.

And if you happen to run into my MacBook at the hospital, blow him a little kiss from me.

and he shall be a good man

This was our lullaby tonight

I had Sir Elton sing the baby to sleep,

as he just welcomed his own new baby into the world.

His new son is named Zachary Jackson Levon Furnish-John.

And little Z.J. Levon was born on a Christmas day.

No, seriously. He was.

Coincidence? I think not.

Save the Date, the remix

So, do you remember this from,

oh,

about 6 months back?

You know, the days when the baby’s 1st birthday party was nearly a whole year away?

Well, far away it is no more.

As my dear mommy friend remarked recently, we are about to be bidding farewell to the year in which we gave birth.

This means that we are embarking upon the year of

The First Birthday Party.

And so, because we’ve come no closer to securing the theme for our baby’s big bash,

I asked my husband for ideas, once more.

And this is exactly what he said

(and I know that it’s exactly what he said, because as soon as he opened his trap, I grabbed the computer and recorded every last word.):

“How about Baby Supermodel theme? You know, all the babies show up dressed like supermodels. You know, like they wear big glasses and stuff. They can all pull up in baby limos. And the dogs can strap cameras on their backs like baby paparazzis. And the babies can wear jewelry and watches. And mascara! We have to get mascara! How cute would that be?

Or wait wait wait, how about a Baby Casino theme? You know,  some of the babies could be carryig around drinks. Then some of the babies will be washed up babies who have gambled all their lives and don’t have anything. That would be sad. And then, how about babies who are high rollers, and then babies who are just like tourists who have no idea what to do, so they just play the slots?”

And there was more. There was an Eagles theme. A beach theme. And a few more that I won’t even dignify with a mention.

However, amidst this stream of conscious rambling,

we did come across a few good ideas.

But I won’t share them quite yet.

Because fortunately, I still have approximately 3 1/2 months left to plan.

And boy do I hope that’s enough time to custom order slot machines that are only 20 inches high.

Wish me luck!

And baby Mii makes 3

Funny story:

Just this evening, K and I had a hankering for some good old fashioned Donkey Kong Country.

(This, apparently, is what happens to people who have been cooped up for 72 hours.)

As a kid, Donkey Kong was my THING. I played my Supernintendo game so often,

and with such skill,

that I beat the game within a few months (which, I think for a fourth grade girl, is pretty darn fast.)

Fortunately, our Wii, which has not seen the light of day in several years, has an old school controller and a program that allows you to play old school videogames.

Why in the world are you talking my ear off about videogames, you ask?

Aren’t you, like, into Princesses and glitter and stuff, you say?

Well, when we turned on our Wii, which, again, has been sitting in the basement,

my husband said that we needed to make a Mii for our daughter.

You see, back in the day, when we first got our Wii,

four years ago, to be exact,

we made Mii characters to represent each of us

(which, for me, was like a mini makeover. You know. I am still the princessy glittery girl you think I am, after all!)

When he opened the “Mii Channel” (and yes, I totally had to ask what that was called. I’m not that into videogames) to get started on a

well,

Mini Mii,

we couldn’t believe our eyes.

There, right in front of us,

in pigtailed glory,

was a baby Mii, made by us four years ago,

with the same name as our daughter.

She was tiny.

Check!

She had brown hair.

Check!

She had light eyes.

Check!

She had the exact name we gave our baby, four years before she was born.

She was our daughter. Mii-ified.

Neither of us could remember making her, so many years ago,

but it just goes to show you,

that before this little girl had a place in our lives and home and bed,

she had a place in our hearts.

And on our TV.

Today/a Haiku

Snow falls noiselessly

as we sleep like little bears.

Shhh. Don’t make a sound.

“I never not wanted it”

This morning, as the dogs snored from their perch in the windowsill,

and the husband readied the house for the impending snowstorm,

and the babe slept quietly by my side,

I caught up with some old friends.

 

And you know that scene up there?

You know, the one in “Ghost Town”, when Aidan and Carrie find themselves on the back stoop at Scout, and Aidan feeds Carrie the cake, with that fine new haircut of his?

Yeah, that scene kills me. And not just because I’m now 6 days shy of the 6 year anniversary of when I set off for Barcelona.

Well, it may be because of that,

but just a little.

Sometimes, I forget how much I miss my old city,

and my old girlfriends,

and old (pre-travesty-that-is-SATC the movie-SEQUEL) Aidan.

Because when I think about it,

really, really think about it,

those things really do take the cake.

Merry

Last Christmas morning,

a whole, long year ago,

as we stayed in bed and acted lazy,

and dreamed of the little girl that would be joining us in the coming year,

I never could have imagined the loved I’d feel,

as on the very next Christmas morning,

my little angel would be snuggled up in bed next to me,

sitting straight up,

shouting “Mama!” and clomping her hands down on the computer keyboard, giggling at the sound of the clicking.

I could have never imagined the laughter,

as on the very next Christmas Eve,

the baby would be high on sugar

from a yule log (posing as a birthday cake),

causing her to crawl around the bed until 2 hours past her bedtime, shrieking in absolute, sugary delight.

I could have never imagined the sense of wholeness I would feel,

as on the very next Christmas dawn,

my baby girl would be pressed up against me in bed,

holding my hand in hers, in her deep slumber,

and massaging gentle circles on my skin,

and breathing deeply, content in knowing that I’m near.

Last Christmas,

when I looked like this

I could have never imagined how miraculous,

how bright,

how shiny and sweet

and holy

being a mother could be.

 

And for this,

this Jew is pretty darn Merry.

Wishing a Very Merry day of love, to you and yours.

The Story of Us

So, I could totally write about how today, we spent an hour watching my baby feed herself chicken and peas, and how her face now looks like a green cubist portrait; I could write about our family jam session to Eric Clapton’s “Bell Bottom Blues”, and how when I serenaded my husband, I saw his eyes get all teary, which made my heart do somersaults; I could write about how we laughed so hard last night before bed that I got a tummy ache;

but you know what? I think I’d rather just live it

(if that’s OK with you).

 

But, I don’t want to leave you hanging, either. Today, a friend of mine asked me the story of how K and I met, and so, I decided to republish that story: The Story of Us.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

And, just so you know, Chapter 4 involves hosing this baby down, cozying up in our pjs and enjoying every second of our winter vacation. I really, really like this chapter.

Happy Christmas Eve Eve.

I raise a piece of peppermint bark to you,

send my love to you and yours

and hope this is the start of a bright holiday season to all.

Wordless Wednesday: Baby’s New Favorite Toys Edition

Being a mama means

that on the night that your baby decides to stay up 3 hours past her bedtime,

(not screaming,

not crying,

not whining,

but just talking and laughing and sitting and playing),

and you finally get her to fall asleep at quarter to 11

on the night before your longest, toughest night of the week,

when you still have laundry to do and things to straighten up before retiring to bed,

you will still take your baby’s messy, sweet potato covered t-shirt and hold it to your nose,

breathing in your baby’s scent,

because in the five minutes that she’s actually, finally, been asleep,

you’ve already begun to miss her.