We have BIG NEWS about Don’t Put Lizards In Your Ears’ sister blog Science of Parenthood. Starting TODAY, Lifescript, the healthy living website for women, will be featuring SOP’s illustrations, created with Jessica Ziegler, EVERY OTHER FRIDAY. Check out today’s post HERE! And please help spread the word and SHARE the laughter! Thanks!
It’s Tuesday, and that means … time to dip into the blog archives for a double shot of some old favorites from back in the day — before I discovered the beauty and the power of the Share button.
Last night as my friend Jordan was helping me navigate the intricacies of social networking sites, he asked me, “So how’d you come up with your blog name?” Oddly, he hasn’t been the only one to ask me that in recent days, so in honor of The Ever- Helpful Jordan, who thankfully works for brownie slabs and advice about girls, and for other curious readers, here’s how my blog came to be named Don’t Put Lizards In Your Ears … because, in fact, not everybody’s old enough to know better.
Don’t put lizards in your ears.
Who would, right? I mean, that’s a pretty weird thing to say. Good advice, but a bit incongruous. And really, how often do those words actually come together in conversation? In my experience … uh, never. But I’m finding that as a new mom — and a late-in-life mom at that — I say a whole lot of things to my 2-year-old son, Fletcher, that I never — not in all my wildest college-era hallucinogenic-fueled dreams — thought would tumble out of my mouth. Read more …
[What’s the most bizarre thing that you’ve ever said to your kid? Post a comment or email me!]
Meanwhile, while we were flying home from Denver last week, Fletcher commandeered my laptop to watch Stuart Little, which gave me a chance to catch up on my New York magazines. (Truly, the bathroom and the cabin of an airplane are the only places I can read in peace these days … though I don’t recommend an airplane cabin bathroom!) I was transfixed by Jeff Coplon’s “Five-Year-Olds At The Gate,” about the incredible lack of public school seats available for the city’s exploding kindergarten population. A close friend recently told me that her youngest had gotten wait-listed at several public kindergartens and she wasn’t sure what would happen come Fall. “What am I paying taxes for?” she wondered. All of which made me grateful that, much as I miss it, we don’t live in New York anymore … and that I only have one child to worry about getting into school. Even as one of my cousins is contemplating having a third, once again, here’s why one’s absolutely enough for me.
When I got married the first time, I don’t think the wedding band was on my finger 15 minutes before my father asked, “So when am I going to have a grandchild?” Well, 12 years, one divorce and another wedding later, he finally got a grandson. And barely a year later, I started getting from all quarters, “So, when are you going to have another one?”
Huh? Are you kidding me?!?! I’m still adjusting to this one.
My standard reply alternates between “We don’t want to have more kids than we can afford to send through graduate school” and “Well … maybe if we’d started earlier …” Yes, I’m aware that women in their late 50s are having babies, thank you Aleta St. James. Hey, if you wanna be pushing 80 at your kid’s college graduation, go for it … and I hope that in the excitement of watching your progeny receive a diploma, you don’t trip over your walker and break a hip. But, as far as I’m concerned, this factory produced a single model and is hereby closed to business. Read more …
[What’s your ideal family size? Post a comment or email me!]
It’s Tuesday, and that means … time to dip into the blog archives for a double shot of some old favorites. This past weekend my youngest cousin got married in Denver. Being surrounded by my other cousins’ new babies — seems everyone had babies all at once! — put me in mind of my very early baby experiences. So without further ado …
“So, are you breastfeeding?”
When I was a new mom, I got asked that a lot. It’s the kind of question — along with How much weight did you gain during your pregnancy? and Are your nipples chapped? — that even complete strangers feel is well within their rights to ask if you’re toting around a baby. And given everything we know about the health benefits of breastfeeding — the higher IQs, the lower risk for infections, allergies, and a host of other problems including obesity and diabetes — the expectation was that I’d say Yes. Because of course I’d be foolish . . . make that down-right selfish, to deny my baby the precious elixir of breast milk.
Until . . . I couldn’t do it. Read more …
(Did anyone else have trouble breastfeeding? Please post a comment or email me!)
When I was pregnant, I was convinced — 1000 percent positive, actually — that we were having a girl. My husband Stewart would refer to my growing belly as “he” … and I’d routinely correct him. “No — She.” These back-and-forths usually played out when we were in a department store’s baby section, and I was mooning over some ridiculously frilly powder pink dress that no baby could conceivably be comfortable in.
Not that there was any rationale to my insistence that there was a girl baby cradled in there. My thinking ran along the lines that my sister already had two boys, and I figured, with the kind of twisted logic that makes Lotto addicts play the same combinations day after day, convinced their numberswill come up … someday, that it was simply time for our collective family to have a girl. And thus I was carrying her. So certain was I, we’d already picked out her name — Quinn. I wasn’t even thinking about boy names, because … well, why bother? Obviously, we were having a girl.
And then around about 14 weeks, I had my amniocentesis. Read more …
(Anyone else get “surprised” by their baby’s gender? Please post a comment or email me!)
I’m taking a page from Scary Mommy. She (though I’m sure she’s not alone in this) has instituted Flashback Fridays on her wondrously funny blog in which she recycles a past crowd pleaser on Fridays.
Nice. But given as I’m time pressed with actual writing that’s keeping the lights on in our house, Wells Fargo from repossessing our Volvo, and my kidlet in Montessori school — and since my early stuff has hardly gotten wide distribution because I started blogging before I learned the virtues of the Share button — I’m going to offer TWO — count ‘em! — of my personal favorites that people who are not my mom (or otherwise related to me by blood or marriage) have deemed good reads.
And yes, I realize that last sentence borders on the Faulkner–esque. Thank you, Grammar Police. As a side note, I’m sure that my eighth grade English teacher is still shocked and amazed that people — and by that I mean bona fide magazine editors — actually pay me to write stuff, given that in middle school I could not diagram a sentence to save my life. Ms. Eighth Grade Grammar Teacher, you’ll be happy to know that 30 years later, I can spot a misplaced modifier at 50 paces … even if I can’t map it out.
But now without further ado … and in that true pop radio tradition of giving airplay to two songs in a row from The Same Band, here’s my double-shot tribute to Tuesdays.
Read ‘em and … well, please SHARE them, DIGG them, and by all means COMMENT on them or send me EMAIL about them.
How New Moms Bond
So, my new friend — we’ll call her Brooklyn — was telling me about her fourth-degree anal tear. “…and the doctor’s down there for what seems like ever, making these sewing motions. I’m like, Hey, whatcha doing down there? And he says, Oh nothing …. But when the anesthetic wore off, like Oh … my … God! I didn’t think I’d ever want to get pregnant again.”
Did I mention that she was telling me this while hugely pregnant … with her third?!? Hey, guys tell war stories. Women tell birthing stories. It’s how we bond with other new moms. Park a stroller in a food court, at the playground, under a shady tree with your newborn and if there’s another new mom within 50 yards, she’ll parallel park her Bugaboo and after a few pleasantries — How old’s your baby? Is she sleeping through the night yet? — will launch into My labor was hor-ri-ble. Let me tell you … And she’s off to recount the kind of extremely graphic details that you’d only be privy to if you were, say, a regular watcher of those reality birthing shows on Discovery Health. Within minutes you’ll know more about your new pal’s vagina than if you’d hooked up with her at Dinah Shore. Read more …
You know how you take certain things for granted and just assume that your worldview on a particular subject is universally shared by all … or at least by the man you married and who supplied the other half of your kidlet’s DNA? And then you find out that that’s totally not the case … that in fact, said DNA-Contributor has a completely different take on something that’s so diametrically opposed to yours that you can’t even believe anyone would think that way.That pretty much sums up my pre-baby discussion about circumcision with Stewart. I had taken it as a given, in the way that I take it as given that the sky is blue, the grass (when we remember to water it) is green and that Paris Hilton will eventually do something even more crass and unbecoming than flash her hoo-ha at the paparazzi. In other words, we’re having a boy, so, duh, he’ll be circumcised.
Stewart apparently, was of a different mind altogether.
Here’s me: So after the baby’s born, we’ll get him circumcised in the hospital.
Here’s Stewart: Um …I don’t think we should. What????? Read more …