Dry Brushing

It's called Dry Brushing. You don't know it right now, but it's your new favorite thing and you can't believe no one told you about it before.

Weapon of Choice

Step one: Get a brush. We got ours at our local co-op, but you can also find them at your local health food/hippie grocery store, Whole Foods, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, or online. I love the one in the picture, but you might be a wuss and need a softer brush. Don't be ashamed. Just get a softer brush.

Step two: Read the instructions found here: click 

Step three: Read this Cliff Notes version, too: click

Step four: Get to it! I start with my feet. I actually stand on the bath mat to do them, because I'd hate to step in a tiny puddle in the tub and get my feet wet before I brush them. So feet, hop in the tub, and then legs, buns, back, arms, belly, neck/collarbones. Always move the brush toward you heart in long, gentle strokes--you're trying to get things moving, not draw blood. 

Step five: Take a shower. End it with at least one hot/cold cycle: as hot as you can stand it for 20 seconds and then as cold as you can stand it for 20 seconds. Or just do it a little cooler than you normally would. Whatever works. This is your amazing thing, not mine. I happen to enjoy ending my showers breathless from the cold water. I also like jumping in the Pacific Ocean in January. It's exhilarating. Or maybe I'm addicted to minor hypothermia. I don't know. Point is: shock yourself a little with the cold. This is especially nice in the summer.

Step six: Do this for two days in a row and then tell me how stinkin' soft your skin is now! Softer than it's ever been before in your life, right? I know! Stretch marks? Yeah, they look awesome. I mean, they're still there (they'll always be there), but they don't look all sad and angry. It's amazing.

amazing. 

Seriously.

After our last scrubby pouf thingies had collected enough dry skin that they morphed into living creatures and actually climbed out of the shower to go find a better life, we decided not to replace them. They don't last that long, they're made of totally non-renewable materials, can't be recycled or composted, require additional shower products to use them properly and those products have packaging and chemicals of their own to deal with...and for what?

Soft skin, that's what.

In the days between breaking the scrubby pouf habit and discovering the dry brushing, I relied on a washcloth. A washcloth! Why did we abandon the washcloth? While I was happy with the washcloth and so very proud of us for eliminating yet another source of garbage in our lives, I was intrigued by the health claims of dry brushing when I read about it on Crunchy Chicken. Can't hurt, right? 

It's only been a week, so I can't say with any certainty if I'm healthier, but I do feel better. That could be because I can't stop feeling my arms and my body thinks it's getting lots of hugs or something. I don't know. 

So, back to the point: you must try this. You MUST try this. 

Trust me. 

Oh, and Molly Sims, too. Trust Molly Sims: click!

No TV Tuesdays

When Mr. Mallard graduated a month ago, we promptly sat down on the couch. We had a stockpile of shows we wanted to catch up on and a few we had never seen. Beyond that, we were exhausted. Nearly three years of full-time work, full-time school, full-time baby, buying a house, project after project after project, trying to figure out how to do this whole family thing...we were spent, emotionally and physically. Staring blankly at the television seemed like the most relaxing thing we could do. 

Oh, but it wasn't.

Okay, maybe we weren't physically engaged, but we weren't really mentally engaged, either. And we were staying up way too late. Just one more episode. Let's just see what house they choose. Oh, the news is on. Let's check the scores. Then we'd turn the television off and find we were too tired to get up off the couch and go to bed. 

So, all at once it's almost midnight again and we're swearing we're going to go to bed earlier and the next night rolls around and we hop on that same stagnant little pony and it's midnight again and what has happened to us?!

No more! Now we have No TV Tuesday! 

It was harder than you'd think to get started. In fact, the first week, we (read: I) decided that just coming up with the idea to not watch television was enough progress for the week and flipped on the tube. The next week, we sat on the couch and sort of smirked as we read quietly. How novel! Reading! At night! When there are programs on! Can you imagine?!

We've started cracking the whip a little more on the nights we do watch television, too. No more "just checking" to see what else is on. We watch what we plan to watch and then we're done. That's it. The results have been fabulous. Without the television to lull us into a drooling state, we've actually been getting to bed at an extremely reasonable hour. And Mr. Mallard has already finished an entire book. He read a book, people! It wasn't assigned--it was for fun! He even started another book the next day. 

So, if you want to join us,we'd love to have you. Here are the only two rules:

1. No television.

2. No using the interweb to fill the void, so no surfing/email/research after 7pm. 

Exceptions:

1. Playoff games.

2. Homework-related internet use.

And don't think for a second that the Biggest Girl gets to wave some sort of toddler card and plop down in front of her evening program. Nope. No bedtime programs for anyone on Tuesdays. It gets a little loud until she realizes we're telling her we can read all the books she wants. Or draw. Or dance. Or just play. Then it gets amazing and fun and more like an evening with your family really should be.

Tonight, I'm actually looking forward to not turning on the television. What I am looking forward to is a giant mug of peppermint tea and a much needed steaming hot bath. After my bath, I plan on crawling to bed to read a little before I pass out from too much bliss. 

And I won't be missing a thing.

We all know the Revolution Will Not Be Televised.

What I am is...

I have had better days. To be fair, I have had far more horrible days, as well. Lately, there's been a bit of a funky haze keeping me from seeing all the fabulosity my world exudes. I just have the blahs, I guess. It's no fun for any of us. I'm not walking around in tears, I'm just walking around.

That's not entirely true, though. I've been bustin' my buns, conquering project after project, making all our food from scratch, drying the clothes on the line, getting rid of all the useless crap we've accumulated over the course of our lives, resisting the (very strong) urge to get chickens, working to get Running Errands with a Toddler in Tow on the list of Olympic events...

This too shall pass, they say.

...and it will. It's been a rough year. And as we head into winter, I know I've accomplished so much, but I do that silly thing where I only see what I haven't done.

Fortunately, there's help for times like these...

You are what you eat

Watch The Future of Food...

...and Food, Inc.

...then read In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan. I'm serious--this is an assignment, people! Both films are available from Netflix and Pollan's books are available all over the place--check your library if you want to save some money. Or find a used copy you can pass on to a friend when you're done. Food, Inc. will be airing on local PBS channels later this month (check your local listings). Already fairly picky about what we will and will not eat, the combination of these three--two films and one book--have started a bit of a revolution in our home. I'd be surprised if it doesn't do the same in yours.

Moving on...

I'm pretty tough. I can't leap tall buildings, but I totally rocked the natural childbirth thing and I can "mind over matter" my way out of even the burliest of wet paper bags. Knowing how tough I am capable of being makes admitting I'm having a truly difficult time even more challenging.

Having a miscarriage is rough. There are no obvious wounds the world can see. No scars. No empathetic glances and words of encouragement from strangers as they hold doors open to make your passage through the world a little easier. Nope. You open your own doors and try not to burst into tears every time you see a pregnant woman. Or a tiny baby. Or a couple gushing over their ultrasound pictures while they wait for the elevator. To get through it, I stay home. When I do go out, I move quickly. I fight back tears like a samurai and I do what I can to don a happy face.

I'm not happy, though. I'm so sad. It all seems like so long ago and I tell myself I should be over it by now, but it's only been about two weeks since the nurse called to tell me I was officially no longer pregnant. Half of me leapt off the couch to do a little dance while the other half crumbled as I realized we had reached the end. I am so thankful to have come through it all in one piece, but that does nothing to negate any of the grief I feel.

Part of the problem is the hormones. I was pregnant. I was just pregnant enough that my boobs were on their way to meet Pamela Anderson. My desire for braised cabbage was insatiable. My pants were becoming increasingly uncomfortable. As with childbirth, pregnancy hormones don't just vanish the moment your uterus is empty. It takes time to get those hormones out and the risk of postpartum depression is extremely high after any kind of pregnancy loss. Getting back on the proverbial pony is a daunting task, since doing so means it's really over. The babies are really gone.

The second part of the problem is the loss. I lost two babies. In the last three years, I've lost four. The one I didn't lose--the Biggest Girl--shines like a miracle every single day. Life, I am reminded, is a gift. She's not even two years old yet, but we've spent nearly every moment of her life together and she knows something's not right. She clings to me and she whimpers when she catches me crying. She pats me on the back when she hugs me and her compassion keeps me from going to pieces. I am astounded by her ability to unwittingly distract me from my grief to remind me that life is still happening, in spite of my loss.

I guess the point is that this is not easy. I do my best to remain positive, but even my best positive is kind of a downer these days. I don't expect to just bounce back like nothing happened, because something definitely happened. It was a soul-crushing, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking experience that left me feeling hollow and exhausted. In the quiet moments of my days (read: nap time), I let go into the sorrow and I feel as much as I can before I have to return to the noisy chaos of reality. I am more thankful than ever for the opportunity to be the Biggest Girl's mommy and Mr. Mallard's wife. What I lost will stay with me forever. What I have will do its very best to inspire me, even on the darkest of days.

Two Weeks Later...

I have had a rough couple of weeks. If I attempted to tell this tale with anything other than just the facts, I would end up writing a book. So here's the short version...in ten sentences or less, just to make it more fun.

1. I was pregnant.

2. I was having a miscarriage, so the doctors did a D&C (my choice--waiting around for a miscarriage do its thing would be pure torture).

3. Turns out I was still pregnant, even after the D&C.

4. A shot of methotrexate (a chemotherapy drug) in each hip was Plan A to attack what was revealing itself to be an ectopic pregnancy.

5. I get to wait around for a week to see if the methotrexate is working, all the while bracing myself for the chance the ectopic--which was growing precariously in my one remaining fallopian tube--could rupture, thereby landing me in the back of an ambulance with internal bleeding that leads to emergency surgery (been there, done that, it's not cool) and render me unable to naturally conceive a child ever again.

6. I try to be tough and I do a pretty decent job, unless I listen to the Indigo Girls, look the Biggest Girl directly in the eyes while thinking about all of this, or happen to still be awake between 11pm and midnight--it's like my emotional witching hour or something and, if I'm going to lose it, that's when it happens and I would like to take this opportunity to both thank and apologize to Mr. Mallard for keeping his saintly ass up waaaay too late the last couple of nights. Big ups, yo. You da' man!*

7. Today, four torturously long, not so great days after the methotrexate shot, I went in for more blood work and then met with my doctor, who now suspects this whole thing can be labeled as a heterotopic pregnancy (again--been there, done that, not cool) and gives me a hug while promising to call as soon as they get the blood work back.

8. The doctor calls and it turns out that, rather than increasing slightly as would be expected, my hcg levels have plummeted and now she's not sure exactly what it was that happened, but is confident I am no longer in danger of having an ectopic rupture and we make a plan to continue with the blood work until I reach the "not pregnant" level.

9. I was in the middle of changing the Biggest Girl's diaper when the doctor called, so she gets the opportunity to run around wearing only her socks and an unbuttoned onesie and somehow manages to pee on just one of her socks.

10. That's what I've been doing since February 9th...how are things with you?

*props to Mr. Mallard do not count against the ten sentence maximum. Plus, there aren't that many words in those sentences and there's just no way to work them into another sentence while still adhering to the rules that govern modern punctuation.

My Right Thumb

Several months ago, I totally annihilated my thumb while I was grating cheese. Parmesan, to be more specific. I wrapped my thumb up in a dishtowel, finish putting together the Mac & Cheese I was making and, once it was in the oven, I went to Immediate Care. I resisted going to the doctor at first, but then realized I could see something that looked like bone, so fine...I'll go. Whatever.

I kept it bandaged and wore a little splint to protect it, but the cheese grater had really done a number on my poor thumb. The chunk it took out produced a crazy little scar that actually deformed the profile of my thumb and bumped up just enough to get caught on every little thing. So frustrating and genuinely uncomfortable.

A meeting with a fabulous hand surgeon resulted in surgery last week. He wasn't able to tell if I had taken a chunk out the bone or if the scar tissue has grown so invasively that it attached itself to the bone. Either way, it's gone now and I am on the path to a full recovery. I had a sort of half-cast splint for four days and then moved to band-aid/plastic splint combination to protect the stitches for a full week. Now I've had the stitches removed, but still have to be careful with my thumb. I have to work on regaining the range of motion by doing little thumb-bending exercises, being careful not to pop the scar tissue open. While I am frustrated by my gimpiness, I am thrilled with the results of the surgery and learning to wash dishes while wearing gloves (not cool!).

I am also thrilled with Mr. Mallard. He took last week off work to help while I was in the cast and he totally blew my mind. I spend all day taking care of the Biggest Girl and the house. We have a routine and it was so very aggravating for me to let Mr. Mallard toss that routine aside and get things done his way. Oh, I drove him bonkers while I hovered, pointing and picking and bossing him around! I managed to chill, though, at some point, and watched with wonder while he and the Biggest Girl kicked so much butt as I recovered. He kept house, got up in the middle of the night to take care of diaper changes and freakouts, made dinner, did laundry...he did everything. Totally exhausted and sporting dishpan hands, he returned to work on Monday. I returned to my normal duties and the Biggest Girl searched high and low before realizing he really had gone back to work.

Point is--he's awesome. I didn't think anyone else could do my job. Apparently, he's been paying attention, though, because he rocked it. We love him like crazy and are so fortunate to have such a great man on our team. Go Daddy!

Tonight, we celebrate my recovery and Daddy's awesomeness with a batch of Macaroni & Cheese. I think I'll leave the grating to Mr. Mallard. In fact, I think this whole incident might just be enough to convince me to splurge on the new Cuisinart Elite Die-Cast 12-cup Food Processor. It's safer than a cheese grater, right?

Weaner!

We weaned our Biggest Girl this weekend. After 18 months of exclusively nursing (the bottle was never a hit), I haven't nursed her since Wednesday night. What I had expected would be a soul-wrenching, tear-filled, booby-aching journey turned out to be quite the opposite. The Biggest Girl (did you already know this?) is a total rock star. With only the tiniest bit of strife, she has moved on to a life beyond the boobies. My guess is that it all went so well because we were both ready. I was ready. I was ready months ago. It just didn't seem like the right time, though, so I kept nursing. I had no idea if she was ready or not, but it really seemed like she was. She only nursed for a total of about ten minutes a day and it was purely for comfort (bedtimes).

Oddly, I think the whole weaning thing was far more difficult on me than her. I expected her to have such a tough time letting go, but she's totally chill. She's letting Mr. Mallard put her down for her naps now and hasn't made a single attempt to gnaw through my clothing to get to my boobs. I, on the other hand, am a bubbling vat of emotions--ranging from bliss to the deepest sorrow. It's the most depressing liberation ever.

Some things I learned:

1. If the time is right, weaning is a piece of cake.

2. Having a second body around is essential. I don't think this would have gone as smoothly if Mr. Mallard hadn't stepped in to put her to bed and stayed so cool while she told him exactly how she felt about his presence (at first).

3. If you are only nursing (or pumping) once or twice a day, the agony of engorgement can be almost entirely avoided.

4. Cabbage leaves are your boobs' best friends. Maybe it's because they're cold. Maybe it's because the leaves fit almost perfectly in the cup of your bra. I don't know what it is, but I tried the Cabbage Leaves in the Bra trick on the one evening my boobs were feeling a little hefty and the relief they provided was both instant and delightful. I actually sighed aloud and started wondering if any of the day spas have a Cabbage Wrap (Cabbage Roll?) Treatment. If, at any point, you find yourself in a state of boob-related discomfort, get a cabbage. Trust me. It's heavenly.

5. The Biggest Girl's appetite was nearly non-existent for the first two days of weaning, but she has more than made up for it in the two days since. She has also become more vocal about telling me she's hungry.

6. We ran and jumped and hiked and sang and just plain wore her out before we put her down and that made the job so much easier. She was too pooped to protest. Not entirely too pooped, but pretty close.

7. I married the most amazing man on the planet. I know a lot of you think you might have married the most amazing man on the planet, but you didn't. I did. And I've never been more proud of our little family than I have been over this holiday weekend.

I'm still waiting for all the milk to dissipate, so I have no idea what I'm going to be left with when this is all done. My poor boobies. Thankfully, I very rarely have the urge to go streaking these days.

Tupelo Honey

I never deliberately remember to turn the show on, but we always end up listening in and I couldn't be more pleased. It's Tupelo Honey and it comes on Tuesday nights from 5-7pm PST on KRVM. The show, hosted by Shotgun Majors, boasts "Sticky-sweet Americana music" and I'm pretty sure it's got to be the most happy-inducing show on radio today. As we sit down for dinner on these rainy winter nights, this music just makes our little world that much cozier. Where the stereo is generally just something in the background, this is one night of the week we actually turn it up and really listen. Such a pleasant, old-timey way to spend the evening--hanging out with the family, listening to a radio show. Simple pleasures, I guess...

The playlists are available on the shows blog (located here: click), along with instructions on how to download the playlists from iTunes. You can listen to the station online, as well, by going here: click. It streams 24/7, so there's always something on.

Gonna wash that carcinogen right outta my hair...

Sometimes I wish we lived in Europe. They have much smaller houses, great accents, and, as legend tells it, the women don't worry so much about shaving their legs (what a relief!). They also label their genetically-modified foods and refuse to stock personal care products that contain toxic chemicals.

Check out the The Campaign for Safe Cosmetics to find out about formaldehyde and 1,4-dioxane that is present in many mainstream baby shampoos, body washes, and disposable diaper wipes. The links in their articles are well worth the time it takes to explore--there's a ton of information that's presented in a layman's terms. If your curious where the products you use--either for yourself or your baby--fall in terms of tested toxicity, check out the Skin Deep Cosmetics Database. You can sort the lists there either by tested score or alphabetically. I found alphabetically to be be easiest, simply because of the vast number of products tested. There's also a great article here: click.

It's bothersome to me, this whole "Toxic Tub" issue. And it's easy to say that we were raised using the same products and we turned out fine, but did we? Our children are being diagnosed with autism at a frighteningly high and medically unexplained rate. Infertility is rampant...

...oh, and there is more to say, but there's squeaking and giggling coming from the next room, so it's on with my day I go...check out the websites. It's troubling, but eye-opening. And just in time, too, since I'm running out of moisturizer. Time to try something new!

A Woman's Nation

Working with the Center for American Progress, Maria Shriver has compiled a report on the status of women in America today, namely as our position contrasts to that of women in generations past. I can't say with any certainty that the report or the accompanying Special Report series ("A Woman's Nation") on NBC Nightly News will be worth the time it takes to read and/or watch, but I'm tuning in--6:30pm on NBC here.

Here are some links of interest related to the The Shriver Report:

www.awomansnation.com Along with the report are additional essays that look interesting. There's a lot of information on the site, so if you don't have time to sit in front of the computer and read, you can download the full report from the Center for American Progress site. It's 454 pages long, though, so I'm guessing (hoping!) there will be a book version released. The Kindle version will be available tomorrow...

NBC's "A Woman's Nation" site is here: click

The Huffington Post has the mother load of reviews by both men and women. Use the site search to find even more. The comments are worth peeking at, as well. People are pretty worked up. The pros and cons of the feminist movement are rearing their beautiful and alarming heads every day across the nation and this report is bringing both sides into the ring swinging.

My perfect snack(s)

A balanced mix of salted peanuts, organic raisins and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Protein from the peanuts, fiber from the raisins, a little bit of fat from the chocolate chips--I love it. I keep a lidded glass bowl of the mix on the kitchen counter and just grab handfuls over the course of the day. One of the problems I've had this past year is simply finding the time/remembering to eat during the day. Even though I wouldn't call this a great meal substitute, I'm pretty sure it qualifies as a relatively healthy snack. Before we were certain Beatrice didn't have any peanut or chocolate allergies, I made sure I rinsed off my hands after snacking, just to be on the safe side. 

Crackers and Toby's Mild Jalapeno Tofu Pate is a close second in the snack category. While I could just make my own Tofu Pate, Toby's does such a great job. When we've scraped the container clean and munched down every last little bit of goodness, we take that container to our local Co-op where they sanitize it and set it out for other customers to use for their bulk items (one less plastic bag, yo). Tastes good and saves the world--can't beat that!

I'm sure there are other snacks I should mention, but I got all distracted on the Co-op page and ended up at the Wheatsville Food Co-op page. It's the only Co-op in Texas (located in Austin) and my fabulous friend Mariah is the Deli Manager. Their deli menu looks delicious! Now I'm totally off the snack track and I've got a fierce craving for an awesome sandwich.

I suppose I should finish this post and eat breakfast before I start plotting a dinner revolution.

Okay...we have a few runners-up. Solstice Bakery's Dark Chocolate and Peanut Butter Goji Bars are not only healthy and delicious, they are also a favorite of President Barak Obama (another Corvallis connection to the White House!). 

Nancy's Yogurt with whatever fruit I happen to have in the fridge (generally blueberries or strawberries) along with a Kashi Granola Bar--I actually get to use utensils for this one! I usually have this after we get home from our walks. We buy the yogurt in 32oz containers to cut down on waste and, again, when the container is empty, we wander back up to the Co-op to drop it off (or just use it ourselves--Beatrice finds they work great as drums). The Kashi cookies are fabulous, as well.

That's all I've got time for today. I guess I have more perfect snacks than I thought. The lesson here would be to find some easy, healthy snacks and keep them on hand. There's nothing worse than having a moment to scarf something down and finding there's nothing good to eat!

Push it real good...

We really didn't do a whole lot to prepare for the actual birth part of the whole parenting experience. We watched The Business of Being Born and read a bit about The Bradley Method and that seemed to be enough for us. While we didn't exactly follow The Bradley Method in the delivery room, we did steal some bits and pieces--mainly the ideas about relaxation--to help us through the process. Each person is going to approach the birthing process from an entirely unique angle, so you really just have to do what is best for both you and your baby.

Here's a bit from Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way that really inspired me:

"If you are motivated to really want an unmedicated childbirth that is dignified and manageable, you can have it simply by listening to your breathing to ensure it continues in a calm, quiet, relaxed rhythm. The woman who is breathing excitedly or holding her breath is one who is panicky and out of control...Women give many clues about how labor is going to be for them...the woman who as already decided before labor that it definitely will be painful is almost certain to find it so. Like water taking the shape of its container, experiences so often take the shape of expectations...Most women who do experience hard pain in labor tend to do so at the end of the first stage. But remember, there are no sudden, sharp, stabbing pains in labor. Rather, there is a strong building up of sensation with each contraction. In between contractions there is a chance to rest."

The woman who "will have a painless birth is the one who is quite comfortable with her body and with physical strain and sweat. She will really get into the relaxation techniques, rather than only going for the physical exercises. This woman listens to all the various birth stories and is prepared in a matter-of-fact way for the backache, the powerful sensations, and for hard, sweaty work. She is not looking for any authority figure to reassure her or guarantee her a painless birth. She simply has faith and confidence in the process of labor and birth. I am not talking about religious faith, but about a belief that birth is normal and an expectation that her body will function normally as millions of others have done before. She truly has the idea that labor is nothing more than muscles flexing."

That's what worked for me. I related it to being on the treadmill and coaxing yourself to go a couple more minutes, finish the lap, finish the mile...before you know it, you've gone much further than you'd planned. Your legs are weak, you're drenched in sweat, your ears are ringing and you are so proud of yourself that you can't stop smiling. My experience with childbirth was much the same. More than just a great workout, though, it was the single most confidence-boosting experience I've ever had. I gave birth without any drugs. All natural. Any time I'm feeling down, I remind myself of how awesome I am, strike a body builder pose, growl at the world a little, and then go on with my day feeling like a Certified Badass.

Slacker

If I were more disciplined (or had a nanny or got two days for every one day that everybody else gets), this blog would look a lot more like the Boston Mamas blog. If you happen to be in Boston (Hi Bev!), this blog is full of local goings-on about town for families. If you don't live in Boston (Hi everyone else!), there is still tons of great information about babies, moms, dads, cooking, keeping house, life, fashion...you name it, it's in there somewhere. I even found a link to a liberating piece about wearing your maternity jeans after you have the baby. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go see if I can't find my beloved buffet pants before Beatrice wakes up from her nap. 

Work it

Being a parent is one of the most physical jobs out there. I won't say it's the most physical, but it does have the longest hours. Regardless of where you are in your pregnancy, it's time to start doing squats. First, they'll help you get ready to push. After that, they'll make your transition into parenthood much less back breaking. Do the half squats like you're sitting in a chair during commercials. I don't recommend doing them while you're on the phone. You're welcome to try, though. I found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation while I was humming "Eye of the Tiger".

Another great move is one I refer to as Fraidy Cat/Lazy Ass. I know it's got a fancy yoga name, but I can never remember what it's called. You get on all fours and then pull your bellybutton toward your spine while pulling your chin to your chest and rounding your back. Then you relax your back, pull your chin up and let your belly sag toward the ground while your back arches. I hope that makes sense. If it does and you know that move, you should begin doing it immediately. You'll be glad you did. 

The Mother Dance

I started, but have not yet finished, The Mother Dance by Harriet Lerner, PhD. That the book has kept my attention for nearly 150 pages is a testament to its greatness. I was going to write more about it, but I'm hungry, so just read the book (moms and dads) and I'm going to go eat something.

Be Prepared

Baby books are boring. They're all information and things that can go wrong and generally lacking in the fun department. I  get that we need these reference books around, just in case, but there's no reason why we can't have a sense of humor about this whole parenting gig. 

Be Prepared: A Practical Handbook for New Dads to the rescue! Written and illustrated by husband and wife Gary Greenberg and Jeannie Hayden, this has proven to be the most practical book on our "Holy Crap! We're Having a Baby!" shelf. It is, according to the back cover, "loaded with one-of-a-kind insights, MacGyver-esque tips and tricks, and no-nonsense advice for mastering the first year as a dad". 

It's just the most fun. With fabulous illustrations accompanying heartfelt advice on everything from emergency diapers to the woes of teething and beyond, this book has taught me more about day-to-day life with a baby than all the other parenting books combined. It makes me feel smart and pretty and totally capable of maintaining a sense of humor, in spite of the constant stream of body functions coming at me in a projectile manner from this little bundle of slobber and poo.

Get it for yourself, for the one that inseminated you, for your friends, for strangers that look like they need to lighten up a bit with the whole parenting thing...

...and while we're at it, look for it at your local bookstore. If they don't have it on the shelf, they can probably get it to you more quickly than Amazon. Yes, deliveries are fun, but buying locally is fun, too. You can look for it at the library, as well (even cheaper!).