baby’s first meal.

gians first meal

oh the pressure.

i mean – this is the first meal . . . my child’s first taste of something other than boob-milk. what’s a mom to do? i so desperately want my son to love all kinds of foods and be open to trying new things as he grows up. and, for some reason, i feel like this first “meal” is going to define his eating habits for a lifetime.


who knows. i’m in that post-preggo world of hormones. so crap that no rational individual would find important is, of course, of utmost importance to me.

during my pregnancy i ate healthier than i ever had, consciously knowing that whatever i ate was the direct source of nutrition for my growing son. now that its time for him to eat “for real” (not that the culinary experience of all-mammary-meals aren’t real . . .), i feel this insane pressure to make sure that the first experience is “right.” all the while laughing at my ridiculousness, because seriously – he’s just a baby and the first meal isn’t really a meal, rather a tasting, right? this first meal is nothing more than a “training” exercise in hopes that after a few tries he’ll catch on.

and honestly, he probably won’t like it (cause everything else is new right now – why in the world would mom change yet another thing in his life right now . . . simply for torture, of course, and not because the doctor has advised that he is ready . . . nope not that at all).

then again, what happens if he does likes it? have i set him up to only want sweets? refuse those oh-so-good-for-you-veggies that send most toddlers screaming for help? be the “uncool” kid at daycare because his mom decided to start with food “x” (cause we all know those other babies aren’t really cooing at one another – they are having full on conversations about how crazy their parents are . . . i’ve seen the commercials).

the “old” way was just to mix some baby cereal with some boob-milk (or formula), making it super watery, and gradually add other foods into a baby’s diet. today – there are millions of different opinions, books, blogs and advice columns that say you don’t have to start with cereal – you can start with veggies or fruit or even meat!

well, crap.

this only means that the pressure’s on. and this baby-dining thing is about to get “real”. (hopefully real fun too, as i can’t wait to share the many traditional meals that both my husband and i grew up with.)

i’m certain a year from now, i will laugh at the fact that i was concerned about this . . . by then he will (hopefully) have tried a myriad of foods and the fact that i started with food “x” will matter not.

*according to my husband,  beer and wings are a can’t-loose combination . . .

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keeping the romance alive

so . . . my husband and i got our first babysitter (the non-grandparent kind) so we could go out for an evening of food, friendship and fundraising (it was a bull roast for my place of work).

romance in the milk aisleafter the event, on the drive home, the thought occurred to us: “is there anything else we would like to do while we have the sitter?”

what an opportunity?! the possibilities are endless – go to the bar, late night tapas, drop in on some friends, streak the harbor . . .

nope. what did we choose?

the grocery store . . .

realizing (or perhaps just accepting) our new reality, yet still basking in the glory of our fleeting freedom we decided to snap this little photograph to capture the joy of simultaneous hands-free shopping.

i mean seriously – what better way to keep the romance alive than to spend your free moments under the flattering florescent lights of the dairy aisle?

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four months. really?

This gallery contains 19 photos.

seriously. four months. they say time flew – i just didn’t realize that i would question whether or not i was actually in attendance for any of it this much . . . this kid has been a riot, to … Continue reading

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i’m sorry, ourslice got hacked.

i guess it was bound to happen one day or another . . .

here i am, running a happy little blog about the trials and tribulations of home ownership and child rearing so my family and friends who don’t do social media can read about all the humor that our life encounters and – blam – i get some nasty, code-sucking, alien monster deciding to tell the world “sweet! i’m getting paid! amazing!” and spam all those who follow this site.

apparently, i’m cooler than i thought. cause seriously – only the chicest, hippest, most popular blogs get hacked. right?

sweet! we’ve arrived! amazing!

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first election day

being a socially conscious baby, our son was very excited to participate in his first election. so excited, in fact, that he insisted on wearing his “future member u.s. congress” onesie for the occasion.

we figure future member of congress is about right, since he:

  • is not very goal oriented;
  • has low job performance expectations;
  • is a major draw on the finances of others while producing no discernible positive economic growth himself;
  • makes little to no sense when he speaks;
  • is not open to compromise;
  • whines and cries when he doesn’t get his way;
  • takes lots of naps;

. . . shoot – he could do that job right now!

he was extremely helpful to daddy in trying to suss out all of the verbiage in those ballot issues . . . being socially responsible is tiring.

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the first halloween


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dairy queen

as a new mom, there are many “opportunities” at which i get “rise to the occasion” to show just how – ahem – great my sense of humor is . . . honestly, since having a child, i feel like i am existing in an alternate world and most of the time i am thinking surely this can’t be real?

well? in this instance, it was most certainly real.

real horrifying.

being new at everything right now, i am pretty open to trying out things recommended by the “experts.” and experts qualify as books, grandparents, other moms, friends, blogs, random folks who happen to stop me on the street – yes, i have had 3 of these instances on the streets of baltimore so far . . . one thing i had a clear goal in mind about was to breast-feed my child. i was very eager to give my son all the nutritional benefits, in addition to exposing him to a variety of foods. also, it being free and that it would burn somewhere around 500 calories a day for doing nothing wasn’t bad either (well, ok, these last two may not be working out as successfully as i initially thought, in that my appetite may only be matched by king kong himself).

so, in my acceptance at becoming the sole pipeline of food for my newborn, i did what every working mom has to do and procured a pump and awaited the arrival of my little bundle of joy (ahem – hungry, hungry hippo). little did I know that my son would be a great eater and that my “dairy” was more than willing to rise to the occasion . . . let’s just say that i could feed a small country and will probably be looking into donation banks down the road. (immediately out of womb, our son fed for 45 minutes and then has continued to feed every three hours since. the nurses in the hospital were surprised, as my milk started coming in within 24 hours of delivery [seriously]. apparently this isn’t normal. however, based on my mother’s own experience, neither is my family’s milk factory.)

i mention this because, as my son and my boobs have come to terms with one another’s habits and needs, I am having to come to terms with going back to work and facing my boobs. alone.

thankfully (or so i thought) i got to have a practice run of pumping “in public” because of a conference i had to go to mid-maternity leave. being slightly stressed on the practical aspects of pumping away from home, i did what every other sensible tech-savvy person does – i asked the google.

blogs, advice columns and mommy-themed forums recommended that i call the hotel ahead, explain my situation and they would accommodate me as a new, nursing mother.

being that the conference was at a super swanky hotel in washington, dc, i felt very comfortable doing exactly that. (certainly they would have a private room to accomadate me, right?) so i called ahead and explained my oh-so-normal scenario and the hotel managed to be accommodating, sort of. they recommended their bathroom off the lobby (right next to the meeting areas), which had a great sitting area (but, alas, public) and they also had a private bathroom on another floor. worst case, they would find me a room to retreat to.


on day one of the conference i decided to arrive super early to scope out my pumping area options. and, having never pumped in public before, i wanted to give it a try without an audience and make sure i had my system streamlined. uncertain if i would have time to get to the private bathroom during the conference, I started with the main lobby public restroom.

the receptionist was right. there was a fantastic sitting area, tucked to one side. i could do this.

just as i had everything lined up, bra straps unhooked, suction cups in place, pump turned on, and milk freely flowing . . . guess who walks in?

the maintenance man.

not a fellow, sympathetic woman. no, of course not. i got the i’m-here-to-fix-the-broken-sink-and-chat-while-doing-it man.

worst nightmare realized.

seriously. i’m in my first-ever public state of human cow-ness, happily milking away and i get an audience. i wanted to die. i don’t think my face has ever seen the shade red that it turned that morning. ever.

thankfully, somewhere in my post-pregnancy-idiotic mind, i had made sure that my back was turned to the wall, so he didn’t get to see the horror i was living. and the whole scenario probably would have been much less painful if he had respectfully seen a woman in the womans bathroom (yes, i double and triple checked this, as i thought perhaps, in my idiocy, i had entered the wrong bathroom) and excused himself immediately. but no. not with my luck. he greeted me with a simple “bonjour” and got to fixing the broken sink.

it wasn’t until he was finishing up that he finally noticed the noise my machine was making . . . (by the way, did i mention that i wanted to die) awkwardly looked up and then proceeded to leave the room.

now. you might be thinking “why didn’t you shut the pump off”, or “why didn’t you say something” . . . and these are all really great ideas . . . well, let me put it this way: you know that scene in the horror films where the girl runs up the stairs and your like “she’s an idiot. she should’ve run out the door like a sensible murder victim.” yup. it was one of those moments of idiocy. i was that girl in the flick, just waiting for the killer to come get me. or that deer that just looks directly at the oncoming car . . .

alas. i did survive to tell the tale. and i do believe it has prepped me and new-found bovine abilities for most scenarios as i head back to work.

oh and one more thing – you know what else shocked me about this whole pumping in public nightmare? while i might have frozen still – my dairy certainly did not. it successfully pumped the same amount as always. what can i say – my boobs are all business.

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the “coo”.

when a newly born baby tries to communicate with its fellow humans, nothing other than cries escape its tiny little mouth in the early weeks.

and, as new parents, we quickly learn to adapt and respond in varying ways – feeding, diapering, cuddling, etc. – to ease (aka do everything in our waking/sleeping life to prevent) those cries. for being newbies, my husband and i were getting pretty good at accommodating those fussy moments.

and then the “coo” happened.

yup, that’s right. the “coo.” and i say it in this way because the sound emitted by my little man was, frankly, quite startling. gian was starting to fuss – or so i thought – and yet, the frustrated cry never followed. gian just continued to “talk” and “share” his thoughts with me.

i’m not fluent in “coo” just yet, but give me time . . . (personally i think he is trying to tell me that i need more training in baby-rearing).

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a mean left hook.

newborns have some entertaining reflexes in the first few weeks of life. my husband and i love the startle (moro reflex) – the one where all limbs extend and stiffen and then slowly relax.

on occasion, we get to witness some even more interesting reflexes, and this one was no exception (and we were thrilled to get it on film).

we thought it was a “phase” until he attempted to take out great grandma – but she was way to fast for our little man. you still got it, grandma!

do i sense boxing in our future? (my palms are already sweating just thinking about it.)

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four weeks gone . . .

our little man, gian carlo, entered this world on august 9, 2012 at 8:11 a.m. at a healthy 8 lbs and 3.6 oz. and its shocking to say that he reached his first month milestone this week.

the entire past month has been a crash-course in baby-rearing. and while yes, it has indeed been 30 days, it seems like only last week that i was in the hospital, excited to meet my little man for the first time.

both my husband and i consider ourselves very lucky in that we were given a healthy, happy and handsome little person. we have thoroughly enjoyed having his company and, frankly, his skills at entertaining us are simply outstanding! as i reflect on the past four weeks, i am quite astonished at all the “firsts” our tiny human has conquered:

  • breathing, blinking, feeding, burping, pooping (by the truck load), yawning, sleeping, wearing clothing, loosing his “tag” (that return policy was worthless anyways), nail clipping, crying (definitely caused by his parents’ inexperience), meeting tons of family and friends, staying in a hotel suite (like a boss), eating in a restaurant (i think this is a mom thing – as gian could’ve cared less as to where the feeding occurred), being away from mom and dad for more than four hours, meeting great grandma, cooing (yes, there is something other than crying in his vocabulary), sneezing, riding in a car, lounging in a stroller, taking a bath, healing from surgery, grabbing onto mom, lifting his head on his own, taking a bottle, focusing on a person, smiling, face-timing with auntie julie in germany, sucking on a pacifier, giving mom the “bird” (where’s this in the development books . . . seriously, see photo reel below), having his photo-shoot, conquering the doctors visit (thank you garfield), getting styling advice from dad, being milk drunk . . .

and many others i’m certain i am already forgetting . . .

this list is not unique to my child in any way whatsoever. however, i am impressed at his – and all newborns – diligence and speed at adapting . . . cause lets be honest – if us “adults” were forced to accomplish the above for the first time, i’m certain many of us would cry or stage a protest until someone shoved a booze-filled bottle in our mouths.

below is an testament to our little human’s accomplishments in month one.

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