Podster – product review

Posted on by

life on the cushion

I was thinking about all of the things we received at our shower – our friends and family were so generous, it was pretty overwhelming.  Some of the baby gifts we received were necessities – diapers, car seat, crib, etc.   Some other things, we never used.

When it comes to non-necessities that we did use, my absolute favorite is the Podster.  I affectionately call it the “cushion.”

Here is a video that shows it off a little bit:  http://leachco.stores.yahoo.net/podster1.html.  It’s basically a Boppy with a closed end, so the baby can lounge in the pillow.

I put the cushion on the couch and Punkie hangs out with me while I’m doing things that require me to have my hands free (like take tons of photos of Punkie, fold laundry, eat lunch).  You can’t carry the baby every minute of every 24 hours in a day, but I didn’t want to put him in a bassinet where I couldn’t see or talk to him.  Having the cushion on the couch, I could sit next to him and talk to him constantly (lucky kid?).

The cushion inclines the baby a little bit so he can see what’s going on around him (I hear that it’s good for reflux). It’s also very comfy and is Punkie’s favorite nap location.

I use this thing EVERY. DAY.   When Punkie outgrows this cushion, I will be very sad .  The day is near – he is rolling now, so the cushion on the couch is no longer a totally safe hang-out for Punkie.

 

Saying No

Posted on by

I began my career at a conservative “biglaw” law firm.  The partners in our group were all older white men.  After working there for a while, it was clear that the partners did not want to invest training or any other resources into young female associates who might have kids and leave the firm, or who would go on maternity leave and, due to the gap in work, never make partner.

I felt a strong pressure to never say the word “baby” or say hello  to a staff member’s visiting baby, lest the partners conclude that I was a baby lover and not worth their time.

No, really.  I saw it happen.

Now, I work in-house for a company where most of my colleagues have families, and where I’ve never seen anyone criticized for having a family.

But my experience at the biglaw firm has stuck with me through the years.  In every way possible, I try to keep people at work from noticing or being reminded of my new mom status (aside from my physique, sadly).  That includes the days following a rough night with little sleep, or when I was a total stress monster because Punkie started day care.  I don’t even do this intentionally.

When I started getting pressure to go to the JP Morgan Corporate Challenge, I knew I didn’t want to participate because it starts at 7PM.  7PM is when I nurse Punkie in advance of his 8PM bedtime.

If I needed to be at a work function at 7PM for an important reason, like a customer meeting or something like that, I’d make it work.  But for the Corporate Challenge, I don’t feel it’s worth the sacrifice.  Besides, there will be plenty of opportunities to participate in mandatory fun.

The Corporate Challenge is a 3-mile run or walk and many businesses in town will form teams and participate.

I am not athletic.  I’ve never been athletic.  In fact, I am a plus sized girl who does not run, unless chased by a grizzly bear.  And let’s be honest – I’d probably be eaten pretty quickly if a grizzly bear were introduced into my ecosystem.  If, instead of a grizzly bear, it was one of those smaller black bears, I might weigh the risks against the unpleasantness of running and decide to just walk normal speed.

And if I were to walk or run a 3-mile course, I’d choose to huff and puff in private, without my co-workers watching.

So, again today, I was pressured to go to the Corporate Challenge.  Every biglaw lawyer instinct in my brain was yelling:

Don’t tell them you have to take care of a baby instead of going to mandatory fun!

I said the Corporate Challenge just isn’t my cup of tea.  The parry quickly came – you can walk instead of running.  I said I might be able to help set up or prepare, but I can’t participate in the run/walk.  The response was, aw, come on, it’s no fun unless you do the walk.

I really didn’t want to say out loud that I need to go home to breast feed my baby . . . although I knew it is 100% the choice I would make.

So . . . choking on my sense of horror, I said “I have to go home and take care of the baby.”  My heart sank – I’d probably go home tonight and update my resume.

And the response came:

Okay, but definitely next year.

Okay.

 

“Mommy Wars” = Stupid

Posted on by

I’ve heard a fair amount of the so-called mommy wars.  Some people say there is a conflict between stay-at-home moms versus  work-outside-the-home moms,  but I’m not buying it.

We all do our best for our kid(s), for ourselves, for our loved ones. Who are you or I to second-guess that?

I think a big part of the so-called “conflict” is really just people reacting to that self-conscious feeling that you get when you know other people are judging you.  This is really just insecurity, isn’t it?  Maybe some people do judge us, but we have to let it go – there are assholes everywhere.  Does the fact that someone is judging you change what’s best for you and your family?

Putting that aside, I am bothered by stupid people, like Gwyneth Paltrow, who talk about things they couldn’t possibly understand (http://www.eonline.com/news/525210/gwyneth-paltrow-s-post-split-plans-actress-reveals-she-s-taking-a-break-from-acting-to-focus-on-her-kids; http://time.com/93041/gwyneth-paltrow-mommy-wars/).

This really doesn’t help anyone.  She’s a wealthy actress who was raised in privilege and who lives in a bubble.  I’m sure she has her problems too, like everyone, but there is no way she could begin to know (A) what it’s like to work a day job and take care of a family, or (B) whether it’s easier or more difficult than what Gwyneth does.

Shut up, Gwyneth Paltrow.

Let’s learn a lesson from stupidity.  You and I cannot fully understand the context within which another woman lives.  You don’t know, and I don’t know.  All we can do is respect each other enough to accept that we’re all trying to do the best we can for our families, the best way we know how.

As a feminist, I wonder how we’ll move forward if we let people convince us that we’re fighting each other.  Honestly, I’m not even interested in explaining my choice to work outside the home here, or anywhere.  It’s my prerogative and I’m doing it.  If you start to feel all judge-y, just remind yourself that (i) I am doing my very best to make sure that my son has everything in life that he needs, including a mother who loves him very much,  and (ii) my choices are exactly that – mine.

As a child of the 70’s and 80’s, I have the refrain of “Free to be . . . You and Me” running though my head.  Let’s sing it together, people (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_26FOHoaC78).

 

Fun Fact

Posted on by

Here’s a fun fact for today – breast milk stains clothing.

Last week, I dripped a lot of breast milk on a pair of pants that I like to wear to work during nice weather.  Frankly, at this post-baby juncture, I’m lucky to have pants that fit and I know I don’t have time to shop for replacement work clothes.  But, never fear, I told myself, it’s just spilled milk.

I laundered those pants and put them away until this morning, when I put them back on and left for work.

Sure enough, today is day two of walking around with milk spots all over both pant legs.

Awesome.

How do YOU get breast milk stains out?

Take it Back

Posted on by

Last week, I wrote about Punkie’s first cold.  He still has it, and I am still suctioning snot from his nose at regular intervals.  Good times.

In that post, I said, “If I had the cold, I’d take as much Sudafed as allowed plus one and power through (not regular Sudafed, the good stuff you have to go to pharmacy counter and show your drivers’ license to buy).”

I take it back.  What I apparently meant is that was true, as in past tense.  I’m evolving here, dear blog readers.

What I’m saying is that I have the cold now too and I’m not going to take those pills.  I have the package of sinus decongestant pills in my hand – they expired in 2013.  I could work with that.

The active ingredient, pseudoephedrine, is what I lovingly refer to as the good stuff because, when I have a cold, it clears my sinus and keeps me awake so I can be productive at work.  I’m sure the guys on “Breaking Bad” call it by some kicky little nickname, like pseudazzle or something (actually, I think they just call it pseudo).

I did a Google search to see if I can take the pills while breastfeeding Punkie and the internet says that, while the pills won’t hurt Punkie directly, they may or may not reduce breast milk supply.*  It boils down to a cost/benefit analysis – do I make myself comfortable and productive and take the risk that Punkie will have less milk to drink tomorrow?  Nah.

Since I don’t have a blue bulb  with which to suction out my own snot, I’ll just tough it out.  (That was a joke – I don’t want you to send me a blue bulb sucker thing)

*I am not a doctor or any kind of medical professional. DO NOT RELY ON MY GOOGLING.

 

Day Care is Snotty

Posted on by

Punkie has been in day care for 4 full days now and he is already sick. He was congested yesterday and didn’t sleep well the night before because of congestion – he sounds like he’s snorting when he breathes. This morning, he started coughing.

This is officially his first cold. I hope it’s a cold, anyway.

I mentioned that he’s congested to his care giver and she said she has it and most of the kids have had it too. Everyone says this is par for the course with day care – they all get the same colds.

I expected to be more fazed or distressed when he got sick for the first time. Really, I’m more tired than anything, and I’m girding my loins against anticipated fussiness and more not sleeping. Work has been difficult this week, but I remind myself that things are always more difficult when you’re tired.

That’s not to say that I didn’t call my husband in the middle of the night to ask him how to do the saline sinus drop and suction thing that he was telling me about before he left for his trip and before Punkie got sick. My worst-case-scenario-generator was telling me that Punkie could suffocate if he doesn’t breath well in his crib. My rational brain kind of knew I was overreacting, but:

Ring, Ring

Hi sweetie, can you tell me how to do that saline thing you were talking about yesterday?

It’s midnight – is everyone okay?

Um, midnight you say? . . .

I called our pediatrician’s office this morning because I honestly don’t know what to do for a 4 ½ month old baby with a cold. If I had the cold, I’d take as much Sudafed as allowed plus one and power through (not regular Sudafed, the good stuff you have to go to pharmacy counter and show your drivers’ license to buy). Punkie isn’t going to be on board with that approach, I imagine.  I explained to the nurse that I don’t know anything about babies and that Punkie has been in day care for one hot minute but is now sick.

The nurse recommended that I do the following things:

  • use a cool vaporizer in Punkie’s room (not a warm one because someone can get burned);
  • take Punkie’s temperature and call them if it’s over 100.4 degrees (take the temp rectally, of course?) ;
  • elevate one end of Punkie’s mattress by putting a rolled up towel underneath one end (so he can breathe better while lying down – I’m sure he won’t just roll to the far end); and
  • do the saline thing that my husband was talking about, which is to put some drops of salt water in his nose and then suction with the bulbous blue thing the hospital sent us home with (hold on to your brain, Punkie, mommy is going to suction now).

What do you think of these recommendations? Any more thoughts?

The Greatest Store on Earth

Posted on by

I preface this blog entry by saying that I am not currently employed by Wegmans (i.e., the greatest store on Earth) and I am not compensated by them in any way for this blog or anything else. Quite the contrary, I spend a lot of money at this store.

Can I just tell you that I love Wegmans so much. I’ve lived in places without a Wegmans store and I don’t care to do that again. They have everything you could ever want in a grocery store. I just love going there.

I would go so far as to say that sometimes I wish I were a Wegman, meaning a member of the Wegman family. I want them to adopt me. Last summer, I was very pregnant and I was parking in a special “reserved for expectant mothers” spot when I recognized Danny Wegman walking through the parking lot. It was like I saw a celebrity – like if I had seen Oprah and Gayle King hanging out and talking about their favorite books by the cart return rack. My heart rate increased and I was giddy. I took a photo of him and texted it to my husband.

Now that I’m a new mom, I appreciate Wegmans even more. Every Friday night, they have a kids’ movie night in the dining area, and parents can be served a glass of wine or beer. I fully intend to partake when Punkie gets a little older. And you can take cooking classes for kids there, which makes me think that someday, when Punkie is a sullen teenager, he will be cooking dinner for his long-suffering parents. Thank you, Wegmans.

Every restroom at Wegmans is fully stocked. By “every,” I mean every – both men and women. By “fully stocked,” I mean each bathroom has a big, clean changing table below a wall of free (Wegmans brand) diapers, wipes, and hand sanitizer. Yes, ladies, you can ask your husband to change the diaper because the men’s room is equally tricked out. Thank you, Wegmans.

Also, I mentioned this already, but my favorite perk is that they have reserved parking spaces for expectant mothers and people with small children. These Doris Day parking spaces are so great, sometimes I regret stopping in when I don’t have Punkie with me because I have to park with everyone else. Thank you again, Wegmans.

EDITED TO ADD:

Not that I needed the affirmation, but I am not at all surprised to see that MSN agrees with me:  http://money.msn.com/investing/the-14-best-supermarkets-in-america

wegs

Modesty, You Waste My Time

Posted on by

I work outside of the home full time and Punkie enjoys a good bottle of milk, so I use my electric breast pump three times a day while at the office. Sometimes, if he’s had a big day of playing, I will pump again after he’s gone to bed because, on those big days, he will fall asleep during our evening nursing session.

Pumping is a hassle. Since I spend a total of one hour during the work day pumping, I come to work early and I skip lunch. Even though I make up the time, I still feel like the regular pumping interruptions are difficult – my door is shut more often and it seems to never fail that I will have to take a break just as I get on a roll with a project.

I would love to be able to take phone calls or schedule conference calls during my pumping sessions. The problem is that a caller will hear the pump. WHOOSH . . . WHOOSH . . . WHOOSH.  I’ve used the phone to talk to my husband several times while pumping and he always asks, “what is that terrible noise?” I called my parents one time while pumping and they were actually quite irritated by the noise. I had to explain to each of them what the noise was, at an elevated volume because they apparently couldn’t hear me over the whooshing.  You haven’t lived life to the fullest until you’ve yelled out “I’m using my breast pump” at the office (twice).

I could never take a professional call while pumping. Actually, I couldn’t take any other call while pumping. How do I explain to a work colleague that, while I’m advising them on the wording of a liability provision of a contract, I have an electric pump milking me like I’m a dairy cow? Unprofessional, right? And, in all honesty, kind of embarrassing.

I would waste less time if only I were less modest.

 WHOOSH . . . WHOOSH . . . WHOOSH . . .

What noise? I don’t hear any noise. Maybe it’s a bad phone connection.

Home Alone

Posted on by

My husband is out of town for the next four days and I’m home alone with Punkie. I know how to take care of the kid and I’m a fairly capable person, so my rational brain knows it’s not a problem. I’ve got this covered.

But there is also a part of my brain that is busy generating worst case scenario thoughts all day. I’ve been wondering, what if I leave for work and forget about him at home? What if I drive to work and leave him in the backseat all day? After all, I am a little forgetful when I have something on my mind.

I’m a very sound sleeper. The thought I’ve been having since he was born is, what if I’m in a deep sleep and don’t hear him cry at night? Everyone I’ve confided in has said that’s nonsense – you’ll hear him. It’s instinctual! But I won’t know if that’s true unless I fail to hear him. And even then, I won’t really know because I slept through whatever the problem is. In truth, I won’t know unless something terrible happens.

Basically, I’m suffering from not having a chaperone . . . or maybe the better word is supervisor. That’s kind of pathetic, if I’m being honest with myself.

When we left the hospital with Punkie for the first time after his birth, I kept looking around the corridor and thinking, are they really going to let me leave with this tiny, fragile human? I didn’t even know how to hold him, much less keep him alive. But they just let us take him.

That’s how I feel here too. My husband left for his trip this morning and I thought, is he really going to just leave me with the kid? He knows better than anyone that I screw up at least one thing every day.

I dropped Punkie off at day care this morning and he was happy. He smiled at me when I left, which is a great relief for me. I still feel like I need to show up at random times to check on him, but I have the feeling that he’s resilient. I respect resiliency. I’m going to tell him that this evening, assuming I remember to pick him up from day care.

Creed Thoughts

Posted on by

If you were a fan of the US version of “The Office,” you might relate to this. As I was writing my first blog post yesterday, I sort of felt like Creed. If you recall, in one episode, Ryan set up a “blog” for Creed to use. The “blog” was just a Word document and Creed didn’t know the difference so he kept posting to it. I think the hope was that they’d protect the world from Creed’s brain.