My oldest sister introduced me to babywearing as she also introduced me to the world of midwifery, doulas, and cloth diapering. I give her all the credit in the world for Penny’s good-lookin, rash-free bum, and for her happiness at being worn regularly (you already know that I adore midwives & doulas). I jumped into babywearing thinking it would be very convenient to have my hands free during the many tasks I take on in the course of a day. But I have come out on the other side seeing just how happy Penny is while being worn.

I read somewhere that babies who are worn spend many hours of the day in “contented calm,” and I really believe that’s true. As long as I have her positioned comfortably in whatever carrier I’m currently wearing, she is happy to watch me load and unload the dishwasher, shop at the grocery store, and change the sheets. She regularly naps for long periods while being worn when I take Berlin out for a walk. And my fear that she would never want to be put down just hasn’t come true. She happily plays in her exersaucer for up to a half an hour at a pop.

One thing that I’ve found interesting is just because a kid likes being worn doesn’t necessarily mean they want to be held all the time. They can definitely tell a difference. Penny is at a stage where she doesn’t want to be passed from person to person all the time – she wants to flop on her back or belly and squirm a bit instead of being restricted. But she almost always enjoys being worn. So when I’m craving some snuggle time, I often get better results by wearing her than by holding her in my arms.

Yesterday we took a nice long hike in the woods, and Matt wore Penny in the Ergo while I walked Berlin on the leash. Or rather, Berlin walked me. After 2 hours of walking approximately five miles, Matt had absolutely no soreness from wearing Pen – a testament to just how comfortable that Ergo really is.

The foliage was stunning.

From Daily Daguerreotype

And our nugget napped for the first hour.

From Daily Daguerreotype

While being “contented calm” the rest of the time.

From Daily Daguerreotype

The whole hike we couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it will be to wear her all around when we go on our family cruise in February!

So babywearers… what are your favorite carriers?

I’m in love with him seven years later.

Because he’s stopping the dog from choking herself in the computer power cord right now.

And because he gave me Penelope. And this song.

Lullaby by neenertronics

First song coming tomorrow…

Which meant Berlin spent a lot of time sleeping on her bed all alone.

After I dropped my mom off at the airport last Saturday morning, it was as if Berlin got a new lease on life and she’s been euphoric ever since. We were home most of the weekend, and while running around a bit this week, at least one of us has been home at almost any given time since then. Berlin’s getting evening fetch with her dad again, something she had gone weeks without. And she has morning snuggles with her mom, something that was traded in for rushed early mornings when I needed to be up to let the drywallers in.

In fact Berlin’s been so happy over the past few days that she appears to have sprained a leg while playing too hard outside. It looks really painful, yet her tail is wagging frenetically because to her, life seems to be back to normal! It’s just the four of us in the house again! So she spends her days randomly going in and out of her dog door – inside to snuggle for a while, outside to play. And she couldn’t be happier.

They say you’re supposed to prepare your pets for your baby’s arrival so that they don’t become territorial or aggressive. I’m not at all worried about that; Berlin doesn’t have an aggressive bone in her body. But I am going to be sad to see my happy girl return to long days sleeping on her bed from lack of attention.

We have about five and a half weeks (give or take a couple days) left of this life that we know so well before it all radically changes. Now that my nesting urge seems to be calming down a bit, I just want to spend each day soaking in the normalcy. Until we have a new normal defined for us.

It was bittersweet cleaning out our Volvo wagon, because I knew I was ultimately cleaning it out to be replaced. The little guy has been everything we could have wanted for carting around drywall and a muddy dog over the past few years, but has now gotten to a place where it needs major repairs – repairs that are significantly more expensive than the car is worth. As of December it won’t pass inspection without those repairs, so we’re planning on replacing it, perhaps with an Outback, perhaps with something else.

We’ve put 85,000 miles on our already well-loved wagon in almost five years, which is crazy considering it was my car and I took public transportation to work for 2 of those years and was at home for another year. Matt’s jobs have always required an outrageous amount of driving, so we’ve had to face the fact that we will inevitably replace cars sooner than the average American family. It’s a bummer on the wallet, but has gotten us pretty adept at car shopping over the past few years.

This Saturday we had an appointment to test drive an Outback and a Forester; the former we decided was the car for us. We’re wagon people. We like having a five-seater with lots of storage capacity and good gas mileage. We like a car that drives well in the snow, not that that matters so much anymore. We like a car that you can put a muddy dog in and not think twice about.

But I didn’t like how the smug salesman was unwilling to negotiate down to the price I wanted. So today I called down to a competing dealership to see what the Polish salesguy could do for me. After I played a Chris Matthews-worthy version of hardball, he made me some good promises that the car we’d be special ordering would come in right at the price we are willing to pay.

I like the Polish people. They make great sausages. And sweet sugary baked goods.

I’ll hear back from my friend later this week, and I hope he has good news for me. Yeah, I want a new Outback, but more than anything I’m just gnawing at the bit with an insatiable desire to install this adorable new carseat!

Until then, I can bide my time re-reading the owner’s manual.

The downside to the heat is that our house is full of original rope and pulley windows that we are attempting to restore, but only half of which actually open. The other half are stuck shut. Which means we could turn on the AC in the house, but c’mon! I’m not only a cheap Yankee, but I’m a cheap Yankee who thinks it would be ridiculous to turn on the AC when the thermostat is registering 73. Unfortunately I’m also a pregnant woman in her third trimester who frequently has hot flashes and is constantly accompanied by a pitcher full of ice water wherever she goes. So a compromise had to be made.

I was awfully warm at bedtime and decided the fleece pj pants were a bit much, but there ain’t a heck of a lot of other things I can fit into these days. So I stripped down to that which I could feel morally upright with wearing to bed while carrying my daughter in my belly, and turned on the overhead fan for a nice breeze to sleep under.

And that’s when Berlin’s world came to a screeching halt.

Because didn’t you know that overhead fans ARE THE DEVIL!?! That they are the scariest machine man has ever made? And that they were created to kill and torture dogs with anxiety? Specifically HER?

She was petrified of her normally safe den, our bedroom. She wouldn’t walk in, and even when she was forced into the bedroom, she sat slumped over on her dog bed looking at the corner. She wouldn’t jump on the bed, she couldn’t fathom looking at the ceiling, and there was no way in heck she was going to eat her dinner in that setting. After all, that overhead fan was there to kill her.

This is where I take a little rabbit trail and tell you how hard I laugh when people ask us if we’re ready to be parents. They chuckle and say things like, “Oh just you wait! Wait til YOU have to try potty training! Wait til YOU’RE fighting picky eaters at the dinner table! Wait til YOU just want to give in and let them win!”

They’re probably not aware that by day my husband potty trains 200 pound 17 year old boys with multiple developmental disabilities and tendencies towards self-injurious behavior. That seeing a child throw a large table across a room DOES NOT PHASE HIM. And that when he comes home at the end of the day, he patiently works masterful therapy on a schizophrenic dog who is afraid of ROTATING CEILING FANS, finally coaxing her onto the bed to wrestle and wag her tail.

Then we lay in bed after all of this and laugh about how funny it all is – our dog who requires daily sessions with the shrink. We roll our eyes and discuss how as miserable as she is with the ceiling fan on, and as hard as it is to watch her be so scared, we’ll keep it on all night because we’re going to win this battle. That it’s just not appropriate for her to be afraid of ceiling fans. Remember how she used to be afraid of the TV? And the back porch? And riding in the car?

Maybe I sound a little bitter, and I apologize for that. It must be because cleaning vomit off the carpet in the middle of the night, calming a frightened creature at the vet’s office, and leaving the party early to get back to someone’s bladder control schedule has not adequately prepared me for parenthood. Excuse me while I get up to leave, in the middle of my hour of internet peace, to run to the store and get cat food. Because we’re all out, and while I have a million things I need to do to pack up and go to Chicago for the weekend, his needs come before mine.

Oh boy, are we in for a surprise!

I read a ton of books about pregnancy, labor and delivery, even though I never really thought I would. I thought I would want to embrace the “Ignorance Is Bliss” philosophy, but after reading one, you just get sucked in over and over again!

So here are my book recommendations for whiling away the hours when you can’t sleep at night.

Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth – If you read NOTHING ELSE in your whole pregnancy, you will be fine after having read this book. You might go into it thinking she’s quacky, and with some of the stories and photos you might continue to feel that way. But stick it out and then tell me she’s a quack after finishing it all. For real, it will change your life. And you will likely feel capable of saving the world. Go for it!

Our Bodies, Ourselves: Pregnancy and Birth – I highly encourage you to read this book which is set up a bit more on a timeline ala “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” without all of the “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!” and “YOUR BABY IS GOING TO DIE!” crap that What To Expect throws in there. Along those lines, don’t listen to ANYTHING that What To Expect says about miscarriage. They are big fat jerks and I want to kick them in the genitals. “Our Bodies, Ourselves” addresses what you need to know about miscarriage, and while we’re also on miscarriage can I please take a moment to shout from the rooftops that most women do not need D&Cs! Your doc might just schedule you for one routinely, but know that you probably do not need one unless you had a complicated or late miscarriage. Your body will take care of things fine on its own, and you’d rather be lying in your bed eating mac n cheese, weeping and playing cards with your mom than coming out of a druggy-invasive-procedure- fog. Just sayin.

You: Having a Baby – After the disasters that are Dr. Phil and Rachel Ray, it’s hard to believe that any made-famous-by-Oprah character could be any good. But Dr. Oz contributes to this fascinating book that tackles a lot of interesting genetic stuff regarding your baby. It’s the first thing I’ve read that relates honest information about the little truth we know regarding autism (AKA: not Jenny McCarthy’s lies). That’s of course not the focus of the book, but it discusses your pregnancy on a molecular level which is kinda fun. I wish I had read this earlier in my pregnancy, and you’ll want to read it as soon as you can, because it can help you get on a good, healthy path for the nine months ahead.

Finally, there was a beautiful book that my sister-in-law, Beth, showed me over Christmas and I sat down and read in its entirety at her dining room table. It’s a book on newborn care written by a Swedish author filled with stunning photography. I enjoyed every page of it, then came home and promptly read it again in the library. But Christmas was a long time ago, and I’ve forgotten the name of it, so I’m hoping Beth can fill us in on what it was. Pick up a copy just to look at the photos, if nothing else.

I’m venturing a guess that having babies is similar to getting a puppy, and the expecting moms I know were all puppy-owners at one time. (Of course experienced moms are going to say there are no similarities, but we all know it’s just because they don’t get enough sleep.) Before getting Berlin, I read a slew of books on puppy training and what to do and what not to do and hoped beyond hope that we’d have a well-behaved crate-trained little beauty. I also thought she’d never play fetch because of her anxiety. Well, the pup hates crates, but will sleep curled up on the floor next to us wherever we are all well-behaved-like. She never chews on furniture and would rather play fetch than eat, even. So all the book-learnin I acquired from the Monks did nearly jack squat for me. I think the fact of the matter is that your intuition and your unconditional love will win out in the end.

But still read the Ina May book.

Cara sent me this adorable picture of her two pups, Jacques and Gus waiting for peanut butter cookie dough at Christmastime. How cute are they? I’m sure they’re going to love their new treats!

Thanks for participating, guys!

Luckily, Berlin doesn’t seem to be an over-eater and she can casually graze all day without us having to measure her portion sizes. But it was hard to find a standard dog food that was actually good for her and didn’t cost an arm and a leg. After trying lots of different foods, we put her on Purina One’s Sensitive Systems diet, not because she has a sensitive system but because it’s the only food we could find regularly available at the grocery store with a meat as the first ingredient! You won’t believe how many foods are filled with fillers. Yuck. You have to pay extra for really healthy organic foods, but we figured her salmon diet with Purina One would be both convenient and healthy enough.

When it comes to dog treats though, I’m even pickier. She doesn’t get treats all the time, in fact she probably is rewarded with a treat only a few times a week. My guidelines for treats are that they MUST BE MADE IN THE USA (after all those pets died from Chinese food and treats a few years ago) and must not primarily contain fillers (ie: I have to recognize a few things in the ingredient list). It’s hard to find, frankly, so I wind up either buying treats with coupons or paying more for dehydrated organic chicken breasts and just give them to her less frequently.

But then we found Turtlebob’s!!! There is no going back. After her first bite of the peanut butter and banana treats, she was sold and will actually WORK for these tasty little bone-shaped biscuits. Recently we’ve been giving her solely Turtlebob’s treats, and when I tried to give her some generic Pedigree treat this weekend SHE REFUSED IT! Which is fine by me because the Turtlebob treats actually smell tasty to humans and don’t leave that gross meaty residual smell on your fingers.

So a little bit about our dear friends at Turtlebob’s Doggie Delights! Stacey, a mother of two, lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with Mt. Baker out back and Puget Sound out front. I know. I’m wicked jealous too! Their family pets include Misty Moo, a golden/lab mix, and Oliver, a black lab. And then there’s the infamous Bob, a Russian Tortoise and the inspiration for the name “Turtlebob’s Doggie Delights.”

Stacey’s been making treats for her own dogs since they were puppies. She recently started Turtlebob’s this January out of the love for making treats for her own dogs, and thinking it might be a good way to help pay for all the kids sports activities. She tries to buy local and get organic ingredients at the farmers co-op (hip hip hooray!!!), while her dad provides the BEST honey which helps act as a perservative and gives the treats a tad of sweetness dogs love. She gets help in the kitchen from her son who loves to help creating the little bone-shaped treats, and is working on some new recipes to add to the site soon!

This week’s awesome giveaway sponsored by Turtlebob’s Doggie Delights will have TWO WINNERS! Each winner will receive one 10oz package of Turtlebob’s Organic Peanut Butter Banana Treats. Remember, you don’t have to be a dog-owner to be the winner! These would make an awesome gift for your friend or relative who is a dog-lover.

Rules:

• Giveaway is open to US residents only (sorry Canada!)
• Two winners will be chosen at random
• Giveaway closes at 12:00 noon CT on Wednesday, March 24th
• You can enter more than once by sending me an email with a photo of your pup to be featured in the winners’ announcement post. Send your low-res image to priscilla at verbalintent.com.
• Bonus: Tell us about your favorite pup’s quirky personality traits, and what makes them the best doggie ever!

Good luck!

From Daily Daguerreotype

1. It’s about time for the bathroom’s weekly cleaning, but I’m sorry… I’m too busy compulsively working on my 3 year old quilt to realize, care, or do anything about it.
2. There is still no door. Matt found five layers of paint on the door that he was painstakingly trying to strip using The Worst Chemicals Ever before we decided to spring for a heat gun to peel off the old paint. As strange as it may seem, the bathroom door is low on his priority list because he’s a notorious Project Finisher and wanted to complete the laundry room first to fill his deep internal void. At least this is what he claims. I have a feeling he is putting off the bathroom door until LOST is over to prevent me from inviting people over for weekly LOST parties. He claims I “chitchat” too much during the tv show when we watch it with other people. WHATEVER.
3. And then this one… a grody tennis ball sitting on the pedestal sink. Shall I zoom in for you?

From Daily Daguerreotype

Yes, a drooly, filthy once-bright-pink tennis ball. Anyone who has spent five minutes with Berlin has figured out that she is OBSESSED with fetch. It could be considered clinical… or just the “golden retriever” in her. So every time I’m in Target and they have tennis balls in the $1 section, I pick up a bag. Or two. Or two hundred.

Well they seem to get lost in the backyard frequently, so we’re always pulling out new balls for her to play with. But then out of the blue she’ll find an old ball, and it’s always at the most inopportune of times. Like this morning when she was up and ready to go outside at 6 am. Matt walked her over to the back door and opened her doggy door which she quickly bounded through. Five minutes later I got out of bed for my 911th trip to the bathroom, and who should come in to join me but Berlin with her dirty, stanky backyard find. Knowing full well that when I headed back to bed she would lay down next to me on her own bed and tear the ball to shreds leaving felt and rubber pieces all over the bedroom floor, I quickly confiscated the ball and placed it out of her reach… on the sink.

She was devastated and went back to her bed to pout. Until she found another ball out of reach under my dresser which kept her occupied for about an hour.

So is a nasty tennis ball sitting on our bathroom sink unusual? Not at all. Just stroll through our downstairs and you will find them everywhere. On top of bookshelves, the fireplace mantle, hidden in drawers. Inevitably when I go into labor and need to be packing up my hospital bag, instead I will be frantically running around the house collecting old tennis balls and sanitizing the surface they were sitting on because MY MOTHER WILL DIE AND KICK ME OUT OF THE FAMILY WHEN SHE SEES THESE!

After Christmas, I had myself all ready to settle in for a long winter’s nap in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa and National Geographic. We had a week which was referred to as the “Deep Freeze” wherein our hot and cold water lines to the washing machine started to freeze up. But after that it became positively lovely, and I will be darned if that’s going to change.

Every morning I wake up and hear the chirping of birds outside my breakfast nook window, and I brew myself some coffee and sit down to check my email. And when I take the dog outside, many afternoons I don’t need a jacket. I could really get used to this.

All this to say, in the midst of the “Deep Freeze” I had a heart to heart with Matt wherein I mentioned that um, hello, we’ve moved to Tennessee where it’s not sposed to be so darned cold, and we bought a house, and I had kinda hoped that when it was so darned cold out we could just open the dog door to the backyard and let Berlin outside without having to shoe up and jacket up and scarf up to keep her company. I mean, we’re not apartment dwellers anymore. We have a fenced backyard. Dog should do dog things back there without the need of an escort. So I asked, would he please put together a Behavior Modification Plan for Berlin?

And he did.

See, our pup loves being outside, and she loves romping in our backyard. But she doesn’t like being places without us. We are her security blanket, so she’d rather hold her bladder in the house all day than go outside by herself, bless her heart. When we take her outside for potty time, she needs us to go out the door, down the back deck steps and out into the grass with her. Then and only then will she pee and poop. But she might not do it in the dark because she’s scared of the dark.

Well let me just say, my husband is a brilliant man and my dog, despite her many fears, is very smart as well. Matt put together a plan, and the key was consistency – we each had to do the same exact thing when he took her out in the morning and I took her out in the evening. Gradually we would make her try harder things, which wound up being not so gradual because she’s a very quick learner. (Aside, will trade husband for a week of potty training your toddler in exchange for two David Gray tickets at the Ryman!)

We started off by making her use the dog door when she came back into the house. Then we would stand at the bottom of the deck steps but wouldn’t go out into the grass with her. Then we stood in the middle of the steps. Then at the top of the steps. She didn’t like that phase. Then we would stand at the top of the steps and she had to go both in and out of the house via the dog door. Let me also note that no treats were used. See, she’s not food motivated, she’s praise motivated. So there was a lot of yelping and “WAY TO GO, BIG GIRL!” And our neighbors officially think we are nutty!

Then yesterday as the sun was setting, I took her outside, and she zipped right out the dog door, down the steps and into the grass. I sat in an Adirondack rocking chair on the deck while she played in the backyard, completely out of my sight. She eventually brought me a ball which I threw off the deck and into the backyard for her and this version of “fetch” ensued for about a half an hour. Then towards the end, when it was completely dark, she flopped in the grass to rest out of my sight chomping on her ball. So I snuck into the house, and about two minutes later she was back in the house via her dog door.

Of course, the next step will be just saying “Wanna go outside?” and having her run over to her dog door and out into the backyard without anyone’s accompaniment whatsoever. We’re getting there.

But frankly, with this gorgeous spring-like weather, I kinda wanna be outside with her. You know, endorphins and whatnot.

From Daily Daguerreotype