MOM JEANS

"You Can't Come in 'cause you old as shit.... 

Not in the general sense, 'cause I'd tear that ass up, 

but for this club..." -- Knocked Up

32 isn't old. I realize that. I know I have another 8 plus years of good solid uterus/baby making time and thanks to some decent genetics, even longer before my wrinkles become noticeable. That said, there are days, like today, when I feel old. When I stop myself and feel, well, "old as shit."  

One of the best/craziest things about sending Baby-Ko to a day care that a) I went to 30 years ago and b) that my friends send their kids to as well, is that:  a) I went there THIR. TY. YEARS. AGO. and that, b) my friends send THEIR KIDS there! My friends have kids? Since when??? Walking in to day care and seeing the son of a girlfriend who I literally had cocktails with last week, sort of grounds me... well, floors me really. (I'm pretty sure we were just talking about which is like, OMG, the hottest guy and like, what she was wearing to "the popular girls" party").

On top of it, I  just hired an afternoon helper/ nanny to pick Baby-Ko up from Day Care on long work days... Her name is AC and she's a sweet girl. And I can say "girl" because, well, I think I could technically be her mom. She's 19 years old and darling. So sweet, so responsible, and soooooo young. But when we went to go pick Baby-Ko up from Day Care (in her car, as she sort of "shadows" me), and "Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas came on, it took everything I had in me not to shout, "Like, OMG. I love this song. Let's blast it." Instead, I quietly hummed and discreetly bopped my booty on the seat.  

As I held back my urge to tell her that my mom was, like, being such a bitch and I'm, like, soo not going to class today (mommy and me class, that is), I wondered when I will officially be old.  A few months ago, my potential for all things Yenta reared it's ugly head during a staff meeting. But I have since felt young and lively. I haven't worried about my age or where I'm going and what I'm doing in a while.... But sitting next to AC, and forgetting that we are nearly 14 years apart, I wondered when it all might catch up with me.... When I will have no choice but to hand over my skinny jeans (which she and I were both wearing) and shop at Talbots instead of Brass Plum.... When I will stop knowing (and caring) who's who and listening to Ryan fucking Seacrest...   When will I grow up?  

I'm certainly in no rush to cross the mom jean threshold and cut off all my hair. In fact, I love being a young mom and feeling sometimes that I actually have no business being one yet. It's kind of empowering, kind of surreal, and definitely, like... way cool. In many ways, "I've got it all going on" right now... The prime of my life really. I mean, AC may look like a cast member of The Hills and get past the velvet ropes at H-Wood faster than I can say "No Nitrate Hot Dogs," but, can she recite her favorite Sesame Street scenes and get IN DA CLUB .... I think not....

POOP BY ASSOCIATION

Disclaimer:  This is my blog and I'll talk poop if I want to.

POOP SHAME: THE FINAL CHAPTER

As I've mentioned over the past couple of weeks or so, Baby-Ko's vocabulary is really taking off. He's repeating nearly everything, including the words that he shouldn't (I dropped a carton of milk and cursed, to which he followed promptly with "Oh, Tuck!) I know that an 18 month old with a truck driver mouth isn't something to brag about, but I must say, hearing him string two words together, (even an "oh"), was awesome.

And of course, given the fact that Bee-Bee's made it known that poo-poo is Oof, it should come as no surprise that now when I go to the bathroom (and Baby-Ko is in there with me), no matter what it is I'm doing/going, he points to the potty and says "oof."  At first, I was mildly offended as I wasn't even going #2 and I can promise there was nothing "Oof" about any of it. But then I realized it's actually quite intelligent- he ASSOCIATES bathroom (the potty), with "oof."  In my opinion, this is brilliant! In fact, the other day, when we were at Costco, as I put the seven-thousand-roll-case of toilet paper in to our cart, Baby-Ko pointed to the wipe-your-ass-for-years supply of TP and said "Oof! Oof!"  Yes! Toilet Paper = OOF! GENIUS.

The point is, I'm not so worried that all the Oofing is going to stop Baby-Ko from pooping or enjoying the potty. I think eventually, he'll have no choice right? When he's 16 years old, it will be funny to be Oof and (if he's anything like the boys I know), he'll even want to get his friends in on the Ooofing. 

So at this point, I'm going to try to put my worry about poop shame to rest -- especially since he's communicating and using his words to tell me what he wants and needs so well. In fact, just the other day, as I was changing his diaper, he strung together his first three word sentence: 

 "I go Poo-Poo."

Now that was Ooof. So very oofing sweet....

POOP SHAME PART 2

Last week, I got a Baby Center email update telling me that my "baby" may be ready to start potty training. 

DELETE. 

OOPS.  See, according to the pediatrician (who I pretty much forced in to telling me that Baby-Ko's language skills were advanced for his age, to which I literally did a high school/napoleon dynamite "yeeessss!"), Baby-Ko is in fact ready to start "potty training." He would like to see him fully trained, or at least interested and "engaged" in the toilet and all that it entails by the age of 2... which is in 6 months.... EEK.  That's a lot of stinkin' pressure... literally.

Twenty minutes ago, I just heard Bee-Bee and Baby-Ko playing.

Baby-Ko: "Poo poo!"

Bee Bee: "Okay, you go poo- poo."

Baby-Ko: "No! No, Poo-Poo!"

Bee-Bee: "Oooff?! You go poo-poo, Ooof?!"

Baby-Ko: "No!!!" 

Three minutes later....

Bee-Bee: "Time to change your diaper, baby."

Baby-Ko: "Nooooooooooo!!!" 

They go in to his bedroom...

Bee-Bee (changing his diaper): "Whoooah! Big poopie! Big big poopie!"

Baby-Ko: "Noooo!"

Bee-Bee: "Ooof! Baby-Ko, Ooof!"

Baby-Ko: "No, ooof!"

Bee-Bee: "Yes, Oof. Very very oof. OOF."

I almost went flying in and begged her to stop the Oof-ness but I couldn't. I was frozen. Am I being too paranoid? Am I over thinking this? Two seconds later, he was laughing and they were playing again. But what if this pooping nonsense is really stopping him up- really holding him back-- I want him to be free. Free to poop. Free to smell. Free to be!  

THOUGHTS? DO I SAY SOMETHING? OR SHOULD I EVEN GIVE A SH*T????? :-)

POOP SHAME

The other day, our nanny ("Bee-Bee"), proudly exclaimed that Baby-Ko has been mimicking her. She told me that when she went to change his diaper, it was stinky and she said "Ooof," and he copied her and said "oof!" She thought it was hilarious and I guess created a little game and while making a "pee-eww!" face says, "Baby-Ko, do you have poo-poo?" He then says, "Nooo. Ooof!" She  proudly showed me their little poo-poo shtick game and I laughed.  Funny (smart) kid, I thought.  Poo-poo is "ooof."

But the next day, when I saw he was sort of struggling while making poops, I said, "Baby-Ko are you making-" and he, almost defensively, answered, "NO!" 

He seemed to be in pain. "Ooof?" I said, trying to lighten things up. 

"NO," he said sadly and walked away.  Did I shame him???

Suddenly I remembered hearing that you're not supposed to embarrass or call attention to your toddler's poop or smell. "It will make them feel bad and make them not want to go." I have no idea where I heard it, but I can only assume it dates back to one of Wacky's lectures or a play date with a PREPMM (Perfect Read Every Parenting Manual Mommy).  But maybe this time, those nutty broads are right... Maybe "ooof" makes him feel bad. Maybe he likes his poop and wants to go freely.

I told my mom my theory and asked her if she thought I should say something to Bee-Bee -- tell her that I would prefer not to "tease" Baby-Ko about pooping. "I don't want him to have poop shame," I said. "He should poop without any judgement..." As I was saying this ridiculously "West side" mommy thing, I started to laugh right along with my mom.

"Nahh. Don't say anything. He'll be fine. He'll still poop... 'Ooof' or not... He'll go. Believe me," she said.

"He won't feel bad? Ashamed?"

"J-Ko, have you known any man in our family (or in the world?!) to feel shame about pooping?"

POINT TAKEN.

But just out of curiosity and because my OCD is raging tonight, does annnnnnnnnyone think ooofing at his pooping may cause a little poop drama down the road? Or is Wacky's word, once again, a load of crap? Literally...

THE TONY SOPRANO OF MOMS

A few weeks ago a friend told me about this LIST that gets emailed out every day from this "Famous" mom here in the valley; We'll call her LIST GOD. Almost every new mom I know, knows her or knows of her. She is like the Tony Sopranos of Moms... She is really tapped in to everyone, everything, and everywhere. Her list goes out via email to over 3000 moms and she posts everything on her list from pre-school information to designer jean sample sales to car seat recalls to nanny leads. The list is fantastic and is very LA: probably read by other yentas like myself, wanting both access and information to anything that could give their child an advantage in life and/or anything discount or insider tip that could be advantageous to them.

So a couple weeks ago, the List God had a posting that said she "knew" of a nanny looking for part time work. I myself was looking for a part time nanny so that I could start writing again. I emailed the List God directly per the posting and she quickly responded. She told me that the nanny for hire was actually HER nanny but doesn't want to "just send her anywhere."- She told me that the Nanny has been with her for 3 years, since the time her twin boys were one month old and her kids adore her, but doesn't need her every day now. We sent a couple emails back and forth and the next thing I knew, I had an interview set up to meet the List God's Nanny. The List God told me I should call HER with questions about the nanny before I met her. Clearly, I was the one being tested out. I called all my friends with nanny experience and asked them what I should ask the List God about her nanny. I wanted to get the job. I mean, I wanted her to get the job....

When the List God's Nanny showed up, I could tell immediately that she was a pro. We chatted about our needs and her experience. As she surveyed our house, I prayed she didn't notice the tremendous dust ball that had formed underneath the baby's swing that from a certain angle looked like a dead rat. I was also thankful that the baby smiled and flirted with her instead of spitting up on her pretty jogging suit that she declared the List God had given her for the holidays. I immediately flashed forward to the holidays and racked my brain for what to get her. Clearly, I can NEVER REGIFT with the List God's Nanny. There is far too much at stake. It'd be like showing up to Tony Soprano's house on Christmas with a cannoli from Costco. I'd get axed like Big Pussy. But when my/her interview was over, she said, "So I can start next Monday," and I breathed a sigh of relief. Phew, we passed.

The following Monday, the Nanny showed up at 8:30 on the dot. I threw on my cute pink robe instead of the one with tomato sauce (I think) on it. I remembered that I had an appointment that day in Beverly Hills. (And by "appointment" , I mean therapy). I didn't have enough breast milk pumped to safely leave the baby with the nanny at home so I told her that she and the baby would come with me and could go for a walk while I was at my "Doctor's Appointment." While we drove into the city, I had to think fast about what kind of doctor I would tell her I was seeing in case she asks me and inevitably report back to the list god. OY, can you imagine the posting on the List about this one?! "News Flash: J-Ko sees a therapist. Nannies and Preschools with waiting lists beware!"

Of course she never asked. But just in case, I am prepared to tell her I am seeing a Dermatologist for a mole that developed during my pregnancy. Well... On second thought, maybe I better stay away from "moles." "Mole" sounds gross. I think I'll go with "dry skin."

Should this ever get back to the List God, the worst thing that could happen would be for her to send me a discount for fantastic body lotion. And THAT is information that I can live with.