INTERVIEW WITH TERESA STRASSER

There's a sudden piercing in my shoulder, like my clavicle is snapping, which convinces

me I'm having some sort of heart attack... The nurse tells me not to worry, that it's just gas. Gas in my shoulder? That is some bad, bad gas." - Teresa Strasser, Exploiting My Baby

Ahh, gas. Bad gas. One of the many things no one warns you about. I mean, we all know the stereotype-- pregnant women, hunched over a carton of ice cream and pickles, simultaneously popping Tums to curb the heartburn they're bringing on... The thing is, NO ONE tells you how bad the heart burn is. No one, tells you it's going to feel like a heart attack. Or that breastfeeding sucks. Yup. I said it.

Anyway, I got a chance to sit down with the hilarious and smart Teresa Strasser, author of Exploiting My Baby, to talk about becoming a mom and all the inane fears we had and challenges we faced during and after pregnancy. Teresa is one cool chick. And her book is very relatable. Oh, and she has fantastic legs. I mean, fan-friggin-tastic.

TIRED TEETH

It's hard to believe that almost three years ago to the day, I was feverishly reading all the what you need to know about your baby books in anticipation for the arrival of Prince Baby-Ko. As I made mental lists and actual lists (God, I miss having the time to be anal retentive), I'm pretty sure I declared a whole lot of sheeeyaat that I absolutely thought I would never do....

Yup. At the time, I was pretty sure that *I* would never be the one to discourage teeth brushing at bed time.

Cue 2 weeks ago...

I'm marching Baby-Ko in to his room after his third attempt to escape and stall what should not come as a surprise after 3 years on this planet:

"Baby-Ko. It. Is. Bed. Time."

"But... but... Wait a minute, mommy. We forgot to brush my teeth."

Totally in his room, and in the-perfect head on shoulder- body relaxing- pacifier in mouth- I might miss a golden opportunity to put this kid to bed once and for all if I don't seize this opportunity right now-moment, I choked:

"Uh, that's okay. Not tonight."

"But I want to brush my teeth," he said trying to squirm out of my arms.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your teeth are too tired. They just can't do it."

"My teeth are too tired?"

"Yes, exhausted. It's night night time."

Please, buy it.

His head settled back down.

Phew.

No. No. I did not think, based on the hours I spent in prenatal yoga, chanting to the gods of sun and powerful vaginas that I, a woman seeking natural and no interventions childbirth, would so naturally and effortlessly intervene my own child's right to dental hygiene with silly lies (that would selfishly bring me one step closer to leftover Chinese food).

And I most certainly did not think, after working full time and having my son in day care full time for the past 2 years that Baby-Ko starting preschool would get me farklempt.

But alas, here I am. Lying, lazy, teary and all.

In just a few weeks, Baby-Ko will start preschool.... Gulp. So many thoughts running through my mind and I'm sure that I will write a post as the big back to school day actually approaches. But in the meantime, I wanted to share a promotion that we're running on Parents Ask. Winner will get $250 gift certificate to Old Navy. (Good stuff, huh?!) So spread the word, leave a comment (on the video/link) and tell us what your favorite back to school ritual is.

Also, tell me that you didn't notice said chinese food leftovers/container on the stove in the background as it is making me crazy. Hmm, maybe there is hope for my anal retentiveness after all....

"HAY-NEE"

Two years ago tonight, I was up in wine country with a bunch of friends, staying at a beautiful house along the Russian River, drinking wine, eating delicious meals, and makin' babies. Well... Turns out I actually only made one baby to be specific, but the point is I literally conceived on New Year's eve (or New Year's day.... it was a lucky 24 hours for my husband and I).  Now, we're  back up in wine country, with the same group of friends and a couple of additions to the group -- the scenery is still stunning, the wine is still delicious, and the food is still making me fat (and for sure committing to a diet on Monday).  The only change: babies. Children. Toddlers. Three momma loving, snack loving, Elmo loving kiddies along for the ride. 

Being here with Baby-Ko and his two pals "Addie" and "Addie" (both different names, and different sex actually) definitely makes the moments of wanting to pull my hair out when Baby-Ko is having a meltdown more tolerable. It's certainly not the same trip we take year after year, after all- babies at winery isn't what I would call "relaxing," but it's definitely fun. And chaotic. And sweet. And I'm sure the best form of birth control our single friends with us could ever ask for....

***

Tonight as I put Baby-Ko to sleep, I told him about what an amazing year 2007 was because it was the year he was born and I fell in love. I told him that 2008 was even better because I watched him turn from an infant to a little man right before my eyes and then I really fell in love. I told him that we had so many exciting things in store for him 2009... turning two, a new president, a new doggy (not really, but I said it because it's fun to hear him say "dAH-gee").  I said "Happy New Year" over and over and finally, he said "Hay-nee," which I can only assume is his brilliant rendition of Happy New Year. It was a wonderful way to say 'night-'night.... and go join my friends upstairs for an adult beverage...

This has been one hell of a year and I am so looking forward to an even happier, healthier, and sweeter New Year. Best wishes to all.  

xoxo

J-Ko

I GOT IT

Well, my friends, I'm happy to announce, my husband DID GOOD. He actually did better than good. He did great. I was convinced, after I got a few concerned texts and calls from him (baby wasn't napping, baby was pooping all day, Daddy didn't have time to eat lunch, etc.), that I'd be coming home to an exhausted, hysterical and overall pissed husband. But when I walked through the door late Sunday afternoon, T-Ko was smiling, the baby was beaming, and my house was surprisingly in tact. In fact, when I walked in, Baby-Ko was in his high chair, eating dinner and when I instantly went from the "Girls Gone Wild" mode that I had been in all weekend to J-Ko the Mommy and started to clean up, T-Ko said (without any thought or hesitation) "I GOT IT."

WHAT???? Just like that? YOU "GOT IT??"

WHAT? What happened to my husband? This is amazing. Three words that seemed to come so effortlessly and so nicely. Wow. less than 48 hours and my husband is a changed man.

Seriously, since coming home from Palm Springs, I have noticed a change in T-Ko... he's helpful, involved and quite frankly, I think has "seen the light." It seems like he "gets it now." T-Ko, my love, you done good. So good in fact, you're now a pro. Wanna show off your new skills again next weekend? :-)

****

SOME OTHER THOUGHTS....

1) PALIN. This woman freaks me out. She reminds me of a scary, bible thumping version of Tina Fey (who I think would make a better VP by the way). Just wondering how she plans to get America "back on track" if she can't get her daughter back on birth control...

2) Speaking of pregnant, I learned a new phrase from my Brittish girlfriend this weekend: "UP THE DUFF." It means "Knocked Up." (and is apparently very vulgar). I LOVE IT. Let's try it in a sentence, "Daughter to conservative and family value champion, Governor Sarah Palin, is UP THE DUFF." Sounds right to me.

3) 90210. Did anyone else watch it?? Like everyone else, I used to watch 90210 RELIGIOUSLY. I can remember thinking that Brandon and Dylan looked old even back then - that there was no way they were in their "teens." But this new version, is even more ridiculous. Not only are the girls BEYOND skinny, but bitches are OLD. Probably my age. Seriously! That said, IIIIIII was actually the one feeling old last night. Especially when I found myself identifying with the storylines of the parents, principals and having a crush on the hottest English teacher I ever saw! If only the faculty was that hot when I went to high school...

ON MY MIND...

 While nothing extraordinary took place, this past week did feel like a busy one, leaving me with a few things on my plate and on my mind...

**

 T-Ko and I finally got the chance  to go see a movie. We went to see "Dark Knight" and it freaked the shit out of me. The entire time, I had my sleeves covering my eyes and my nails digging into T-Ko's hand. When we left, I thanked g-d that I wasn't pregnant because I would for sure have had to call the doctor the next day, convinced that my shpilkes during all of  The Joker's scenes had caused something terrible to happen to the baby. Of course, I was also convinced that at 7 months pregnant, I had caused my baby to go deaf after seeing another summer blockbuster. Seriously, "Ratatouille" was very loud...

**

Wacky's lecture this week was about "not labeling" your baby. For example, if your baby falls and bops their head on the floor and starts crying, you don't want to say "You're okay, you're okay," because in a way, you are telling your child that they have to be okay (and not have their own emotions). Instead, you want to say "Oh, you fell. That looked like it hurt..."  OR another example, if your baby tends to get physical when playing with other children, you don't want to say that he/she is "aggressive," as they will personify that label and start to actually act like it. Instead you want to say that they're "excited" and "engaged."  

SO, I have been thinking about Wacky's lecture and trying to apply it to my marriage, and I'm pretty sure I've got it down: I shouldn't say T-Ko is  "lazy" because he doesn't do the dishes." He's just "not a good helper." 

**

My cleaning lady acted like she was solving a crime when she looked at me suspiciously and asked me if I was pregnant. 

(I will take another minute to let you digest this. AGAIN). 

YES. For the second time in a week, I was asked if I was pregnant (which I am not). She is a very kind, sweet lady, but I was less than thrilled  when she pointed to my dress and said, "Yaay-Ko, you skinny, but I think you pregnant in that dress," (say in Spanish accent).

It's official. The Empire Waist Gods have it out for me.

**

I took two Tae-Bo classes this week, watched what I ate, doubled up on Colace and voila: lost 2 pounds. It's not as much as I had hoped for, so as I go into my final week of my 30 day diet, I am happy to announce my 30 day diet has now turned into a 60 day one.  

**

When I asked T-Ko how I should end a blog that really has no end (or beginning for that matter), he said I should talk about how much I love him....

T-Ko, I DO love you. You're my best friend. And the funniest person I know. Now please go do the fucking dishes.

The end.

EXPECTING

When we got to the Studio City Farmer's Market yesterday, I was feeling pretty good. T-Ko and I had our double-shots on ice in hand, Baby-Ko was in great spirits and I was feeling sort of cute ( for not having taken a shower), dressed in a long maxi dress and scarf in my hair. Walking through the stalls, bumping into all the cute LA Mommies & Daddies and their little Chloe's and Max's as we search for asparagus under 3 bucks, I felt in my element.

As I stood at the gate of the pony rides with Baby-Ko, pointing out that "the horse says 'nayyy!'," a Tall Daddy, taking pictures of his daughter on one of the ponies started up a conversation with me.
"Aw, he's so cute!"
"Thank you."
"He's about what- 9, 10 months old?"
"Yeah, 10 months."
"10 months. Such a big boy," he says nicely and adds, "AND YOU'RE EXPECTING ANOTHER ONE TOO, HUH?"

(I'll give you a moment to digest this).

I'm speechless. Under my aviators, my eyes say it all.
"NO?" He says as if this is fucking funny.
"Uh. NO." I turn away with attitude. I cannot believe it and search for T-Ko who is across the pony rides, taking pictures of us.
"Ooops," he says. "I guess I need to keep my mouth shut." UH, YA THINK???
I want to say something horrible and rude to him, but nothing comes out. All I can do is ignore him AND THEN he had the friggin nerve to tell me my arm was in his shot when he was taking a picture of his ugly little daughter when I was showing Baby-Ko the ponies.

At that point, I obviously walked away. Stunned, hurt and wanting to throw goat poop in his face, I find T-Ko and tell him what happened.
"Can you please go defend my honor?" I say half serious.
"He's an idiot, babe. Ignore it."
"This seriously just ruined my day."
"Don't let it...." and adds, "I guess you won't be wearing that dress again though."

HA. HA. HA. Jerk.

Needless to say, my diet is in back in full effect today and anything with an empire waist is going in the trash. Or at least being saved for the next time I'm REALLY pregnant....