Saturday, March 26, 2011

My Dad is better than your Dad

So my mother told me that I wasn’t allowed to write a special 60th birthday post for my dad because it would make him sad and weepy, and then he’d have to close his office door and have a little cry, and that could get kind of embarrassing for him, because henceforth – I would imagine – no one would take him seriously in meetings. And so I promised that I wouldn’t.

And yet it’s his 60th birthday, and because I haven’t actually got him anything else (um, yet?), I thought a little recognition couldn’t go amiss.

And so I hereby present you with a list of things I like best about my dad.

  • He will always drive you to the airport if you need to go there, and he will always pick you up. Just always remember you will leave on the FIRST flight, and your phone should be on immediately after landing. If the airplane reaches the gate without a conversation, you may lose your ride home.
  • He will pretty much always be on time for you. Actually, he will pretty much always be early.
  • He always feels the need for a fire in the fireplace on Christmas Day. Even if it is 80 degrees and windy, but at least there is air-conditioning.
  • He plans his vacations two years in advance, down to the minute.
  • He loves his granddaughter more than he could ever have imagined, and adores being a grandpa, even if he refuses to acknowledge the name.
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Happy Birthday Dad!

Monday, March 21, 2011

Just call me a snot-sucking ninja

All day Sunday---nay, pretty much all weekend---I disinfected my house because of this retched cold harboring in the nose and chest of my sweet little girl. A cold in a baby, for the uninitiated, basically turns your always cheerful, independent little angel into a whining, snot-covered little ogre. And, if there is one thing that I despise about motherhood, something I completely and utterly loathe, it is using the horrible nose bulb thing to suck out Daisy’s snot. I basically avoided the booger-sucking bulb as often as possible. However, with this cold creating epic amounts of snot, so much that I was spending nights and naps consoling a crying, wheezing baby, I knew I needed to figure something else out.

Enter Nosefrida: The Snotsucker Nasal Aspirator, aka: the grossest thing I have ever loved.


On Friday, after class I made a quick, sleep-deprived stop at Target to pick up the Nosefrida (also bought: paper towels, laundry detergent, antibacterial wipes; verdict: world’s most boring Target run ever.)  Immediately upon entering the house, I whipped out my latest purchase, carefully read the instructions, psyched myself up, and with my own lung power, sucked the snot out of my baby’s nose.

And, if I didn’t understand true love and motherhood before that moment, I now do (cue angels singing).

Basically, it is exactly like it sounds. You have a 5-inch long cigar-shaped plastic collection chamber connected to a 15-inch flexible tube. A foam filter prevents the snot from entering the tubing (and into your mouth), but you have plenty of time before it reaches the filter. To use, you place the plastic against the baby’s nostril and use your own breath to draw out the snot. I swear it sounds much grosser than it really is. All pieces are dishwasher safe (although, we haven’t had time for it to run through the dishwasher, so I just wash it in the hottest-soapiest water I can stand, and let air dry.) Basically, the Nosefrida allows me to suction her nose so much more effectively without shoving that horrible bulb in her nostrils. It has taken a few times to get the position correct, basically pinning her down so that she can’t swat away the contraption too soon. Internet, this was, hands-down, the best $20 I have ever spent (I bought extra filters, just in case).

And now, I know exactly what gift I’m going to bring to my next baby shower. Yep, I’ll probably be the most popular one there, or at least it’ll definitely be the most talked about.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011


Dear Daisy,

On Monday, you turned one. At twelve months of age, you are my little peanut sizing up to 28 inches long, but only 17 pounds and 10 ounces. The pediatrician informed me that I should start giving you a small milkshake everyday to boost up your caloric intake to which you responded with a resounding “yah, mama.”


Obviously, this letter is a little later than usual; I blame this on the fact that you are ONE, which means you travel everywhere at roughly the speed of light leaving a wake of destruction in your path. But, I can’t blame it on you alone, but also because your father is currently immobile due to a cracked patella. These two events have made for a crazy past couple of days, but you love having your father home all day every day. You love the afternoon reading and snuggle time, and morning breakfast together with him. You love coming home from daycare and start babbling “dada, dada” the minute we walk through the door.


Daisy, the last few months with you have been amazing. Every day you learn something new and delightful. Your father and I are constantly looking at one another in surprise at your wealth of new tricks. We especially love to watch you figure out how stuff works. It’s adorable beyond belief.

These days you seem to be powered solely by shrieks of delights and giggles. This makes me think that everyone should go out and get them a twelve month old. PRONTO. In fact, a few weeks ago we traveled back to Boston for a funeral, in which you decided to entertain the mourners with your smiles and laughter minutes before the service started. This reminded me of the beauty of your innocence, and Daisy, I hope that you never lose that.



Last weekend we planned a small birthday party to celebrate this baby milestone. Both sets of grandparents, a great aunt & a great uncle, both uncles, and a few friends from your playgroup were in attendance. We had chicken tacos, cheese and avocado – all your favorite foods, and of course, the first introduction to sweet treats: a cupcake. And even though I wanted to be a little sad about this huge milestone, even though I want to mourn that your babyhood is almost over, it was all I could do to keep my heart from exploding with pride. So as I watched you stuff your mouth with cupcake crumbs, this is what I was thinking instead: oh, little sunshine, how I love you so.