A is our resident instigator. He’s 2.5 years old now, and in the span of 1 week, he covertly switched the dryer settings to “air fluff” (causing a minor panic as our loads kept coming out damp and we were sure we’d need to get a repair scheduled ASAP), snaked my mom’s vaccination card from her purse (which she didn’t discover until getting ready to go to the theater where she needed her proof of vaccination for entry), and changed the temperature settings on our home hub to 50*.
To better illustrate the type of ‘tude this tot often rocks, I present the 2nd episode of “overheard,” this time featuring snippets of A during our recent long drives:
*****
(25 minutes into a 10 hour drive, after having spotted the tiniest glimpse of a Pringles can)
“I just want the chips. I just want the chips. I just want the chips.”
(Repeat for 10 minutes straight in toddler bass vocal range.)
*****
(Practicing how to politely interrupt)
A: excuse me?
Dave: yes, A?
A: don’t talk to me!
*****
A: hi, Mom!
Me: hi, A! I love you!
A (smiles sweetly): I love chips!
*****
A: Mom?
Me: yes, A?
A: no, I’m talking to DAD.
*****
(After Dave agreed to share a few sips of his Powerade)
A: You can have the rest, Dad.
Dave (reaches back to take the bottle): aw, thank you, A. That was so nice of you to save some for–
Recently – and for the first time since February 2020 – we left the state! We drove out to Baltimore to visit dear family friends after several COVID-spoiled attempts the past 2 summers. It was a wonderful trip with some of our all-time favorite people, but in order to get there, we had to pack all 4 boys, ourselves, and loads of gear into our car and drive 8.5 hours out (& back). I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was totally manageable and only took about 10. That said, let’s be real: things do tend to run more smoothly when you start planning weeks in advance and are effectively packed up 6 days before departure.
For the record, here’s what made the cut and saved the day:
SNACKS
- Clementines. Pre-peel, dole out.
- Applesauce pouches.
- Dry goods: goldfish, granola bars, mini beef sticks, raisins.
- Mystery packs: one random assortment of something special in a pack (we did pretzels and a couple of gummies) – part of the novelty buys time as well as fills them up.
- Food as a bribe: we used the opportunity to pick a treat at a rest stop as motivation to make good on potty promises.
AMUSEMENTS (rationed by me)
- Melissa & Doug water wow books — for the biggies & for Scooch.
- Travel-friendly writing tools — white boards for the biggies, a magnetic board for Scooch.
- Reusable sticker packs – not so sticky they get stuck all over the car, and relatively resistant to Scooch tearing them apart.
- Honorable mention: I stashed this I Spy game thinking it could be used to unite the group — eg settle a squabble with a challenge to spy 10 of the prompts in order to win all of us s treat. We didn’t end up needing it but I’m confident I could hype it up to buy an hour or even two.
- MVP: we brought the boys’ Yoto player (a screen-less, ad-free audio device that you can load up with cards to play different songs, stories, or games and then let the kids control) & bought them a few new cards to keep them occupied in the “quiet” times we tried to reserve for people who wanted to nap (which is to say, no one but the infant).
WHAT I WOULD CHANGE FOR NEXT TIME
- Reduce the volume of snacks – I packed envisioning us powering through long legs of the journey, but you can’t go that long without stopping for the baby’s sake and because the other boys simply need opportunities to hit the restroom. You can pick up plenty of snacks or meals en route.
- Forgo the busy board – not only because our 2-year-old genuinely can’t manage some of the mechanics of these buckles & they’d be only moderately entertaining for the older boys, but because the last thing I should’ve been promoting is more practice unbuckling himself in a moving vehicle (*face palm*).
- Mount a garbage bag on the seat-back of the 2nd row so the 3rd row (our older 2) could reach it. I tried pretty pointedly to minimize mess-making, but knew what an oversight I’d made when my fingers closed around the mound of still-damp tissues from J’s runny nose over the course of the drive.
Eggo’s chocolate chip waffles are the breakfast MVPs of minimal mess. Almost 0 crumbs and don’t require syrup or utensils.
You heard it here first.
Dave & I have a running document of the absurd or comical things said in the company of our kids (frankly, either by them or by us).
Some favorites from J:
*****
(Birthday included treats at school, water play, and a live musician, plus we picked J up early to go to the park’s splash pad/playground/beach AND had neighbors over for cake)
Gigi: happy birthday, J! What did you do today??
J: I got sunscreen in my eyes.
June 2019, 4 years old
*****
Me: don’t forget to wash your armpit.
J: yep, and my legpit. *Scrubbing behind his knee*
July 2020, 5 years old
*****
Me: Ohh, J. You’re so wonderful. I’m so glad you’re mine. I mean, I’m so glad I grew you. Haha! I mean, you grew yourself, but I provided the uterus. We make a pretty good team, you & I.
J (after a few seconds, thoughtfully): Although… you did grow a baby who likes to eat his own boogers.
March 2021, 5 years old
*****
(Walking to the bus stop)
J: pretend we’re strangers.
Me: okay. Hi, I’m Kel; what’s your name?
J: no, I mean, pretend we’re strangers who live in different houses but we’re best friends.
Me: oh, okay. Oh hey, J! How’s your morning going?? Haven’t seen you.
J: hi. (Pause) okay, now pretend we’re volcanoes.
April 2021, 5 years old
*****
Today’s addition:
Me: boys, this is the second mini-flashlight we’ve found tucked into C’s sleepers today already. Do not put things in his clothes.
J: that’s not a flashlight, Mom. Those are C’s boosters.
December 2021, 6 years old
It’s been said that to have a baby is to “decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” O has only celebrated 4 birthdays, but I’ll be honest, they always hit me right in the feels.
Somewhere right around 8:54am on this day 4 years ago, I was surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses in an OR after they “crashed” my delivery. I was shaking so much that my teeth chattered, and crying so hard that the anesthesiologist took pity on me, removing and wiping off my glasses while I was otherwise strapped to the table. I was whispering on a loop — I think inaudibly — “please, please, please, please, please.” A million simultaneous wishes for one outcome: please let the baby be okay. I will give anything; please just let the baby be okay.
In what I think is a psychological defense mechanism, I now view this memory as if outside myself, and it culminates in O’s anguished cries mixing with my relieved sobs. The nurse holds the red, wailing infant out for me to see and tells me not to worry; his swelling from his dramatic exit will “go down in a few days.” I continue sobbing, “what swelling?? He’s *sob* so *sob* beautiful.”
Sometimes I feel alone telling this story. I scrounge for words or similes or expressions to describe the fear, and they are — without fail — always inadequate. But the sad, or remarkable, or horrific part is I’m not alone in these types of parenting moments.
We had another close call with O just a few months ago. I’m not ready to put it all in writing because I can’t get past the image of my then 3-year-old’s light-up Spiderman shoes peeking out from behind the paramedic as they lifted him into an ambulance on a stretcher. But the danger passed; he came home. Days later, however, I still found myself periodically locked in the bathroom in order to have an uninhibited ugly cry where my kids couldn’t see me.
I reached out to a friend who has a child that combated and defeated the real deal: pediatric cancer. I spilled my guts, sheepishly acknowledging how insensitive it felt comparing this 36-hour episode to the sustained trauma she and her daughter were/are living through, but I had to know: how did she get through a day without being physically nauseated at the memory of her child in peril? She sent me a thoughtful, honest reply, highly recommending a good “shower cry” and assuring me that over time, I would be able to accept that he’s okay. When I tearfully asked how I could cope with the consuming thoughts of things that might have happened, she said that “you have to try your very very best not to let your head go there. You (and me) are allowed to feel ‘lucky’ that the alternatives did not happen.” I single-mindedly focus on this sentiment even now, months later, when I have intrusive thoughts about that day.
On the day O was born, my insides were opened — both literally and figuratively. Not a single day has passed between November 18, 2017, and now when I haven’t been consciously grateful that he’s here.
To November 18th, to my sweet son, and to all of the parents who manage to simply put one foot in front of the other as their hearts go walking around outside their bodies. Cheers.
With Halloween around the corner, I thought I’d share 3 things that I find truly frightening.
- The news that Costco anticipates one of the next product shortages to be baby wipes.
- Walking my absent-minded, accident-prone, frenetic children through the wine section at the grocery.
- Finding an orphaned marker cap anywhere in our house.
*Shudder.*
What’s this?? Two hacks in quick succession? Yes, lucky readers (all 3 of you), I’m feeling particularly helpful (& opinionated) at the moment.
Hack #3: All You’ll Really Need For Your Infant Is Whatever You Have On Hand
(aka “Baby Gear Can’t Save You, but You’ll Survive Anyhow”)
Imagine my surprise when — between my first child and my last — several new mom friends recommended “must have” items that straight up did not exist when I created my baby registry just 6 years ago. Could technology really move so fast as to substantially improve one’s ability to weather the “4th trimester” in the span of just 6 years?
Two such items I used and liked:
- The Haakaa: a silicone breast pump that exists solely to catch the “let down” on the breast opposite the one you’re using to feed Baby (amazing and depressing to see how much would go to waste otherwise).
- The Spectra breast pump: as comfortable as any pump can be, I imagine, but infinitely quieter than the model I started using in 2015. (Breast pumps now covered by insurance! Thanks, Obama.)
Every other “must have,” however, didn’t inspire me to purchase.
Case in point: the Snoo. This is a ~$1500 bassinet. It has a number of features designed to help soothe Baby back to sleep during the night. Do you know how much I would have paid for something that claimed to help my baby sleep when I was a first time mom? Any. All of it. All the money.
But this brings me to my hack: whatever you have on-hand for your infant is what you’ll get used to, and that’s all that you’ll need. Which is to say: the volume of things baby stores claim you should register for… is a total racket. I just did a quick check of the Buy Buy Baby suggested checklist and only marked 50% of these items as things I actually used/needed for any of my 4 children. No judgment of any one item… though a fair amount of confusion about why a baby food maker is a separate product from a kitchen’s existing blender, or why anyone wants to keep a diaper pail in their room vs just regularly taking the stinky diapers to the outside bin, or why Mom and Dad need separate diaper bags (because the only way to worsen the process of monitoring diaper bag contents would be to have to do it twice). Just saying, by the numbers and for my own kids, half of these items were absolutely non-essential and we never missed having them.
Using the Snoo as our case study, I’ve seen a number of online forums praising it, showcasing the app with long sleep stretches for baby as of the 6-8 week mark. To feel like reliable sleep in >90 minute increments is around the corner — it’s a glorious thing, I know. But I’m pretty sure that a baby can sleep through the night — at least metabolically speaking — once they’re > 12 lbs. I would venture to say many (most?) babies start giving longer sleep stretches right around 6 – 8 weeks. I’ll definitely vouch for my own kids, who have all been able to sleep reliably long stretches by the 8 week mark in their $75 pack ‘n play/bassinet combo. So while the Snoo may be a great piece of tech, I can’t help but feel like it’s preying on new parents by taking partial credit for a mix of Baby’s biological development and the fact that parents are more willing to let a baby practice self-soothing (read: fuss for longer before hauling one’s exhausted body out of bed… again…) 1.5+ months into the sleep deprivation gig.
Just to be clear: I have no issue with people shelling out for high quality products for their babies if means allow… smoother strollers, prettier bouncers, certainly smart bassinets. If we were having our first today, with 6 extra years of earning power than when we were first expecting, we might be inclined to do the same. And goodness knows we feel justified in the places we splurged now that we’ve gotten 4 kids worth of mileage out of these things. But I can almost feel the cliche “back in my day we didn’t have these newfangled things and our kids turned out fine!” phrases coming out of my mouth before I have to laugh that “back in my day” practices were as recently as O’s infancy, 3 years ago.
The truth is that the transition to parenthood is incredibly challenging. The gear associated with this stage, however, has very little to do with that fact, so it’s not worth sweating about being properly stocked as new parents inevitably (and unavoidably) figure out so much on the fly and establish a system as they go using what they have on-hand.
A moment of humility: we had to use our pack ‘n play up north recently and left it there, borrowing our friends’ swanky Halo bassinet to keep at home for a few weeks. This thing swivels, vibrates, plays music, makes toast (maybe; we’ve never actually turned it on). It’s beautiful and worked great until C got heavy enough and fidgety enough that he started shifting his body weight into “corners” of the peanut-shaped contraption. He’d wake up prematurely, not yet hungry but actively irritated to be cramped against the mesh lining. In case you haven’t already picked up on this, I consider waking up to a hungry infant a worthy cause to forgo sleep, but almost anything else is unacceptable. The swanky bassinet had to go.
C, 7 weeks old, slept much of the past week like this:
And just for the record, he clocked 9 hours last night.
Hack #2: Everything Is More Exciting With A Scenery Change
18 months after the pandemic began in earnest in Michigan and we are back to 2020 rituals in a lot of ways. O’s daycare class had a positive COVID case as of 6 days ago, so he’s home quarantining as a “close contact.” This means we are spending the holiday weekend keeping to ourselves and hoping we have a(nother) negative test before J and A would theoretically resume school/childcare on Tuesday.
All this to say, I am revisiting old tricks to fill the hours without… you know, interaction with the outside world. Enter this parenting hack: change out the scenery of normal events (& add snacks) to make them an exciting, half-day event in & of themselves.
3 example applications:
- Epic Walks. Grab a “snack pack” (a bag of assorted snacks that wouldn’t normally be found together – better still if you can have your kids assemble a pack themselves) & hit the road. Stroll, scoot, bike – just go, and set a meandering pace that incorporates a goal (mileage, a landmark, time before you turn back) or a game (I Spy, or Geocaching). Pro tip: make sure to bring a stroller in the event you need to lug your child’s bicycle back manually… see photo below.
- Picnic Meals. This does not have to be over-thought. Sure, a picnic can be Bento-box-style, Instagram-worthy meals on the side of a vista. OR it can be burgers enjoyed on your driveway, Lunchables consumed overlooking the neighborhood retention pond, or McDonald’s eaten from the comfort of your submarine — I’m sorry, your SUV’s trunk that turns into a submarine just for the duration of the meal.
*Drumroll for the fan favorite change of scenery:* - Drive Out Movies. This is, proudly, an event I invented after I realized the pandemic-friendly “drive in” movies started too late for my kids’ bedtimes. Our Drive Out Movie nights involve me downloading a movie to my phone, packing the boys bags of popcorn and treats, and watching the movie in the front seat of the car, parked in our own driveway. Could we watch the movie in our house on a much larger screen? Yes. Could we eat the snacks with much easier access to refills (& much less concern about crumbs) in our own living room? Yes. Could we be much more comfortably situated on a couch vs crammed with me in the driver’s seat and the two older boys sharing the passenger seat? Yes. But you better believe those Drive Out Movie nights are infinitely more memorable than regular movie nights due to novelty alone.
Chowing down and making bets on what color car would pass by next. 
We got more than a few comments from other trail walkers as we had both a tricycle and bicycle loaded on the stroller over O’s “rumble seat,” had J riding on D’s shoulders, and me carrying Scooch. 
It took >1 hour to walk .5 miles to the pond, and longer to get home. A great investment on a day otherwise in desperate need of not being cooped up at home again.
And finally, an update on parenting hack #1: still going strong.
