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By Elisa, November 15, 2009 1:33 pm

How many of us have small children who repeatedly say the most hilarious things? And how often do we always say to ourselves, “I really need to write this down?”

Well, now is your chance.  Lee and I invite you to share the funny things your Little Ones say on “The Thinking Moms”. 

I will start by telling my two favorite things my daughter has said:

When my daughter was 4 years old, she barged in on me while I was changing.  She took one look at the black bra I was wearing and said, “Ohhhh Mommy! When I grow up I want boobies just like yours!  Black ones that go over the shoulders!”

Then when she was 5, I was looking at her while she was sitting on the couch.  She suddenly seemed so big.  Those toddler years were now only a memory.  Feeling an overwhelming surge of nostalgia, I went over to my daughter and gathered her in my arms.

“Promise me will always be friends?” I asked, “Promise me that when you grow up we will call each other and talk on the phone?”

“Sure,” she answered, “If I have your number”.

Comments (65)

By Elisa,

Because my daughter was 4 1/2 years old before she slept through the night on a consistent basis, I was certain that I would have no problem dealing with the standard sleep deprivation that comes along with having an infant.  I mean, come on!  4 1/2 years I went with constant broken sleep.  What would a measly few weeks be?

And I was right, to a certain extent.  For the first two weeks after my son was born, I did quite well with the broken sleep.  When people asked how I was doing, I said I was “tired, but not exhausted”.  I considered myself a pro at functioning on disrupted slumber.  Allow me to say that I was even a bit cocky with how well I thought I was coping.

Then I hit a wall.

Suddenly, I thought I was going to go crazy.  Every night my son would scream from 8pm-11pm before falling asleep.  He would then wake at 1am and be up until 5am.  Sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn’t.  But he was always wide awake.  When I  finally would get him settled at 5am, my daughter would wake up at 5:30 am – giving me a half an hour in-between.

I became irritable.  I cried a lot.  I was confused.  Why was the milk in the cabinet and the fork in the refrigerator?  Why was I wearing two different shoes? Why was it so hard to remember certain words?  Simple math became difficult.  On several occasions I over-fed my son because I had miscalculated the last time I nursed him.

For the 4 hours that my son was awake during those wee early morning hours, I tried to deal.  We had starring contests (I always lost).  One night I spent two hours trying to remember the first name of George Costanza’s father.  John Costanza?  Larry?  When it finally dawned that it was Frank Costanza, I was so proud that I walked into my bedroom so that I could tell my husband that I had finally remembered.  I then realized it was 2:20 in the morning and he was sound asleep.  And now what was I going to think of for the next 2 hours?

The nights were lonely.  I watched, one by one, the lights go off in neighbors’ homes.  This made me feel even more isolated.  When my son cried, I cried too.  I bargained with God.  “Just give me two hours of sleep – just two hours – and I promise to never complain again!”  I then got fierce.  “After creating the world you rested on the 7th day!  I haven’t rested in weeks!”  Indeed, I was going insane.

One blessed morning when I finally got my Little Guy to sleep at 3am, my daughter woke up.  “Mommy!” she called out, “What are you doing?  Is it time to get up?  Where’s the baby?  What are we going to do today? How many days until Christmas?” (It was July).

I have read that sleep deprivation and nagging are forms of torture.  Therefore, any woman with a newborn and small child is subjected to torture on a daily basis.

And I will never forget the day when my husband came home from work and announced he was tired.  As soon as the words left his mouth a look of horror crossed his face and he quickly said, “I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean that!”

What had I become that no one else had the right to complain of being tired?

By 7 weeks my son started going to sleep after his feedings.  What a relief.  Then, gradually, those feedings lessened until he was sleeping for 6 hour blocks by the time he was 4 months old.

But, alas, I am still getting up at night with my 6 year old daughter.  Some things never change.

Comments (101)

By Elisa, November 13, 2009 4:38 pm

Warning:  Before your next visit to Babies R Us – beware of their return policy.  Or shall I say, their “Refusal to Accept Returns” policy. 

Babies R Us does NOT accept returns without a gift receipt. ( This is why they give you a gift receipt even if you are purchasing an item as small as a pack of gum). This is a fine policy – for a store that is not based solely around registries as Babies R Us is.  For those of us who received baby shower gifts, this policy makes it impossible to return items we received as gifts but were never given a gift receipt.

But note:  they also don’t accept returns even if you do have a receipt.

I recently attempted to return 2 baby outfits I received after my son was born.  I was never given a gift receipt for either.  The clothes still had the Babies R Us tags on them.  When I tried to return the clothes for store credit, the cashier refused to accept them.  I pointed out the Babies R Us tags still attached to the clothes, but the cashier insisted that a gift receipt was necessary.

I then tried to return a bottle warmer I was given.  The gift receipt was still attached to the box.  The cashier also refused to accept this item as well.  She stated that the item was purchased over 90 days ago and they do not accept returns on items over 90 days old.  Trying to explain why I did not have the chance to visit their store sooner with a newborn was fruitless. 

A friend of mine also tried to return a package of onesies she had recently purchased at Babies R Us.  Once she returned home she realized she had bought the wrong size.  When she went back to the store (with receipt in hand) several days later, she was told they would not accept the onesies since they had “just discontinued selling that style”.  The store would not issue my friend store credit.

I went to the Babies R Us website to file a complaint on their return policy but (shockingly) could not find where to contact the store with complaints.  I finally called their 1-800 number and spoke to a Customer Representative.  She offered little sympathy for my plight and pretty much reiterated their policy of 1) needing a gift receipt 2) all returns must be made within 45-90 days.  She did say she was sending my complaint to corporate – which is probably code for “paper shredder”.

So whenever you purchase items, or receive a gift, from Babies R Us – beware of their insanely strict return policy.  Because they were  unable to accommodate my situation twice (after I have spent hundreds of dollars at their store) I am now refusing to shop there.

Comments (106)

By admin, July 2, 2009 7:32 am

If a Can of Beans Falls on Your Foot and No One is Around to Hear You Scream…

I don’t like to cook. I love to eat, but cooking, not so much. I used to love to bake – from scratch. That was before being diagnosed with Celiac Disease and switching to a gluten-free diet. Now, I try to limit my time in the kitchen as much as possible.

Did I mention that I was smart enough to marry someone who loves to cook!?!

My husband not only loves to cook, but the more complicated the dish, the happier he is. If he asks me what I want for dinner and I request chicken and some veggies, he says, “that’s too simple and boring.” He has taken on the challenge of my gluten-free diet with enthusiasm! He has made everything from homemade gluten-free pasta, to cream puffs and empanadas. I want for nothing. And during my pregnancy, he has become even more enthusiastic about feeding me and our little one.

So what’s the problem? Well, I work from home, he doesn’t, and there are times where I either need to, or simply want to, pitch in and provide nourishment for us. Lunch is also a time where I am left to my own devices (thank goodness for leftovers!). I can’t really run out to the deli and grab a sandwich, so there are times that I am forced into the kitchen. And I have friends (and our co-blogger, Elisa) who hate to cook, yet can’t pawn that job off on anyone else, so they actually have to face the dreaded kitchen on a daily basis.

But here’s the thing. When I get into the kitchen, a funny thing happens. I become 50 times more accident prone than I normally am.

Very few kitchen experiences go by for me where I don’t do one of the following:
• Burn myself or the food
• Hit myself in the head with an open cabinet door
• Cut myself
• Spill something important
• Accidentally throw away a vital ingredient
• Drop something on my foot

I studied psychology in college and I know these things can’t all be accidents. I call them Freudian Kitchen Slips. It took me years to discover what was actually happening here. My husband and I used to joke about how dangerous I am in the kitchen, and I finally realize why.

Although these mini-kitchen-tragedies are not on purpose, I now recognize that they are subconscious protests or cries for help. I don’t like to cook and my deeper mind must have decided to sabotage most of my cooking efforts to prove, in fact, that I simply don’t belong in the kitchen!

But now I have a baby on the way and realize that I must step-up (or mom-up) and learn to navigate my kitchen without injury or disaster. I’ve tried to break down what I really don’t like about cooking and I am exploring the possibilities that I just don’t like being alone in the kitchen, or maybe I am too much of a perfectionist and don’t enjoy doing things I am not great at, and possibly, I am protesting against my dietary restrictions.

But it is time to fix this! Maybe a cooking class and a few calls to mom will help (my husband does not like to share his creative kitchen space, and I like to keep the peace). But something does need to change – at least until my son is old enough to make dinner!