Tiny Iron Fists

Nobody Tells You: You Will at One Time Become an Olympic-Mom Hopeful!

I'd be lying if I told you I didn't think Lulu had Olympic-potental when I saw her on the park exercise equipment. She swung, dashed, stretched, jumped, and did everything a kid could do on makeshift monkeybars with grace, agility, and ease.

My mind wandered to a future of great athleticism. Hello, gymnastics. Hard work. Heartbreak. Discipline. Injury. Risks. Medals! Magazine Covers! Sponsors! [Record scratch] Wait, wha? I can't even stand my pretend-stage-mom-persona. Let's just get back to enjoying the pureness of playing in the park.

Caught you. You know you let your mind go there. And that's cool. Nobody's judging cause they forgot to tell you, they think these crazy thoughts too.

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Nobody Tells You: Lies to Get My Kid Moving

Lulu dressed herself this morning. She didn't want to put on a skirt over her tights. I insisted and she resisted. I finally told her that her bottom was so cute, other people would want to pinch it so she should have an extra layer for protection. She thought about it and then agreed with my logic and chose to wear this skirt.

Nobody ever told me I'd start telling such ridiculous lies to get my kid to move faster in the mornings. Nobody also told me, I'd lie about the weirdest things as a parent (e.g. the Owl Man will get you if you don't hurry up and go to sleep or The Force can see everything you do, so do good). Better yet, nobody told me the lies would work so well (they really do)! What ridiculous things do you tell your child to get them out the door faster?!

Nobody Tells You: Happy It Didn't Happen On My Watch

The first time your kid's going to get really banged up (cue gushing blood), you're going to think two things in this order:

1. "Holy fucking shit! Is s/he okay?! WTF is all that blood? Quick grab a towel!"

and after the shock for both parent and child and the crying has subsided (hopefully by the child only), if you're lucky not to have been the parent in-charge, you will then think,

2. "Man. I'm glad this didn't happen on my watch."

Because when it all went down and there was gushing blood and serious wailing, you wanted to shout, "Why weren't you watching her/him?" to your significant other, but you quickly realize, it only took a quarter of a second for your kid to take a nosedive off the back of the couch (a couch successfully jumped-off, hundreds of times before) and it could've just as easily happened to you.

The photo doesn't show bloody teeth or the yellow and black bruise on Lulu's forehead but the cut lip is enough to make any adult go, "Awww, is she okay?" And yes, she is! Back and jumping off the couch the very same day!

Nobody ever told me how grateful I would be, to be able to keep my cool, under a potentially explosive incident (believe me, I've heard enough parents complain about what their partners did to their kid). At the end of the day, nobody got hurt... well, too hurt, and accidents happen!

Nobody Tells You: Only Strangers Will Tell You the Truth About Your Baby's Looks

Let's face it. We've all done it. We've looked at our friends' babies and we have lied. We said their baby was cute. And it wasn't. That wrinkled little Winston Churchill is going to have to grow into his nose. Or like, what the hell's up with them claws? And you know what I'm talking about. I know you know. Because sometimes you will ask me if I've met so-and-so and if I haven't, you make that face. You know, the side-to-side eye dodge. And without saying a word, because really, who talks about ugly babies openly (we all like to keep it inside) I know what you're saying.

You will lie to your family. You will lie to your friends you've known your whole life. You will even lie to strangers who comment on their own kid's "cuteness" hoping that you'll chime in (you'll say their kid is cute because you're civil). And before some of you out there are saying things like, "Nuh, uh. If a baby's ugly, I don't say anything," believe me, you are saying something by saying nothing (it's like noticing a friend's bad haircut and not saying anything -- your friend knows what's up)!

So how do you know if your baby's cute? First of all, who gives a shit? It's your baby. And your kid is going to rock this world no matter what. Your baby is going to love you and look how ugly you are! So please, I hope you don't go through life making looks a priority.

I think the true test of baby cuteness is when random strangers comment. And not just a comment here or there. Because we all get sporadic compliments. What I'm talking about is when strangers consistently comment on your cute baby. You see, strangers owe you nothing. So they don't have to say anything to you. So if they do, your baby probably is pretty darn cute.

Sure, this post is facetious. That's why you laughed or agreed at some point earlier in my writing. And if we're friends, of course I'm not talking about your beautiful baby!

Nobody Tells You: Night Terrors Are Terrifying!

I believe Lulu had the dreaded night terrors several days ago and it was a terrifying experience for me! What are night terrors?! My sister, Kiki once explained it to me as a really bad nightmare where your child's eyes are open and they look awake but they're actually still asleep and are crying unconsolably or freaking out. Following is how the episode with Lulu played out in case it ever happens, maybe you'll remember this post and it'll help you remain calm:

4:00 a.m. I heard Lulu, a champion sleeper, moving around in her crib. She wailed and although I would normally ignore her sleep-induced grunts, the wailing turned really loud, really fast. The noise was absolutely abnormal for Lulu so I walked into her room and found her standing in her crib, howling at the top of her lungs. When I tried to pick her up, she looked frightened, as though she did not recognize me. I let her go in the crib and she started thrashing and hit her head on the rails. She wailed even louder. I tried once more to comfort her. Lulu resisted and used all her strength to push me away and instead of wrestling with her in the dark, in the air, I laid her on the carpet, over her blankets in her play area.

4:03 a.m. I tried to hug Lulu and lull her back to sleep but she resisted and fought hard to be free of me. So I let her roll around the floor, crying, and thrashing. To be honest, I was lost. It was early in the morning and I couldn't figure out why she was acting the way she was and I was also upset she didn't recognize me. And then I remembered about night terrors and decided the best thing I could do was to keep calm and ride out whatever was happening. Knowing epileptic friends, I made sure the floor was clear and Lulu was free of physical danger from her immediate environment. There's no telling how long an episode can last but I've been told a half hour is normal.

4:12 a.m. After lots of crying (the most aggressive and longest cry in her 19 months), Lulu seemed to have woken from her night terror-state and went completely limp as I held her close. I offered her milk, which she took and then immediately fell back asleep.

The whole episode lasted less than 15 minutes but it felt like a lifetime. Firstly, she was crying! A lot! And frankly, I'm not used to that at all. Secondly, I had no idea what was going on and crippled by the dark night and my abrupt waking, it was really confusing to deal with. Lastly, Lulu's a sound sleeper so I was alarmed by the abrupt break in her routine. She woke in the morning just as it was any other day -- cheerful with lots of "good mornings" and smiles. And she appeared to have forgotten what happened in the night (I wish I could forget just as easily)!

I researched night terrors online and confirmed that it often happens to sleep deprived or stressed children. Having just returned from Europe, I'm certain Lulu's  jetlag and lack of sleep triggered the episode. The nine hour time difference was lingering with Lulu longer than I'd expected. 

Nobody ever told me how I'd feel as the attack was happening. In the few instances that friends and family had discussed night terrors with me, they'd describe what was happening to the kid. Nobody told me how helpless or afraid I'd feel. Or useless even.

The only advice I can give to you if something like this happens, is to try to stay calm -- even in the chaos of the darkness. With every replay in my head, I'm less scared of what happened and am happy I didn't panic. I'm hoping this is the only episode we experience for a long time. But now that I know what to expect, I'll be a little less terrified the next time around. 

Nobody Tells You: Your Toddler Hates Mascots But Will Pretend Like She Loves Them!

 

Dude. Lulu totally tricked me into thinking she wanted to hang with the Sanrio mascots today! As soon as she spotted My Melody and Keroppi at the Sanrio Small Gift event, she flapped her Popeye-arms in excitement, and ran towards them. I thought, "Oh rad! We can take pictures with two of my favorite Sanrio characters" only to be confused by Lulu's chicken-poo attitude when we got close to them!

While in line for My Melody, Lulu waved and cooed, "Hi!" over and over again to everybody's favorite lady bunny, but once we got within arm's distance, Lulu activated her super squirmy superpowers and made Ewok noises that I translated to mean, "Get me outta here!!!" We moved out of line quickly and a few minutes later Lulu started flirting with another mascot a few feet away. I figured she was over being scared and ready to hang with Keroppi. Again in line, Lulu waved and smiled non-stop. Our photo-op with Keroppi eventually arrived and Lulu started whining again. What's up with my bi-polar baby?! The more I tried to explain to her that Keroppi was "nice, nice", Lulu wanted less to do with him! I stepped out of line again, without a good photo. I mean look at the photo (top right)! You'd think we were running out of a burning building the way Lulu's teeth are clenched!

I've seen plenty of photos of kids scared or crying on Santa Claus' lap. But you know, sitting on an old, chubby, strange white dude's lap is kind of scary (especially if he wreaks of booze). Who would've thought hanging out with fuzzy big-eyed make-believe mascots would invoke the same feelings in Lulu? My friends reassured me that their daughter behaved similarly at this age and although I'm looking forward to our future-photo adventures with costumed creatures, I don't think I'll be bringing Lulu anywhere near them anytime soon.

Outfit: Polarn O. Pyret onesie, Mini Boden knee patch trousers and adidas sneakers.

Nobody Tells You: The Truth About The Tooth Fairy

My kid's not losing teeth anytime soon but I got into a funny conversation with my friend JK about how much money kids get from the tooth fairy these days -- and the answer surprised me! She told me her nephews received $5.00 per tooth but one child happened to lose his tooth on vacation while visiting his grandparents and the "vacation" tooth fairy left him $20.00! If I could, I'd pull out my teeth for that much money!

My interest was piqued. I was determined to find out, what's the going rate for lost teeth these days?! I surveyed 25 friends and strangers and found the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth about missing teeth and money. Following are my findings:

$0.25 - 1 parent. For someone that's not accustomed to handling any money, a shiny quarter might seem like a lot?!

$1.00 - 13 parents. One dollar is the overwhelming winner for what's good to give. One parent also included wrapped chocolate and seven of the parents gave Gold Sacagawea dollar coins.

$2.00 - 2 parents. Apparently, the less common $2.00 bill is very exciting for young ones to receive.

$5.00 - 3 parents.  Nice. $5.00 is a lot to a little one! Two non-giving-$5.00-per-tooth-parents offered up their unsolicited opinion that $5.00 was too much!

$10.00 - 1 parent. This parent gave $10.00 for the first tooth lost and $5.00 for every tooth after. 

$20.00 - 1 parent. This creative parent included a huge presentation with fairy dust, leftover wands, etc. The receiver kid is going to be devastated when s/he finds out that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are also shams. $20.00's going to pale in comparison to the thousands of dollars spent on future therapy.

$25.00 - 1 parent. An amount even an adult would be stoked to receive!

$100.00 - 1 parent. Half of the amount was distributed in $2.00 bills. This extremely generous parent must be a producer and knows how to make a lot of money look like beaucoup bucks!

Two parents did not leave money instead opting to leave a note from the tooth fairy with a small toy. Other parents reported hearing about children who received iPods, Game Boys, and other handheld electronic gifts from the tooth fairy. Every parent I surveyed actually pretended there was a tooth fairy with their kid. And it wasn't like rich folks left a lot of money and poorer people left less. Everyone's standards and reasoning were different and unmeasurable. I'm curious to know, what do you give per tooth?!

As seen above, the Eco-friendly Tooth Fairy Pillow is by Oeuf and costs $28.00

Nobody Tells You: The Teethless Eat At 6:30 P.M.

Pre-Lulu, Silvio and I dined at restaurants more often than not. And although we were creatures of the night, every once in awhile, we'd eat dinner very early. I never thought anything of it. Nor did I ever notice anything different about the patrons unless it was a restaurant that offered "early bird specials."

Fast forward to life post-Lulu. Lulu's bedtime is 8:00 pm. so we've enjoyed lots of meals with her at 6:30 p.m. And you know who eats dinner at this time?! Families with young children or very old people! Look around you. It's like a dinner party for the loud and (permanently) teethless. If you find yourself nom'ing at this time, watch out for the traffic jam of strollers and walkers!

Nobody Tells You: Dining Out With Children Is Feasible!

People with children love to share their kid-related horror stories with you. One of the most popular anecdotes is a tale of two adults who are no longer able to dine out at a restaurant in peace ever again. Or at least for a long time. Or that they can only do so without their child present. So they give up and eat at home and make up excuses for why they can't join friends for lunch anymore. The end. I know. The horror. The horror!

There's the other restaurant tale where the parents go out with their kids and they're crazy little monsters; disrupting other paying customers meal times. But that's another post for another day. This post is about how you should ignore all these stories and go out and enjoy your meal with your toddler in tow. Practice makes perfect... or at least bearable!

I'm not sure how these food-related legends started. But they're quite popular. While out dining, several parent-friends have said to me, "Enjoy this meal now, soon you won't be able to eat out anymore." And I believed them. But now that Lulu's nearly 16 months old and still happy to dine out, we're just going to ignore all the restaurant-related horror stories. Before you start, "but... but... butting" me with, "Wait until she's two years old," let me add that people told us this bad restaurant behavior would start at six months, nine months, one year, and so on and so on and since the shoe hasn't dropped, we're just going to move on and take the stories for food folklore and nothing else.

Lulu loves routine. So we've set up a restaurant routine that seems to work really well for us. I'm going to break it down for you, and hope that maybe you'll be able to replicate this process and find similar success. Here we go,

1. Pick a child-friendly restaurant. Who's child friendly? Usually a restaurant with a high chair qualifies. Also a place that's not too white linen and where crayons might be offered, unsolicited is a good sign. That said, not every place offers high chairs or booster seats and they're perfectly fine for families. By the way, if a restaurant doesn't have kid-seating, be prepared with something like a TotSeat (we always travel with ours). Make reservations if you can or at least know how long the average wait is where you're going. Truthfully, we rarely know if a new restaurant is child-friendly before we show up so we just come prepared.

2. Pack a sippy cup, bottle, or cup for your kid to drink out of (they can also drink out of a plastic cup with straw if they're advanced enough for that). Pack some snacks. Try to make them "special" snacks, not the run-of-the-mill "stuff they eat at home all the time" treat.

3. Upon being seated, strap your kid into the high chair. It's really important this chair has a buckle that works because sometimes they will try to stand up in the chair. And when they do, people start to freak out, even if you're calm. Pull your kid right up to the table and give them a menu to look at. I know this sounds crazy, but Lulu likes to act like us and even if she is actually sucking on the menu instead of reading it, she's engaged with us and a happy camper.

4. Don't take too long to order. The secret to a good dinner is to get the food out fairly quickly to the table. Place your order and dole out a few snacks to your squirmy kid. If you are a friend without spawn who's dining with someone with spawn, please consider finding something on the menu rather quickly. Hey parent, play the "Guess which hand is hiding the Scooby snack?" game with your kid and that will not only entertain and feed your toddler but it also helps kill time.

6. At some point, your child will tire of your offered treats. At that moment, offer what bread may be on the table. If there isn't any, ask for some. Lulu loves restaurant bread -- French, ciabatta, sticks, rolls... she loves them all! Eating some bread usually keeps her occupied until the entree arrives.

7. Et voila. The main dish is here! At this point, start cutting up food for your kid and feed them everything and anything you're eating. We tell Lulu what she's eating and she eats directly on the table (no plates for throwing). She's usually so preoccupied feeding herself that she stays pretty quiet during this portion of the meal. Before you realize it, the meal is finished, everybody's stuffed and you were able to dine with friends, civilly.

8. Lastly, when the meal is over, one of us will get up and let Lulu explore the restaurant or outside (where she is not bothering customers) and allow the other spouse to pay the bill or enjoy a coffee or dessert. Asking a kid to sit "still" for an hour is a long time (you're an adult and I'm sure it's hard for you too) so take turns being the "chaser". It's really no big deal considering you both got to enjoy a meal out! 

For the most part, every restaurant adventure resembles the schedule above. And for the most part, every meal is enjoyable. If you can eat without someone having a melt down (this includes the parents), mos def count it as a success!

It should be noted that less than a handful of times, Lulu was not interested in breaking bread with us. This has happened a couple of times during dinner time, after we've skipped her late afternoon nap or overbooked ourselves for the day and dragged her along. The solution is to try not to cram too much on a meal date day, especially if it's a dinner date.

Good luck, heed no restaurant horror stories, go out and enjoy yourselves, let me know how it goes, and bon appetit! 

Nobody Tells You: You Will Cuss Over Spilt Milk

Firstly, this post is dedicated to all the moms out there hooking themselves up to some archaic-looking torture contraption, pumping milk for their wee ones. You moms rock! 

Now that I'm a nursing mom, I have a greater appreciation for moms who continue to nurse their babies while returning to work. Between prepping, using, washing, and storing breast milk and pump-related equipment, I can better understand why an overly tired and stressed-out mom would want to call it quits on breast/bottle feeding. So yeah, big ups to all the milk-truck moms out there!

There are a few Nobody Tells You milk-related posts I've got in draft, but this one is specific to the fact that, nobody tells you, at some point, no matter how careful you are, you are going to spill your breast milk. And when it happens, you are going to cuss a lot. You're going to be super mad and flustered and you're going to have to deal with it. I don't care how careful you think you're being -- all it takes is one new bottle with one weird part you forgot to reassemble et voila, your milk's all over the counter. Or better yet, you're fumbling to put used pump parts away and you're going to flat out knock your milk over. Both of these things have happened to me and each time, I cussed a lot. It's plenty of work for my body to produce a good amount of milk so I treat it like a super valuable commodity. And why wouldn't I? Mom's milk is the best thing I can feed my baby, so wasting it feels super sucky.

It's only a matter of time that you will spill milk and it won't happen that much (unless you're insanely clumsy) so when it does happen, just take a deep breath, grab those towels and wipe up your mess. Try to let it go. Shit happens. Maybe some of you will cry over spilt milk, but cussing's less taxing and IMHO, easier to get over. Now that you know it's going to happen, I hope it won't be such a big deal when it does. Just remember, you'll make more milk in a couple of hours anyway. Good luck and get ready.

Nobody Tells You: Size Doesn't Matter

One of my greatest frustrations as a new mom is having to sort through clothes for Lulu and trying my damnedest to figure out, what size something really is! Oh, the tag might say the shirt is for three to six month olds. But I know that my eight month old is going to fit it just fine. 

I have found that every children's clothing company has its own standards for measurements and clothes rarely are the right size for Lulu. And it's not just an American thing either. Clothing from Europe or Asia are just as unpredictable in size. Except I'm also forced to google what the hell 50, 68 or 80 cm converts to (Europeans/Asians go by height, whereas Americans go by age)! Lastly, to add more confusion to the mix, some companies classify their clothes by weight. For example, a onesie might be labeled newborn, six to eight pounds. Awesome! Except that the onesie is built for a 23 inch, 14 pounder! Seriously, what's up with the baby clothing size shenanigans?!

Who carries "true" sized kids clothes? For me, Petit Bateau, Carter's and Oilily run big whereas Dwell Studio for Target and Baby Gap seem to fit better. But then again, my sample pool is based on one baby and Lulu, according to her pediatrician, is a little above 50% on everything. She's not super long. Nor is she super small. She's just a little over average so I'm wondering, how come everything doesn't fit her exactly right if she's really in the middle? Why don't American clothing companies set their sizes based on the actual sizes of American children?! It sure would make laundry day a whole lot easier and faster!

Nobody Tells You: Don't be Afraid to Poop (Postpartum)

This might be too TMI but if you've been reading this blog, we're kind of beyond that, right? I'm going to lay it all out there and let you know that, bringing a newborn home is scary, but thinking about taking your first postpartum dump is scarier! And nobody ever talked to me about this. Nor did anyone ever mention this all important milestone to me either.

I have extremely regular bowel movements. So after having my baby, especially after eating some real hearty food, I wondered, "When am I going to poop?" And I must've wondered aloud enough times that my Ob/Gyn, Dr. Sharon Pushkin, actually had to answer me. She said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "You'll probably have a bowel movement on the fourth postpartum day in the comfort of your own home."  Dr. Pushkin might have a future as a fortune teller because damn, she was on the money! I pooped exactly on the fourth day and it didn't hurt the way I thought it might. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. 

What was the hold up?! There were physiological factors that were making it hard for me to get back on schedule (for example, weak stomach muscles and an irritable bowel). And more importantly, I was struck by the actual fear of taking a dump. I had clearly, been psyching myself out for some mystery shit that I thought was going to tear my butt apart. The truth was, I was afraid to poop because everything "down there" was still feeling a bit sore and those ridiculous maxi pad pizzas weren't helping me feel comfortable either. 

I didn't do anything special to prepare for the shitter. I ate normally. I drank a lot of water and had several glasses of probiotic juices. I walked around a bit, careful not to over-exert myself. But I didn't add extra fiber to my diet or ingest a stool softener. As my body slowly reset itself, so did my intestines, colon, and other poop-mechanisms. And like that (snap), I was back to normal (in the bowel movement department). In the end, it wasn't such a big deal. I think had someone told me you aren't going to poo out a pine cone but a soft stool, just several days later, I def would've worried less. So I hope for your sake, this little post will help put your mind and your butt at ease.

More resources on taking a postpartum poo poo:

Bowel Movements, Difficult (Postpartum)

Postpartum Constipation

Postpartum Health Issues

RELATED: There Will Be Blood (Postpartum Recovery)

Nobody Tells You: Pregnancy is How Long?!

In the movies, pregnancy is portrayed as being nine months long. It makes sense. Pregnancies are generally divided into three trimesters. Three months times three trimesters equals nine months.

However, full term pregnancies are 40 weeks long (this number changes for ladies carrying multiples) and to ease calculations, most people consider four weeks to equal one month. Forty weeks divided by four weeks equals ten months.

So which is it? I think it comes down to personal preference for counting days. I believe the more pregnant one is, the more absentminded, so maybe the 10 month system is easiest to calculate. Full explanations harking back to Gregorian or lunar calendars here. The debate continues on. 

Nobody Tells You: Pre and Post Pregnancy Pooting

Hey, how are you holding up?! Everything cool with the new mom duties/pregnancy?!  WTF?! Did you just poot?! What the hell... am I supposed to pretend I didn't hear that?! I swear the elephant in the room sounded just like a sail catching wind in Hurricane Andrew!

That's right ladies. Welcome to one of the gassiest chapters of your life. I'm here to tell you that your hormone-infested body is now a not-so-lean, mean farting machine. And your gal pals didn't tell you the last time you saw them because they were too focused on not farting around you.

You're eating for two (or more). And for the most part, you're probably eating well. All those mighty foods are doing wonders for growing your baby's gray matter. And you're keeping active, moving around a lot. So what's with all the farting? Don't look at me! It was you! No, seriously, what's with the gas leak you can't plug? It's like, no matter how awesome your sphincter control is, there's no way you're going to be able to hold in all your farts for a day. The build up can only lead to extreme discomfort and one of those cartoon endings where you end up flying all around a room in all directions like a ballon letting all its air out.

I know you think this is funny. It is. But it's not so funny when you're in an elevator and the asshole that farted this time, is you. Still laughing? Flatulence pre and post pregnancy is a real issue. Check out what the experts have to say:

What to Expect - "Early on in pregnancy, large amounts of the hormones relaxin and progesterone are at work, relaxing the muscles in your body — including those in your gastrointestinal tract. This makes food move more slowly (good for baby) but can lead to indigestion and gassiness for you (bad for anyone standing, sitting, or sleeping near you)."

Baby Center - "Pregnancy slows digestion, which gives the bacteria more time to work on the undigested material before it's excreted. More time leads to more fermentation and, as a result, more gas."

Parents.com - "Talk about embarrassing pregnancy problems ... flatulence is at the top of the list for many expectant women."

So what can you do about it? Honestly, let it rip. It's mostly air anyway. And nothing's worst than being pregnant, bloated, and gassy. Do what you gotta do and try not to affect those working or living with you too badly. Apologize a lot to your partner, friends, and family and don't worry too much. This phase will eventually pass too (pun, intended)!

Nobody Tells You: Time is F*cked Up When You Have a Kid - The Slow Clock

It took me a really long time to write my Fast Clock post. So I'm hoping it will only take me a minute to write this Slow Clock post. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go back a few entires and read "Time is F*cked Up When You Have a Kid - The Fast Clock" to understand that having a child does really weird things to time. Again, it will be both fast and slow. But never what you want it to be, when you want it to be.

So let's review what my friend said to me about having kids, "The days are slow but the years are fast." We've already established that this quote is spot on. People love to talk about how time flies, but I rarely ever hear parents talk about how slow time can sometimes be too. And I wonder if it's because if you do complain, you might sound like a crappy parent. Slow-time apparently happens when a parent is most tired or stressed.

There are different variations of slow-time, but unlike fast-time, it cannot be broken down into a unit of time. The first time I noticed slow-time, I had already been on my own with Lulu for a couple of weeks. Meaning, all the extra hands had finally left and now Silvio and I were creating a daily routine to live by. Silvio for the most part returns home from work between 6:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. nightly. With so much going on, the days were flying by. But after too many missed naps and trying to do too much, I eventually started getting tired. Really tired. Like, zombie-shuffle-sleepy-tired. On these days, time crept at a snail's pace. Why? Because I was so tired, all I could think about was sleep. I'd keep looking at the clocks in our home, wondering when relief was going to come save me so I could shut my eyes.

The hands on the living room clock could not move any slower. Have you ever seen a dramatization of stoners in a movie? Time practically stands still for them! They seem to do tons of things, but only three minutes have passed! That's what this kind of time feels like. When I am exhausted, I look at the clock starting at 6:00 p.m. knowing that Silvio's going to walk through the door any minute now. And I'll keep looking at the clock the way a student does praying for school to end. The weird thing is, the minute Silvio comes through the door and I get a break, the time-clock changes immediately to the fast-clock! And before I know it, it's 1:00 a.m. and I still haven't answered all my emails yet.

Only one thing can make slow-time slower. And that's someone telling you they will meet you at a certain time and then they're late. O.M.G. Watching the clock waiting for a friend is akin to Chinese water torture. When someone says, "I'll meet you at 2:00 p.m." and they show up at 2:04 p.m., it feels like forever! That's because I had to jump through fire to pack up the kid and get her ready for 2:00 p.m. And now that nothing's happening, I start to pace... I'll begin to think, "How long do I have until Lulu starts getting fussy because she's sitting in the stroller in the middle of the living room?"

Instances of slow-time are not as often as fast-time. But it happens. Until next time... sayonara sleepyheads!

Nobody Tells You: Time is F*cked Up When You Have a Kid - The Fast Clock

This entry is based on something someone once said to me about having kids: "The days are slow but the years are fast." So true, dude. So true. 

Having a kid does really weird shit to time. It is equally fast as hell and slow as molasses. There are two clocks that your life will now function on, fast and slow. Note, from what I can tell, the time will always be the opposite speed of what you want it to be. For this post, I'll talk about the time-speed most people reference -- the fast-clock.

A lot of people will talk about how time flies. But nobody will tell you that time flies at warp speed times a bagillion. I'm going to break down the different time spans I've experienced into three categories: days, months, and years.

Day-time: everyone we know is busy. But I now believe nobody is busier than a new parent. In the first couple of months, life is ruled by diaper changes, naps, bottle washings, feedings, and learning by the seat of your pants. Days don't start or end since the baby needs around-the-clock attention and in your state of mind, what does it matter if it's 9:00 a.m. or 9:00 p.m.? Time to eat or sleep will be hard to find and showers, phone calls, and errands will fall by the wayside. 

Sleep deprived and stumbling through the day as best as you can, you'll feel as though you haven't done much. Yet at the same time, you've done a lot! The more days that past, the less you'll care about old daily habits. Nothing needs your immediate attention more than your spawn, your partner, and yourself. And you'll be forced to understand that soon enough. 

Month-time: remember how you were pregnant for nine and a half months? Remember how quickly that time passed? That's the kind of time I'm talking about now. It's insane for me to think that one year ago, I was a Vice President at an agency. Six months ago I was a brand new mom. Today, I'm a mom and I feel as though I've gotten a real good "hang of it"! 

Everything to do with Lulu is now measured in months. Coincidentally, parents refer to their children's ages in months up until they're about two years old. Ask any mom or dad with an infant, "How old is he?" and they'll certainly answer something like, "He's 18 months old!" I never understood that, but now I think I do. I believe it's because all the doctors appointments are based off of month-based milestones. One month. Three months. Six months. Nine months. You get the picture. With the medical establishment and the milestone-charts, it's all about the months! Months flew by pre-baby and now they fly by post-baby too.

Year-time. We haven't gotten to a year with Lulu yet, however I believe it's just around the corner. And I feel if I close my eyes long enough, it will already be here. I don't want to rush this time as it'll be a milestone that means a lot of other things too. That said, I get what my friend was trying to tell me. It's like one minute your kid is one year old, the next she's going to kindergarten, then driving, then college, then wherever else her adventures may take her and you. I also understand better why my relatives would freak out when they'd see me and my siblings every couple of years. They probably couldn't believe how tall we'd grown (or in my case, how little I stayed). I'm sure that every time they saw us, they were faced with their own mortality knowing that time was not standing still for them either.

So time flies. It's true. Just roll with it and cherish the early days with your kid because that time is going to pass quickly. When veteran parents meet Lulu, they always tell me to cherish the moment. I'm really trying! 

Part two of this post, "Time is F*cked Up When You Have a Kid - The Slow Clock" entry is coming soon. Please hold your horses.

RELATED: Time is F*cked Up When You Have a Kid - The Slow Clock is now live.

 

Nobody Tells You: There Will Be Blood (aka Postpartum Recovery)!

 

   

To all my parent friends who have had a baby, why, why, why, did you not tell me about the giant postpartum sanitary pad sandwich you have to wear after giving birth? You know, the one the size of a MacBook?! Nobody prepared me for that and I'm here to tell the world about this humiliating and hilarious wrap (hell no, space age hippies, you don't eat it)!

Congrats! You're a mom! After birthing a presumably healthy baby, you will be wheeled from the delivery room to a recovery room. While in the recovery room, the nurses will jab at you, take your vital signs, and check on your general well being. Your Ob/Gyn will also visit to check on your uterus by poking at your belly and to make sure that you are healing properly and not bleeding excessively.

That said, there will be blood. And lots of it. Your hooha is going to be very sore and bleeding, and bleeding, and bleeding. How much blood will there be? I'd say the flow is about ten times heavier than your heaviest normal period. Before you pass out, don't fret, all the bleeding is normal and part of the healing process. After delivering the placenta, your body heals the uterus by contracting to close off blood vessels in a process called involution. Blood and other scraps from the wound inside will make up most of the bloody discharge, also called the lochia. OK you can faint now...

Anyway, at some point a nurse will deliver what I call a "postpartum sanitary pad sandwich" kit. The contents will be contained in a small plastic tub and will include:

1. Disposable Underpads - They look exactly like the pee pads you lay down for a puppy. Except you lay them underneath yourself to protect the hospital bed mattress.

2. Peri-bottle - Peri is short for perineal, which is the area between your legs including your vagina and rectum. A peri-bottle is a fancy way of saying "plastic squirt bottle". Filled with warm water, it's used to wash yourself with. The peri-bottle is your friend and will supply some comfort for your raw bottom.

3. Americaine Spray - This is a topical anesthetic spray that provides protection from infection. It is sprayed directly on your perineal area.

4. TUCKS - The astringent witch hazel medicated pads are normally used for hemorrhoids, however for postpartum treatment, they provide cooling relief and cut down the sting. 

5. Sanitary pads - The sanitary pads will come in various sizes ranging from heavy flow ultra pads, OB pads, maternity pads to something the size of a MacBook called super duper postpartum pads. 

6. Disposable Mesh Underwear - Out of context, the white cotton mesh underwear looks like something a hooker might wear on 14th street in Washington D.C.  However, it's meant to secure the pads you will be wearing.

Every time you use the bathroom, it would be a good time to change your pads. The nurse will show you how to do it, but following are the instructions for making a postpartum sanitary pad sandwich:

1. Take a super duper postpartum pad (the one that is the size of a MacBook) and lay it down on a clean surface. Stop laughing. You're going to have to wear that thing.

2. Peel the tape off of a maternity pad and stick it straight down the middle of your super duper postpartum pad.

3. Layer the maternity pad with the TUCKS medicated pads (about four or five of them) like you're adding salami to a sandwich.

4. After going to the bathroom and cleaning yourself with the peri-bottle, blot yourself dry and remember, do not wipe yourself! Be kind to your behind and uh, underside!

5. Standing up, spray your perineal area with Americaine Spray.

6. While still standing, slip on your disposable mesh underwear and insert the giant postpartum sanitary pad sandwich into your underwear. Stop laughing. You are going to have to wear this in 5...4...3...2.. hahahahahaha!

7. Shuffle back to your bed, sigh, and kick up your feet. Now try to get some rest!

The postpartum sanitary pad sandwiches will be part of your routine for a couple of weeks. After a couple of days, it won't feel like such a production anymore and the "sandwiches" will get smaller as the bleeding lets up. Make sure to visit your Ob/Gyn to make sure everything's healing properly. Eventually time will pass and you will forget you ever had to do such a ridiculous thing. Maybe that's why my other friends never told me about this. So there you go, can't say I never told you so!

Nobody Tells You: Do Not Register for the Following Baby Items

You're having a baby, high fives! You've got an awesome baby shower planned, w00t! You love combing through every baby item on Amazon, Design Public, Target or the many other places where baby registries live, yay! But you're kind of overwhelmed and unsure of what you should ask for, boo! 

Here's a tip. Register for everything you want but try to lean towards the practical (do you really need three mobiles? A diaper pail and board books are definitely going to get a lot more use). However, do not register for the following items. Repeat. Do not register for the following items. Why?! Because the following items are so damned darling, regardless of whether or not you register for them, your friends will buy them for you anyway. And when I say buy, I mean you will receive multiples of the following items:

1.   Onesies - People can't help themselves. Nothing makes a person scream, "Cute!!!!!" louder than a Run DMC onesie or some other graphic outfit that's representative of the gift giver. Onesies are affordable, practical, and there's something for everyone. 

Resist from registering for onesies unless you can't live without whatever's caught your eye. If you do register for bodysuits, ask for sizes in the 12+ month or older range. Why? Because you'll receive tons of clothes for "new" newborns but not so much for when their growth spurt slows down starting at about one year old. And this is the age when they can wear things for a little longer!

2.   Blankets - Like their onesie counterparts, baby blankets are absolutely practical and essential for so many things. We were gifted six different blankets and I can honestly say, we use every single one. The blankets take turns living in different parts of our home: the crib, the co-sleeper, the sofa, the living room, the bedroom, the car, the stroller, etc., etc. If you're lucky someone might take the time to knit your baby a personal comforter. Lulu received two of these and they are precious! 

Note: You will also receive plenty of receiving blankets so don't register for a bunch of these too! Unlike their full-sized counterparts, receiving blankets are only useful during the newborn months. Once a baby hits the infant stage, the blankets are used less and less.

3. Shoes -   OMG! Have you ever seen adidas baby Stan Smiths?! Hello, adorable! Shoes come in every style and size but no size is cuter than the itty bitty iterations of the Vans Slip Ons, Chuck Taylors, or adidas Shell Toe shoes! Unlike other items of clothing, shoes aren't used/worn as much, at least in the beginning, but they sure make for lots of commentary when you dress your kid up in their "social best". Nothing warrants more "awws" than a pair of baby trainers. 

4.   Rattles and Teething Toys - Friends and family love giving rattles as much as your baby loves gumming them. Teething toys and rattles come in different materials, shapes, and sizes and the noises can also differ greatly. Depending on your baby's motor skills, s/he will be attracted to different rattles at different times so it's okay to have a bunch of these laying around the house.

5.   Bibs - Let's face it. Sooner or later your kid's going to drool and you're going to need a bib to protect those precious outfits! And depending on the kind of kid you have (the waterfall-mouth or the dry-mouth), you're going to receive a lot of bibs. In our case, we actually had to buy extra ones because Lulu drools like a Saint Bernard and often soaks through four or five bibs daily. If you had an average drooler, you'd probably receive enough bibs to carry you through the phases.

This list pretty much sums up the few items we received multiples of. I'm sure there are other things I've forgotten, but hopefully this will help curb your registry a bit. Enjoy loading up the list and have fun with all the other stuff. Getting your baby's space ready is one of the most exciting activities of being a new parent. Congrats, again!

Nobody Tells You: Birthquake!!!

Nobody ever properly explained to me exactly what labor and contractions felt like. I mean, I took the Bradley Class and everything was taught to me, but nobody really ever nailed the sensation on the head for me. Everybody told me contractions were painful. Some girl friends explained it felt like having really, really, really bad period cramps. But I never had period cramps so I was still clueless. Others described contractions as a sharp stomach pain. The movies showed women doubling over and moaning or screaming when it happened. I've never seen a woman in real life in labor and I never experienced any false Braxton-Hicks contractions, so really, I had no idea. 

On the day that I delivered Lulu, I had a funny-in-hindsight conversation with my sister, Kiki, who is the mother to two boys. She gave me some very good advice and kept me calm. Following is our unedited chat transcript. I hope by reading it, you'll get a sense of what I was going through. I italicized my favorite bits:

7:59:01 AM Souris: hey kiki

7:59:05 AM Souris: i have a question

7:59:10 AM Souris: i have a lot of lower back pain right now

7:59:17 AM Souris: and my stomach is tight

7:59:23 AM Souris: do you think the kid is maybe dropping now?

7:59:30 AM Souris: i haven't had this feeling before

7:59:59 AM Souris: i have a 10 am appt with my chiropractor, dr. berlin and i'll maybe ask hani to drive me or for silvio to go with me

8:03:33 AM Kiki: you're in labor

8:03:40 AM Souris: you think so?

8:03:51 AM Souris: i have no contractions though

8:04:06 AM Kiki: one sec

8:04:09 AM Souris: but it's def tight and restrictive

8:04:22 AM Souris: i couldn't sleep or well i was turning back and forth more often in the last couple of hours

8:04:28 AM Souris: also labor's usually a night thing?!

8:04:38 AM Souris: or starts at night?

8:05:03 AM Kiki: yes

8:05:13 AM Souris: it feels like I have to poo

8:05:21 AM Souris: that kind of stomach hurt

8:05:25 AM Souris: not like a weird kind

8:08:18 AM Kiki: one sec sweetie, I'll call you in 5 minutes and explain labor

8:08:22 AM Kiki: but you are in pre-labor

8:08:24 AM Souris: not now

8:08:26 AM Souris: it's too early

8:08:27 AM Kiki: active labor is contractions

8:08:40 AM Souris: yeah it could possibly be first stage

8:08:47 AM Souris: but don't call me now

8:08:55 AM Souris: i'll call you in a bit

8:09:17 AM Souris: this would be good timing

8:09:21 AM Souris: then i would have the kid before sat [we had a 150 person BBQ planned for saturday]

8:09:21 AM Souris: :)

8:11:49 AM Kiki: babe, you won't want to do anything on Sat if you have the kid today

8:11:49 AM Kiki: okay, but any way

8:11:49 AM Kiki: if you feel like you have to poo or push

8:11:49 AM Kiki: then that's something different

8:11:49 AM Kiki: like possibly active labor

8:11:59 AM Souris: no i won't do anything

8:12:05 AM Souris: but i can at least finish organizing

8:12:14 AM Kiki: I'd like to recommend that you go to the hospital

8:12:18 AM Souris: hell no

8:12:19 AM Kiki: and have them check your cervix to see how dilated you are

8:12:25 AM Souris: that's the first thing the doula said NOT TO DO

8:12:31 AM Souris: i should stay home as much as i can today

8:12:34 AM Souris: and then wait

8:12:36 AM Souris: until the other signs

8:12:42 AM Souris: let HOURS pass

8:12:57 AM Kiki: when your stomach tightens and releases, that's a contraction

8:12:57 AM Kiki: when it comes in waves faster than 5 minutes, the kid's coming

8:12:57 AM Kiki: so the next time you have that tightness, count the minutes until the next one

8:12:59 AM Souris: i gotta get an email out

8:13:42 AM Souris: ok

8:14:17 AM Kiki: if you're about 15 minutes apart, you're cool to stay home a little bit

8:14:24 AM Kiki: if they start coming in faster, get to the hospital

8:14:30 AM Kiki: I had Ethan in 2 hours

8:14:32 AM Souris: ok but i'm not going to rush

8:14:35 AM Souris: ethan was #2

8:14:36 AM Souris: for you

8:14:36 AM Kiki: starting from when my water broke to when I had him

8:14:41 AM Kiki: so keep an eye out for fluid too

8:14:41 AM Souris: yeah i'll wait

8:14:43 AM Souris: will do

8:14:52 AM Kiki: if you have ANY fluid leak

8:15:01 AM Kiki: GO TO THE HOSPITAL

8:15:01 AM Kiki: even if your water doesn't break

8:15:09 AM Kiki: fluid leaking is critical

8:15:13 AM Kiki: okay?

8:15:15 AM Souris: sure

8:15:20 AM Souris: i'll call my doula

8:15:22 AM Souris: and have her come over

8:15:33 AM Kiki: yes yes, that's good

8:16:36 AM Kiki: Crap.

8:16:36 AM Kiki: what to do.

8:16:40 AM Kiki: I just packed your stroller.

8:20:01 AM Kiki: btw...

8:20:02 AM Kiki: don't drive

8:20:08 AM Souris: ok i

8:20:10 AM Kiki: you shouldn’t be driving any more

8:20:14 AM Souris: i'll call my chiropractor

8:20:19 AM Souris: and tell him i won't be able to make it in

8:20:22 AM Kiki: yeah.

Changed status to Away (8:55:09 AM)

I called Dr. Berlin and canceled my chiropractor appointment. I took a cool shower which made me feel better. I wrote emails to friends about our pending weekend barbecue. My sister Hani came over. We called our doula Cheryl to give her an update.

The contractions started coming pretty close together. Silvio and Hani watched me writhe in pain as I tried to ride out the fast-coming contractions at home. The tightening around my stomach was getting stronger and felt more urgent. My body felt electrified as if it was getting mildly zapped. The sensations were strong enough to make my body stiffen up. The pain also eventually multiplied with every new contraction. We called Cheryl to meet us at the hospital. I labored at home for as long as I could, until about 11:00 a.m. and then we left for the hospital too.

To be continued... the details of birth.

Photo above by: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomaslife/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Nobody Tells You: Take Your Wedding Rings Off!

Right before I got on a plane to San Francisco, my next door neighbor noticed my swollen ring finger. She said, "You better get it off soon or you'll have to cut it off, like my other pregnant friend did." That was ten days ago.

Today, I went to the Santa Monica Fire Department to have my wedding band hacked off. I previously tried everything to remove it including:

- Iced water (tried to shrink my fingers)
- Ace bandage compression with hand above heart level (tried to squeeze blood out of my fingers)
- Warm olive oil
- Baby oil
- Coconut oil
- Soap
- Lotion
- Silicone sex lube (thanks M, it was worth a shot!)

None of it worked, even in combination. 

I called a few jewelry shops hoping they could cut off my ring. None of them would or could. My friend J told me that she read on the internet that my local fire department might be able to do it. She then confirmed this with her EMT friend. I called the Santa Monica Fire Department, explained my situation and without hesitation, the operator directed me to their Chief on call. She said to leave a message in case he was out. I called and left a message. A couple of hours later, Santa Monica Fire Station #1 responded and said they could help me out.

I showed up at 1444 7th Street and within 15 minutes my ring was off and the blood was pumping through my poor fat finger again. Four or five fire fighters dropped by the room to crack jokes and be friendly. They said platinum was good because it is a softer metal (I suppose a titanium ring might be near impossible to cut off) and explained to me that they remove rings every couple of months. The firefighters were very careful with me asking me over and over to tell them if the blade was getting too hot (it got very hot a couple of times) and asked if I was okay the whole time. All in all, an amazingly nice and painless exchange.

SMFD wouldn't take any payment of sorts, so I could only thank them a dozen times. When I got home I ordered them gourmet cookies to be delivered with a thank you note.

Lessons learned: 1) Pregnant ladies, take your rings off before you bloat. I don't know why no one told me this before?! 2) Your local fire department will remove your ring for you, if needed, free of charge!

Nobody Tells You: Urine Samples

Throughout your pregnancy you will visit your obstetrician and during every visit you will be asked to collect and hand over a urine sample. Nobody tells you how hard it is to pee in a cup as the months progress. At first you won't even notice. But as your baby grows, so will your belly. In no time, your arm will feel shorter than before and reaching down below to catch pee in a Dixie-sized cup's going to be messy, hard, and pure comedy.  Near the end of the pregnancy, let's face it, you're just going to wave the cup around below you, hoping to catch random drops of pee. No matter how good your aim, you are definitely going to pee on your hand. It's okay. You can wash up afterward, but nobody's going to tell you this, so I thought I would.

Nobody Tells You: No More Movies!

OMG, we love going to the movies! Silvio and I both work in media. So we consume a lot of it. Watching movies is definitely a large part of our lifestyle. We live in the film capital of the world and often take advantage of one of the many luxury theaters within a short driving distance from our home.

So what a shock it was, to discover that after having a kid, going to the movies almost stops entirely! Life-with-baby now requires a little planning. Firstly, enjoying the movies seems so secondary to catching some shut eye. In the rare instances where you find yourself with three hours to spare, sleep is often all you can think about. Secondly, the mini production of finding a babysitter and scheduling films at the most convenient time to leave your kid is kind of a buzz kill. The thrill of the last minute decisions to check out so-and-so blockbuster are long gone. 

We know that going to the movies will eventually get easier. In the meantime we'll appreciate our Netflix subscription, 50" television, blu-ray DVD player, and decent surround sound system a little more. Nobody's going to tell you how hard going to the movies is going to be, so I thought I would!

UPDATE: LA-based parents may attend flicks with their babies at Pacific Theaters' Monday Morning Mommy Movies.

Nobody Tells You: Funky Fat Folds

When babies are brand new, they're all balled up. Having been in the womb for so long, their legs are bent and their little hands seem permanently stuck in the clenched fist position. Cute! Aww, look at those tiny fingers! But wait... what's that smell?! OMG! Have you ever pried a newborn's hand open? Somehow the palm picked up lint, hair, sweat, and saliva and it stinks of sour milk and baby musk! Truthfully, it smells like toe jam. How did the stinky raised fist salute come to be? The hands are closed so tightly, how did anything sneak in there anyway?

Have you found the other funky folds? If you bend back baby's wrists, an extra stash of stink will reveal itself. Check the neck (the stinkiest place of all) and behind the knees too. While you're at it, if the kid resembles the Michelin Man, you've got your work cut out for you... anywhere there are fat folds, I can guarantee you'll find, le stink! Eh, it's not really a big deal. Just wipe and dry the stinky pits and repeat daily. Everybody's going to tell you how much they love "baby smell" however nobody's going to tell you how funky your baby might actually smell sometime!

Hello!

Welcome to Tiny Iron Fists. My name is Souris. I love my family, food, art, travel, technology, and community. Prior to this little corner of the internet, I was Vice President of Interactive Media for an LA-based strategic consulting agency. I've been blogging about art and culture at Hustler of Culture since 2003. 

Tiny Iron Fists is a journal about life with our first benevolent dictator, Lulu. It's meant to be a resource for pregnant friends and (new) parents. I hope you'll enjoy the tips, interviews, anecdotes, and product reviews I write about. 

My posse nicknamed me "Tiny Iron Fists" because I once ruled our scene. Then I had a kid and now someone tinier than me, rules my world! How about that?! 

Thanks for dropping by, I can also be found on Twitter. Feel free to email me at tinyironfists [at] gmail.com. 

Lastly, I know you are probably wondering, who made my ridiculously cute banner? Why, my good, funny, and single friend, Slabco Steve did! You can find him online here, here, and here.