March 2000




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3/02/2000

I am a Mom. I'm a stay at home mom. But I don't like actually staying at home, so, I go shopping. Let me tell you, it is not nearly the enjoyable experience it was before I had a baby (and before I cut our family income in half). It's not so bad getting out of the house anymore, I've pretty much got the Which diaper bag, Where are the wipes, How many bottles do I have to make? routine down pat. It's when I'm in the store that the problems start. Finding a basket is the first challenge. They now make shopping baskets with these wonderful little safety straps so that my precious can not fall out. Great idea but unfortunately the stores do not keep the carts clean nor do they keep the straps in working order. I sometimes have to look through six or seven carts before I can find one that is both clean and has a working strap. I do eventually find one and can now enter the store to shop. Now comes the next challenge, the diaper change. No matter how recently my daughter was changed it is inevitable that I will have to change her at the store. The restrooms have these really handy pull down shelf things for a changing area. They are also supposed to come with little paper sanitation sheets to lay under my baby. In my 13 months of being a mom, I have yet to see a dispenser filled with any sheets. I've learned to carry my own changing pad now. The change itself goes as smooth as can be expected with a wriggly child who wants to look at everyone. After this though I need to throw away the wipes I used. Rarely is there a trashcan near the changing area. I've had to walk into a whole other room sometimes just to throw away the trash. One store really takes the cake though. The restroom only has hand driers. They do have a trashcan but no where near the changing table. If there aren't any paper towels to throw away, why does the trashcan need to be under the hand driers? Why not put it under the changing table? I guess non-parents design these areas. Now my child is back in her secure little shopping cart seat and is once again dry so we can finally get down to shopping. First stop: baby clothes. Here's where I encounter the absolute worst of all my shopping problems. Neither shopping cart nor stroller can fit in the baby clothes area. Who do they think needs to get in here? Childless people who like to dress their dolls? If I decide to push through anyway, then my child gets slapped in the face with price tags. I finally had had enough one day and asked the salesman why I could not get into the very area that was designed for me. He replied that they had a lot of stock. I told him he was still going to have a lot of stock because none of us could get in there to buy it. I just don't understand what managers of stores are thinking. If they would only create a more parent friendly environment more parents might make the effort to pack up the kids and go shopping. When I was pregnant I was always told how much my life would change when I had the baby, I didn't know they meant shopping.

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3/09/2000

My kid has had a few breakdowns. Of course, her warranty expired the minute we left the hospital so we have to take care of these breakdowns ourselves. But she's always running properly for the repairman, I mean doctor. When she was about 3 months old, she just wasn't acting herself. She was very lethargic, did not smile, did not cry for food and just basically not herself. She scared me so bad I refused to let her sleep for fear she would not wake up. We get to the emergency room and I realize she needs a diaper change, the absolute most rancid diaper ever to come from a baby. We go in to see the doctor, and she is Miss Merry Sunshine. She was smiling and laughing and just having a wonderful time. I paid fifty bucks for the doctor to tell me she was one of the healthiest babies he's ever seen. And here I thought she was near death. Fast forward a few months and she fell and hit her chin which made her top teeth go into her tongue. I was paranoid, her tongue was practically in half and she was screaming as if she was in the most excrutiating pain. I again paid fifty bucks for the doctor to tell me she was one of the heatlhiest babies he's ever seen and her tongue would heal just fine. The whole time the doctor was talking to me, my daughter was playing with his stethescope and flirting with the nurse. The most recent case we just forgoed the emergency room and went to the doctor. My poor child had been running a fever that hovered around 103 for 3 days. We get the doctor's office and they take her temp. and it's 98.3. This time it only cost me ten bucks to hear how healthy my child is. Not more than an hour after we got home, her temp. was back to 103. It's like her body is crying wolf with me. I just know the one time I decide not to take her to the doctor her appendix is going to rupture. Of course, they'll be in the middle of surgery and decide she just had a little gas.

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3/16/2000

What is it with men and gadgets? I have to hold my husband's credit card hostage during infomercials. He doesn't even have to know how to use it or have a need for it in order for him to want it. I happen to have every kitchen gadget known to man thanks to my husband. I enjoy and use just about every one of them so it's not a waste of money or anything. But there's this new thing flashing across his TV screen called the rotisserie grill. Apparently, you can cook whole turkeys, roasts, fish and shish-kabobs with very little work. The motto is "set it and forget it". My husband would do anything to own this little baby. He're the thing, He doesn't cook. Here's the bigger thing, we're vegetarians. We don't eat roasts and turkeys and such. The only thing we could use it for would be skewars of veggies. A two hundred dollar veggie cooker does not sound appealing to me. But every Saturday when he sees it advertised he tells me how much he wants it. He's talked about it so much my Mom actually ordered herself one. My Mother isn't vegetarian but I have never eaten a roast or a whole turkey at my Mom's house in my entire life, except on Thanksgiving. The family consists of two, my Mother and my Sister. And my sister doesn't have the biggest appetite. I just don't see my Mom using it much. When she told me she ordered it, I reminded her that she doesn't like to cook and therefore, doesn't cook. She told me with this product she will. Great, it's only a matter of time before my Husband and my Mom team up on me and lure me over to the dark side. At least I won't go hungry.

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3/23/2000

I'm on a new diet now. It's called the baby diet. You see, my child will only eat what's on my plate. It does not matter that the food is the exact same thing as on her plate, she only wants mine. So I just serve myself my regular size portions and she eats quite a bit. I figure, I'm consuming less food so somehow this will result in me losing weight. Well, maybe not, because someone has to eat what was on her plate so it doesn't go to waste. That would be my job. I get a lot of the undesirable jobs when it comes to my baby. If there is something in her mouth that used to be recognizable and is now just a soggy mess, I'm the one who gets to fish it out. If she has to throw up, not only do I get to catch it in my hand but I also get to clean the floor. Something yucky in her nose, yep, my department too. I don't change all the dirty diapers, but I do wash them which means carrying the pail full of diapers to the garage with a clothespin on my nose. The sweet smelling baby who's clean from her bath gets to play with daddy. I get to play with the sponge because she has most likely peed on the floor. When I decided I wanted a baby, no one told me about the dirty work. Every disgusting thing that happens to my child is suddenly my resposibility. Because of this, I'm very picky about what she's allowed to eat. I have to look carefully at every food offered and think how much of a mess I'm willing to clean up. Lets just say she lives on a diet of bread, cheese, and an occassional egg. No wonder she'd rather have what's on my plate.

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3/30/2000

My husband likes to fancy himself quite the he-man. We have a garage now and he is convinced it's going to be his workshop. I don't think he needs a workshop for our collection of screwdrivers and one circular saw. He's never built anything in the five and half years I've known him and yet he salivates everytime we walk by the power tools at Sears. He is honestly just like Tim Allen always said, men don't need to know what the tool does in order for them to want the tool.My husband likes to envision all the cool stuff he's going to build with these tools that he has no idea how to operate. This last weekend, he spent time cutting up some old paneling into small pieces so it would fit in my trashcan. He got to use the power circular saw. Let me tell you, you could smell the testosterone in the air. He was beside himself with joy. Now he thinks he's going to build a playhouse for my daughter. And he wants to put it in a place that requires a lot of fancy yard work as well. It all sounds fine and dandy, but every time I put my daughter down to sleep, I look at her crib. We had to buy it when my husband decided it was too much work to sand down an older one we were given.

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