I was back at the doctor’s office this week. Fever, aches, exhaustion. Oh, and a red and swollen boob. It was mastitis for the second time since Henry was born. Needless to say I felt awful when I was in line to check out after the OB/GYN explained that you can get it when your baby is 6 months old, not just when they’re newborns. I was miffed because this bout of mastitis could be because my little biter has teeth now and it could be injuring my nipples enough to cause an infection. I didn’t want to complain about him sleeping through the night more often, but good Lord I’m getting backed up! Yeah, that could be a contributing factor as well.

My little biter with a booger in his nose. Cute, though.

So, you can imagine my mood as I stood with Henry in the stroller in this line, preparing to cough up a copay. In front of me a little girl of about four came darting between her pregnant mom and her dad. With unbridled enthusiasm and a sparkly Dora The Explorer shirt she squealed over Henry and reached into his stroller with her grubby little hands to poke him. Her parents pleaded with her to stop touching my baby. In my head I silently pleaded with Henry, “Bite her! I know you can do it. My nipples are proof!”

Henry did not bite her. He was darling and smiley like he most often is. The girl’s dad continued to tell her to keep her hands off Henry. The little girl explained she was getting a baby sister as she pointed at her mom’s belly. The dad soon became entranced with my child, as I assume everyone does. It’s what he said next that shocked me. He looked at my son and said in a baby voice, “I wish we could trade! Your mom probably wouldn’t like that, but I want to trade!”

What?!

I thought it might be the fever  messing with my hearing, but no. This jerk just said in front of his daughter that he wanted to trade children with me. In jest or not, that is totally wrong. I wanted to grab his sweet, well-meaning daughter, even with her grubby hands and tell her she is loved for who she is.

Maybe it was the boob infection, but I took a look at this idiot and decided it was okay to be wildly bitchy and judgmental. He had on sweat pants, socks with sandals and adult braces. This man’s saving grace has to be his pregnant wife/girlfriend/baby mama. She turned to him as he went on about my son and said, “You’re getting two girls. Get over it!”

Thank God. Good luck, lady. After you straighten his teeth out, get him out of those socks and straighten out his views on having daughters. Oh, and I hope your second baby is not a nipple biter.

I definitely feel I am devoting most of my time to my family, now. (That’s a nicer way of saying I just use the hashtag #SAHM.) But, I have a confession. One member of our household is neglected.

Poor Ginger. She used to be head bitch around here.

Ginger protecting Baby Charlotte in 2011.

We got Ginger Christmas 2005 as newlyweds. She was our original baby. We doted on, worried about and basically fell all over ourselves for this dog. A rescue group found her on the side of the road. You would never know it after she came to live with us. She was spoiled rotten. She found us. She found the biggest suckers she could find to buy her designer dog food and pick up her poop.

We were good dog owners, but nothing like my friend Trish. Trish is an all around better person than you and me. Seriously. She’s a nurse who helps operate on people. That alone gets you into heaven, but she also volunteers for a pet rescue group and is often a foster mom for dogs before they are adopted. Ginger would probably rather have her for a mom than me.

Sadly, Ginger didn’t get as many snuggles, walks and pets after Charlotte was born. Now that Henry is here? Psh! I feel like she’s downright ignored among the chaos some days. The worst was about a month ago. I feel so guilty about this, it’s taken a month to write this confession.

At the risk of sounding like the cheesy start of a suspense novel, it was a cold and rainy night. It was about 3:00 am. I was expecting to be woken up by the cries of a little milk lover in need of my boobs, but it was a different sound. It was a tapping and scraping. I felt like I was still dreaming when Greyson sat up and said, “Is the dog still outside?!” “The sound was Ginger jumping and scratching the front door. We both jumped up and ran downstairs. Every step I thought, “Oh, God! Poor baby! What have I done!? I left her in the rain! I am a horrible person!”

Her collar and harness were missing. That means she got herself caught on a tree or bush while attached to her long tether. We put her out there and let her enjoy our large yard. She loves it. Ginger can now get out of the collar and harness if it gets caught on something. It’s doggy contortion at its finest. She bounded in the door, tail wagging, dripping with the rain of abandonment. We grabbed towels and dried her off. In my sleepy deliriousness I looked up at Greyson and said, “We can’t tell Trish about this!”

Well, she knows now. Ginger got loose yesterday morning too as I was trying to get out the door to be the parent volunteer at the preschool class party. I haven’t put her on the tether since yesterday. I just strap Henry in the baby carrier and have Charlotte walk with me as I have her on the leash. I have to remember to be a good dog mama too. Ginger deserves to be head bitch.

Why are dogs with sunglasses always funny?

Many other parents of 3 year-old’s seem surprised when I tell them mine still naps. They tell me how lucky I am because their child gave it up awhile ago. At age 3 1/2, Charlotte will usually sleep 1-3 hours every afternoon. Typically some time between 1:00pm to 5:00pm. We can get about 1 1/2 hours out of her most days. The 2-3 hour days are becoming far fewer, but still happen. When I tell parents this they say, “Really?! She naps everyday?”

Hell yeah, everyday.

Well, everyday but Saturday. Seriously. I can remember only one other day of her life that she did not take a nap besides Saturday. I swear to you, she’ll take a nap until kindergarten if it means she can hold her shit together better than she did then. We had a picnic/reunion with my old dance company. I was so excited about it. I got to see old friends from growing up. I checked the invitation. 2:00pm.

NOOOOOOOO!!!!

It was a perfect time for the party. It was a beautiful day. We had time to visit and eat. It was the perfect time for everyone but Charlotte. We tried an early nap before the reunion. No luck. The gracious hosts even offered a quiet room for little ones to nap if they needed it. She didn’t bite on that. There were toys, games and lots of food. It was a lovely and well organized event. I was thrilled to see my old teachers and friends. There were tons of 3 year-old’s happily running around and playing. They were totally fine. My kid was not fine.

Here are some shots of Charlotte captured by a friend during the reunion. I’m in the striped dress.

Multiple times I straight up left my baby laying in the stroller to deal with her. He was quiet or sleeping so I felt less guilty about that. Thank God for old friends who will hold your baby in the shade and give him a bottle. Charlotte tried. She really did. I could tell she was trying to be good, but she was just too tired. She cried. She didn’t want to play. By the time we got to the car she wasn’t even making sense. She was sobbing and wailing. When she shouted, “I don’t even like cupcakes anymore!” I knew she was delirious. She was not herself and I only have myself to blame.

Greyson was out-of-town. If he were in town, I probably would have had him take her home so she could sleep and Henry and I would have stayed. I was a solo parent and it was crazy. It was my special thing and I was excited. Sometimes I think we’ll just have to miss some things if it’s during nap time. It sucks, but I don’t know what else to do.

Don’t get me wrong, most days I LOVE that she still naps and I’m in no hurry for them to end, but it is inconvenient on other days. I have questions. I would love your answers to the following questions:

• Is there any rhyme or reason to why some kids nap and others don’t?
• Is it unusual for a 3 1/2 year-old to still nap, because I’m feeling like the minority?
• Do 4 and 5-year-old’s still take naps?
• I’m curious as to when they grow out of it. What did your kid do?
• What have pediatricians/teachers told you about napping?
• What do you do when your kid misses a nap? 

I want to drink milkshakes for breakfast and eat ice cream for dinner. Truly. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine. But alas, I want to live a long life.  So, I’ll eat lean protein and fruit for breakfast instead. Oh, and I’m influencing the lives and healthful eating habits of the two little humans I’m raising, so Neapolitan for dinner is out.

I also want to support mom-owned businesses while being healthy. So when Erin from Mommi sent me some samples of the Mommi 3-in-1 shakes I was psyched. Erin likes being healthy too. (Please note the adorableness of her daughter.) She loved protein shakes for breakfast. She got pregnant and noticed none were recommended for the pregnant and breastfeeding ladies.

That’s when she invented Mommi 3-in-1, vanilla and chocolate daily supplement shakes that you mix with milk. Each has 15 grams of whey protein, 100% of the daily recommended prenatal vitamins and 200 mg of DHA in every serving. So, pretty much your prenatal vitamin with DHA with protein in a shake so you get your sweet fix. I can’t wait to try some of these recipes. Dude. The Apple Pie a la Mode? I told ya’ll I love ice cream.

My OB/GYN insists I still take my prenatal vitamins with DHA as a breastfeeding mother. I’ve been drinking shakes before my workouts, so this was perfect for me! Please excuse these photos of me with no makeup. I drank the chocolate for an evening chocolate fix. I blended the vanilla with a banana for a yummy pre-workout breakfast.

Now Mommi is offering a Somebody’s Parent’s reader two weeks worth of shakes and a shaker to drink them up! A random winner will be picked next week! Good luck!

It’s raining outside. Like, pouring. We have a storm front coming through. My babies are napping. It’s quiet in the house except for the sound of rain and CNN. (Whoa! Looks like they could use this rain in Southern California.) The skies were ominous when I went to Target and then to pick up Charlotte from preschool today. I snagged a Disney Princess and Sofia The First paint set from the $1 bin. Just $2 for rainy afternoon entertainment? I’ll take it!

I stripped her down and let her paint, explaining that “Paint is only for big kids!” She was delighted. I’m working on being more “in the moment” with my kids. I left her clothes on the floor and the bags and the door. I stopped everything and and painted with her for a bit. It lasted through painting Sofia’s purple dress when Henry piped up.

I went to change him to find an epic poop explosion. I’m talking liquid stool dripping down his leg. He needed a bath but, I remembered the storm. I heard my mother’s voice in my head, “You can’t take a bath during a thunderstorm! You’ll get electrocuted!” But, I couldn’t leave my baby like this. The crap was settling in between his leg rolls. Oh, and I left the wipes I had just bought at Target in the car. That’ll teach me to be “in the moment.”

I looked outside. It hadn’t actually thundered that I had heard, just rain. I said, “Charlotte, keep painting, I’ll be right back. I need to wash Henry.” I said anti-electrocution prayers as I shuffled my sticky little shit nugget upstairs. Okay, no lightning, no thunder. We’d be okay. I didn’t submerge him. I put him in his little bath seat and just poured water on him. I kept him away from the faucet as if lightning would shoot through it and kill us all. I think I saw that in a movie once. I prayed more as I quickly scrubbed him. It was a terrifying 2 or 3 minutes.

He was dry and clean. I took him down for his lunch. We have just started solids and he got to try squash today. I wanted to feed him right when we got home, but I was all “in the moment.” So, naturally this happened moments after I bathed him:

I went to the car and got the wipes. I wasn’t going to go to the trouble and risk death by electrified bath water for the second time in one afternoon. I still haven’t heard any thunder or seen any lightning, so I keep telling myself the threat was minimal and I’m not a careless  endangerment to my child. I look forward to the squash poop I’ll get to clean tomorrow, hopefully without shocking anyone.