We went to a wedding at a church on Saturday.
In the car, on the way to the reception,
Colum yelled out, “Oh no!
I wanted to ask Dad to show me how J – j – j …
You know …
Who is she?
The one who came back to life on Easter?”
“Jesus?”
“Yes, I wanted Dad to show me how J – j – jessas died.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, her.”
“Jesus is a man.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s just that he’s usually depicted with long hair. He’s also known as the Son of God.”
“Oh …”
I’m glad we had that talk before he starts Catholic school next week.
As you know, I was stung by a wasp earlier this week. Or a bee. Or maybe a hornet. Look, I’m a city girl — I don’t do entomology. Sheesh. The point is that I’m still traumatized and clearly it is in my best interest to stay inside behind firmly shut doors. Unless, of course, there’s a bee inside the house. Then I’ll show you some serious suicide dashes. Until then, you should probably just listen to Nat. ~Rebecca
by Natalie Kerr
Image courtesy willardparks.com
Have you ever been that mom standing in the grocery aisle or bank line listening to frustrated grunts from inside the stroller? As mothers we need to read this cue as keep strolling mama! So, I ask all of you mommies out there, how fit is your stroller? Does it only see the light of day when you need a bag of milk or are you a trailblazer? Well, the good news is that either way stroller fitness is the surefire way of getting to Fit Avenue fast. What I as a mom love about stroller fitness is that I can stroll to all my favorite iPod tunes and groove out a great workout with scenic views. The best thing about stroller fitness is that the stroller and the darling inside act as a form of resistance to our aerobic workouts. All the equipment you need to reap the benefits of stroller fitness is a stroller, a park or scenic route, sunscreen, water, tunes and, of course, your little one. Now that you have all your gear, here is a sample of your next stroller session.
Some people get stung by a wasp and they shrug it off.
I’ve seen it.
I am not one of those people.
We got take out burritos for dinner,
And were going to zip down to the lake shore to eat them.
I turned south onto a side street and with my right hand pulled my hair back out of my face.
Then I screamed,
Bloody murder.
I slammed on the breaks and looked at my hand.
There was some sort of stinger at the base of my ring finger.
I pulled it out and flung it out the open window.
“Was it a bee?! Was it a bee?! Oh my god, IS IT STILL IN MY HAIR?!”
I put the car in park so I could make my escape.
Before I could, though,
My husband said, “Yes it is!”
And he started swatting at my head with a fistful of paper napkins.
“Where is it now?!”
“I don’t know. Get out of the car!”
I was already on it.
I swung the car door open all the way and ran over to the sidewalk,
Where I proceeded to shake out my hair,
And then drop to my knees screaming and crying.
Because it HURT.
Also, I don’t know if I’ve ever been stung by a bee before (or was it a wasp?),
And what if I’m allergic,
And wasn’t my whole hand swelling up now?
And was that the tingling sensation of death running up my arm?
I was flailing.
Traffic was now backed up on this sleepy side street,
Because of course I stopped the car right in the middle of the road,
And the driver’s door was still wide open.
I got myself together enough to get back in the car and pull away.
Soon the pain started to subside,
And I turned to my husband and said,
“Did you really have to throw all the napkins out the window?
What are we going to use for the burritos now?”
I’m pretty sure I messed up my wrist trying to steer the stroller with one hand while the other had a death grip on a giant cup of coffee. And I’m pretty sure that a sore wrist gets you out of exercise for another week — at least. Luckily, we have Nat to tell us how it’s done. ~Rebecca
By Natalie Kerr
When we are little it is all about funky fun fitness. Most tots exercise daily for at least of 30 minutes worth of cardiovascular activity in funky contraptions like exersaucers or jolly jumpers, never batting an eye or never feeling too tired or disinterested. They accept their fitness fate and resign themselves to having a BALL while they exercise. Somehow we lost this commitment to and this love for funky fun fitness. We as MOMS need to get it back and get it back fast. We care too much about what others think. We certainly don’t jump or run just for the love of fitness. I believe we need to bring back the PLAY in our fitness regime.
Disclaimer:
I really and truly love and care for my children and have not yet, in four plus years of motherhood, had to make a trip to the emergency room.
So you know how I tend to stay up too late surfing the Internet working to help support my family? It might be fair to say I’m pretty groggy in the mornings, I guess. It’s okay, though, because Colum is perfectly capable of getting up and pouring himself a cup of milk and turning on the TV. And little Irene is still safe in her crib until I get up and she never goes down the stairs on her own anyways. So we’re good, right?
Except that this morning my husband helpfully got Irene up out of her crib and changed her diaper and left her to cuddle in bed with me before heading to work. I mean, she was cuddling with me, or at least playing beside the bed, at some point. And I suppose it’s possible that I might have dozed off because suddenly she was nowhere in sight.
I found her sitting beside her brother on the couch in the living room with half a glass of milk between them. Okay, see? That’s good. Only is that a glass glass? What happened to the drawer full of plastic cups that is conveniently kept at ankle height? Was that glass even clean because how could he have reached the cabinet over the sink to get it? Colum? He shrugged. “Irene got the glass.”
I look at her and she says, “I got gass fom disswasser.” Well, at least it’s clean and in one piece and nobody is hurt. I’ll just let this slide and head into the kitchen to make breakf- WHAT the hell?!
Image courtesy nothingheavy.blogspot.com
Recall that I am Canadian and therefore buy my milk in plastic bags which are then kept in plastic pitchers in the fridge with a small piece of the corner cut off from which to pour. I also buy both homogenized milk for my not-yet-two-year-old daughter and 1% for the rest of us. That means that at any given time there will be two plastic milk pitchers with two open bags of milk in my fridge. Unless, of course, they are all lying in a giant pool of milk on the kitchen floor.
Colum! What on earth happened here? “I don’t know. Irene poured the milk.”
I’m going to go ahead and make a public statement here. At the risk of over-generalizing, milk-pouring prodigies aside, let it be known that 21 months of age is not nearly old enough to be serving beverages of any kind. Shaken, stirred, with a twist, it really doesn’t matter because it will all just end up in a pool on my kitchen floor.
Well, it serves me right for falling asleep. I knelt on the floor and started sopping up the milk thinking that it could have been worse.
That’s when I saw the teetering tower of glassware leaning out of the top rack of the dishwasher.
SNACK
(formerly known as Daily Snack, but now less daily)
We bought a run down dump of a 100-year-old house.
The walls were a special shade of hospital green meets 50 years worth of cigarette smoke.
Add hordes of stray cats peeing all over the place,
And you start to get an idea of how it smelled.
Also, no kitchen on the main floor, two layers of vinyl tile over hardwood on the second,
And waist-high weeds covering the property.
Believe it or not, it was not abandoned.
There were people paying rent to live here.
But good bones, you know?
Refinish the upstairs floor, wash and paint the walls, do some weeding, Put in a kitchen,
And voila!
It’s only slightly dumpy.
But sitting near the dining room now,
I notice the window sill has been finished with random strips of ill-fitting molding.
Really, what is up with THAT?
My idea of exercise is lacing up runners to go out for bacon and eggs. Seriously. After I gained forty pounds during my first pregnancy I even put on a sweat suit in case the spirit moved me to jog over to my salty pork fat and fried egg feast. It didn’t. That doesn’t mean that I like the baby fat, though. And it sure doesn’t mean that I don’t like reading about exercise. I LOVE reading about exercise! So much so that I’m bursting with pride about the Playground Confidential’s newest contributer: a bonafide fitness expert. Look for her on Fridays sometimes. ~Rebecca
By Natalie Kerr
Courtesy maveric2003 on flickr
To the apple of your eye the playground is an oasis of fun and activity. Why not for us? Have we outgrown it? Are we too sophisticated? I think not. Our little ones might be onto something here. The playground and the parkette it’s in, has everything we need to shed those baby pounds: fresh air, free equipment and the FUN factor. All we need to do is pimp it out it in a way that optimizes its fitness potential. The next time you are out with your little one dress up your playground fitness style and get moving. Everything from the swings to the benches can be our key to fitness freedom and achievement.
I just came back from a blogging conference. I know.
Don’t worry, though, because this was the Blogher conference which means it wasn’t all about geeky tech and music and political bloggers. It wasn’t even all about female writers telling their personal stories, either. I mean, sure there was some of that, but you could totally ignore it. Because, let’s face the facts: there’s nothing to be gained from hobnobbing with nerds.
Irene is now the same age Colum was when she was conceived.
It makes sense.
She has been waking up and playing with her baby dolls.
She sits on the couch and “reads”.
She does a lot of cooking on her play stove.
She fights with her brother,
And sometimes she wins.
She is more girl than baby now.
And she needs me less.
I’m getting so much done!
So it makes sense,
That at 21 months of age,
You might start thinking about another baby.
It’s not just for apple picking anymore. Chudleigh’s Apple Farm (of Chudleigh’s pie fame) offers a slew of other activities for families all summer long. I used to be opposed to the idea of putting a price tag on the rural experience and selling it to city parents, but really, where else are you going to get all this?
– A petting zoo with alpacas, deer, goats, peacocks and more
– Tractor-drawn wagon rides
– A large safe & fun playground complex with a sandpit, towers, bridges and slides
– Straw maze
– Face painting and pony rides on weekends
– A restaurant great for farm-fresh summer lunches
– Store where you can take home an apple pie and many other treats
– Picnic area
– Nature walks featuring a teepee
And at $17.50 for a family of four or $5 per person (kids three and under are free) you still come out ahead of lunch at McDonald’s.
When we are little it is all about funky fun fitness. Most tots exercise daily for at least of 30 minutes worth of cardiovascular activity in funky contraptions like exersaucers or jolly jumpers, never batting an eye or never feeling too tired or disinterested. They accept their fitness fate and resign themselves to having a BALL while they exercise. Somehow we lost this commitment to and this love for funky fun fitness. We as MOMS need to get it back and get it back fast. We care too much about what others think. We certainly don’t jump or run just for the love of fitness. I believe we need to bring back the PLAY in our fitness regime. 
