ePregnancy.com

Homeland security (blankets)

Oh Mama! — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 15:41:00 GMT

Well, we are closing in on the first day of junior kindgergarten and we've hit a progress point that is a VERY big deal.

I think on the first day of school, Dylan will leave his two favorite companions in the car.

That would NOT be Mom and Dad, but his beloved hooded towels "Froggie" (who used to have a Frog attached to it) and "Blankie."

He has carried them everywhere a la Linus for the last four years, but we've progressed! Now we say "goodbye" after showering them with hugs and kisses before leaving the car. He will only leave them if I can PROMISE they will be in his booster seat upon his return.

In Dylan's short life, Froggie and Blankie have gone everywhere, logged thousands of airline miles and even shown up in our Christmas family pic. They are the ONLY ones I have since I got them as a shower gift with no idea of the importance they would eventually hold, or else I would have bought 20 of them. They do get washed, but look old, filthy and are full of holes. (Dylan can put his head through Froggie!) At a hotel, I have to hide them in fear a maid will throw them away or think they are rags.

We've had plenty of close calls -- once he left them at a friend's house who showed up on my doorstep at 10 p.m. knowing how vital they were. Another time, I was taking Dylan to my folks in MO for five days. While packing that night, I could not find them. I knew I had taken Dylan running in the jogging stroller that day, so I wandered 3 miles with a flashlight looking for them. No luck. Thankfully around midnight, I realized he "helped" me and buried them in the suitcase.

But the worst experience was a normal day. We grabbed lunch, hit Target and then a hunting store. The hunting store is atypical, but I was running a 15K the next day and the temps were expected in the 20s, and I wanted some hand warming packets. We were almost home and I realized with nothing short of terror we did not have Froggie and Blankie. Visions of them sitting in the parking lot of Target danced in my head. I raced at a too-fast speed to Target, and appeared rather deranged crawling on my hands and knees looking for these blankets under rows of parked cars. Dylan had realized Froggie and Blankie were MIA but held out great hope in my ability to locate them.

So he started stopping random shoppers asking if they had seen his "friends" while I held back tears. A teenage cart retriever asks if I need a cart, and I try to explain that I'm looking for my son's blankets that I ... I choke on the word "lost" and tears well up in my eyes.

“Uh… OK, ma’am,” said the teenager, who was probably wondering if I was drugs.

We checked lost and found at all of our stops and had no luck. We end up at the hunting store, a maze with no aisles and stuff stashed everywhere. I am wondering how to explain to Dylan that his precious friends are forever gone. We retraced our steps through this maze and FINALLY wadded up in the corner under a counter in a dirty aisle were Froggie and Blankie. I almost wept for pure joy. I directed Dylan to them and he ran up, hugged them and said, “You guys were just playing hide and seek! Silly Froggie! Silly Blankie!”

Glad he could see the humor while I was almost in cardiac arrest. I better make sure I know where they are right now...

Olympic Moms Juggle Motherhood

Mommy Milestones — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 15:21:00 GMT

My fascination with the Olympics, the athletes, willpower, drive and determination to win has been taken to a deeper level with the introduction of the Olympic Mom.

20+ Olympic athletes have children and juggle practice, family, games and motherhood. They handle sleep deprivation, sickness, and manage their time while focusing on their life long dreams, their children and life as a mom.

Balance and juggling were cited on the Today Show as a key to having a family and a dream. These women have rigorous practice schedules, games and competitions, travel, and the responsibilities of motherhood.

They are a great role model for a mom like me. I have dreams, goals and a determination to be an individual and a mom. They have shown me, as many others do, that dreams can and should be achieved without the sacrifice of a family.

One swimmer, now 41, was back in the pool just 4 months after giving birth. Now 2 years later she is a mom and an Olympic medalist, with a story to tell her daughter about their trip.

A softball player had her baby and competed just 5 weeks later; that is drive and determination to have both a dream and a child.

Two soccer moms, Olympic athletes who are also moms, said that they play differently now. They are more composed, smarter and have calmed down since having a child.

A basketball mom says that it is all about balance. She gives 100% to her daughter when she is with her and she gives 100% to basketball when she is playing; the time is split differently each day but 100% is always given.

As I look at these moms, what they are able to accomplish and their commitment I think, what do I want to do? I am inspired to journal about my goals, dreams and aspirations and see if there is something that I am not doing that I could be.

I am inspired and in awe of these women. As a beach volleyball player myself, I watched the finals last night and heard the heart felt message that they have done what they set out to do, are not finished with their sport but want the experience of motherhood.

The emotion as Kerri Walsh said "it is time, I really want a baby!" made me smile and hope for her to she gets to experience motherhood. She has accomplished so much personally and now a baby, motherhood and volleyball are what she dreams about.

The support that these women have to compete is fundamental and the support that they require to be an Olympic Mom is even greater. Balance, love, determination and drive are all traits of an Olympic athlete and every mom that I know.

Motherhood is a blessing that has allowed me to stretch who I am, find balance in situations that seem insurmountable, and shown me that asking for support and allowing it to come to me is the only way to maintain my individuality, my quest to be a good mom and my determination to be a positive role model in the lives on my children.

Sports taught me a lot growing up and the dream of Olympic Gold was mine and Joe’s when we were kids. I think that it gave me a different level of respect for others accomplishments and an inner drive to be the best that I can be through the metaphor of a game.

I now translate those messages to my life; be the best that I can be and give 100% to what I am doing, I release the guilt from spending time for and with myself and know that giving 100% when I am with my children is more important than giving 100% of my time but not being present.

I may never be at the level of Olympic athlete but I can be my best and give 100% to myself, my family and my kids.

Off to make another Mommy Milestone.

Bad Things, Part 2: Incontrovertible Incontinence

Pregnant Pause — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 01:49:00 GMT

For the next two weeks, I have the rare chance to spend some real quality time with Asher. Since his summer camp is over and Abby’s goes straight until school begins, my boy’s all mine all alone until he starts preschool after Labor Day. Yesterday, I decided to take him to the local zoo, and then for lunch in the park.

Yes, it was shaping up to be a fine day. Until, that is, I decided to push it.

Bad Thing # 2: Peeing in My Pants

It was hot and we were both tired, but since we needed a baby gate for the bottom of the stairs, I shlepped Mr. No-Nap to Babies R Us on the way home. I should have known better. With brazen disregard for my delicate condition, I lifted a crabby 32-pound Asher in and out of the shopping cart thee times, pulled a giant gate down off the shelf, pushed it to the cash, lifted Asher into the car and finally hoisted the gate into the trunk.

And that’s when I gushed. Like, actually wet my pants.

I called Dan when I got home and he gave me lots of crap for being so stupid and then scared the sh*t out of me, insisting we call the hospital. Since I technically couldn’t be sure if it was pee or amniotic fluid, I agreed. (And as Dan so eloquently put it, "The baby is still only about medium-rare, so we’re not taking any chances.") The nurse told me to come in immediately.

In the end, it was just pee – yay! I’m officially incontinent at 32 weeks! – but I’ve been told to smarten up or else. That means no more lifting Asher, no more ditch-digging, no more free-climbing above the treeline without oxygen.

On a more positive note, there’s nothing like the sound of two hungry, wild kids running around the delivery ward and a nervous husband chasing them down, uttering empty threats, to make you appreciate the simple pleasures in life, like being given a glass of orange juice and hooked up to a fetal-monitoring machine for a hour of sheer relaxation.

Poop - What is the Fascination with Poop?

Mommy Milestones — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 20:24:00 GMT

I have heard the word poop more times in the past 4 years than I had ever heard it in all 38 years of my life. Grown women talk about their kids poop like it is a normal part of a daily conversation. News flash, unless you are a mother of a young child, poop does not come up all that often in conversation. For moms, however, it seems normal and fine to discuss our children’s bowel movements with complete strangers. Why?

I know that as a new parent I was obsessed with poop and making sure that my children were pooping often enough. Constipation was an issue on our house and poop became a hot topic of our dinner time discussion, some things never change.

As my kids got older there was talk of blow out diapers and then on to the not so pleasant potty training experiences. I am close to starting again, it is almost time with Boo and I hope that it goes more smoothly than with AJ.

I still get a yell from the bathroom which is the cue for mom and dad to Ro-Sham-Bo for wiping duties. The worst is when we do not get the call and AJ, being a big boy, wipes himself. It is nice that he tries but if his underwear could talk they would be screaming HELP when he does not.

In addition to our household poop issues, AJ is fascinated with the word poop and thinks that saying it is hilarious. God forbid we see any poop - bird poop, dog poop, any poop is like hitting the mother lode and AJ is off on a poop talking frenzy.

I chose to take AJ to a working farm in town that does tours and talks to kids about the old days growing up on a farm. I thought that AJ would love the animals and the real farm atmosphere. Like I have said before, some choices are better than others.

AJ was more interested in where the animals went to the bathroom, why they didn’t get any privacy and the amount of poop that each animal had in their stall. I think that the word poop came out of his mouth at least 7,000 times in those 2 hours. The animals were fine but the poop was fascinating.

We are planning a trip to the Zoo soon and I can only assume that there will be more interesting and oh so exciting conversations about poop in my near future.

Right now I am waiting for the fish tank, lakes and the oceans to cross his mind. Until then, I am attempting to put a stop to the use of the word poop in our house, honestly I am all pooped out.

Off to make another Mommy Milestone.

Hobbico Inc. Recalls Batteries Used In Radio-Controlled Helicopters Due to Fire Hazard

All ePregnancy — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 19:12:00 GMT

WASHINGTON, D.C. - The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission, in cooperation with the firm named below, today announced a voluntary recall of the following consumer product. Consumers should stop using recalled products immediately unless otherwise instructed.

Name of Product: Batteries Used In Radio-Controlled Helicopter Kits

Units: About 11,000

Importer/Distributor: Hobbico Inc., of Champaign, Ill.

Hazard: The rechargeable battery can overheat and catch fire while charging, igniting nearby combustible materials. This poses a fire hazard to consumers.

Incidents/Injuries: Hobbico has received 28 reports of batteries overheating and/or melting, including 27 reports of flames and minor property damage. No injuries have been reported.

Description: This recall involves the Electrifly lithium-polymer batteries (part #GPMP0401) sold individually or with the Heli-Max Axe CP-L radio-controlled helicopter kits. The kit includes a 23-inch long plastic helicopter, a battery, a radio transmitter, a balance charger, a car adapter, an AC wall adapter, decals that read “HMX”, “AXE” and “Heli-Max” and training gear. “Electrifly” and “GPMP0401” are printed on the battery.

Sold at: Hobby Stores nationwide and online from November 2007 through March 2008 for about $35. The helicopter kits were sold for $200.

Manufactured in: China

Remedy: Consumers should immediately stop using the recalled batteries and contact Hobbico for instructions on returning their battery for a free replacement battery.

Consumer Contact: For additional information, contact Hobbico toll-free at (866) 462-2426 from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. CT Monday through Friday or visit the company’s recall Web sites at www.helimaxrc.com or www.electrifly.com to register for the recall.

Children’s Board Skirts Recalled By Chelsea & Scott Ltd. Due to Violation of Lead Paint Standard

All ePregnancy — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 19:10:00 GMT

The following product safety recall was voluntarily conducted by the firm in cooperation with the CPSC. Consumers should stop using the product immediately unless otherwise instructed.

Name of Product: Sun Smarties™ Children’s Board Skirts

Units: About 600

Manufacturer: Chelsea & Scott Ltd., of Lake Bluff, Ill.

Hazard: The paint on the grommets of the skirts contains an excess level of lead, violating the federal lead paint standard.

Incidents/Injuries: None reported.

Description: The Sun Smarties™ board skirts are peach microfiber with an embroidered flower accent and back pocket. Item number 13926 HIBI is printed on the care label inside the back of the waistband. The skirts were sold in girls sizes 12 months to 4T. The skirts have six grommets, four on the front of the waistband and two on the back pocket.

Sold Exclusively on: www.onestepahead.com from May 1, 2008 through May 9, 2008 for about $15.

Manufactured in: China

Remedy: Consumers should immediately take these skirts away from young children and return them to Chelsea & Scott Ltd to receive a replacement skirt or refund. Consumers will be sent a postage paid envelope from Chelsea & Scott Ltd.

Consumer Contact: For additional information, contact Chelsea & Scott Ltd toll-free at (866) 271-4536 between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. CT Monday through Friday, or visit the firm’s Web site at www.onestepahead.com. Consumers can also email the firm at customerservice@onestepahead.com

Safariganza: Survived (Sort of ...)

MicroCosmicMama — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 03:00:00 GMT

Kai Patrick is officially 1, and I am officially done. Please, stick a fork in me. Us. Gage, too. He was immense.

Just look at us, would you? We are looking farrrrr more burned out than we ever have after any all-out all-nighter we've ever pulled, what with Gage's fireman hat and my blindfold and ... bananas? Nonetheless, this took place on a Sunday at 2 p.m., and there was actually no alcohol served! Believe that! Admittedly, I was a bit worried the whole lot of 45 might just have sat around and stared at one another, not really knowing what to do or how to behave sans the adult beverages, but lo and behold, the kid-based commonality was by and far enough to keep this safari soiree from sucking!

In fact, it was a blast, once I got past the crazy cat-lady stage I had entered there in those last few hours prior to guest arrival. You know the moment. It's 14 minutes before you oh-so naively requested the presence of your nearest and dearest only to catch a glimpse of yourself in that sparkling clean glass (you bet your bippy it is) of your front door and realize you are anything but fresh. Uh-oh. Mama's lookin' R-to-the-OUGH:

Seriously.

(So maybe that was just a really bad shot taken in a time and place totally unconnected to the Kai's birthday party, but it served to convey this aforementioned feeling, yes?)

So, if you will: First, look at the above photo of me (for empathy effect) and then, humor me. Suffer through these next few posts re: the safari extravaganza ... the safariganza. It really isn't just because I've devoted the past 34,223,452 hours on it and need to feel that it in some way matters and was therefore worth the 34,223,452 hours spent, but because I learned a lot about the party process, and all of the vendors we used were out-of-this-world amazing, so I simply must dote accordingly.

God love this kid, but pretty sure it's about to be on at Chuck E. Cheese (OK, maybe not there) come this time, next year. Oh, I've thrown some parties in my day -- from the most intimate of gatherings to the allest-outest themed wedding showers -- but I have never, ever worked as hard in my life as I did for Kai's first birthday party (just when I was to be busy getting my blog on a roll, natch).

Why?

Because I love him more than anything, but mostly, because he'll remember every, single detail ... right down to the last scrumdiddlyumptious bite of his first-ever real taste of sugar, which he totally took in stride. Whatever. See if you ever taste that granulated gremlin again. (Right.)

Danishes

Asteria — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 01:01:00 GMT

At my conference last week I discovered a pastry shop that makes exquisite danishes. I'm a pretty decent cook but I can't make pastries. However, once I got home, I decided it was time to try again. I pulled out my copy of King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking and attempted their Cheese Danish recipe. They didn't turn out horrible, but neither were they fantastic.

The pastry dough was too tough. I can't decide if I kneaded too long, added too much flour, or the toughness was the natural result of including some whole wheat flour in the recipe. The whole wheat flour I use is the King Arthur White Whole Wheat Flour. It's one of my favorite flours to bake with. In most items, such as cookies and sweet breads, I can use at least 50% of the white whole wheat without a noticeable difference. The recipe did specify whole wheat pastry flour but I've made these substitutions before without any issues. It's also possible that I just need more practice making danishes before they come out right. However, it's such a labor intensive process I probably won't try it anytime soon. After all, donuts are much easier to make and just as tasty :)

If you bake and are looking to increase your use of whole grains, I strongly recommended going to your library and seeing if they have a copy of King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking. My cheese danishes notwithstanding, almost every recipe I've tried from this book has turned out great. I've made Hazelnut Waffles with Pear compote, Chewy Oatmeal Cookies, Lemon-Oat Squares and Baked Oatmeal. They aren't necessarily the healthiest of recipes but they taste great and you can pretend they're healthy with the various whole grain flours the recipes use.

Another baking book I love is The Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum. She provides very detailed directions for all of her recipes. In addition, Bernabaum adds little "understanding" notes explaining why certain ingredients work the way they do within the recipe. Most of her recipes call for using bread flour. However, I've had very good luck substituting half of the flour (by weight) with white whole wheat flour and adding about 1 tbs of vita wheat gluten per cup of whole wheat flour (to compensate for the protein differences between the flours). Bernabaum is a stickler for precision and would probably be horrified to see how I mutilate the recipes. However, the recipes still turn out great. Her Cinnamon Raisin Loaf recipe is particularly good as a base for French Toast.

Hot Wheels Hell

Oh Mama! — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 12:59:00 GMT

Dylan just turned 5, which was greeted with jubilation, a big party and far too many toys that require some assembly.

My fate in putting things together was sealed at a young age. When I was about 12, I took an aptitude test which showed that I was a real winner in the area of reading comprehension, but the counselor sadly informed me I scored in the third percentile in spatial relations. Not 1/3 as in 33 percent but as in 3% -- basically 97 percent of the population is more skilled than me in tasks that involve placing shapes in differing positions or in putting together something that only requires, say, a screwdriver. I probably did not want to consider a future in, say, engineering.

So it should come as no shock when my friend Daliana phoned me and asked how I was doing. My reply—“I’m in Hot Wheels hell."

I had been toiling for oh, two hours, on some track that was supposed to easily fit together. Whoever wrote these directions, or should I say, crummy pictures with very little verbiage, should take those Hot Wheels tracks and, well, ahem, since this is a family webpage, we’ll just leave it to our imaginations…

Daliana and her son Raul, also 5, wanted to drop by a gift which they assured me did not require assembly. They arrive and Raul spies the misplaced tracks and he accomplishes more in 5 minutes than I could in two hours. He’s gleefully snapping things together and is putting together something that actually resembles a race track. Cars are in motion, Dylan and Raul are having a great time and I am feeling thrilled that the darn thing is put together and somewhat lame that I've been outdone by a 5-year old.

Luckily we only received one other Hot Wheels gift – feeling overly optimistic I opened it up and thought I could put it together. The mom who gave it to me said it was so easy to put together. Same kind of stupid instructions. Heightened levels of frustration. Perhaps I will call Raul over for a play date.

I'm Still Alive . . .

Asteria — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 14:12:00 GMT

It's ironic that as soon as I have something worth writing about about, I don't have any time to write. A week ago last Thursday, I had my first official prenatal visit. My husband came along as the receptionist had said that I was going to get my first ultrasound. I had no idea they did ultrasounds so early in a pregnancy. We learned that our baby does have a heart beat, is correctly implanted in the uterus, and there's only one in there.

My morning sickness hasn't gotten any worse. I suppose I should consider myself lucky. However, I have developed an aversion to vegetables and dark chocolate. Before I was pregnant, I was very diligent in making sure I was eating tons of veggies and huge green salads. Now I can't stand them unless they're deeply hidden in some other dish. This is particularly distressing since I have a CSA share and have been receiving large quantities of vegetables. The vegetables have been sitting in my refrigerator glaring reproachfully at me every time I open the door.

Most of this last week I've been gone to a conference in Canada. To my relief, I managed to keep my food down the entire time though there were some tricky moments in the airplane coming back. It was a good conference but I'm very glad to be back home.

If I Had Three Wishes...

Pregnant Pause — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 05:15:00 GMT

If I had three wishes this very moment, this is what they’d be:

1. Eternal life

2. World peace

3. That the Potty Fairy would whisk Asher away as he sleeps and toilet train him by tomorrow morning

While I hold no illusions about the situation in the Middle East, nor do I expect the portrait of me in the attic to suddenly begin aging in my stead, I really was hoping to be done with all this evacuation nonsense by the time Baby’s born. Alas, Asher has been reluctant to say the least, shrieking in protest at the mere suggestion of peeing on the toilet. Of course, I don’t want to traumatize or torture him in any way, but I seriously fear having two in diapers.

(Bonus point: If he’s done by the time he starts preschool in three weeks, it would mean he gets to stay the extra hour and a half each day for "Lunch Bunch" – an ultra-elite group of coprological cognoscenti united by their ability to maintain perfect bladder and bowel control so as to not inconvenience the team of educators who deem tushie-wiping past noon beneath them.)

Fortunately, we have made some major progress this week.

The secret, which I’d forgotten till Abby reminded me, was making him a Chart. A simple piece of paper taped half-ass to the bathroom wall and a packet of Cars stickers was all it took to get him to park his little butt down on the toilet seat and wait for the inevitable to happen. When he peed, we threw a party and he got a sticker. Hallelujah. (Hmmm... I wonder... if I made Dan a sticker chart, would he finally remember that garbage days are Tuesday and Friday?)

So far, Asher has five stickers; impressive, to be sure, but the process is nowhere near complete. When I think about how much I’m dreading the long, dark months of poopy underwear that lie ahead, I want to just send him off to the same guy who took our incontinent, disobedient puppy for three weeks of in-house spirit-breaking.

By the way, why didn’t anybody ever tell me to save those detachable urine-deflectors that came with the potty seats we bought when we were training Abby? It’s so hard to muster enthusiasm for Asher’s success when more pee hits me than the bottom of the bowl.

Is he too little to stand? How exactly does that work? Anybody? Help! Boys baffle me...

Reunion Recap, Friendship, and Love

Mommy Milestones — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 23:06:00 GMT

My 20 year high school reunion was last weekend. I had mixed emotions about going but had been looking forward to seeing my friends from Vegas and catching up with people. I had lost touch with so many people over the years and was not even sure who would show up.

After having kids I became a bit more introverted and did not take the time to make lasting friendships. Being at home with the kids seems to limit the amount of time that I have to meet new people and make new friends.

Kris and Spencer, from Vegas, have been dear friends since around 1993. I went through a lot and they were always there for me. I have not found friends like them and, honestly, I hope never to need a friend as much as I needed Kris.

Life has been very busy and I consider Joe my best friend, everyone else that I have met is wonderful but there just isn’t the time to get that close. Talking 2-3 times a year and seeing each other once a year seems to be enough for Kris and I to still be close.

I reconnected with a few very special people and am grateful for the time that we spent talking. I will keep in touch with them and continue to grow our friendships.

This reunion came at a time in my life where I am happy, feel good about myself, my relationship and my kids. People seemed more grown up than they did at the 10 year reunion and it was refreshing to hear about their lives, families and changes. It felt good to see so many happy and successful people and hear that most of their happiness was due to their families.

At the 10 year reunion it seemed like status was important but at the 20 year it was more about life. Talk about jobs and career was secondary to conversations about family, kids and how we spend our time.

Many of the women were at home moms like me and it was nice to hear so many of us talk about family, kids, school and things that were totally Mom related. Amazingly, the age range of kids went from 22 years old down to a few months; some people had a kid in high school and some of us waited until our thirties.

It was fun to talk, share stories, and find that time and distance does not change real friendships. People that I did not expect to be excited to see me were and it made me feel good and happy to reunite with them.

I was happy to introduce Joe to my friends from the past and he was a trooper. He’s such a good man and it was wonderful to hear comments about what a nice guy he is; all that I could do was smile and say "I know!"

The best part of the reunion was a small comment made in passing. Joe looked over at Spencer and said, "Doesn’t it feel good to be with the best looking women here?" Spencer looked at Kris, got a big smile and said, "Man you’re right, we’re pretty lucky!"

Joe still finds me beautiful 8 years later and that fact made more of am impact on me than any comment that anyone else could have made. There was something about hearing my husband tell a buddy that he thinks that I am beautiful, it made my heart melt and I fell in love with him all over again. We will be married 7 years on the 18th and I fall in love with him more every day.

I see him with our kids and I fall head over heals with him because of his sincerity, openness, and love for all of us. He is the love of my life, has brought me joy, a family, and now a reason to dress up a little more often.

Seeing everyone, renewing friendships, cherishing existing friends, and rekindling my love for Joe was more than I could have hoped for from a 20 year reunion.

What a surprise to find that it would make me appreciate, love and respect Joe more than I did before. Who knew?

Off to make another Mommy Milestone.

Mommy Sick Days

Mommy Milestones — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 21:00:00 GMT

No sick days for Mommy…

Over the past week I have been under the weather and am proposing that we create a national program that provides sick days for mom or "at home" parents.

Being a mom is a full time job, we do not get benefits, overtime pay or sick leave. I think that this is ridiculous and needs to be changed. I am writing to the health insurance companies and requesting that they include spousal sick days for a parent that stays home with their kids.

I guarantee that Joe and I would chip in some extra money if it meant that I could have a sick day from time to time. I rarely get sick, maybe once a year, but when I get sick I tend to get really sick; caring for the kids sometimes includes lying on the couch, begging them to talk quietly and watch a movie while mommy rests. It usually doesn’t work but I am not above trying.

Last week, right before the reunion I started to feel my voice cracking and my throat was scratchy. I thought that it was just allergies and with some Echinacea would disappear. After a weekend of talking, staying up late and a few glasses of wine, my voice was completely gone. By Monday I made an appointment and got in to see my doctor.

I begged for some way to speak again and she reluctantly prescribed an antibiotic. Her kids are older and she has apparently forgotten the need for a voice with 2 small children.

AJ had been yelling at me because he couldn’t hear me and thought that meant that I could not hear him, hence a big loud voice to help out mom. I explained that I had to whisper because my voice was tired and needed a rest so he began whispering and resting his voice to the point that I could barely hear him. I needed help and the antibiotic was my only hope.

I have not had a sick day since my kids were born. My mom did come over once when Boo was little because I was vomiting so much that I was afraid that I would not be able to care for him and AJ at the same time. She brought me soup and stayed for a while until I could go a few hours in between trips to the bathroom. Joe’s job demands his attention and he can rarely get a day off without notice so he is rarely able to offer the assistance of a sick day for me.

I believe that our Health Savings Account (HAS) should be available for spousal sick days. I believe that any "at home" parent should be covered by the HAS plan and allowed 10 sick days per years. The HSA spousal sick days could be used when a fever, loss of voice, vomiting, diarrhea, migraine headache, injury or bad back seem to be acting up and reduce ones ability to care for and parent small children.

Mental health days would be required once per quarter and failure to take a mental health day would terminate coverage. Massage therapists would be listed under metal health care providers and be covered under the plan.

A sick day would include a nanny from 7:30 am until 6:30 pm. The nanny would watch over the children and make sure that the sick parent have ample time to rest, go to the doctor and get well. The maximum coverage would be 3 consecutive days, if the parent is still not well then the other parent would be required to take time off and stay at home with the children.

I guarantee that "at home" parents everywhere would be grateful and not abuse the HSA spousal sick day program. The much needed rest would make us more able to care for and parent our children knowing that the occasional illness would be covered. The mental health days would help by reducing stress, providing emotional support and assisting in overall health and well-being.

As a sick mom trying to get her voice back, taking antibiotics and regular doses of cough syrup, I am ready and waiting for the much needed Mommy sick day.

Off to make another Mommy Milestone.

The State Fair in pictures

My Daughter's Father — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 16:16:00 GMT

I have always been very big on taking pictures of and with Maddie, but I've cooled of late. It's not that I don't want them — I love having lots of photos from anything we do together. But I feel that every time I put the camera up, I'm taking myself out of the moment.

As much as I'd like all the snapshots, I've come to value the doing of things with her much more. And for those, I'll forever have to rely on my memory.

There were a lot of pictures from the State Fair that I didn't get. Here are a few that I did.

If you missed it, you can read all about our day here...

I was born in a small town...

Oh Mama! — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 11:36:00 GMT

Perhaps the best part of my dad’s 11-day hospital stay in Missouri was that my 5-year old Dylan got to experience first-hand what it means to be part of the community where I spent my childhood.

My parents live in Richland, MO, a one-stop light town with about 2,000 people. There is not a mall, McDonald’s or movie theatre in town and only one Starbucks in about a 70-mile radius. (Believe me after long nights in the hospital, this was KILLING me!) My parents, both teachers, have lived in Richland for more than 40 years. The outpouring of community support during my dad’s hospital stay was positively overflowing.

People who had known me in diapers were now offering to care for my son while I was spending time with my dad. One of dad’s best fishing buddies would regularly show up at 6:00 a.m. to visit dad and even brought homegrown strawberries and blackberries. My former typing teacher (yes, before computers) and her husband stopped by the hospital at 11 p.m. and brought me coffee. The high school basketball coach and his wife, who is the school counselor, watched my son the entire day and then thought nothing of inviting my mom and me into their home for dinner. Then to top it off, the coach, who doubles as a shop teacher, spent hours in the 90+-degree heat to build handrails for front door to ease dad’s transition home.

One of my former high school classmates, whom I had known since kindergarten, was in charge of vacation bible school and invited Dylan to come for the week. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I watched my son play kickball with other kids – something I adored doing as a child. He made s’mores for the first time at that camp, and sang church songs I learned as a kid, too.

We also received an invite to a birthday party at our local (and only) swimming pool. Watching Dylan swim in the heat of summer in the same pool I splashed around in as a kid was special. He even offered up that this place was “cool!"

I took some solace in knowing that Dylan was seeing this trip as a vacation of sorts while I was wearing my mom hat and worried-sick daughter hat simultaneously.

I returned to my suburban life after my dad finally cleared up, complete with multiple Starbucks, grocery stores, traffic lights and god-awful traffic, and all the conveniences of modern life. It’s kid-centric, which is part of why we live here. But the 11 days I spent in Missouri makes me think about a sense of community I took for granted as a child. Perhaps, I think, what you give up in amenities you can recoup in other ways. I feel fortunate Dylan got to experience it first-hand if only for a little while…

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Mommy Milestones — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 04:08:00 GMT

As I sit and watch the Olympics I am in awe of the wonderful men and women and their families. The choice to be an athlete, more importantly an Olympic Athlete seems to be a time consuming and all encompassing decision for both the athlete and their family.

The level of commitment, support and drive is unparalleled as they wait for years to be able to compete. Their life takes on the appearance of a full time job. The desire to win and love of the sport help them persevere and push through the tough times.

As a mom I see the emotions of the families and the life that they created so that their children had the opportunity to fulfill their dreams. The financial commitment, constant practice sessions, and emotional support required seem daunting yet immensely rewarding.

AJ does not really get the concept of Olympic Athlete but he likes to watch the people play and the excitement. For him a Fireman, Builder, Baseball Player, Trash Truck Driver, Sports Car Driver, and Soccer Guy top the list of cool fun jobs to have in the future.

He likes to play sports and has often said that he will be a Major League Baseball Guy or Golfer like Tiger Woods when he gets older. I tell him that anything is possible if he continues to learn and practice.

We often sit and play and I ask questions about what he likes or talk about the jobs that the he would like to have. He likes to build with Legos, blocks, and Tinker Toys so we talk about construction work, architecture, and drawing. Right now everything sounds fun to him and he is not going to limit himself to one job when he gets big, he wants to do all of them.

The funny part of talking about getting older, jobs, and the fun stuff that people do is that he often asks me what I want to be when I grow up. At first I laugh and say that I want to be a Mommy and spend time with him. That is the truth but does that mean that I was all grown up now?

I began to think about it, what do I want to be when I grow up and when do I consider myself being grown up? I think that I have been in perpetual growth mode and have never really considered an end to growing.

The question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" can have many answers like in the case of AJ. He can have many phases of grown and be a baseball player, a soccer player, a construction builder and more; why not if growing up takes a lifetime?

I feel like I have gone after what I wanted to be at the moment that I decided. My parents seemed to encourage independence and strong will from the time that I was little. They told me that I could do anything if I wanted to badly enough and tried. I remember going to college and wanting to work in marketing and then 4 years out of college I started a marketing business. Then I decided that I wanted to own a doggie day care, so Joe and I helped to renovate the building and opened the business. As that was growing, Joe and I decided that we were ready for a family and my dream of being a mom came true. Being a mom led to writing and starting a non profit foundation. Writing became a passion and an outlet for me to share with others and the non profit became a way to give back.

Now, AJ is starting preschool and I am once again looking at the elusive question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" I am happy with where I am, what I have accomplished, and what I am doing, but the question still repeats in the back of my mind.

I love being a mom, I love writing, and I find myself wondering, what else will I love to do in my life; maybe art, maybe another business, maybe more consulting, maybe…who knows?

I hope to be a model for my kids showing them that anything is possible, especially with a job or career. Nothing is too great or too small if you really want it, all that you have to do is believe, try and trust in yourself.

What do you want to be when you grow up can come in the form of a job or a career but

I’ve decided that it is far more than that; what I want to be when I grow up and along the way is happy, laughing and having fun!

Off to make another Mommy Milestone.

The Olympics: Love ’em or Hate ’em?

Pregnant Pause — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 04:00:00 GMT

Things I hate about the Olympics:

* They pre-empt my normal August programming of America’s Next Top Model reruns

* Canada’s current medal count comes in at a whopping... wait for it, now ... zero. That’s zero with a zed, y’all!

* Women’s beach boringball... though I sort of like counting how many times the announcers can squeeze the name "Misty-May" into each sentence. (It’s like vocal masturbation for them)

* Lip-synching 6-year-olds

* The lack of international coverage. I could be wrong, but judging from the opening ceremonies, there may be more than just three or four countries competing

* The extremely serious but often-overlooked issue of barrette addiction in women’s gymnastics. I swear, they’re worse than cyclists and their steroids

* That China banned ethnic Tibetans from working in Beijing during the Games

* Those stupid mascots and their blown-out pupils. They look like Pokemons on acid

Things I love about the Olympics:

* Asking Dan questions like, "Why is the I.O.C. considering making bridge an Olympic sport?" and enjoying his futile, fumbling albeit sincere attempts to answer

* The male swimmers’ mesmerizing lack of body hair (If anybody has Michael Phelps’ waxer’s name, please pass it along)

* The brazen ease with which the announcers can prattle off names like Otylia Jęedrzejczak, Otryadyn Gündegmaa, Prapawadee Jaroenrattanatarakoon and Nurbakyt Tengizbayev as if they went to high school with them

* All the pretty horsies

* Watching the wonders of acromegaly and various other pituitary disorders in action everywhere from the pool to the basketball court

* Seeing the athletes’ pores in High Definition. Next time, they should consider giving out medals for the biggest blackheads

* Hot divers lounging out in the on-deck hot tub

Our day at the State Fair

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:39:00 GMT

It's August in the Midwest, and that means heat, humidity, and the State Fair.

I promised Maddie several weeks ago I'd take her to the fair this year, and on Saturday we, including my lady friend Ashley, made a very full day of it.

I checked out the fair schedule in advance, determined to fit as many events into our day as possible. We got a late start, though, and interstate construction set us back further. We were already hungry when we walked into the fairgrounds at noon thirty, and, after much deliberation, we made quick work out of a delicious barbeque sandwich from the "Pork Tent."

This may seem a non sequitur, but one of many great things to come from my mountain climbing in Colorado is my CamelBak. It was great to have at the fair, with plenty of room for all our necessities, Maddie's baubles, and, most importantly, a liter of water. No wasted time waiting in line to shell out four bucks for dehydrating soda.

After we stopped by to check out the watermelon seed spitting contest, arriving too late to enter Maddie, we went to watch the Bengal tigers. I have great misgivings about caged animals, especially performing tricks, their wild nature clearly muzzled through training. I realize, though, the only way most kids get to learn about and begin to care about non-indigenous, endangered species is by seeing them firsthand. It's sad to see these beautiful beasts tamed for our amusement, but I believe it ultimately serves a greater purpose.

We stopped by the Indiana Young Farmers pavilion afterward and entered Maddie into the tractor pull competition before hitting the "International Circus." I have to admit, an elephant balancing on a little ball is pretty amazing. And for Maddie, there is apparently nothing in the world funnier than a dressed-up monkey slapping a grown man in the face.

I missed that, however, as I had to shuttle back and forth to see if Maddie's age group was up yet for the tractor pull. Maddie, 7, was one of a few girls in a group dominated by 8 year old boys. It was a lot of fun to see her get out there and compete, and she really tried her hardest. She did get her first-ever ribbon for participating, in and of itself an exciting moment for me. I wish I had taken a photo of her with it.

The grounds are sprawling and it seemed that the next show we wanted to take in was invariably at the other side. Thankfully I bought new Brooks runners a couple weeks ago, because we walked miles and miles.

Maddie was great. She wore a very loose-fitting dress, which surely helped keep her cool. And, despite wearing flip flops, she didn't once complain about walking, though I fully expected her to and would not have blamed her if she had. Though she did ask about the rides more than she should, for which she was eventually chastised, she was interested and enthusiastic about nearly everything we did and saw.

After trudging around the fairgrounds for about five hours, we headed out to the Jeep and I fired up my little traveling grill while the girls kicked off their shoes and relaxed. Besides saving about $20 by cooking up our own brats and sauerkraut, it was a great opportunity to break up the day and cool off for an hour. Since we wound up staying until 10:30, the opportunity to rest and re-energizing proved vital.

Over the course of the day we saw deadly spiders, ugly fish, Foster Brown playing the ukulele, gigantic draft horses, really cute piglets, chicks peeking out of their eggs, the World's Largest Boar (tipping the scales at 1,121 pounds), bleating sheep (which is hilarious when they stick their tongues out), a lumberjack competition, and Second Fiddle, a local Irish folk band. Maddie made her own tin art, tried walking on stilts, tooted on her new flute and even milked a cow.

And at the end of the day, there's but one thing left to do: Ride some rides.

I'm no fair aficionado, but five bucks for four tickets seems a bit salty, especially when some rides call for four tickets. Lucky for us, all the rides Maddie was interested in required only two. After the big slide, she wanted to try out the "Flying Kite," on which she laid on her stomach while the "kites" spun in circles and go up and down.

She was absolutely thrilled. Maddie knows no strangers and quickly befriended the little girl next to her. After the kite touched down, she raced over to us, a great smile across her face, and asked if she could ride again with her new friend. The little girl had gone by the time we hopped back in line, but Maddie was very excited anyway and rode again, this time making buddies with a little boy.

When Maddie stepped in line for the "Indiana Jones" adventure, a women leaned over and asked her where her Mom was. My first thought was, "Hey, random lady. I'm her dad, I'm right here. She isn't alone." It wasn't until she spoke again that Maddie noticed and recognized her former babysitter.

It was actually a really nice way to finish the day. I didn't know Kathy very well — she babysat for Maddie's Mom and I'd met her only a couple times. Kathy has a very big heart and it was great to listen to her talk about Maddie with such enthusiasm. They hadn't seen each other in some time and there were a few moments when I thought Kathy might cry. One of her daughters, with whom Maddie had become like sisters, was with her and Maddie now had her good friend with whom to go ride … the kite … again.

Kathy talked in glowing terms about Maddie, asked questions of Ashley and insisted I "marry her already," and told me how happy she was that I had moved back from Colorado to be close to Maddie.

When the girls' ride ended, we said our goodbyes and headed for the parking lot. It was nearing 11 when we made our way out of the fairgrounds and well past midnight by the time we pulled into the driveway — a full 13 hours since we had left.

It was a really great day.

**Update: Pictures**

Hospital haze

Oh Mama! — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 16:46:00 GMT

I am finally emerging after 11 days of “hospital haze.”

A couple of weeks ago, my father had double knee replacement and suffered a terrible hangover from anesthesia (we think, we still aren’t completely sure). This led to a major state of confusion – he rambled a lot and his arms were regularly in motion as if rowing a boat, which he might have been doing since he frequently didn’t know where he was.

Before I go much farther, I am happy to report that my dad’s cloud lifted after about eight days, but the wait to see if the fog would lift was excruciating. We were prepared for a demanding physical recovery from the surgery, but not so well-schooled in the delirium that occurred. My 5-year old Dylan accompanied me to Missouri for the surgery. My husband was traveling for work during my dad’s operation, so it would have been logistically impossible to leave Dylan in Texas. Whoever invented the term “sandwich generation” has it pegged. At 38, I was trying to be the best mom I could while contending with the very real issues my 75-year old father. The squeeze was on, and I didn’t like it one bit.

My first of many breaking points came on Day #4 in the hospital, when Dylan’s sitter was bringing him to me so we could go swimming. I didn’t want him to see my dad in this condition (in fact, he never set foot in any hospital room), so I headed to the hospital reception area to meet him. My cell phone rings, and I learn Dylan is here, but has just vomited in the bathroom. Up until then, I had been pretty darn strong. But dealing with an ailing father and ill son, my resistance fell apart as if someone kicked my Legos into a thousand pieces. I left him with his sitter for a few minutes to weep some gut-heaving sobs, and then I pulled it together to deal with the task at hand. Is he sick, or just carsick, I wondered. He spies the hospital vending machine and requests Oreos and Powerade. My non-medical background says I should take hunger as a good sign. It’s not as though he’s asking for beer or wine, so I unabashedly admit, given my circumstances, I gave it to him. I was beyond caring – and luckily for me, it seemed to work wonders for him.

Dylan also provided me with plenty of moments of solace during this ordeal. While I was a worried daughter, the role of mom also had to be played. At one point, I spent 20 consecutive hours at the hospital trying with no success to reel my dad back into the real world. I left in the early a.m., as the sun was rising, my spirits were sinking and my little guy was still snug in bed. I climbed in next to him and felt fortunate for a little sleep but even more grateful that I had something to tether me to my “other” life.

My dad came home the day before we left for Texas. Upon his return, it was obvious our presence would be more of a hindrance than help – a 5-year old underfoot when someone is recovering from double knee surgery can be downright treacherous. But I felt good that I could leave and see my dad clear.

So now I'm emerging from my own personal fog -- I arrived home exhausted both mentally and physically. But 10 days later, my haze is lifting and I feel a heightened sense of appreciation for my family.

Home Sweet Home?

Pregnant Pause — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 18:24:00 GMT

Ugh. We’re home.

The kids were so happy to see us, they almost lost their minds. (The feeling was mutual!) But after about 10 minutes of loving them up, I suddenly remembered why we’d left them in the first place: My shrieking, overtired little blessings were bouncing off the walls, bickering over the toys we brought back, whining about brushing their teeth, and pooping in their pants. (Okay, so maybe just Asher did that, but it was a really really gross one.) It wasn’t their fault. It was waaaay past their bedtime. But I also couldn’t help but notice the vague sense of foreboding setting in.

It’s amazing how after an entire week away, after all the myriad powers of sleep and spa and that other great "S" (shopping) have worked their restorative wonders, everything returns to normal in an instant. Not that normal isn’t good... it’s just that normal is so hard sometimes.

And now that vacation time is over, I guess I feel like I can no longer ignore the obvious:

I am about to have another kid. Delivery Day is in eight weeks, if I make it that long.

Jeez, am I really cut out for this? My patience level is pathetic. Always has been. Dan assures me that I’m just particularly exhausted and exasperated lately because of the kick-boxing little bun in my oven, and that once Baby’s on the outside, I’ll feel soooo much better physically that I’ll have more than enough energy to handle all three.

Yeah, sure. Because I’ll be getting so much sleep by then and definitely won’t have bleeding nipples or feel like a deflated beach ball in any way. Seriously. What were we thinking???

If there are any parents of three out there with wise words of comfort or wisdom – something along the lines of "There, there, dear. Three is so much easier that two!" – now would be the time to share them...

An I-Said-I-Would-Never Interlude: Cheerios on the Hotel-Room Floor

MicroCosmicMama — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 15:10:00 GMT

One of very, very, very many things I have learned about myself since becoming Mommy is actually, retrospectively, something applicable to my M.O. in life in general.

I tend to charge into situations with idealistic notions about how I will do things differently than each and every one that has come before me, until I realize that probably, everyone else said the same, but that there’s a damn good reason why people do what they do, when they do.

So, going forward, I'm just going to skin myself bare in front of everyone, revealing such coming-into-cognizances as they come to pass ... usually, much to my dismay, and subsequent concession.

Case in Point #1: I said Kai Patrick would never eat Cheerios. What a trite, easy way out for a snack when there are farrrrr superior snack-cuisine options out there!

After all, parents have only capitulated to the Cheerio for its snackability because the media has driven the image of perfect, happy toddlers munching their way through box after box of Cheerios, giving pause only for a cute photo opp, peering through the "O" or, better yet, sharing a magical morning with dad, in highly involved dialectic regarding his most recent cholesterol readings ... right?

Enter: Kai and I. A swivel chair. In a hotel room. Family reunion. Gage, golfing with his own paternal unit (making another set of hands a present impossibility). Annnnnd … the Cheerios.

There I was, quickly losing in my battle with Kai’s invincible will to be on the God-forsaken hotel-room floor while eating his breakfast, consisting of none other than Cheerios. I really thought the swiveling desk chair would be better. I really did. Until he started gobbling up the fallen few right from the seat of the office chair faster than a Dyson-incarnate on ‘roids, while employing his signature Kung Fu death grip on those "Os" he had managed to palm.

My choice quickly became clear: Butt dander or foot funk.

I chose the funk.

As in, “Kai, would you like some athlete’s foot-fungus with that cereal that Mommy vowed you’d never even eat?”

Of course you would! So sat Kai Patrick, delightedly putting down more bacteria -, virus- and fungus-laden "Os" than should ever even be possible for a being whose stomach is the size of his fist ... whose fist is the size of a ping-pong ball!

Motherhood sure sets you right straight, doesn’t it? If I would have beheld such an atrocity of hygiene at any point prior – well, that would have probably been the gasp of horror hear ‘round the world.

I can't say I won't stop trying to uphold my a-priori notions of who I thought I would be as a mom, but it certainly has served me well to not be so quick to jump on the judgmental train.

Mmmm hmmm, and stay tuned for much more of that.

Part II: A MicroCosmic Mama's Manifesto

MicroCosmicMama — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 02:16:00 GMT

Prefacing for Posterity: I'm almost fully recovered from the Cheerio fisaco, and we're back home where the floors aren't hotel-floors, so that's good. But the fact that I am standing at the weekend's door of Kai Patrick's first birthday party (a safari of historic proportions) is not only supremely bittersweet, but also ridiculously, pathetically, freakishly, extraordinarily and extremely chaotic. More on that later. For now: #2 of Part I continued and concluded ... yippee for us all.

So now that it has been written and broadcast into blogland, it must be true -- I am no longer banishing the concept of Baby #2's conception completely, though if this prospective progeny wants a ticket into this world, it's going to have to be a last-minute, Priceline-stylie flight deal, because if we were to sit here and really premeditate on what it means to exercise complete -- if not despotic -- control over TWO ENTIRE human beings in one lifetime, Gage would already be en route to Dr. Vasily Vasectomy right now. Or there's always:

While there are a shazillion reasons people might throw at you for not letting a child suffer through this life sad and siblingless, I say to them: I was an only child, and I am happily well-adjusted on occasion.

And now for the vacillation:

Parenthood is something for which I studied up good and hard, damnit, and if Kai would be to serve as my sole receptacle for the inordinate amount of information I have amassed on the topic, I'm afraid he'll gurgling over with complexes by way of over-analysis and, basically, because the poor child has been my precious little guinea pig since his conception.

I really didn't intend to transform into a:

babywearing
no vax-ing
extending breastfeeding
Searsian ... Karpian?

mom, but now that I am one, am so excited for the opportunity to share with anyone who's receptive to the concept of progressive parenting all that I have learned since I started baking this baby bun in my ovulation oven o' fun.

Now that I find myself quite possibly craving to cradle another newborn, I really do hope there will be an unbiased third party out there who might either reassure me that the second one is half as hard as the first, or, give it to me like it probably is: A second kid is more than twice as hard.

As a good friend once conveyed: Being a parent is easy. Being a good parent is the hardest thing you'll ever do.

So, let's use this amazing blog tool as a means to connect and be the best parents we can be together, because, as I have found, a strong support system really is the key to not self-immolating.

There you have it -- a MicroCosmic Mama's Manifesto. Seriously, you must be like, "finally ... the end."

See you on the other side of Sunday's safari, assuming I survive.

Product Review- Bamboo Maternity Belly Bands by Baby Be Mine Maternity

All ePregnancy — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 16:30:00 GMT

Product Reviewed: Baby Be Mine Maternity's Bamboo Maternity Belly Band (in Black)

Reviewed by: Angela, mother to 14 month old son, Drew and has twins on the way!

The Belly Band holds your pants up, disguising bulky unfastened closures or over slightly big maternity pants to prevent your pants from falling down. The Bamboo maternity Belly Band is naturally breathable, keeping you warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It is anti-static, anti-bacterial/anti-fungal & 98% UV protective. The Belly Band is made from naturally grown bamboo (no pesticides and fertilizers).

Overall Rating: A

I love this product. It is so soft and even though it stretches it doesn’t feel like it’s tight on you. The best part is that I love that it is biodegradable!! The only thing I don’t like about this product is that the tag is sewn in and scratches my back, making it uncomfortable from time to time.