Ferber Method: Night One

We're sleep training. It sucks. Matt is playing the soother. He went in after the first five minutes of crying. He just went back in after ten minutes. Now we wait 15...

I think I'm going to run out and get us dinner. And lots of wine. We're in for a long night. It's taking everything not to go in there and get him.

Pre-child know-it-all Lisa couldn't understand how everyone couldn't just let their babies cry it out. Pre-know-it-all Lisa was an idiot.

Whatcha Lookin' At

That Poor Baby

So, we went to Maifest in Lincoln Square this past weekend. Yes, we trusted that William would be safe surrounded by:
A. Lots of post-college frat boys sloshing around with huge beer steins, and…
B. Broads peeling themselves off the ground as they giggled about how funny their falls were and then wanted to stick their finger in my child’s mouth to feel his cute teeth.

While there were plenty of A and B, there was also:
C. Parents like us who still have a good time and enjoy a rather large stein of beer.

We were not alone – LOTS of STROLLERS, which somehow made it all seem like a team effort.

So, we navigated our way through the crowd with Alan, Lara, and little Jack, found a place to camp out and had an awesome time! William was thrilled with the people watching and constant availability of Cheerios. We were just as excited with the beer, beautiful weather, and the distant sound of polka.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of 20 year olds looking to share their wise advice about the appropriateness of bringing babies to street festivals and the bar we stopped at for dinner. (It was a restaurant when we arrived, little did we know the front would fill up with these pillars of child rearing.)

We heard enough, “Oooh, that poor baby.” And I’ve got news for you fools: This poor baby was riding in a jogger, which costs about the same as your rent. This poor baby drinks organic formula and eats homemade baby food. This poor baby spends his days playing with grandma and his evenings and weekends constantly surrounded by people who want nothing more than to love him up. But, imagine this, I held my tongue. I know, I know, it’s shocking to even try to imagine.

Because… I was that girl. It was not too long ago that I would have been saying the exact thing, acting all put out when someone ran into me with their stroller. I was rude and judgmental and obnoxious and over-served. And way too familiar with starting sentences with “I would never…”

In the end, here are the morals to my story:
1. Don’t judge, because the tables will turn on you, you dumb know-it-all.
2. Sometimes holding your tongues pays off because people really would have been talking about “that poor baby” if my tongue had gotten us into a bar brawl. Not that it’s happened…
3. Street festivals + Families with Strollers = Good times
4. Beer soaked cheerios are the new delicacy.
5. You’ll never run out of comebacks when you think about it for a few days.

So You Think You Can Find a Better TV Show? Don't Think So.

The new season of So You Think You Can Dance is here! Somehow everything is better. People really underestimate how outstanding this show is each and every week.

I often re-watch dances atleast once. "Ooooh, can we watch that one again before we hear what the judges think?" And Matt always agrees, because he too is captivated as someone without life long exposure to dance. I usually laugh and cry during each episode. What can I say? The art of dance is under appreciated.

Don't judge until you watch. I dare you not to be inspired.