The Mini Milestones

We all know the major childhood milestones and while all are worthy of applause there should be a parade thrown for the following mini milestones:

Mirror, mirror

To every mom, her baby is beautiful. In reality, all babies go through a stage where they resemble an adorable combination of a gremlin and 90 year old man. Then all of a sudden, in a certain light you begin to see your eyes and your husbands' facial expressions and breathe a sigh of relief that they sent you home with the correct baby.

Pouch-o-goodness

Charlotte decided that getting fed by a spoon was so six months ago, so she boycotted pouches for about a month. Unfortunately we don’t mill organic barley in our backyard and so getting those healthy ingredient into her body took some creativity. Finally one day my husband just handed her the pouch and she squeezed it into her mouth like she’d been doing it since utero.

Kisses

My daughter has the perfect combination of independence and affection. She learned how to give kisses before she could even walk. So now she always leans in and puckers up (to either one of us or the dogs, usually the dogs) before running away in the opposite direction. 

Walk the Walk

Everyone gets excited about when their toddler first starts walking. It is very exciting, but it is mostly terrifying and this is about the time you start researching helmets on the internet. It takes about 3 weeks for them not to look like a drunken squirrel.  Suddenly they master walking and gain independence and you no longer have to play what feels like a never-ending game of President and secret service. And guess who always gets to be the President?

No Means No

In the beginning it was hard to look at Charlotte’s blue eyes and tell her no in a voice that you wouldn’t hear on Sesame Street. So we had a family pow-wow and now we all use a universal, “no” that means business and Charlotte understands! Quickly she moved on to boundary pushing, but that’s not a mini milestone that should ever be celebrated.

So when your child reaches these mini marks of life-changing success, do what we do: bust out an unchoreographed dance routine and make sure to lean in for a kiss. 

So They Named Her Charlotte

As soon as I saw that Charlotte was in the running for the royal baby, I knew that my classically elegant, not so popular baby name was in trouble. I thought I was safe because of Prince George, but clearly Kate put her foot down on number two. Charlotte Elizabeth Diana. Obviously I’m biased, but they really hit it out of the park this time around. My name, Jessica, was the most popular baby name in the 80’s when I was born. I learned that my name wasn’t particularly distinctive and I quickly made my peace with the fact that when my teachers said "Jessica" 20% of the class turned their heads. I didn’t even recognize the beauty of my name until I was older and heard it less frequently out in the world. Now, Jessica hasn’t even graced the top 100 list in the past 5 years, and I think what a shame, it is such a lovely Shakespearian name.

When we chose Charlotte we wanted something that had about as much popularity as my husband’s name, Clark. It was not too common and was not a Blanket or Blue Ivy situation either. Of course, as a parent you truly believe with every ounce of your being that your child is unique. I don’t want my daughter in any way associated with a spider, Jane Eyre, or now a princess. There was, nor will there ever be another Charlotte like her on Earth. To me, she is the only Charlotte that matters.

My Charlotte on her throne

Here is what this little disappointment has taught me. The thing that makes Charlotte special is not her name. Her uniqueness has yet to be determined and is still unfolding before my eyes. While I have read plenty of other blogs and articles about the tragedy of Charlotte being discovered; one mom is actually contemplating changing her baby’s name, what I have yet to read is any of these moms putting on their big girl panties and getting the hell over it. Next time, name your child “Squirrel” or just the “@” symbol and then you can feel legitimately mad and territorial about its reuse. Yes it’s a royal pain, but you gotta ask yourself, who's being the baby here? 

Stick a Needle in Me: The Healing & Hilarity of Community Acupuncture

I would go to the ends of the Earth for my children and do whatever it takes to have a healthy baby and pregnancy. With both my girls I experienced extreme nausea, vomiting and headaches. I had a lot of success with acupuncture when I was pregnant with Charlotte, however it is considered an “alternative treatment” so it wasn’t covered through our insurance. In fact, when I asked my doctor if acupuncture was safe for the baby she said smugly, yes it’s safe, just as long as they are using new, clean needles. Thanks for the heads up Doc, although it is a little hard to hear you up there on your high horse atop your mountains of Western medical education. Good things she warned me, otherwise I would have made an appointment with the friendly bearded man outside the Hepatitis Clinic.

This pregnancy I found an acupuncture place that is about as hippy as I will get. It’s called “community acupuncture” and we all lay in chairs together in the same room and the “community feeling” is supposed to be beneficial and therapeutic. Let’s call a spade a spade: Paying $95 per session everywhere else once a week to be poked with needles feels a little like highway robbery and we are all trying to save a buck. For $20 a session and to be vomit free, I’d do community acupuncture in the nude if they asked me to. Let the healing begin.  

When we are all getting treated together it is impossible not to eaves drop on other people’s medical ailments. Plus, we have to sit there for 45 minutes “meditating” which is impossible because being there is like watching Grey’s Anatomy back when it was good. One woman next to me was talking loudly –apparently she didn’t get the whisper memo – and she explained to the acupuncturist just how well everything was going, but that she was still really struggling “verbally”. I cannot control my verbal compulsions. I just blurt things out and have excessive word vomit. Oh look, the grey patch on your head is getting bigger. She may need to try coming twice a week.

There was another girl, in for constipation, who looked to be about 90 pounds soaking wet. It got pretty graphic when she began—in a thick Russian accent—going into detail about her stool’s shape, color and consistency, at which point I was grateful my nausea needles were firmly in place. When all her points were in, she thanked the acupuncturist profusely adding:  I am a poop machine. Acupuncture works. Enough said.