-- Quick Pick --
Mermaids are said to be known for their innocence. This towel is a surefire way to perpetuate the myth that little girls are all sugar and spice and everything nice. Who can argue with its rhubarb-pie sweetness?
Available at Chasing Fireflies.
Lovin' the hand-embroidery on this sling and the fact that this is made with organic cotton. Looks simple to use, unlike the sling I owned. I think the instruction manual for mine said that you had to throw it across the room, slam a couple of doors and sink to the floor in tears before wearing.
Available at Serena and Lily.
Jude loves it when I put snacks in plastic sandwich bags. Not a plate, not a bowl. A plastic bag. There are many tears when I deviate from the routine. And momma doesn’t like tears.
Imagine my joy when I saw these most excellent storage bags. If I ever learn to bake, I could become the queen of the room mothers.
Available at Mobi-USA.
Side note: Look what I’ve become. Getting pleasure from sandwich bags. Pathetic. Really.
Unless you live in a hole, you've heard about the lead drama underway throughout the country. Infuriating.
[-- rant begin]
This is 2007... why on Earth is paint still made with lead? And more importantly, why is it on my kid's toys? For crying out loud, if I can buy a lead detection kit for $12.99, why can't a multi-national corporation?
So the latest discovery of lead in vinyl bibs has sort of put me over the top. Lead. On. Kid's. Clothing. Worn. Near. Their. Mouth. WTF is wrong with this picture?
[rant end --]
OK, that feels much better. In the spirit of not poisoning children, let me present these absolutely adorable vintage-inspired bibs by Bambini.
All the goodness of cotton and none of the pesky brain-damaging effects of lead.
Available at The Baby Gardner.
You may ask, if Jude doesn't eat, why would I need to worry about potty-training. What goes in must come out, right?
Au contraire, mon frère. He manages to turn the tiniest bits of food into a diaper's worst nightmare. My son is an engineering wunderkind.
In truth, the problem with potty-training really doesn't lie with Jude but me rather. My mom-brain forgets to ask on a regular basis and since he told me "I like to poop in my pants", he's not really forthcoming with reminders.
My mom turned me on to this watch from PottyTime. It allows me to set an alarm in 30, 60 and 90 minute intervals. I know the thing is meant for the kid to wear but I find myself sporting it most of the time.
Thank you Potty Watch for giving me a $9.99 replacement for my memory and dreams of a poop-free tomorrow.
-- Quick Pick --
When I heard about these pint sized golf clubs for 3 year olds (thanks Dave!) I realized that my birthday shopping had just gotten easier. The trick will be teaching Jude not to whack the dog in the head with them.
I'm going to need to brush up on my taking-a-deep-breath-and-counting-to-10 skills I suspect.
Available at Golfballs.com.
I think there is a Melamine meme going on.
First, I found these adorable aliens. Next came these trashy-hip mud-flap cuties and retro wallpaper designs. And just today I learned that The Wurst Gallery is curating an online exhibit of "Dishwasher Safe" art.
After seeing the super cool hand-drawn creations by Eddie Martinez, I decided that Jude needed in on the action.
Using a Make-a-Plate kit, original artwork is converted into an unbreakable plastic plate. It won't be long before we'll be eating off our very own mealtime masterpieces.
Available at the Wurst and Target.
--Quick Pick--
When I was a kid, I had a sleeping bag that vaguely resembled a lion... albeit one that was pancaked by a semi. The flattened head functioned as a pillow and the lion's body was the bag. It even had little paws and a tail. Quite simply, I LOVED IT!
I think these super cute bags at Hearth Song have the potential to be just as endearing to the little Dude. And bonus, he won't lie awake wondering if all sleeping bags look like roadkill.
Available at Hearth Song.
When Mike and I decided to have a baby, we actually got out our day planners to figure out when would be the best time. I know, I know, I'm sure that last sentence is the punchline to some yuppy joke somewhere.
But in reality, I wanted Jude to be at home with either mom or dad for at least a full year and I was gonna make it happen, damn it. So finding the window where my maternity leave left off and my husband wasn't doing a graduate school internship became really important to me.
Once the date was picked, we knew we had to get the timing right. We were putting all my eggs (literally) in one basket.
I started taking my temperature twice a day to learn my body's rhythm. All these years, I naively thought the rhythm method of birth control had something to do with a man's ability to keep a beat. It really has to do with a women's ability to take good notes.
In addition to my charting, I bought those ovulation predictor sticks at the drugstore for good measure. After 3 months of peeing on sticks, I swore I could feel my eggs move into my fallopian tubes. I was ready when primetime came.
I'm not normally a person that sets myself up for such a big fall if things don't go according to plan, so I was apprehensive about how I would react if nature didn't line up behind me. As we all know, the best laid plans of eggs and women often go awry. Fortunately for me, the universe and I were on the same page and I got knocked up right on schedule.
It might have been handy to have the nifty OV-Watch when we were planning. It detects chloride ions on your skin that surge when you ovulate. Gives new meaning to having a cycle you could set your watch by.
Available at OV-Watch. (link via Medgadget)
Jude has just gotten tall enough to start opening and closing and opening and closing and opening and closing doors.
Every time he starts this delightful behavior, I turn into a hyperventilating, neurotic hummingbird. I'm certainly not one of those helicopter parents that hovers around my offspring, protecting them from the scary, dangerous world. However, I do know the pain of smashing a digit. I once managed to shut my "FU" finger in a SAFE. I know our hollow-core doors are not the same as a 500 lb. steel door, so maybe it's the post-traumatic stress talking. But just the thought of his tiny little fingers getting smashed activates a sympathy pain in my still-not-quite-right-bird-giver.
These plush little devices are super-sweet and a bit unsettling at the same time. I love that they keep the doors from slamming. However, it feels a bit wrong that the creature's head takes the blow, over and over and over and over and over and over...
Available at Babyplayroom.com.
