Storkcraft Crib Recall - speedy response

I, like millions of others, have a crib that has just been recalled. No wonder we could never work that drop-down side correctly! I know there was no way I would be able to drop down that side while holding a sleeping infant and then raise it up again. Since we assembled our crib ourselves (by "ourselves" I mean my husband) there was no way we were going to take it apart to get a new one. We decided we didn't care that the side would only go down with brute force. It never occurred to us that this could be a danger. In hind-sight I should have at least reported it to the company.

On November 30 I contacted Storkcraft via their web site to get my new crib part. I waited a week because the phone lines and the Web server were jammed. My request was easy to process. All I had to know was information that is on the instructions, which is glued on the part of the crib that holds the mattress. I guessed at the date that I got it.

It wasn't impearative for me to get a new side (or a part, as it turns out) right away. Cole is using it as a daybed now. In a few weeks we are planning to move Owen, who is 11 months old, to the crib and Cole to a twin bed. I was hoping to have the part by then.

Much to my surprise, the part and instructions showed up in my mailbox in just 10 days. During that time I was sent an e-mail saying that the company is doing all they can to get the part out. I guess it's unprecedented that they would have such a large recall. 2.1 million is a lot of cribs! If just half of those people ordered the replacement part that is still a lot for a company to do. In just a couple weeks they created and manufactured the part, produced and printed the directions, and began to ship it out. As someone who used to work in marketing I can appreciate the efforts.

Right now Owen is in a mini-crib. He's almost as long as it is! He's going to feel like a small fish when he starts sleeping in a full-size crib!

Isn't the art cool?

Storkcraft Crib Recall - speedy response

Making up stories and other stupid parenting mistakes

Cole loves reading. He won't play with a toy for more than a half second, but he'll read Curious George over and over. He loves Biscuit, quotes Loonette, and will point out if I miss a word in Little Bear Won't Take a Nap. He will insist on leafing through one book while I read another. This drives me crazy. I test him. I will replace "witch" with, say, "ghost" to see if he is listening. Sure enough his little head will pop up and he'll correct me.

Honestly, I love that he reads. I have so many fond memories of getting lost in a book--even as a youngster. I would read The Berenstain Bears over and over, Raggedy Ann and Andy's Rainy Day Circus was falling apart. It's an amazing feeling to get lost among words.

It's a horrible feeling to trip over.

Once upon a time, a very foolish mother made the mistake of deciding to be Super Mom and make up her  own stories. Now she is stuck.

Every night before bed (and nap!) I have to "tell the one about Coco [Cole's story name] and the witch's mask," or "tell me about Coco goes to the bus stop," or "say the one where Coco scares Grandma," and on and on.I'm not a very creative storyteller. I don't think well on the spot. Couple these things with a two-year-old who thrives on consistency and doesn't really want to go to sleep and you got a messy situation.

One thing I've learned to do well is plagiarize. No, not my blog or in my professional life (I am a writer of brochures, web sites and other not-so-literary works). But I will admit to ripping off Mother Goose and Hans Christian Anderson (my favorite child's author!). I do so unapologetically. I can't just keep coming up with masterpieces such as Coco Puts on a Witch's Mask and Scares Santa to please my son. Especially at 8 p.m. when How I Met Your Mother is on.

Anyway, on Sunday night, Cole stays at his Grandma's house. She too has learned to steal from the masters and she made up a story about a little girl named Goldie Locks (at least I change names for Pete's sake!) and the Three Bears. Yesterday afternoon when Cole went down for his nap, he wanted to hear this story. No problem. I start telling the story relieved that I don't have to make anything up. Here is where the consistency thing comes in to play. My version is different than my mom's. This leads to many protests on his part.

Tired and frustrated, he finally looked at me and said, "Stop. I don't want you to tell me about this one  anymore."

I wonder if I start messing up all of the made-up stories if I could get out my role as storyteller altogether? It's worth considering.

Making up stories and other stupid parenting mistakes

Hello, stranger.

I don't know if I remember how to do this! There's lots of new buttons on top of my Blogger Composer. I let my blog go well over a year ago. I just started to feel like it was too important, if that makes sense. It was interfering with my work. I felt like every time Cole did something, I had to take notes. It started to bug me. I needed some space. It is the same thing that happened to my diary when I 12 and when I was 16 and when I was in my mid-20s. Plus, I was pregnant and bitchy.

I have a 2 and 3/4 year-old and 10 month old! The new guy's name is Owen and he is a sweetheart. He's a cuddly baby who loves to play, eats like a champ and is a pleasure (most of the time).

So, when I was 8 months pregnant, I learned that my department at work was to be downsized. Nice, huh? I worked at a newspaper, so I saw it coming. The industry is in trouble. I decided to take 6 months off with the new babe and pursue a part-time freelance writing career. So far, it's okay. :-) We are a lot poorer. But I get an extra few days a week with my kids and I never have to wear panty hose.

Here are my guys:

From Top to bottom, Owen on the day he was born (1.13.09), Cole recently (big and cute,eh?), Owen recently .

Hope everyone is doing well.

Hello, stranger.

If you're unsure who to vote for...

Cole's Platform:

Mandatory naps for all
Fair play
No more shots
Any corporation currently being bailed out with taxpayers' money due to questionable investment practices shall go without dessert until said money is paid back in full
No name calling
Vegetables shall be taken off the food pyramid
Mother's day should be observed on the first Sunday of every month

Happy Voting!

If you're unsure who to vote for...

Confessions galore

Thanks so much for all the kinds words and congratulations, it means a lot to me. This summer was definitely one of growth. I can’t believe how big my son is. He is a little boy now. See?

But it wasn’t just growth for him. It was growth for me as well. I have a confession. In fact, I have two. They are the entire reason I started this blog and named it Pumproom Confessions. I never intended to tell friends or family about this blog. I just wanted an outlet to get some things off of my chest (no pun intended) in an anonymous environment. But then I realized it was a good way to share stories and photos, so I invited my friends and family, and I became a writing wimp. I didn’t want to be judged. Not by friends or family and not by those who stopped by the Pump Room regularly. I did that well enough by myself. So I stuck to safe topics and just mentioned the other things in passing.

Confession One
I had post partum depression, something which I didn’t get help for until my son was almost a year old. I thought it would go away on its own. I thought, for good reason, that it would go away when I stopped breast feeding / pumping. It didn’t. So I started seeing a specialist who has helped me work through it. My PPD manifested in a much milder manner than some, thank goodness, but one that created a lot of issues for me. While I was able to function and able to tenderly care for and love my son, I felt no joy after his birth. It was like I was swallowed up. Oh, I was glad / proud of my son and loved sharing stories, but I always felt like somehow I was going through the motions. I never felt happy, even though I was aware that I should. I never felt unhappy either. But I knew I was missing something and that something was very wrong.

Blogging was a savior for me. It allowed me to relive moments and memories. It was therapeutic for me. It made me feel normal, whereas I spent a lot of time in my everyday life wondering WTF is wrong with me? So thank you for being part of this. And if you are a new mom and hurting, please see someone. It helps. I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I just can’t tell you the joy I get now out of family life and my son and my pregnancy. I’m back to “me” again.

Confession Two
My second confession is I experienced D-MER (dysphoric milk ejection reflex). And a rather bad case of it, at that. Breastfeeding and pumping were not good experiences for me. About 50% of the time I felt a surge of rage (and I mean RAGE) when I breastfed. The other 50% of the time, I would feel anything from mild irritation to pretty darn angry. I can’t even express to you how complicated the feelings are when you do something that is suppose to be so good and it goes so wrong. Of course, when I got the real bad feelings, I stopped the nursing session immediately and got a bottle of expressed milk or a formula/milk combo. I found ways that made it easier.

I was in contact with my lactation consultant and it baffled her. I even emailed my local LLL director (I was to embarrassed to call or go to a meeting). She did some research and came up with nothing. Nobody ever heard of this reaction. I felt broken. I was extremely hard on myself for this, though I obviously couldn’t help it. I should have switched to formula only, but I didn’t. I was determined to a fault, and I think that part of being depressed was to force myself to do something that so obviously wasn’t working. Maybe I even felt as though I deserved it, or that it was the only thing I could offer my child, though I never consciously thought those things.

At 10 months my supply plummeted and I shelved the pump. I had quit breastfeeding at six months in part because my son teethed so early and wasn’t grasping the concept of “No Biting!!” but also because I was exhausted from dealing with negative feelings while breast feeding and then dealing with the reality of experiencing those feelings in the first place. Pumping yielding the same reaction, but I wasn’t holding my son. It made a difference.

The first time I went to see the women’s specialist, she directed me to D-MER.org. Though I was no longer breastfeeding/pumping, I cried. I was so relieved that I wasn’t alone and that there was a reason for what I felt. It wasn’t just me.

Am I going to breastfeed this time? (Hey, did ya know I’m pregnant??) I am going to try. I have nothing to lose. I’ve got some tips from D-MER to go on. I have support. If those feelings come back though, I will stop immediately. I am committing to not committing to it. Hehe.

Again, blogging has helped me greatly. I was able to highlight the look-back-and-laugh side of pumping and the daily supply obsession that women go through. But the whole confession aspect of this blog was lost. I wanted to write about what I felt daily because if ANYONE else felt like this, I wanted them to know that they weren’t alone and didn’t have to suffer and hold all of their feelings inside. Since I’m no medical expert, I’m glad to be able to point to a Web site run by a lactation consultant who also experienced D-MER.

Did you read all the way to the end??!! You win the booby prize. :-) ahhhhhhhhhhh… the boob puns never get old.

But seriously? THANK YOU.

E-mail me anytime. anne[dot]pumproom[at]gmail[dot]com
AFF: I didn’t get your email! Stupid, Yahoo. I get so much in my spam folder that I stopped going through it. I imagine you ended up in the spam folder. :(

Confessions galore

It’s been too long…

I’m back. I took an unexpected summer hiatus, but don’t worry, everything is fine! In fact, there is nothing wrong that 9 months won’t cure! :-)

Actually, to be more precise, about 5 months. I’m almost 20 weeks pregnant with another boy!

Let me tell you, the first trimester kicked my butt! I’ve never been so sick. I only threw up a few times, but, man, I was constantly nauseated and dizzy and super tired. Emotionally, I was spent. I think that looking after a 16 month old and working while dealing with all-day sickness and fatigue just got to me. Looking at the computer screen made me ill, thinking made me ill. I just couldn’t bring myself to be on the computer except to work (and obsessively read pregnancy message boards).

The good news is that I feel SO much better. Around 16-17 weeks, all my symptoms vanished, except my growing belly and ass, of course.

The Baby is doing great. He’s a walking/running/climbing fool. Poor guy doesn’t know what is about to hit his little world. I kinda feel bad.

Have a great 3-day weekend, if you're celebrating Labor Day!

Holding On

“He’ll get used to it.”
My heart breaks to think he would feel
left out or behind.

I hold him closer
before bed, kiss his soft hair.
It’s just us, for now.

Have a great 3-day weekend, if you're celebrating Labor Day!

It’s been too long…

I’m back from the beach

As much as I’d like to say that I’m tanned, well-rested and recharged, I am not. I’m pooped. I need the clichéd vacation from my vacation.

It was our first vacation with The Baby, who is just shy of 15 months old. We drove from central PA all the way to Savannah, GA, more specifically, Tybee Island. This was a great little beach community. The water was so warm it was like taking a bath, dolphins could be spotted off the coast (not by me, of course!), and the island was calm and family friendly. Beautiful Savannah was just 20 minutes away. Our friends Angel and Scott were just 15 minutes away. Perfect, right?

We met my husband’s sisters and their families in a kick-ass condo that fit six adults and three children without feeling cramped. The appliances were stainless, the counters were granite, the floors were tiled, our bed was HUGE. Our equally HUGE balcony overlooked the pool and spa, which, of course, were tiled in slate and altogether very spiffy. The beach was about one hundred feet out the front door. Perfect, right?

Our biggest fear before vacation was the drive. What the heck was The Baby going to do for 14 hours? Scream and cry, we feared. I mean, surely he wouldn’t sleep the whole time. Luckily, he did sleep most of the trip on the way there (we left at midnight, so that was the plan). We bought a portable DVD player for his awake time. Our son, who never watches TV, was forced to watch the two Baby Beethoven DVDs that we have on repeat. For what it’s worth, he prefers Mozart to Beethoven, hands down. Anyway, the actual trip was just fine.

I’m not saying there wasn’t pleasant times in our vacation. Watching The Baby run like a fool into the ocean was priceless (the.kid.is.fearless), watching daddy and baby swimming in the pool melted my heart. Seeing The Baby get to know his cousins was equally heart warming. Watching my son and my friend Angel’s son (2 weeks apart in age) consume sand together was very sweet in a get-that-out-of-your-mouth kind of way. Having the fam watch our son so we could have a night out with our friends was awesome.

But it was all a little much for The Baby. He stopped eating anything but cereal, bananas and crackers on day two. He stopped sleeping well on day three. He’d wake up anywhere from 1 a.m. to 3 a.m. and he would stay up for hours. Not just up, but up and crying. He wouldn’t lay between us in bed, he didn’t want to play, he writhed in our arms. Just when you thought he was asleep and put him down, you’d be back at square one. At one point, we took The Baby for a walk at 4 a.m. We didn’t know what else to do with him. On an up note, we saw a drunk guy trying to ride a bike. That was sorta funny.

The Baby’s attitude also changed. He started hitting and biting me and throwing things. He was crabby 80% of the time. He just seemed very frustrated and between the lack of sleep on all of our parts and our frustration and worry, we decided to leave early. The thought of another fight to get him to eat or another sleepless night literally had me in tears.

He’s been sleeping and eating just fine since we've been home. I guess he was just out of his element. Oh, did I mention I got sick on the way home? Like, pukey sick? Then when I got home, I got a cold. Awesome!

Random Photos from Tybee and Savannah.

I’m back from the beach