Our bedroom has no built-in closets, so her father and I have matching armoirs. A few days ago she marched over to her father’s armoir and threw open both doors. “I know WHY! I know WHERE!” she announced in her stage voice. Then she closed the doors. Again, she threw the doors wide and dramatically said, “I know WHY! I know WHY! I know WHY! I know WHERE!”

Cute, but what does she mean? Then I saw my reflection in her nearly bald little head.

I have a ritual, each Sunday, which is the only time I every have an excuse to wear something other than mom jeans. When I throw wide the armoir doors, I am confronted by a closet full of clothes purchased long before I had a baby. Most were purchased when I still had a J-O-B. Some, I think, were purchased during the Clinton administration.

I glance at all of the too small, out-of-style or matching-nothing-else-I-own clothing. Then I say, “I don’t know why I bother! I have nothing to wear!”

Ah, I know WHY and I have nothing to WEAR!

Everything we do teaches them something. Whether it is a tiny thing, like cutting a peanut butter sandwich the “right” way or something big, someone is watching you! Our kids learn about appreciating their bodies from us. They learn how to handle life’s little ups and downs from us. They probably also learn about keeping your closet cleaned out and getting rid of anything that is no longer valuable, but I don’t want to think too much about that right now!

I really want my daughter to have the self-confidence and poise I have never quite mastered. I want her to see herself as the beautiful girl that she is, even if she keeps takes those adorably chubby thighs to college. If she is going to learn all of that, she will need a role model. Not someone who whines at a closet full of expired clothes. I have so much to teach her, and so much to learn from her. Starting with buying myself some clothes that fit. And some clothes that are as cute as the stuff I buy her.

You would think with only one child underfoot most of the time, I should be able to keep the kid’s name straight. Apparently not so.

James came home from work the other night and we were discussing some recent policy changes his employer, eBay had made. These changes are important to me, since I have been on a PowerSeller on eBay for several years. About that time an email about those eBay changes came into my inbox and I was reading it aloud to him while supervising Eva on her potty. She said she had to go. I am starting to think “Mama, potty!” is code for, “Let me get naked and then you can read books to me for a good long time while I have your almost undivided attention.”

So, she sat down, then stood up. I told her to sit. She sat. Then stood up again. Now, from recent experience I know that she is just as likely to pee on her feet as in the potty, so I encouraged her to sit again. She did for .2 milliseconds. Then she was back up again. And I said:

“eBay! Sit down and go potty!”

As if that was not bad enough, the next day while her cousins were over I managed to call her Georgia, Emma, and Bella within a one hour window.

Can I still blame the short-term memory loss on the four months of fertility drugs (which, by the way, did not work) or do I get to blame in on sleep-deprivation from dealing with a child who can use the potty but still wakes up every two hours all night whenever she is sick or teething (ie, almost all the time)?

We went to bathroom and I put her on the potty seat atop the toilet. Two minutes later, success! She pooped in the potty. I asked if she was done and she said no. I waited another minute, and she peed. Then she pointed at the toilet paper and said “Down!”

She has asked to go potty 6 times today, with success on three of those attempts. Pretty good odds for a 15 month old.

I don’t want to pressure her, so for now I am just going to keep offering her the option when she wants to go. Since she can’t yet open doors or get her clothes up and down alone, I don’t expect her to be completely trained for many more months. I am just really surprised to see that she has the physical ability to hold it and the ability to choose when to go. Most little girls are not ready to train until close to 2, boys generally train at 2 1/2 or later.

I’ve seen far too many parents engaged in a battle of wills with a child who is not ready to potty train – or worse, parents who have waited so long to potty train that the child is determined to continue their habit well past the age when they could have easily trained. Picking the right time to train is not easy, but it makes a huge difference in how easy it is for a child to learn to use the potty. The biggest thing to remember is that you can’t force a child to potty train! They have to be a willing participant – even if you need to incentivize them to be willing.

So, no rush for my little one to potty train. I am  just thrilled to have fewer dirty diapers to change!

Surprisingly, I am doing really well on the diabetes prevention drug metformin. This drug is shown to increase fertility in women with PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome), as well as helping to prevent diabetes, improve insulin resistance, lower miscarriage rates (miscarriage risks are high with PCOS), and possibly reduce gestational diabetes. I’ve taken metformin in the past, but it has many not so pleasant side effects. And, it was not helping me at all on the dose I was at (1500 MG). This time I am on 2000 MG and I am seeing a difference in how I feel as well as my food cravings. Unfortunately, I am also getting the lovely side effect of mild nausea most of the time. UGH!

My OB is working with us on basic infertility treatments since our insurance will cover them – if her methods fail, we will have to go to a cash only basis with one of the fertility clinics (only 2 choices in this little city). Our insurance will reimburse us for some, but when treatments run into the thousands per month – well, if this does not work then we are going to be waiting a good long while before we are able to afford more expensive treatments.

So, we tried 50 MG of clomid (a common fertility drug) two months ago. No dice. So, we tried 100 MG the next month. No help either. So, my doctor said that at my age, I can’t afford to mess around. She prescribed 200 MG of clomid. I was worried about the side effects, since the 50 MG stuff was giving me bad headaches and making me think – very- slowly – and – forget – stuff – a – lot! To my great surprise, I am feeling much better on the big dose than on the little dose. So, we cross our fingers and hope that the massive drugs get my ovaries working again.

If the drugs work, the next step is to schedule a trip to the doctor to give nature a boost with an IUI (intrauterine insemination – yes, it is JUST as much fun as it sounds!). We had James tested just to rule out a problem.  Seems I am not the only one with a fertility issue, and an IUI will give us a better chance of success than just hoping for the best. IUI also bypasses some of the side effects of clomid, making it easier for the key pieces of DNA to meet up.

Fertility treatments are no fun. First, no one can seem to agree on what the odds of success or risky multiples are. I suppose this is because every situation is different. Few studies have been narrowed down to “secondary infertility with PCOS and low sperm morphology (lotsa soldiers, they march well, but far too many are out of uniform).” So, we can only guess. And even if you know the statistics, you can never know how THIS month will go. At least we have one healthy little girl, so we know it CAN happen. That makes it a lot easier. And, if she was our only child together, I’d be ok with that. She is such a joy.

 Studies show that clomid alone is effective about 10 percent of the time for women with PCOS. Clomid and metformin bump the odds up to about 27 percent pregnancy rate. The doctor said that adding the IUI would increase our odds about 4 percent. So, we have about 1 in 3 chance of all of this working within 6 months – but if my body does not respond to the drugs – they have a zero percent chance of working! Then, there is the question every one asks when they hear the words “fertility drugs” – will I have a litter? Most likely not. Clomid is a pretty low level drug. It can and has caused a few cases of high order multiples (HOM – more than 3 babies at once). But, it is far less likely to do so than most other fertility drugs.

The drug pamphlet that came with the clomid says there is an 8 percent chance of multiples. That is 7 percent chance of twins, 0.5% chance of triplets, and a tiny chance of more.  You takes your chances in this game. The goal is one baby. One healthy baby. But, if it is twins or triplets, I’d be ok. The fear with more than 2 is that these babies nearly always come too early and have complications. Not to mention that I had a tough enough time being pregnant with Eva, I am not sure my body could handle twins or more. So, we pray for one healthy baby!

So, I try to ignore the morning sickness from the clomid (metformin makes me mildy nauseated – clomid is making me remember how horrible I felt when I was pregnant). I spend a lot of time wondering. Waiting. Praying. And keeping my fingers crossed.

It is natural for you to want to share this important event with your husband. It is a symbolic time of becoming a family. For some military parents, and most adoptive and step-parents around the world, that birth time may not happen. When a baby needs an incubator at birth, or mom is sick from a C-section, that time after birth is again taken away.

Moms are often keenly aware of the baby’s presence long before we can feel the first flutters. From the first day you know you are pregnant, you want to do everything you can to protect and care for this baby – and it all feels like it is up to you since you are really the one who does the physical work of pregnancy.

I know it will be really hard if your husband is not able to be there for the birth, but the real bonding of parenting is in the caring for that tiny baby. Adoptive parents and step-parents know they are “real” parents when they are comforting a sick baby or kid at 2 AM. The real parent is the one who is there, doing the parenting. But, even when you are there, bonding doesn’t happen in a splash of light accompanied by angelic choirs, at least for most parents.

Bonding with my daughter was a process. While I was pregnant I really tried to “bond” with her. I did everything I could to protect her, even giving myself insulin shots four times a day to make sure she was safe. But love? That was not really how it felt. I just couldn’t wrap the word love around a face I could not see, a personality I did not know.

When she was born, I was mostly numb those first few days. I was fascinated with her, and ready to do damage to a nurse who threatened to take her and give her a bottle when she was refusing to nurse, but she really didn’t feel like MY baby until she was a few days old.

I had a rough pregnancy after many, many years of infertility. So many times I was afraid I was going to have a miscarriage or that the preterm labor would not stop and she’d come far too early. I was on bedrest a lot and had severe gestational diabetes. Then, when she was born, they took her away immediately and worked on her breathing for about 15 minutes or so. I was terrified and all I could see was her tiny bottom, legs waving in protest as they suctioned her nose and throat. This was NOT the birth bonding I pictured.

Then, once they said she was ok, I got to hold her. But it did not feel real. I had held so many other babies that were not mine. I could not wrap my mind around this tiny baby really being MY daughter. She refused to nurse for the first few days, and the night time nurse was awful – she kept telling me that I was going to give my baby brain damage if I kept refusing formula for her (the DOCTOR said my baby was FINE and did not need anything but the small amount of colostrum she was getting, but the nurse was horrid about it). So, I did not sleep pretty much at all for almost 3 days.

Once we were home, I was worried sick because she was still not nursing consistently and she was really jaundiced and had to have the special lights and daily blood tests. Finally, at 5 days old, she started eating as she should – and I was able to start getting a little sleep.

That sixth day, I remember looking at her tiny little body snuggled up to me. Her sweet little face was so perfect, she looked like a baby doll. Then, that is when I burst into tears and realized that this amazing little girl was mine. She was healthy and she was going to be ok, and she was mine. Thirty-six years of wanting to be a mom more than anything in the world, and I had this baby that was so precious and perfect. That is the moment when I realized just how fiercely I loved this baby.

So, if your husband can’t be there for that one “perfect” moment, I don’t think it is going to change his relationship with your baby. If he acts like a dad, they will bond and everything will be just as it should – no matter when they meet for the first time.

* The house is messier than I want to believe it can be

* I can’t get ANY work done without wet knees (12 month old clinging, sobbing, to my legs while I try to work)

* I am lucky if I get a shower before having to meet with a customer – or even before dinner

* There is always too much to do, not enough time to do it, and too many people who think I don’t really work since I am at home

* No matter how carefully I plan my day, it can all go to heck in a handcart when my little dictator decides that she is teething, cranky, clingy, or otherwise refuses to cooperate. Or it can fall apart when some other family member needs me. Or when grandma can’t babysit so I can do something that the dictator doesn’t like (sewing) or is not safe when accompanied by a 30 inch tall octupus (making soap).

Trust me, I sometimes think back longingly on those days when I had my own office with no toys in it (well, at least all the toys were mine). Those days when someone else handled everything that was not “my job.” Bookkeeping? Not MY JOB. Cleaning the bathroom? Not MY JOB. Making lunch? Hey, not only NOT MY JOB – but a group of us could go out to a REAL restaurant without asking for a highchair. Olive Garden and Sweetwater Grill are much better at lunches than I am.

Despite all of the hassles of working from home, there are also things I love so much I don’t think I could give them up.

This morning, as I have worked, I am sharing the bed with my cuddly baby girl. We have both been sick all week, so she is sleeping later than normal. As she tosses and turns, she throws her head on my shoulder or puts an arm around mine. She knows she is safe and loved, even in her sleep. Her cute little wooly pants (made by mom!) are so soft and cozy, she has kicked off the covers and her little bare feet are so cute.

Why I love being a WAHM (work at home mom):

* I was there when my daughter took her first steps – from my arms to Grandma’s

* I can take a whole day off when my cranky, sick baby needs to be rocked and cuddled (ok, so I work while she sleeps, but I can still BE here when she needs me)

* We can take a day off to go with Grandma to the doctor if needed

* Licking Cheerios and sticking them to your forehead is frowned on in fancy restuarants. I don’t know why, it makes Eva laugh out loud!

Working from home is hard. Sometimes harder than having a job ever was. But I’ll gladly trade a (finally) sleeping baby for a conference room full of suits.

Tonight, all I can think about is that it was almost 6 months ago that my mother was told she probably had 2-3 years left as a best case scenario- unless we found a miracle – and she wasn’t offered much hope for that. Her lungs are turning to scar tissue, one cell at a time, and they don’t know why. If she catches a cold that turns to pnuemonia she “won’t make it out of the hospital.” So, the “best case” is for her to slowly have more and more trouble breathing….

I am not ready to lose her. My baby girl is only 9 months old – one of 18 kids who  are about to lose their grandma. If the doctor is right, and despite my desperate prayers, I believe she is, Eva will only know her grandma through pictures and the few short videos I sneak in when my mom is not paying attention. She won’t remember how her grandma loves her so fiercely.

My mom has been on oxygen since Eva was just a few weeks old. Suddenly power failures feel like a state of emergency while the oxygen concentrator beeps its alarm and we fumble for her backup oxygen tanks. A simple walk from the living room to the kitchen becomes an exercise in patience for her, as she has to disentangle her new 50 foot leash from toys and furniure along the way. I am having to restrain myself from screaming at lowly employees of the medical home care companies that are saving nickles and dimes at the expense of my mother’s safety and comfort.

Like the time they tried to tell her that she would need to start picking up and delivering her own oxygen tanks each month- all 30 of them – so they would not have to drive so far.  The delivery guy backed down when I explained that there was NO WAY my 4′11″ arthritic, oxygen-dependent mother could haul a bunch of metal tanks in and out of the house to save them a few pennies. Anyone strong enough to do that probably doesn’t NEED oxygen. And how it took them almost a week to deliver a new supply of tanks when they promise 24 hour service. Or the way they refuse to carry inexpensive equipment she needs, since Medicare can’t require them to provide what they don’t have.

Two dollar rebreather masks so she can exercise and 50 cent oxygen cord swivels to help prevent cord tangles are not available because Medicare pays them a flat fee whether they offer them or not. These are not things we can pick up at the drug store.

I feel like I am watching her slide off a cliff in slow motion. Day to day we go about our business, quietly panicking when someone coughs too close to her or when another news story runs about local outbreaks of swine flu. We talk about what is happening some, but her fear is real and looms so large that we avoid too much talk of details.

She is struggling to do more, even as the disease steals her breath. Every day it seems that simple things are a bit harder for her. Every day I feel more helpless. I can’t fight this unknown invader. All I can do is try to reduce her stress and be here. I wouldn’t choose to be anyplace else, but I wish I could do something more tangible.

I’m not ready to lose my mom.

I love the Lullaby Exercise program from Chicks-n-Chickens. The set comes with a DVD and a CD, so you can use it anywhere in the house. I use my laptop on a dresser to watch the DVD where I am about to put Eva down for a nap.

You can use a sling, mei tai or just hold your baby in your arms while you sway, stretch and burn off calories. You can lose the baby fat and still have a little me time. The soothing music and gentle lyrics combined with your comforting touch help you dance your little one to sleep. Once they are asleep, you can indulge in a little “me” time with a book, a real meal, a nap or whatever else you need to do. Your baby is asleep, you have gotten in your workout for the day, and you have a few minutes to yourself!

Obviously, you need to check with your doctor before beginning any exercise program.

You can read more about the Lullaby Exercise program at Little for Now.

The article does a great job of covering why it is challenging and why I also love doing it.

Check out this article about my cloth diaper business.

Mamas Froggie Girl - BumGenius

Eva’s vocabulary is growing fast. So far she says: bread, bottle, diaper, Grandma, Daddy, Mama (only when she is mad!), ball, yes (nods her head and says “sssss”), and a few other words. She just got tooth number 3, with tooth number 4 on it’s way soon.

I have to admit we are still really enjoying cloth diapering. Eva still has not worn a single disposable since she was still in the hospital. I just need to find time to sew some more medium diapers for her. I have so many tester diapers now, you’d think I have enough, but I really want to make her some more all in ones like the happy face diaper on my Twitter account. So far those are my favorites.

The BumGenius diapers still fit her really well, though we are on the largest snap setting now. She is so long and thin. She was sick for three whole weeks (can we say sleep deprivation!) but now that she is feeling better she is eating like a horse. Last month she would only eat a few tablespoons of food a day. Suddenly she is eating 4 ounces at a sitting 3 times a day. I need to get my baby food site working.

This week I have been sidetracked working on a diaper cake site. http://www.diapercakebakery.com.

I have too many web sites, but I keep finding cool stuff to make sites about.