babysugar Diaries

She was there with a hug after every spill and filled you with advice before sending you off into the world. As moms, we are chief boo-boo healers and lunch-makers. We are also daughters filled with memories of our special moments of our own moms. Here are my top five memories with my mother:

1. She was at the end of the lane when I swam my first lap across the pool.
2. Standing in her bedroom as we tried on her beautifully hand-sewn Halloween costumes each October.
3. The special mother-daughter shopping trips we took and then hid our goods in the trunk until dad was fast asleep.
4. The sound in her voice when I called to tell her I was engaged (my father hadn't told her that my now husband had called a few days earlier).
5. When I handed her my first child to hold an hour after he was born.

What's your favorite memory?

Around the time I was ready to return to work from maternity leave, I told my husband that my thumb hurt at odd times throughout the day. It wasn't when I was holding or nursing our 3-month-old son or when I was giving my 4-year-old a boost onto the jungle gym, but when I was sitting and vegging out in front of the TV at night. He told me to see a doctor (which I didn't do, because moms rarely take care of themselves), but I was convinced it was lingering carpal tunnel syndrome from my pregnancy.

It seems that my husband might have been right (though I will never tell him!). According to a report in the Wall Street Journal, more women are experiencing similar pain and it has been attributed to "an inflammation of tendons below the thumb down to the wrist." The condition is most likely occurring because women are older when we have our first children, our tots are heavier than previous generations, new crib standards place our mattresses closer to the floor, and of course, frequent scrolling on smartphones. It's even been given a name – Mommy Thumb (though doctors tend to call it De Quervain’s tendinitis). While I won't be using steroid injections to cure the pain, at least I know I wasn't imagining it! Have you experienced Mommy Thumb?

There are few things I despise more than waiting. Like most mamas, I try to squeeze appointments between school runs, work obligations, and my children's play schedules. So when I am forced to sit waiting at the doctor's office, I spend much of the time thinking about where else I'd rather be.

We've been spending a lot of time in doctors' offices these days as my younger son goes through a battery of tests to pinpoint a suspected food allergy. I've learned that kids spend waiting times looking for ways to get into trouble. While I try to fill my bag with Mary Poppins-like distractions, I've also discovered a few "homegrown" activities to pass the time.

• Tap a tune. Grab a few tongue depressors and start tapping to the beat of your favorite song. Your makeshift drumsticks may even inspire you to create a new song.
• 99 Luftballons. When filled with mama's hot air, doctors' rubber gloves make great balloons. Fill a few and start batting them around. Give a few fun high fives. Start a rousing rendition of "This Little Piggy". The novelty of the balloons will help pass at least a few minutes.
• iSpy. The doctor's office offers up plenty of new objects (especially shiny ones) to fuel this game.
• Guess the weight. Infant scales are especially sensitive, which make them ideal for measuring the weight of objects in mama's purse.
• Obstacle course. Line up some tongue depressors (again, these are the workhorse of the pediatrician's office), paper cups, cotton balls, and anything else you might find to create a one-of-a-kind obstacle course. Have your lil one walk on the sticks, jump over the cups, and hop onto the cotton balls. If time is still lagging, start timing how fast they can complete the activity.

Did you remember to wish someone a happy birthday today? Chances are you know someone who is celebrating their milestone today, the most common birthday in America.

When I was eight months into my pregnancy last year, my doctor and I sat down to discuss the birthing options for my second child. Having had a c-section with my first, and wary of a VBAC with this one, we pulled out the calendar and picked the date 10 days before when I was actually due, called the hospital, and booked it. Little did we know that my son would be celebrating his birthday with about 968,000 people — 218,000 more than the number of people who typically celebrate their birth on an average day of the year. While LilSugar has special birthdays plotted out every four years for her leap year baby, l'll plan celebrations for my Oct. 5 guy along with 967,999 other moms in America!

She may not have a cape, but the Super Mom possesses powers that leave the rest of us mere mortals in the dust. After reading OnSugar blogger Carri's post, Confessions of a (Not so) Super Mom, it became apparent that moms everywhere encounter this wonder woman on a regular basis. Are you the Super Mom in your community? Check out my list to find out!

1. Your clothes are never accessorized with caked-on oatmeal and dried baby snot.
2. A hiccup in the daily schedule doesn’t faze you, it just means more time with your wonderful tots.
3. Hosting a spur of the moment playdate doesn’t send you on a 10-minute whirlwind-cleaning spree because your home is already spotless.
4. Your children’s clothes are organized by size, season, and color so they never outgrow an item before having worn it.
5. You are the first one at the school play, dance recital, or soccer game with your camera around your neck and your Flip cam ready to go.

To see the rest of the list, read more

I'll never forget a conversation I had with my parents on the day my first child was born. After nurses came to take my son for his hearing test, I turned to them and expressed concern about him passing the test. My father gave a knowing look to my mom and said, "Welcome to the next 18 years of your life!" My mom said, "18 years? Welcome to worrying about your children for the rest of your life!"

Though I'm reminded of the exchange daily as I nurse playground injuries and hurt feelings, I thought back recently when I received one of those email chain letters that promised me a life of happiness if I sent it on to a dozen other people. The message, titled "Worry," told the fictional story of a mother thinking she had passed the point of worry each time her child passed a milestone, only to be faced with a new set of worries. Once her children have tots of their own, the then-grandmother's concern shifts to her grandchildren and the process begins again. It made me wonder if parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry?

It's really a problem of my own making. Like any parent of an infant, I spent plenty of hours on the floor playing with my son. I placed his favorite toys out of arm's reach hoping to encourage him to move for them. I cheered him on like he was winning the Super Bowl when he got on all fours for the first time. And I gritted my teeth in frustration when he never attempted to move beyond that position to crawl. I spoke with the doctors, friends, and even therapists, but nothing was getting my tot to move.

And then, one day out of the blue, my boy was mobile. He never crawled, but he pulled himself up to the coffee table, saw something he wanted and took a step. We sang, we danced, we cheered, and then we cried. Because now, life as we knew it was over. After all of the blood, sweat, and tears (OK, really just tears), I really just want him to sit in one place for more than two minutes so I can finish getting dressed for work or make an entire meal. But, the newly mobile tot has other plans, and he can make it around an entire room holding onto the walls, furniture, or any other object in his path. I call it the curse of the mobile tot.

When I was a tot, I thought my father was a modern day Einstein. A chemist by education and an attorney by trade, he knew the answer to every question I ever asked. "Why is the sky blue?" would lead into a lesson about the atmosphere and how molecules scatter light. "Why do I have to wear my seat belt?" was turned into a conversation about safety and laws. Regardless of how obscure my question was, he had an answer – and this was before the Internet.

Fast-forward two decades and I find myself scrambling to answer my lil one's growing list of questions. Everything we discuss is now followed by that infamous three-letter word – why? "But why do we need to wait for water to boil?" and "Why do we wear underpants?" Some answers are obvious, and others I can easily find through my trusty lil friend Google, but then there are the ones that leave me scratching my head. I'm beginning to wonder how my own father answered all of the questions – if he really knew all of that stuff, or if he made it up like the rest of us just to stop the interrogation?