vindicated, again

Last night, I went to a fabulous discussion at Shout's school about learning and play. A lot of it came from this research, which is something that all good preschool teachers have known for years, that when you SHOW a child how to use something, they learn that specific way of using an object. But when you let a child figure out how to use something on their own, they come up with countless ways to use it.

Take for example this:



What is it?

I have no idea. It looks like a bedpan to me. But Shout's school has 10 of these. They are chairs, hats and rabbitholes. Stones to jump across a stream. Tops to spin, cradles for imaginary babies. Something that I would have completely bypassed if I saw it, not knowing what it is or how to use it... it is the essence of hours of imaginative play. (I wish I had pictures of all the things I've seen kids do with these.)

One of the exercises we have to do for my parenting class is to play with our child for 20 minutes but not give any instruction or suggestions and not ask any questions. Try it. It's VERY hard.

We are so used to guiding and instructing. Slipping in those teachable moments.

But it is very revealing to see what their creative minds come up with completely on their own.

I have been thinking about the value of unstructured time. Not dance class or soccer practice. Not homework time. (And Shout doesn't actually HAVE homework, but because everyone else does, she WANTS homework. Desperately. So I have to make some up for her.)

Our school year doesn't leave much room for unstructured time anymore. With sports and afterschool clubs and homework. And don't get me wrong, those are all good things.

The life lessons my kids have learned from sports are INVALUABLE. (Working hard, taking turns, losing, not being the best, other people depending on you... priceless.) The afterschool activities too - play practice, cooking club, chess club, band. All so important. And yes, even homework. My kids have learned time management skills I could never have taught them. Following directions. Self-motivation. Using resources when you can't find the answer. Essential life skills. I wouldn't trade those lessons for a minute.

But, philosophically, I'm pretty unstructured. Our summers are very unstructured. Most days are a blank slate. I used to worry that it was a bad thing. That I should be using these valuable hours teaching them Spanish or introducing them to modern art. (Or how to scrub the bathroom floor for God's sake.)

But according to the experts, I am teaching them how to think. How to be creative. How to learn.

My instincts haven't been so far off after all.

Unstructured time slowly slips away from life as kids get older. Grab as much of it as you can.

appreciate

I'm at that point in the school year where dealing with 4 sets of homework every night seems to outweigh the benefits of having the kids in school. It's always right about now when the balance tips.

When I forget all the stuff I wrote last August about how I was out of ideas, out of steam, out of patience.



Right now, I'm looking forward to summer. Sleeping in. Making pancakes. Picking strawberries. Hanging out at the pool.



This could be my last summer at home full-time. And just writing that makes my eyes well up. Yes, there's fighting. It's a nearly impossible challenge to find activities that appeal to everyone. There's too much TV and junk food some days.

But there's also fireflies and swim meets. Cookouts and sparklers. Shorts, sunscreen, Italian ice.



It's priceless really - getting the chance to live summer through the eyes of my kids.

Six months from now, I'll be pulling my hair out, but between now and then? All kinds of good stuff will unfold. And I'm going to do my best to appreciate every second of it.

inspired by Chris

see also, Lisa Belkin and Anna Quindlen (tissue alert!)

the one where an amish guy disappeared

I have this Amish-made table and benches on my patio that I love. It makes me love the whole Amish culture, I love it so much. Except it's falling apart. One day, I will sit on it, it will collapse and I'll break my tailbone. And that will make me mad at the Amish. Even if it's not their fault.

So I decided to buy a new set, just like the one we have. I looked up the name of the "store" where I bought it on the internet. (And by "store" I mean vacant lot with an Amish guy in a shed.) Lo and behold, they actually have a website. (I know, right? How?)

There are pictures of handmade sheds, gazebos and Adirondack chairs, but nothing like the table and benches I want.

So I did what every internet-savvy shopper does and clicked on the Contact Us link and sent an email asking "Whoa! What happened to the tables?"

But I never got a response.

So let's get this straight: Amish people can have websites, but they don't check email.

So on Sunday, even though they weren't open (again, Amish tradition, they don't do websites, check email OR work on Sundays), I thought I'd just drive by and SEE if there were tables and benches sitting out.

The store was in an empty lot out in the way out suburbs. (Ok, they USED to be way out suburbs, but now there's a drive-thru Starbucks, so I'm guessing we just call that "suburbs" now.)

But as I drove up, I saw a brand-spanking new shopping center on that spot.

I drove around the back. Nope.

Back and forth across all the intersections? No Amish guy. He vanished. Right along with a bunch of gazebos and Adirondack chairs.

I went through the Starbucks drive-thru to ponder my situation. I asked the gal in the window.

"Yeah. I guess he moved, but I don't know where."

Seriously? How did she not notice a guy moving sheds and gazebos on the back of a horse and buggy?

I pulled over and checked the website on my phone. No address listed anywhere on the website. Just directions to an empty lot that's not empty any more. So the Amish may be making websites now, but clearly they haven't learned to integrate a Google Maps widget.

I googled the store name and found a directory with an address. Which as it turns out was right in the shopping center where I was sitting.

Hmmm...

By this time, most people would have given up, especially since the store wasn't even OPEN, but not me.

I called the phone number on the website. (Yes, a phone number! Is this guy REALLY Amish?)

(Also? Seriously WHAT did we do before mobile internet? Or even before the internet? I could be driving around with a giant Yellow Pages and a map on my lap! Crazy! (You all do know what Yellow Pages are, right?))

The phone rang and eventually I got a nice recording telling me to "Come on out and see us!" No directions, address, or any other clue as to WHERE exactly I would go to do that.

So I started driving aimlessly through the suburban town where the store used to be. Seriously, how far could he have gotten? I told the kids to be on the lookout for a bunch of sheds.

After about 5 minutes, Cheer shouted out "SHEDS!" And what do you know? There was the "store."

With a giant sign that says "WE'VE MOVED" and the new address.

Now call me crazy, but wouldn't you put that sign up at the OLD location? Because anyone who made it to the new location already KNOWS you moved, right?

I'm sensing an Amish marketing and PR niche that is desperate to be filled.

And after all that, there weren't any picnic tables or benches sitting out.

chance encounter

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I passed. He glanced around... to see if anyone was watching him. Or maybe to appear unfamiliar with his surroundings. Like he'd never been there before.

And then he opened the door to the liquor store and went in.

It was 10:00 on a Tuesday morning.

He didn't see me as I passed by. I held my phone up to my ear to shield the side of my face. I could sense he didn't want to be seen. I wanted to give him that.

..................

His wife and I were pregnant at the same time with our daughters. We both had young sons. We chased them around in the vestible of the church on Sundays, giving each other a weary smile and nod. Sharing Cheerios and crayons. Not exactly friends, but more than accidental strangers.

Years went by while we met occassionally in passing.

And then one day I saw her, her head newly-bald and under a knotted silk scarf.

It was breast cancer.

She went back and forth for several years. From relative good health to the ravages of chemo and radiation.

Then, one spring day, her battle was over. The cancer had won.

After, her husband came to church resolutely every Sunday with the children. Their daughter, just reaching the outer edges of childhood. Needing her mother to guide her through the metamorphasis her body would soon undergo. But instead of having her mother to take her shopping for her first bra, she is left with a check mark in the Family History of Breast Cancer category to take with her into womanhood.

Her son, tall and gangly. Changing a little bit more into a man every day. Now quiet and uncomfortable.

Their father had traveled a difficult road. He had been mother and father for awhile now. His eyes were tinged with a new sadness, but he seemed to garner an inner strength that was enabling him to rise to this challenge.

And then, one day, I noticed that I hadn't seen them in church. In quite awhile actually. It struck me that I couldn't remember the last time they were there. I hoped they had found a new place to worship. A church where their wife and mother had not been laid to rest. A new start.

And then today I saw him. And just that slightest moment of hesistation... just before he slipped into the liquor store, is what stays with me.

And I worry.

springtime in washington

This is a re-post from DC Metro Moms about our famous cherry blossoms. It originally published on April 7, 2009. The Cherry Blossom Festival starts this weekend, so I thought I'd re-post this now. We won't be going to see the blossoms this weekend though, because it's supposed to er... SNOW. (Seriously, Mother Nature?)

On Sunday, we decided to take advantage of a rare day of beautiful weather and have a little bit of Forced Family Fun. Or FFF, as I call it. Sometimes I throw another F in there. YOU know.

One of our traditions is to get up early on Sunday during the Cherry Blossom Festival and head downtown at 7 or 8AM. When the parking spaces are aplenty and the tourists are still getting their free Continental breakfasts. We have the blossoms nearly to ourselves.

This year, in a crazy break from tradition, we decided to head out at 10:30. When our best option was to take Metro (which is fine since we are now stroller-free and don't need to hike 300 miles to the elevators - but more on that in a minute). We climbed aboard a PACKED Metro train. Only two stops in from the end of the line. A sign of things to come.

We got off at L'Enfant Plaza and hiked 450 miles to the Tidal Basin. Seriously, could they not have put a Metro station CLOSER to the Tidal Basin? Like, right under the Jefferson Memorial would be perfect. You could pop up in the elevator, look at the blossoms all around you and then pop back down to your train. But evidently, no one consulted a mom with four whiny kids with short legs when they planned the Metro system.

The sidewalk along the water was SO INCREDIBLY PACKED WITH PEOPLE by this time of day that I could not stop to look at the trees at all. I was too busy keeping my eyes on the four little heads that kept getting WAY in front of me. Ok, THREE heads kept getting way in front of me. I was hanging back with the 4th little head which is connected to the shortest legs and couldn't keep up with the pack.

The line for paddle boats was MILES long, so we abandoned the plan to take a spin on the water. Although I'm not entirely comfortable taking kids who can't swim out in a paddle boat, even though it would probably take a tsunami to tip one of those things over. YOU NEVER KNOW when a tsunami is coming, right? And my four kids have been COMPARED to a tsunami on MORE THAN ONE OCCASION, so if anything OTHER than a tsunami could tip over a paddle boat, I bet it would be us.

After our requisite blossom viewing and photo session - (and they were BEAUTIFUL and the weather was GORGEOUS - no complaints there - but if you want to read a post waxing poetic about cherry blossoms, I'm sure there is someone out there who writes about that, it's just not me) - we wanted to head into Georgetown to Pizzeria Uno, the place where my husband and I went on our first date, and later got engaged. The place where this whole clusterf*ck began, if you will.

But alas, the troops started to mutiny. We had probably walked 4 miles by this point, pretty much aimlessly, because even though I have lived here for over 40 years, those little roads and sidewalks around the Tidal Basin confuse me to NO END, especially when my vision is obscured by 4 MILLION TOURISTS. And our pace was one no faster than rather short 3-year old legs can set. I was starting to miss that stroller. Especially when, to move a little faster, I carried my daughter on my shoulders and she began the slow and painful process of amputating my earlobes one tiny pinch at a time.

We eventually stumbled upon the World War II Memorial, which is breathtaking and relaxing, and took a much needed rest. I could have sat there all day. Especially because the other option was continuing to walk aimlessly around our Nation's Capital with my hungry, tired, whiny children.

At that point, my husband suggested we forget Georgetown and take the Metro to the Unos in Union Station. Did I mention earlier how far the cherry blossoms are from a Metro station? Oh, I did? Ok then. After walking for 4 miles (in pretty much a circle), we were no closer to a Metro station than when we started.

That was when I joined the rebellion. There was a hot dog vendor a mere 100 yards away. We staggered over and gave them ALL OF OUR CASH, which bought us a small amount of food and beverage, and a slightly soggy spot of grass on which to eat it. Bliss. Really.

When we finished our lunch, it was time to continue our urban volksmarch to a Metro station. Whereupon we sat down on the train and everyone instantly fell asleep. Except me, because I had to make sure we got off at the right stop to change trains.

I think, next year, we may skip the Cherry Blossoms. We'll look at our pictures from this year. We could even have hot dogs.

something shiny

This kid is adorable. Which is a good thing because she can also be very hard. Today was hard.

Turn on your speakers... this is hilarious.

sweetness

Tide asked for a lemon birthday cake.

The poor kid has been laying on the couch since last Thursday, barely even able to sit up. So dammit I was going to make him a lemon cake.

Coincidentally, Everyday Food this month has a recipe for Simple Lemon Cake. Right up my alley with the simple, right?

Can I just say that Martha's definition of "simple" and MY definition of "simple" are apparently quite different.

Martha's definition must have to do with how many of her staffers it takes to make a recipe. My definition is more along the lines of OPEN THE BAKERY BOX.

Or at least, it needs to be assemble-able in the 20 minutes I have between school pickup and a 3-hour baseball practice extravaganza. (So FAIL on both counts, Martha.)

The recipe involved slicing and boiling multiple lemons and then pureeing them in a food processor. Something I don't have. Fortunately, I secured a loaner food processor in just one phone call.

Then there was egg separating. And of course, I threw away the yolks, when I was supposed to USE the yokes and I put the whites in and I was supposed to throw AWAY the whites. Let's just say, a lot of eggs lost their lives in this process. And there may have been cursing.

There were 3 different bowls that had to be combined in layered, patterened formation. Is that really necessary? Does it really matter if I dump the dry ingredients into the lemon-y ingredients all at once, or in 3 batches? And what if I don't alternate with the milk mixture? What if I just dump all that stuff together willy nilly?

By the time I was done, almost every bowl in the house was dirty. Along with the food processor, MANY spoons and all the measuring cups.

I threw the cake in the oven, instructed Bounce to take it out when the timer went off, and raced off to Cheer's baseball practice.

After standing on the sidelines for about 10 minutes, it occured to me there was no way Bounce was going to remember to listen for the timer, so I raced back home to get the cake out of the oven. And wash all those dishes.

In the end, the cake actually WAS delicious.

Tide nearly gave himself an asthma attack trying to blow out 13 candles.

He's STILL sick. Maybe it's the flu because it's been going on forever. (I suppose it would have been nice if they had tested for the flu at the doctor's office.)

Here he is trying to hold his head up while eating a few bites of cake. Is that the saddest thing or what?



No birthday in our house is complete without a fair share of drama. (And I'm not even talking about making the cake.) There was lots of screaming and crying from everyone who was feeling under-celebrated. ("What about MEEEEEEEEE?")

I've already promised to make ANOTHER cake that isn't lemon for Shout, throw a party for Bounce (someday), and consider getting a Gamestop giftcard for Cheer. By tomorrow it will all be forgotten.

The next birthday is mine. I'll be the one under-celebrated on that day. (And you know what? It's better that way.)

thirteen

I blinked and somehow we went from here



to here



seemingly overnight.

vindicated

I wrote about this a few years ago (go ahead and click, I just re-read it and am surprised I actually wrote it!) about how I came into parenting without a system or philosophy. I mostly flew by the seat of my pants and figured out what worked for me and each kid. (And yes, I parent each kid a little bit differently because they are very different people. What works for one does not always work for the others.)

Much of whatever you could call my parenting style came from figuring out Tide. He was one tough kid. The only way we could ever get him to do anything was to explain what we wanted him to do and why. There was no way he would do something he didn't understand (and still won't) and he could pitch a fit of epic proportions if you tried to make him.

We eventually realized he's a very logical kid. And he needs to understand everything. If he doesn't understand it, he doesn't feel comfortable. It makes for a kid who is a rule follower with a lot of common sense. Two really excellent qualities, actually. (And I'm hoping those qualities will make our ride through the teenage years a little less bumpy... because those years start...OMG! TOMORROW!)

There were many times when he was little and I would get down to his level and explain why we COULDN'T buy that toy at Target or why we HAD to leave the park. And I have to tell you, there are LOTS of people who have OPINIONS about that kind of parenting. There were many times in stores or at playgrounds where someone would comment about my need to explain WHY to my kid.

"How about 'because I said so!'"

Because I said so might work for some kids, but it didn't work for Tide. And it never will.

So I mentioned I'm taking this class about parenting challenging children. It's EXCELLENT. The instructor is a local developmental pediatrician and I wish I had found this guy when Tide was little. I feel like we went down so many roads trying to learn how to parent him - books, internet searches, doctors... he was a really hard kid and we were really frustrated. We eventually got where we needed to, but it was a long and crooked path. (And did I mention expensive?)

Last week, our session started out by listing qualities of the best boss we ever had. My best boss was my mentor. But he wasn't just MY mentor, he mentored everyone who worked for him. He was brilliant and inspired us to try to be like him. He would give us projects slightly over our abilities and then help us rise to them.

Then we had to think about our worst boss. OMG, I could write a book about this woman, but let's just say she was unpredictable, moody and a mean and evil dictator.

Then, this brilliant doctor told us that we should foster the kind of relationship with our KIDS that our best boss fostered with us.

And he said something like, "Did your best boss ever give you a project you didn't understand, didn't want to do and then not even tell you why you were doing it?"

If we explain to our kids what we expect of them and WHY, we make them collaborators in our family dynamic.

Of COURSE that's the relationship I want to have with my kids. It makes so much sense to me. (And I'm not talking about negotiating behavior, but as the good doctor said, "If you can't articulate a good reason why you want your kid to so something, maybe it's not really that important.")

All those years ago, when I thought I was floundering? Dealing with a challenging child the only way I knew how? I was actually COLLABORATING with him. It actually IS a sound parenting theory.

I feel vindicated.

breaking in a new one

I'm sitting here waiting for a second pot of coffee to brew because I'm exhausted. Like Living with a Newborn exhausted.

Tide is sick. Sicker than I've seen him since he was a baby. I don't know what he has. The plague or something. He's been up every 3 hours for almost a week, coughing his internal organs out. He's downed two ENTIRE bottles of cough medicine. I'm waiting for his liver to give up.

I took him to the doctor today because although he's not getting worse, he's not getting better and he looks... well, horrible.

So we saw a new doctor in the practice, who I have to say, is DISTRACTINGLY HANDSOME and has an enchanting foreign accent.

But however handsome he may be, he handed us a note saying Tide could return to school tomorrow.

HUH?

I said, "Tomorrow? Really? He can't even SIT UP he's so weak and dizzy."

So he said to give him lots of fluids and of course we could wait another day if I felt it was necessary.

Uh, yeah. I think I'll wait until he can stand up unassisted to send him back to school, thankyouverymuch.

giggle

I'm still recovering from my girls weekend last weekend. And by "GIRLS" I don't mean Shout and Bounce. I mean LADIES. As in "pass the wine and cupcakes."

It's only the second time I've ever left my kids. And so far, Laundry Dad has kept them all alive and accounted for, so I'm taking it as my green light to go whenever I hear the siren song. (Or at least once or twice a year, right?)

I got together with a group of gals I've known mostly online for 6 years. Even if I may not have spent more than a few hours in person with any of them, we all KNOW each other probably better than we would if we were friends in real life. There is something about online friendships that can be stronger because they are somewhat free of the distractions of interrupting children.

We all met on an iVillage Expecting Board back in early 2005. We were all expecting a baby in August 2005. Eventually we left the public venue of iVillage to form our own closed board where we could share without the whole of the internet being able to read.

And there, we have formed a strong and vibrant community that would be impossible to create in the non-electronic world. We have supported each other through sleepless nights, temper tantrums and the first day of school. Surgeries and miscarriages, divorces and deaths. We've lost weight and done Couch to 5K together. And we have celebrated new homes, new husbands, new jobs and lots and lots of new babies. (I've written some of this before.)

We've diagnosed strep throat, pink eye, spider bites, depression and developmental delays. We've shared our deepest thoughts about parenting, marriage, politics and home decor.

These gals have kept me from going crazy, helped me be a better mother and a better person.

It was so exciting to get to spend a weekend with some of them! We rented a house in a nearby suburb and played games, drank wine and margaritas, went sightseeing, ate cupcakes, went to two awesome restaurants (The Source, omg!) and laughed and laughed.

Great for the soul.

Not great for my toe. There was a crazy tile issue on the floor and I stubbed my toe and broke it (I think). But I'm telling everyone I dropped a bottle of wine on it, which is a much better story.

The only downside to a weekend like that? When it's all over, you realize how much you need another one!

bling

I started writing about my weekend yesterday and then I forgot I had a preschool board meeting I had to run off and I never finished, and today has been one of those days where I've spent more time dropping off and picking up my kids than they were actually in school.

And Tide is sick and pitiful-looking.

And Shout got Twinkletoes today. And honestly, I'm not sure there is anything on EARTH cuter than Twinkletoes. Seriously.

It's been one of those days, so I'm not baking my famous Irish soda bread, potato farls or Irish stew. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're having frozen pizza for dinner because my evening is just as crazy as my day was.

But let me pause for just a second to say that today is the day that Laundry Dad asked me to marry him. (I didn't actually say "yes" for several more days.) (Ok, no. Just kidding.)

We went to dinner at the pizza joint in Georgetown where we went on our first date. We had pizza and beer. And sometime after I wiped the grease off my fingers, Laundry Dad slipped a diamond on one of them.

If you had asked me 19 (omg, is it really NINETEEN?) years ago what I thought my life would be like, my answer would be nothing like what it actually is now.

But I wouldn't change a thing.

we have a winner!

The winner of this gorgeous dress from Shabby Apple is *drumroll*

Susan from Toddler Planet!!

Congratulations, Susan! I know you will rock it. Thanks for all who commented!

Regular posts will resume later today. I'm still recovering from a fun weekend where I got to leave my kids again and hang out with grownups!!

shabby apple giveaway

Scarlett Dragon

In a few months, Cheer will be making his First Communion. It's a big deal and we'll be throwing a big party. So of course, I've been looking for a dress. There are a few websites I always drool over when I'm looking for dresses, and Shabby Apple is one of them. Shabby Apple sells vintage-style women's dresses and little girls' dresses. Not to mention accessories, swimwear and other great stuff.

Here's the dress I have my eye on:


Ming

Or maybe this one:


Penelope and Odysseus

Can I tell you my favorite thing about the dresses at Shabby Apple? SLEEVES! They have sleeves!! I am not a fan of my upper arms and I like a little coverage there. Also, I'm looking for a dress that will be worn to church, so it really should have sleeves anyway. *cue the chorus of angels*

So the nice people at Shabby Apple emailed and asked if I'd like to give away one of their dresses to my readers! I was happy to oblige! Then came the hard part, internet.

I had to pick the dress.

So I agonized over a long list of dresses and finally chose this one:


Azure Coast (click for more pictures)

I picked it because I love blue (and most people look good in blue) and it's a universally flattering dress. It will look adorable on you. (Yes, YOU.)

All you have to do is leave me a comment. And if you Like the Shabby Apple Facebook page, come back and leave me another comment and you'll get two chances. You have until Sunday evening (March 13) to enter.


Forbidden City

In addition to the giveaway, Shabby Apple ALSO has a 10% off discount code for Laundry for Six readers! (HELLO Ming dress!!) You can use laundryforsix10off to get 10% off any purchase. So we can ALL get a new dress!

The fine print: This is open to U.S. residents only. Make SURE I have your email address. Shabby Apple is providing the dress and the discount code. I have not been compensated or received anything in exchange for this post. (But I will be using that discount code.)


Cider

that is the sound of me falling off my high horse

There are the perfect days, and then there are the days that make you want to stab yourself in the eye with a minivan key.

Like yesterday.

Cheer and Shout had checkups. (And there was all manner of things about *that* that made me want to stab myself, but that's a post for later.) One of the things I wanted to talk about was Shout's behavior. I'm working on getting her an OT evaluation (thank you kind reader who gave me the name of a local OT, you know who you are) and also just started this Parenting Your Challenging Child class (which started last week and was excellent... again, another post later.) I wanted to see if he thought there was anything else I should add to that list.

Well.

It was ALL TOO CLEAR what behavior I was talking about as we sat in this tiny little exam room where Shout was um... shouting, flinging herself to the floor, talking smack, pushing, throwing things, sticking her tongue out and generally being a GINORMOUS pain in the ass.

And due to my very own parenting theory of the Least Common Denominator, Cheer was right there with her, wilding it up like a drunken frat boy.

*SO EMBARRASSING*

Dr. Everything Will Be Alright had lots of suggestions. Many of them involve several thousands of dollars. Testing, therapists, psychologists. We even had a little discussion about Catholic school and whether or not that will be a good fit for my tiny terrorist.

Yeah. I worry about that myself.

At the end of the visit, there were shots and OMG, for a kid who gets needles stuck in her arm all the time, you would not BELIEVE the drama. The screaming. The tears. The snot.

And it's like she has a switch. If something happens that switches her to OFF, there's no switching her back.

After the shots, I brought her to school. I warned the teacher. (The day before she had dumped a FULL bucket of sand on the head of a little girl with cornrows. Her mom had to take her to get all her braids taken out and redone. Yeah. She's THAT kid.)

It was another bad day. She was mean to the other kids in the class, who then tell her that she's mean. (And you know what? They're right. She IS mean.) Then she calls them stupid. Pretty soon, they're throwing mulch at each other on the playground and Shout threw a huge handful of mulch right in the face of my friend, S, and her baby.

The Parenting Gods sure don't let you sit on the pedestal too long, now do they?