The Big To-Do About the Bugaboo

We live in Boston and the Bugaboo stroller is everywhere! On a nice day, you can't go more than 12 feet without running into one, and sometimes they even appear in packs! Initially I turned my nose at the Bugaboo. Every time we strolled past one in our layman's jogger I would lean down to MeMo and whisper, "Don't look, Meemers, it's a Bugaboo," then continue walking as if I was doing just fine wrestling our 250 lb stroller over the crooked sidewalks of Boston. I mean what kind of jackass pays almost a thousand dollars for a stroller? Even if I had that kind of money to throw around, the last thing I would spend it on is a stroller, for crying out loud.

By the time MeMo was 8 weeks old, we were walking up to 5 miles a day, hitting Boston's finest areas, strolling along the river and traversing through every neighborhood from the North End to Newbury Street hitting every stop in between. During this time, I became very well acquainted with all of our stroller's features, and even better acquainted with its faults.

At month nine, MeMo went through her "Get me Out of This Thing and I mean NOW" phase every time we set out on a long walk. We would be three miles from home and she would scream bloody murder, as if I had attached a hidden torture device to the underside of the jogger's seat. And all of you parents know just how fun it is to push a screaming infant when every single adult who passes looks at you scornfully as if to say, "What's the matter with you? Can't you see your kid needs something?" Where upon my tacit response was always "Yeah, my kid needs something all right... like a Valium."

Increasing our journeys to nearly 8 miles a day at this point, I decided to research new stroller options. Here's a fun a project: search the word "stroller" on Google and see just how many hits come up. With options ranging from a near 2-dimensional folding design and cargo space that could hold a small pachyderm, to adjustable handles and reversible seating, no two strollers are alike. On top of this, each manufacturer offers at least a dozen models in at least as many colors. Heck, buying my first car left me with fewer options.

Knowing its price point and the status symbol it had become, the thought of owning a Bugaboo had never crossed my mind. Until one unfortunate weekend when friends who were leaving town for the weekend, offered to lend us theirs to test drive.

They dropped the Bugaboo at our place on a Friday night, and after a brief demo, set me free with the thing. Since it was late and MeMo was asleep, I paid the Bugaboo very little attention that night, allowing it to sleep soundly in our living room, kept company by our two cats who took advantage of the luxury sleeping space - one in the seat and another in the cargo area. The next morning, I fiddled with the the Bugaboo for several minutes, shortening the adjustable handle bars, testing out the various seating positions and tinkering with every knob and button I could find. It was time to take this baby to the streets.

At first run the Bugaboo's frame seemed somewhat flimsy, and I seriously questioned the sanity of anyone who would pay that kind of money to own one of these things. Another downfall is that the seat is lined in fleece and on that 91 degree day, I felt almost sadistic setting MeMo in that heat nest. Another thing I couldn't stand about the Bugaboo is that it doesn't have a peeking window in the canopy. So each time I wanted to check in on the baby, I had to whip back the entire canopy, nearly blinding the unexpecting Meemers with a dose of morning sunlight.

Later that weekend, my obsession over strollers growing stronger by the Google search, I hit a few local baby stores to test out a variety of models. And I must say, as hard as this is to admit, the Bugaboo is by far my favorite stroller! The thing turns on a dime. The fleece seat may seem too insulating for warm weather, but it's super durable, easy to wash and creates a mini nest that put MeMo to sleep within minutes of our morning walk. The Bugaboo can be taken apart into two pieces and folded into a compact design in just minutes, and it has a large enough cargo area that I could fit all of our midweek groceries in it, with room left over for MeMo's treasures she found along the way.

I never did wind up purchasing a Bugaboo stroller and the Meemers has recently accepted that our clunky jogger is the best she's going to get. It wasn't easy on either of us getting a taste of the high life and then having to return to the ways of our nearly impossible-to-steer jogger. Luckily MeMo has abandoned her mobile screaming fits and we continue on our daily treks, now with a bit more understanding of the price point of the "Mercedes Benz of strollers".

NO. SLEEP. 'TILL BROOKLYN!

I swear I could hear MeMo chanting this chorus from an early Beastie Boys song from her crib at 3:00 this morning. Last night was what I like to call a "Newborn Night", where our little MeMo decides, for whatever impossible-to-determine reason, that she must regularly check in to make sure that Joe and I haven't up and abandoned her in the middle of the night.

MeMo has always been a great sleeper. As a newborn, we actually had to wake her up to eat, and now at 11 months old, she takes 4 - 6 hours worth of naps during the day and sleeps up to 13 consecutive hours at night. That being said, I guess I have no real reason to complain, but when a night like this creeps in it's like dropping a colicky baby on a bachelor, we feel completely unprepared.

The most difficult aspect of sleep disturbed nights (aside from wanting to hurl yourself off a bridge the next morning when the alarm sounds), is that MeMo is still speechless (well of a language that I can understand anyway). And so it is impossible to know what is keeping her awake or to get her what she needs to go back to sleep. Because she is such a solid and sound sleeper, there is always a reason for her disruption though, and it's just a matter of figuring it out (or giving up and putting the kid on the deck and hoping she's still there in the morning).

Last night went something like this:

10:00 pm: At a very critical point in the second-to-last episode of The Sopranos (recorded on DVD), the Meemers cries out. Joe and I glance at one another. Was that the baby or just a neighborhood cat being skinned alive?

10:00:07 pm: It was the baby. I head upstairs, received by her heightened cry. I break the golden rule and lift our baby girl from her crib. This does nothing to console her so I take her to the changer and swap out her soaked diaper for a new one. Joe brings me a full bottle.

10:21 pm: MeMo is sound asleep. Returning downstairs, we attempt to hit play on the DVD player only to realize that we've been punished by the technology gods. The damn thing is broken! Right when Tony's crew is systematically being wacked! This can't be! After multiple trials of wiping off the DVD, testing out the player with another disc and turning it on and off over a hundred times, we give up and retire to bed.

12:19 am: The Meemers cries out a second time, disturbing my dream racing down a giant ski slope - perhaps in the Andes. Was that the baby or just a neighborhood drunk singing "Swing Low Sweet Chariot"?

12:19:03 am: It's the baby.

12:21 am: Another diaper change - she's soaked again after her 10:00 comfort food feast.

12:31 am: We walk around her room and rock in her chair for a bit. Neither is working. I hear a weird sound outside her window and scramble to the door with the Meemers in my arms, knocking my knee into her gate on the way out. That's gonna leave a mark. I break the second Golden Rule and pull the baby into bed between Joe and me.

12:53 am: After lying still with her woobie for 20 minutes, the Meemers decides it's playtime and begins to poke me in the eyes and mouth. This will not do. Back to her room. (The strange noise was our cat who was locked outside for the night.)

12:54 am: MeMo returns to her crib and falls asleep again (fingers crossed), hopefully for the night.

3:02 am: A cry from the nursery. Was that the baby or the small troll I just saw run across our floor playing his mandolin?

3:02:07 am: I am hallucinating. There was no troll, it was the baby.

3:06 am: Another diaper change. A dose of Tylenol (she's cutting her incisors and has been chomping on her fingers for the past three weeks). I hold her, I rock her. I walk with her. I bring her back into our bed. I take her downstairs. We sing, we laugh, we cry. She is resisting all tactics. Nothing is working. I am nearly out of resources.

3:38 am: I am right on the edge. MeMo doesn't need me and I can't figure out what she needs. I place her in her crib and retreat to her rocking chair. She cries harder and standing in her crib calls "Mama! Mama! Mama!" My heart is breaking. Resorting to a revised Ferber Method, I look at the clock and note the time. Just five minutes. I can do this.

3:40 am: Crying seems to subside a bit.

3:41 am: Crying stops momentarily and then resumes.

3:42 am: Crying stops all together and MeMo lays down in her crib (THANK YOU, GOD!). That wasn't so bad. Silence.

3:43 am: Crying resumes. It's been five minutes. I go to her, ease her back down onto her mattress and cover her with a blanket. She immediately stands in the crib and violently shakes the rails, threatening to tear the thing down. I glance at the clock and note the time. Five more minutes. I CAN do this.

3:48 am: Repeat above cycle from 3:38 - 3:43. My husband opens the door to ask if I need help. I want to gouge out his eyes with hot pokers. The Meemers sees and hears him and cries harder than ever.

3:51 am: Am I making the right decision here? What if she needs me? What if she has food poisoning or contracted SARS and I am just sitting here, feet away from the crib in the dark, never taking my eyes from the clock and counting down the minutes, praying this baby will fall asleep. I am the worst mother ever! I will wind up in hell for this one. What am I doing?

3:52: I hate Dr. Ferber! He is a moron and should have his license revoked!

3:54: Crying stops all together.

3:56: Silence is replaced by a heavy, rhythmic breathing. The Meemers is asleep! Victory! Dr. Ferber is a genius!

3:57: Back to bed, feeling guilty about wanting to gouge out Joe's eyes.

7:00: Alarm sounds. I want to hurl myself off a bridge.

Cuckoo for Coconut Oil? I Guess So!

Since MeMo joined our group, I am constantly on the look-out for healthier, more earth-friendly products to replace the ones I used before becoming a neurotic label reader. We've replaced chemically household cleaners with baking soda, vinegar and Mrs. Myers cleaning products. Instead of chlorine bleach, I disinfect with rubbing alcohol and whiten with Oxo Brite. Peanut butter was tough to kick, but almond butter is nutritionally more valuable. You get the point. I can't save our planet, but I do my part.

Recently, my best friend Maja suggested a product that I wonder how I ever lived without: coconut oil. This magical, edible oil, solid at room temperature, has a mild scent reminiscent of a day spent doused in tanning oil and sipping pina coladas at the beach. A multi-purpose product, coconut oil has been used by tropical cultures for thousands of years and boasts incredible properties that you can't find in most oils. It is naturally anti-microbial, so coconut oil will last longer on your shelf (this I have not been able to prove as I can't keep a jar around long enough), and it has a wonderfully high smoking temperature, making it ideal for stir-frying, sauteeing and even popping corn (recipe below).

Moving out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, coconut oil is a wonderful addition to a beauty routine. Spread a nice thin layer over your face and body for a luxurious, wrinkle-fighting moisturizer. Comb it through your locks, and you have a rejuvenating treatment that leaves your hair shiny and healthy.

In the nursery, I use it to take MeMo's temperature (she's not too crazy about this use) and massage her after her nightly bath (this she loves). And one of my favorite uses, because it's kind of naughty... ah-hem... is in the bedroom. Coconut oil makes for an ideal, all-natural personal lubricant that is fun for everyone involved. I'll let your imagination and creativity run with this one, and no need to report back on what you come up with.

Coconut oil can be found in most health-food stores - we buy ours at Whole Foods. Look for an organic, unrefined version preferably in a glass jar. I like to separate a new jar into three or four containers and store them in the various rooms where they'll be used. After all, no one really wants to cook with the coconut oil after it's spent a night or two on the nightstand!

Coconut Oil Popcorn
This recipe is great because it gets you popcorn lovers away from those eco-naughty microwave popcorn bags and brings you back to your stove top roots.

In a large stockpot place 1 tablespoon coconut oil. Allow it to liquefy over medium heat, then add 1/4 cup popcorn kernels. Cover the pot and shake gently until you no longer hear kernel explosions. Because coconut oil has such a high smoking temperature, you can literally wait until every kernel pops! Sprinkle with sea salt and give the pot a gentle shake to distribute. Make your mother proud and actually put the popped corn into a serving bowl. Enjoy!

The Hunger Strike Smoothie

We eat almost 100% organic. We drink lots of water, eat plenty of fish and green veggies and take a multi vitamin three times a day. The big picture: my husband and I are healthy eaters, with healthy appetites, always interested in trying a new flavor, food or restaurant.

Before MeMo was born we would joke or even worry that she might be a finicky eater. But right from the gates, she proved us wrong. In the hospital, the kid latched right on and swallowed that colostrum like a champ. At home, my milk supply could barely keep up with what she wanted to drink, almost around the clock. At six months, when MeMo took on the title of Solids Eater, we were most pleased to watch her devour nearly anything we were eating. The kid was growing like a bred piglet - under tall and overweight - what more could we hope for?

And then... it all cam crashing down.

About four weeks ago, MeMo tacitly and without warning, declared a hunger strike. She would host private rallies in her high chair, hurling spoons and sending anything green smashing to the floor. At first it was somewhat cute. "Oh look, honey, little MeMo is really developing her own personality." Then it was worrisome "She's eaten only flaxseed waffles for two days now. She's wasting away! (Her weight never budged, it just felt that way at the time.)" And finally, it grew into a frustration so strong that I had to toss a full dish of organic peas, cauliflower and brown rice into the sink before excusing myself to the basement for a good, old fashioned scream.

Weeks went by of trying everything I could think of, from having MeMo's teddy bear feed her to "Mmm, this is delicious! Look Mama's eating it!" I tried applesauce, peaches, avocado, homemade chicken soup and even (gasp!) vanilla flavored yogurt. I used distractions, silly spoons, a stern facial expression, and embarrassing dance moves - all to no avail. The foods this kid once devoured like she was stockpiling for the winter, seemed to disgust her. I knew it was time to get creative, and "pull out the big guns," as my husband likes to say.

Up until this point, MeMo was doing quite well with solid, but soft foods. But after a series of experiments that would make Marie Curie proud, I deducted that texture was one of the major issues on the table (no pun intended, as at this point everything was being thrown off the table). So I hauled out the blender (my biggest gun) and got to work. Below is the smoothie that finally coaxed MeMo from her month-long anti-eating campaign (We're still not sure exactly what cause she was fighting for.).

The Hunger Strike Smoothie:
Get out your blender and don't even bother measuring. Just toss in all things good for babies and kids, and set to whirl. Here are a few suggestions (bearing in mind you've already tested these foods with your kid and are sure they are not allergic to anything listed below):

• Fresh or frozen * organic blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, schnozberries, etc: Antioxidants, fiber and Vitamin C
  
• Fresh, organic spinach leaves (Yes, spinach! The taste is so mild, they'll never know it's in there!): Fiber, calcium, folate and iron
  
• An avocado: "Good fat" and Vitamins K and E
  
• A banana (maybe just half): Vitamin C, potassium, and B6
  
• Plain yogurt: Calcium and protein
  
• Brown rice: Selenium, manganese and protein
  
• Fresh or frozen peas: Protein, Vitamin A, niacin
  
• Fresh or frozen peaches, pears and/or mangoes: Vitamin C
  
• You may need to add a bit of water, breast milk, formula or whole milk (kids over one year), if your blender has a tough time cutting through all of this wholesome goodness.
  

* Organic is best to avoid harmful pesticides, particularly with spinach and berries which grow close to the ground. All produce should be thoroughly washed for at least 30 seconds under cool water.

Depending on the consistency (and your patience), you can spoon feed this smoothie to your kid, or let them drink it from a cup. Pour this concoction into ice cube trays and store the cubes in an airtight container for up to 3 months in your freezer. To defrost, place cubes in the fridge for a few hours or make a warm water bath on the stove top. Never use the microwave to heat or defrost your kids' food as it emits radiation and can compromise the nutritional integrity.

Good luck and happy eating to your little activist!

Removable Teeth

I come from an unfortunate long line of bad teeth. Among my ancestry are also a team of chocolate lovers, carb addicts and sweet tooths (teeth?). I am traveling up a branching family tree of dental bills and fake teeth. But I won't have this - I just won't.

During a visit to my mom's house this past winter, one of her long-time friends stopped by after her own visit to the dentist. Her teeth are also in terrible shape and her dentist advised her that the only way she could prevent the ones she had left, from rotting clean out of her head, was to buy a Water Pik.

A Water Pik? Do they even still make these things? Had I ever even seen one up close? The contraption that sat on my grandparents' bathroom vanity, sprouting hoses and buttons, now that may have been a Water Pik, but all this time, I assumed it was a denture cleaning device.

Overcome by curiosity and and a slightly obsessive-compulsive dental hygiene routine, I decided to pick up (no pun intended) a Water Pik myself. And boy, am I glad I did! For the bargain price of $29.99, I now own an incredible, cordless hand-held device that makes my teeth feel as clean as they do after a full-on dental cleaning! And the best part is, watching the amount of junk fly from your mouth into the sink. Instant gratification - now that's what I'm talking about!

Now I Blog

For months my husband, a true technophile, has been urging me to create a blog. "You talk a lot, so you should be able to write a lot," he tells me - encouraging me in his own special way. So here I am, finally catching up with the rest of the modern world, a blogger. Now... where to begin?

I stay at home with our now 11 month-old baby girl. When our little MeMo (a nickname adoringly issued at 4 weeks) was born, controversy was ringing through Hollywood over the birth and lock down of baby Suri Cruise (daughter of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, for those of you living in caves). Where was this infant, rumored to have a full head of jet black hair, famous before she was even born? Did she really exist?

The media frenzy over little Suri sucked me in like a vacuum cleaner with a freshly changed bag. I checked in nightly with E! News, madly flipped through every celebrity gossip magazine in the grocery check-out line, and Googled "Suri" at least twice a day, in hopes that the Cruise Compound had released a photo of this mystery child. And then I had an idea.

Using fabric paints, I scrawled in my neatest handwriting the words "Free Suri" across the chest of one of the thousands of plain white onesies we'd been given for our daughter (always under the pretense that "You know, you can never have too many onesies!") and took pictures of MeMo. Later that week, I sent the photos to our friends and family. I received a mountain of feedback, including one person telling me about my own idea (forgetting it was me who came up with the idea in the first place) and referring to the "Free Suri" onesie as the "funniest kid's shirt [they'd] ever seen!" Wow!

Aside from being computer savvy, my husband is also a born entrepreneur. To Joe, positive feedback doesn't equate to mere compliments. Positive feedback equals sales. A week later, he sent me an email containing a rough, but easy to follow, step-by-step plan to launch an online specialty onesie business. A dash of my creativity and a quick lesson in html, shopping carts and shipping rates and we were up and running. Hence the birth of MeMoBaby.com.

My mind races on long after I lay down to bed each night. Eyes wide, I am constantly brainstorming about new onesie ideas and ways to get the word out about our fabulous products and how we are hipply outfitting babies while also trying to save the world (MeMoBaby.com is a green company).

It's been an interesting journey so far, trying to balance my time between our (still relatively) newborn and this business that took off like a cheater in a foot race. Every day presents a new reward and challenge. But most of all, starting MeMoBaby helped me to regain some of the identity most women lose when we devote our lives to our children.

I hope you enjoy our goods and also that you feel good about our products and your contribution to making things a little easier on Mother Earth.