I'm ba-ack!

So, I've been doing other things.

During my blog hiatus that I didn't really intend to take:

• Atticus turned a bunch of months older. He's now 10 months old, crawls, is thisclose to walking, has 2 full teeth and two PITA almost-here teeth, has an absolutely voracious appetite but hates apples and anything citrus, gained approximately two pounds, and attempted to crawl out of his crib, but I caught him straddling the rail when he got stuck. 
• We caught norovirus. I lost 7.5 pounds in just a few hours. While barfing my guts up, I shat all over the floor. It was disgusting. Atticus had intestinal damage from the continuous barfing and diarrhea, so the diarrhea continued for him for OVER TWO WEEKS. Thank God for cloth diapers. I know that those disposable diapers would not have held in the massive, liquid poop explosions that occurred pretty much hourly. 
• We continued to cloth diaper, breast feed, and yell at people for saying stupid things about cloth diapers and breast feeding. 
• I watched every episode in the history of the following TV shows: Keeping Up with the Kardashians (and all of their spin offs), Switched at Birth, The Secret Life of the American Teenager, and Mad Men. 
• I made and ate lots of cookies that I called "lactation" so that Michael wouldn't think I was baking and eating cookies just to eat. 
• I judged lots of people for doing lots of stupid things, but I kept it (mostly) to myself, so that's an improvement over previous years. 
• I weeded through the 86 (yes, 86) voicemails that I didn't listen to in 2011. I signed up for Google Voice so I can get text messages of voicemails instead. Whatever. The text messages make absolutely no sense, and I'm not sure that it's an improvement over my previous system.

Maybe I'll get back to blogging. We shall see. 

I Have Failed.

Since I got pregnant approximately 15 months ago, I have blabbed on and on about the benefits of breast feeding to my husband.  He read The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding along with me, supported my desire to join the La Leche League, and takes up for me when people say dumb stuff like, "Atticus is six months old.  Haven't you weaned him yet?"  He's perfectly okay with me nursing into the toddler years, and he's always praised me to others for my desire and determination to not give our son anything but breastmilk. 

That being said...

He's a breastfeeding nazi. 

This past weekend, we were at a local bowling alley celebrating a few birthdays in Michael's family.  There was a small baby with her parents one lane over.  She was probably two or three months old.  We admired her cuteness from afar, and I went to take my bowling turn.  I came back from my strike (I totally beat everyone there - by 60 points), sat down, turned to Michael to gloat, and he slapped me on my leg. 

m: Look at that baby.

a: What about her?

m: <points emphatically>

a: <shruggs>

m: THEY ARE FEEDING HER FORMULA. 

a: Okay. 

m: Do you think she knows that breastmilk is better?  I bet that baby has a snotty nose.  I can't believe this.  Do you think she even tried to breastfeed?  I bet she didn't.  I bet she just wanted to be lazy.  That baby isn't very old.  She can probably re-lactate.  Do you want to go talk to her? 

a: <sigh> Please be quiet. 

That went on for four bowlers, and then it was Michael's turn again.  Thank God.  I went after him (another strike) and returned to my seat beside him. 

m: Seriously.  That baby has been eating forever.  No wonder she's so fat. They're over-feeding her.  You know, you can't over-feed a breastfed baby. 

a: They're not over-feeding her.  I think it takes longer to feed a baby from a bottle than from the boob.  (Does it?  I have no idea.  I pulled it from my butt to get Michael to be quiet.  He bought it - hook, line, and sinker). 

...

Fast forward a couple of days, and we had some people at our house doing some estimates.  We were sitting through a presentation, Atticus was fussy, and I pulled out my boob (under a cover) to feed him.  

sales guy:  Oh, you're breastfeeding?  That's great.  Our son was almost nine pounds when he was born, so my wife never tried to breastfeed.  There's no way she could have kept up with him, so we just went with formula from the beginning. 

m:  Atticus was nine pounds, five ounces, and he's never had formula!  Ashley is a wonderful mother. <beams with pride>

a: Uh, well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go take a crap.  Like, right now. (Because that was less awkward than having to sit there). 

...

Don't misunderstand me.  Breast.  Is.  Best.   It's a proven fact, and it's not worth arguing over.  

I don't eat vegetables.  I don't eat any of them.  None.  I don't like them, and that's not likely to change.  I'm not dying because I don't eat them, and a baby is not going to die because it was fed formula instead of breast milk.  That, my blog friends, is also not worth arguing over. 

We are fortunate to live in America.  We can say what we want, carry guns, vote for the candidate of our choice, and some people even abort babies and (gasp) formula feed.  

While I am very happy that my husband is joining me in "lactivist" status, I wish he would try to educate and support, not belittle and judge.  

We should all strive to do that, myself included.  

Weekend Wrap-up

I finally received my Erin Condren Life Planner.  Man oh man, I love this thing.

My Erin Condren Life Planner

Unfortunately, our house is on the end of the UPS route, so Michael happened to be home when the truck delivered it.  I was out buying groceries or something, so he opened the package.  He saw the invoice (to which I had applied a 10% coupon!!!) and made numerous comments about how in the heck I could spent $53 on a planner.  I didn't go in debt to purchase it, and the money was there in the budget, but since I handle those things, Michael didn't know it.  In my head, I vowed to carry around the life planner and kiss it frequently in Michael's presence, even if I hated it.

I don't hate it.  I really do love it.  If you're looking for a planner, I recommend this one.

We usually move to the boat for at least a few weeks each year (as opposed to spending the weekends there like we've been doing this year).  We've been staying there since Thursday of last week with intentions to stay through next weekend.  It's been going great.  Atticus drove us to dinner on Saturday night. :)

Here's another shot with me just to prove that he does usually wear a life jacket.

I've had a couple people ask how we sleep on the boat.  I imagine in their head we must be sleeping on a pontoon boat in a tent or something. :)

We have a 41' Chris Craft with two state rooms (bedrooms), two heads (bathrooms), a galley (kitchen), and a saloon (living room).  Atticus' pack and play has too large of a footprint to fit in the guest stateroom, so its set up in the saloon.  We do plan to encourage him to sleep in the bed as soon as possible so we can regain use of the living area on the boat, but he's just not ready yet.  Michael and I sleep in the master stateroom as usual.

Staying on the boat is nice because I can put Atticus to bed, take a walkie talkie (noise activated on his end), and go socialize in the club house only 200 or so feet away.  Well, it's nice for now.  He can't stand up or get out of his pack and play, so there's not danger of him falling in the lake.  We'll cross the mobile bridge when we come to it.

***

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it on my blog yet, but we are teaching Atticus sign language.  We have a hearing impaired acquaintance, and although I know the ASL alphabet, it's time consuming to communicate with it.  Michael is bilingual (English and Japanese - he was an exchange student in Japan).  I am not.  I would like to be, and I'd like for Atticus to be able to communicate with us long before he's able to vocally do so.  So?  American Sign Language it is.

We've been watching Baby Signing Time, Vol. 1 for a couple days now. Obviously, Atticus hasn't signed anything to me yet, but he is VERY interested in watching it.  Rachel Coleman, the personality and creator of Signing Time, rides the fine line between obnoxious and entertaining.  She does a wonderful job, and Atticus eats it up with a spoon.  After watching the DVD just one time, I knew and could use:

eat, drink, water, cereal, cracker, milk, banana, juice, all done, mom, grandma, dad, grandpa, hurt, where, more, dog, cat, horse, bird, fish, diaper

The songs are incredibly easy but catchy, so it's easy to learn.

From a book, I had also learned boat, bath, book, and nurse/breastmilk.

Anyway, we are signing to Atticus when we remember with the hope that in a few months, he'll sign back. :)

That's what we were up to this weekend.

Can Boobs Get Performance Anxiety?

Atticus turned 6 months old on the 7th.  Today, the 8th, was his 6-month well visit.

At his four-month visit, he weighed 15 lbs, 10.5 oz.  Today, he weighed 16 lbs, 6 oz.

That's a weight gain of ...  10 ounces.  In. Two.  Months.

He went from 50-75% to around 25%.

What Atticus' doctor said: Well, he's only gained 10 ounces in two months.  He's either finding a new spot on the growth curve, or something's going on that we need to be concerned about.  We're just going to watch him to make sure it's a new spot on the chart.  Why don't you bring him back 6 weeks from now for a weight check, and we'll reevaluate everything at his 9-month well visit?


What I heard: Your breast milk sucks.  You're starving your baby.  I can't believe you haven't started him on solids yet.  You're a terrible mother.  Formula!!!!! 


What I wanted to say: You bastard!  My son is perfect!  How dare you imply that something may be wrong with him or my super-awesome-wonderful milk?!?!


What I really did say: I'm not giving him formula.  He is happy, sleeps great, and is meeting all of his milestones.  


*****

The doctor never mentioned formula.  He never mentioned that anything might be wrong, per say, but the fact that Atticus has gone from 90% at birth to 75-90% at two months, 50-75% at four months, and 25% at six months kind of sucks.   He did reiterate that he wasn't asking me to give him formula or to rush ahead with baby-led weaning.  He said to keep on keeping on, and that everything is probably fine. At Atticus' weight check in six weeks, they would like for him to weigh about 17.5 lbs to stay on his "new" spot on the growth chart.  I hope my boobs don't get performance anxiety like my brain has.

Everything is probably fine, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like a shitty mom today.

*****

UPDATE:

I found this excerpt on kellymom.com:

Growth charts and breastfed baby growth

I have heard of many breastfed babies (including my own) whose doctor was disturbed at some point because the baby wasn't gaining weight quickly enough, even though the baby was well within the above parameters for weight gain. The problem is that many doctors are not familiar with the normal weight gain patterns of breastfed babies, and rely too much upon standard growth charts.

Healthy breastfed infants tend to grow more rapidly than formula-fed infants in the first 2-3 months of life and less rapidly from 3 to 12 months. All growth charts available at this time include data from infants who were not exclusively breastfed for the first 6 months (includes formula-fed infants and those starting solids before the recommended 6 months). Because many doctors are not aware of this, they see the baby dropping in percentiles on the growth chart and often come to the faulty conclusion that the baby is not growing adequately. At this point they often recommend that the mother (unnecessarily) supplement with formula or solids, and sometimes recommend that they stop breastfeeding altogether. Even if mom realizes that her baby is perfectly healthy and doesn't follow these unnecessary recommendations, she ends up worrying for no reason (and moms don't need anything extra to worry about!).

Our "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child" Experience, Part 6 - Two Months Later/After Vacation

I've been blogging about our sleep training experience.  We read the book "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child," by Dr. Marc Weissbluth because our son started waking up eleven times in seven hours.  Within two days, he was sleeping at night and getting two naps in during the day.

Today is Atticus' six month birthday, and we are two months into sleep training.  We also just returned from a beach trip on Monday.

It's going great.  Atticus has been going to bed each night around 7:00-7:30 (bath, lotion, boob, book, bed).  Occasionally, he will sleep all the way to 8:00 the next day, but he usually wakes between 5:00 and 6:30 am to eat.   It's a quick meal on the boob, and he goes back to sleep pretty much as soon as I put him back in his crib.  He gets up for the day between 7:45 and 8:30.

His morning nap starts around 9, if not sooner.  I swear, I never would have guessed that babies need a nap so shortly after waking for the day, but his temperament is so much better if he gets this nap.  He sleeps until about 10:30 or 11:00.

His afternoon nap starts between 12:30 and 1:30 - whenever he is starting to show signs of tiredness.  Occasionally, he'll fuss for a minute or two, but he typically goes right to sleep.  He wakes between 3:00 and 3:30.

People are always commenting that he's such a happy baby.  I 100% attribute his attitude to the fact that he's getting enough sleep.  He really only fusses when he's tired.

For Labor Day weekend, we went to the beach.  We stayed in a house with my parents, and Atticus slept in a pack and play in our bedroom.  Oh. My. Gosh.  I didn't sleep at all.  Well, I did sleep, but I woke up every time Atticus would stir.  Most nights it was 3-4 times, and he'd wake up for the day at 6 instead of around 8.  I truly don't understand how people can co-sleep or co-room.  Neither of us slept well because we were in the same room.  He was not getting his regular naps during the day, either.  He was forced to nap in the car or in the Ergo, but according to Dr. Weissbluth, babies can overcome and adapt to a change in their schedule if happens occasionally.  His mood didn't suffer, but his (and my) sleep sure did.

The ride home on Monday (Labor Day) took 12 hours instead of 8, and Atticus had to nap and go to sleep for the night in his car seat.  I felt terrible about it, but well, he has to ride in his car seat.  :(  He is a 100% belly sleeper, so it took him a few minutes (and a little bit of fussing) to fall asleep in a reclining position.

We arrived home around 9 pm, and I took Atticus from his car seat and placed him in his bed.  He woke up, but went right back to sleep.  Jackpot.  I went to bed, but Michael woke me up at 11.  Our area had gotten over 8" of rain that day, and trees were falling because of the super soggy ground.  A tree had fallen outside of Atticus' room, and there was another one was leaning and about to fall on our house.  He wanted us to go sleep on the boat for the rest of the night.

I was supposed to interrupt Atticus' sleep again? Ugh.  I did.  Obviously.  I didn't want him to wake up under a tree.  (Or worse....)  I put him in his car seat, drove the .9 of a mile to the boat, and waited on Michael to unload the pack and play from his car and set it up on the boat.  When he came walking back up the dock, I got Atticus out of the car seat and took him to the boat.  He went right back to sleep, so I grabbed the voice activated walkie talkie we use for walking the club's premises, and Michael and I went to check out the damage.  I was convinced that since we had interrupted his sleep so many times that the night's sleep would be terrible.   He didn't wake up until 6 am.  He ate, went back to sleep, and woke up at 7:30 when I got him up to come home and check on the house.  (No trees)!

His naps yesterday were regular time and length.  He went to bed at 7:45 and slept straight until 6:30 this morning.  I fed him, and he went back to sleep until 9.  At 9:30, he went down for his nap, and he's still sleeping.

Dr. Weissbluth was right.  Babies are pretty adaptable.  If you help them get regular sleep most of the time, they'll be fine when they don't get it.  When they're returned to their normal environment, they make up for lost sleep and act like nothing has changed.

My Sh*t List - August 31, 2011

• I went to Sephora the other day to pick up the gift cards for the give away winners.  I had an embarrassing amount of Beauty Insider points, and there were some Murad samples available, so I redeemed the points for the Murad goodies.  STAY AWAY FROM THE MURAD.  Of course I loved one of the products, but after looking it up online, I decided not to buy it.  It was $150.  I do believe in buying quality products, but I will have no wrinkles to repair if I'm dead because Michael killed me for spending all of our money on face cream. 
• Elvira the beagle is on my list.  She did the second word of the title of this blog in my dining room three times this week.  Ugh.  I don't particularly love cleaning up my son's poop, and he's not potty trained.  Elvira is, so I don't really understand why she felt the need to leave big fat craps for me to pick up. 
• Michael is on my list.  He doesn't wear blue jeans.  He doesn't own any.  He hates them.  He prefers green jeans.  I know.  He completes his signature look with a pocket t-shirt and Red Wing boots.  I hate it, but after almost seven years together, I've learned to live with it.  When it's important that he looks nice, he lets me play dress up with him, and he often willingly wears a tuxedo.  This summer, however, he decided he'd like to add shorts to his rotation.  I obviously lied and told him that they don't make green jean shorts (that would be worn with pocket t-shirts, tall white socks, and Red Wing boots).  He requested that I find some jean shorts that are not blue (ew) or khaki shorts that are not khaki colored.  I returned home with five pairs of green, dark brown, and navy blue Izod shorts and a few Ralph Lauren pocket t-shirts.  He seemed happy enough with my purchases, and between the shoulders and knees, he resembled a normal male.  (He still wears his captain's hat and Red Wing boots every. single. day).  It has been THREE weeks since he's been wearing the shorts, and he's already ripped two pairs.  Rather than put in my mending pile or toss them, he keeps wearing them.  This annoys me.  Big time.

Michael's uniform.

The captain's hat that Michael wears everywhere.
Yes, even on planes.

• I decided that I hate nursing bras, so I raided my small bra (small as in few bras, not small size) stash for underwire-free bras.  I found one.  Right size.  Pale pink.  Lacy.  Molded cups.  Jackpot.  I wore it and wore it and wore it.  And then I washed it.  Stupid hooks.  Of course, this bra is discontinued.  I know you're supposed to hand wash and line dry bras, but does anyone really do that?

Stupid bra.

• The trash.  I recently started meal planning.  That's worked out great for the grocery list and the amount of food that goes nasty in the fridge.  However, I had to clean out the grossness of the refrigerator before I put all of my new groceries in there.  The trash truck comes on Wednesdays.  Guess when I cleaned out the fridge?  Wednesday night.  It's 95* outside.  BAM.  My back porch smelled like the second word of the title of this post. 

Anything on your sh*t list this week?  Please tell me I'm not the only one complaining about petty stuff. :)

Weekend Wrap Up - Gift Card Winners

We had a great weekend.  Michael did have to go into work for a little while both days, but since his job allows me to stay home with Atticus, I try not to complain (much).

First things first:

I hate the nuts on drumsticks.  If I could have three wishes, one of them would be for no more nuts in brownies or ice cream.

I was feeding Atticus in the bed the other day, and I realized he takes after me.  He likes to touch and rub the covers.   (That's Mr. Quackles, my stuffed duck, beside him.  Michael gave Mr. Quackles to me before my first heart surgery because I was so scared.  I'm 27 years old, and I still sleep with a stuffed animal every night.  He makes a good pillow.  Don't judge me). 

I love cleaning wipes that come in a jar like this, but apparently, I'm an idiot and can't figure out how to use the dispenser without jamming it each and every time.  Are you supposed to pull wipes from the center?  Or from the outside?  I think neither because mine always get messed up. 

I paid bills on Friday, and this was the pile of trash after.  This pile of paper resulted in ..... five whole checks.  I need to be removed from some mailing lists, STAT. 

Maggie (my niece) and Atticus in Atticus' stroller. :)

OH MY GOODNESS.  AVERT YOUR EYES.  THERE IS SOMEONE NURSING IN THE PICTURE BELOW!

Yeah, that's me.  Look at that picture again.  Isn't is so incredibly offensive?  (sigh)  A few days ago, one of the news stations in our area posted a question of the day about women nursing in restaurants.  I was appalled by some of the comments.  

At least I wasn't in the restaurant like this - 

For the record, I always always always use a cover if anyone other than my husband is there.  Michael, Atticus, and I took the ski boat to dinner on Saturday night. 

Atticus drove us to the restaurant Saturday night.  He was sitting in Michael's lap, found the throttle, and kept flooring it.  It was so funny, so I had to make a video. 

(Yes, Atticus has a life jacket.  Yes, he usually wears one).

And finally, the give away winners.

It took 17 wipes to clean up Atticus' massive crapfest, so Johanna, you really did win! :)

And random.org gave me the number 2, so Lauren Lashlee, you win too!

Ladies, email me at ashleyhagaman @ gmail by Wednesday morning at 10 to claim your prize.  Let me know if you'd like a gift card to amazon or sephora in your email.

That's it for today.  Hope you all have a wonderful Monday!

FAQs

It seems that I'm asked the same questions over and over again.  :)  I decided it would be easier to just add answers to these questions under a "FAQ Page" at the top of the blog.

If you have a question in addition to these, leave it in the comments, and I'll either answer it there.

I'm so impressed that you use cloth diapers!  Isn't that hard/gross/unnecessary?
No need to be impressed, folks.  I'm quite lazy.

I don't use flats, prefolds, or safety pins.  All of the diapers we have function much like disposables except we I throw them in the washer instead of the trash.  I was a little scared before we started using them.  I had bought all of this cloth diapering stuff, and I was afraid that I'd have to eat crow if I ended up hating them.  It's been a bunch of months now, and I don't hate them.  Instead, I love them and can't imagine using anything else.  In fact, cloth diapers are so loved in this house that we used them exclusively when we flew to NYC for a vacation.

I know they're not for everyone, but if you have one iota of a thought that you might like to try them, please do.  Buy one or two diapers, and work them into your rotation.  Worse case scenario, you can sell them used for about half of what you paid for them.  Best case scenario, you will fall in love with them like pretty much everyone else who has tried them, save lots of money, possibly potty train sooner, and deal with much less diaper rash.

I've done two posts on cloth diapers so far (Cloth Diapers - The Hagaboater Way and Cloth Diaper Update), but if you have any other questions, please leave a comment or ask anyone else who CDs.  I promise, we all love to talk about them.  :)

Do you label yourself an "attachment parent?" Why or why not?  You seem to follow a lot of AP ideas.
No, I don't.  I label our parenting style, "We Do What We Feel is Best for Us and Our Child(ren) Based on Research and Intuition." Although I agree with some of what Dr. Sears says to do, I don't necessarily agree with why he says to do it.

I am a SAHM.  We waited to have kids until we could afford for me to be home with them.  I know that not everyone is fortunate enough to have a parent at home, but it was something that was important to us, so we made it happen.

We don't co-sleep.  Never have.  Never will.  I never, not once ever, slept in the bed with my parents.  My dad was on a business trip once, and it was storming.  My mom assumed I'd be scared, so she picked me up out of my bed and put me in bed with her.  I promptly screamed and demanded that I be put back in my own bed.  I was three.  I like my space to sleep.  I've never really felt super tired or worn out since Atticus was born except for the couple of days before we started sleep training.  I attribute this to getting good quality sleep when I can.  I'm in our room, he's in his, and we no longer use a monitor (at home - we do on the boat).  Also, Michael has to get up in the mornings and go to work so that I can stay home.  Keeping Atticus in our room/our bed would be detrimental to his sleep, and it was important to us and our marriage that we sleep in the same bed.

I do breast feed, and we're introducing solids by Baby-Led Weaning.  I do believe that breast is best, so as long as my breastaurant serves milk, my babies will eat there.  I plan to nurse until sometime between 18 and 24 months, but I'm trying not to get ahead of myself.  I'm not there yet, and I don't know what my/Atticus' feelings will be by then.  Baby-Led Weaning is happening for a few reasons.  I initially planned to make baby food because I think the stuff in the jars looks nasty, but I decided I'm too lazy to do that.  After a bit of research on the way a baby's digestive system develops and the way their tongue and gag reflexes work, purees and "baby food" didn't seem necessary to me.  Cereal is being skipped because I feel like Atticus' stomach is prime real estate, and I don't want to put cereal in it when breast milk is more nutritionally beneficial to him.  So, baby-led weaning it is.  We haven't started yet, but I'll be sure to post when we do.

I also baby-wear a lot.  A lot of our life happens away from home, and it's not very easy to put Atticus down in all of these places.  Plus, I figured out super quickly that I can get more done in the house if I carry him around with me sometimes.  I do not subscribe to the theory that babies need to be held all of the time, and except for when he was very young, Atticus hasn't been allowed to nap on me.

The discipline issues have not come up yet, so I don't necessarily know how we will handle them.  However, Michael and I were both spanked as children, and I do believe that spanking is an effective form of punishment.

Did I miss any AP stuff?

Oh.  We do vaccinate.  He is circumcised.  I don't give him vitamin supplements.  We're teaching him sign language.  I think that's all....



What kind of camera do you have?  Your pictures are really good.
Thank you.  I have a Nikon D60.  I don't know how to use it.  I try to use as much natural light as possible, and I turn off the light.  Other than that, I take tons of pictures in hopes that some of them will turn out.


Is that your natural hair color?
Yes, I'm a natural redhead.  I've never dyed my hair.

If you have other questions, please leave them in the comments.

How Many Wipes Does It Take AND The First Give Away

Yesterday, Atticus pooped for the first time in 9 days.

I know, I know.  NINE days.  (!!!!!!!!!)

But I had googled it, and all of the internets I read told me that it's fine since he's still exclusively on the boob.  Breastmilk is so incredibly efficient (magic potion-like, if you will) that there's not a lot of waste, so there's not really a lot of poop once his digestive system figures out what it's supposed to do.  I don't really LOVE cleaning up poop, so I didn't medicate Atticus with prune juice or whatever to get things moving on their way.  He seemed to be fine, and I figured he'd go when he needed to go.

Eh.  Um.  Well.  He went.

He was sleeping so peacefully in his crib during his morning nap.  I was reading about Lizzy McGuire Hillary Duff's pregnancy online, and he started screaming bloody freaking murder.  I thought for a second my super masculine little boy, dressed up in a smocked Anavini outfit and red saddle shoes that I may or may not have purchased off the little girls' sale shelf, had been replaced with a pansy or a little girl, but I quickly realized that something was probably wrong.  It took about .00000092373 seconds to realize, upon entering his room, that he had indeed shat himself.

(This is one of those times that I'd like to thank the inventors of modern day cloth diapers.  I know, KNOW, beyond the shadow of doubt, that one of those disposable diapers would not have held in the lava explosion from Atticus' volcanic exit-only hole.  I KNOW it.   His sheet, cute outfit, and socks were spared.  I only wish the same could be said for my hands).


It was the biggest pile of crap I've ever seen, and I've seen lots of piles of crap.  My brother doesn't flush the toilet, like, ever.

While I was standing over the changing table obsessively counting wipe after wipe, I thought to myself: Self, this would be a great time for your first blog contest and give away! 


The Prize: Do two (2) $10 gift cards to Sephora (or Amazon, if you'd rather have Amazon) sound good to you?  I like Sephora a lot.  I like Amazon too.  I guess you can pick if you win. ;)

How to Enter:  You can enter twice (2 times, for those of you who don't know what twice means).

1 - Leave a comment with your guess as to how many wipes it took to clean up the mess.

2 - Leave a comment telling me how you read this blog.  Do you subscribe via google reader?  Email subscription?  Or do you type in thehagaboaters.blogspot.com each and every single time you want to see what I'm up to (stalker)?

The Fine Print:  The first person who guesses the correct number (and I've already texted my mom the answer, so I can't lie) of wipes wins a gift card.  If no one gets it correct, I'll spend the gift card on myself.  :)  I'll use random.org or some other random number generator to get the winner of the other gift card.  You have until this Sunday, the 21st, to enter.  I'll post the winner in a blog entry next week, and you'll have 48 hours to contact me with your contact information to get your prize.  10-4?  Over and out.

Good luck.

Once Upon a Bra - A True Story

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Ashley.

She had red hair and freckles.

When Ashley was in elementary school, she grew boobies before all of her friends.  As Ashley was a tomboy, complete with chili bowl haircut,  and a softball player (pitcher), she did not feel the need to greet her new friends with the welcome wagon.

Instead, she covered them up with sweatshirts.

In 90 degree weather, at softball games, and at the pool, Ashley wore sweatshirts exclusively for two years.  The purpose of the sweatshirts was threefold: 1) to get out of wearing a bra; 2) to hide the boobies, and 3) to get out of wearing a bra.

Ashley's mom begged her to wear a bra, and eventually got her to wear one when she went to 6th grade, but Ashley took them off and hid them under her bed as soon as she got home from school.  Bras were closely related to boogie men and monsters, and all things evil and scary belonged with the dust bunnies.

Soon Ashley's boobies grew so much that she had to wear a bra like, all the time.  Ashley did so, but only sports bras because they helped decrease the bounciness of her enemies.  That continued for a few years until Ashley discovered Vicki's, like every other 9th grade girl.  Ashley + Pretty bras with underwire + $35 price tag = BF4E&E.

Ashley's boobies eventually grew to DDs at Vicki's, and everyone still got along great.

Ashley got pregnant.  Ashley gained an amount of weight that can be most accurately described as a "shit ton."  She had the baby.  She started breastfeeding.  Her boobies went back down to their normal size, but in an effort to take better care of "Chocolate Milk" and "Whole Milk," she got measured for an accurate bra size.

32E.

32E?  Where does Ashley buy those bras? She has to order them.  Oh, and they cost eleventy billion dollars (Or $69) each.

Until one day, Ashley died and went to a store that must resemble smocked clothing and maternity clothes heaven, and she stumbled upon some Bravado nursing bras, 50% off.

32E.  For $19.

The thought crossed Ashley's mind that she really might have died because she truly was in well-fitting, OMGTheyHaveMYSize, bra heaven.

The end.

PS Ashley didn't die.  Her son peed on her later that evening while she was wearing the new bra.  Babies don't pee on their mommies in heaven.