Bits of Random, Mom Edition

I’ve been having all these random ideas and thoughts floating around for a while that I’ve wanted to share, but none of them are really enough to support an entire post on its own so I’ve decided to combine them into a Bits of Random, Mom Edition.


Irrational Fears: As moms, we all have our share of irrational fears and things that give us the heebie jeebies. Some women shudder with disgust at the thought of putting their children in shopping carts without first sanitizing them. Some women are convinced that everyone (with the exception of their immediate family) is a pedophile and/or a kidnapper hell bent on snatching their little one.

My two fears that absolutely freak me the heck out: eating in the car and play structures.

Every single time the Littlest Brewster eats in the car, I am convinced that she is going to choke and I’m not going to realize it and I’m going to look back and have a dead toddler in my back seat. Because, you know, choking can be totally silent. If they’re coughing, it means they can get some air. So despite the fact that LB has a full complement of teeth (well, except for her 2-year molars) and is an eating machine, I am terrified. But sometimes, there’s no way around it and she gets a snack in the car. And the entire time, I alternate between looking at the road (as I should be) and snatching glances of her in the mirror over the back seat (which I should not be) to assure myself that she’s still alive. I have been known to reach back and poke her if she gets too quiet. I can’t wait until we turn her carseat around and it’s then slightly easier to assure myself that she has not, in fact, choked on piece of cracker.

Also, play structures scare the bejeezus out of me. And I know this is extra crazy because for Heaven’s sake, we put one in our backyard! But the little fort at the top (all of 4 feet from the ground) has me practically shaking in my boots. I am just waiting for the day that the Littlest Brewster, with her lack of judgment coupled with toddler exuberance, goes tumbling out of one of the doorways and busts her face or breaks her arm. And I know it will happen. It’s inevitable that, at some point, your child will fall and bust his or her face. And it will probably be a lot less awful than I anticipate and I will then be able to calmly let my daughter romp all over the park and the backyard because I will have been there, done that. But until that day, I am terrified. We went to the park last weekend and anytime she came near an edge on the playset, I wanted to reach out and snatch the back of her coat and yank her back from the precipice.

Irrational Fear~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something I thought would be a really good idea but turned out to suck: melting crayon bits down to make bigger toddler-friendly crayons. I thought that the bigger crayons would be way easier for LB to use and that she would love coloring with them. Wrong. Because they’re round, there’s not an actual point to use for coloring. So the lines you can make with them are really faint. And they’re actually kind of hard for LB to grip. She preferred her regular crayons, tiny nubs and all, to these. So I’m thinking I may toss them and just buy her a new pack of Crayola. I’m not saying that your kid will hate them like my kid does, I’m just saying that it’s not this magical fun craft like I thought it would be.


Something that has made me much happier with the state of affairs in our living room: a Threshold Storage Ottoman from Target. I had been thinking about getting one for forever and finally bit the bullet a few weeks ago and got that one in brown. The shoe dividers come out so it’s a nice big box where I can stow all of the Littlest Brewster’s crap toys at the end of the day. Before, we were using a variety of mismatched bins to put her stuff in and it just looked messy. Now it actually looks neat and not like a toddler-tornado has been on a rampage. And if you look, it is currently on sale for slightly less than list price. So that’s a bonus.


The Littlest Brewster has bid adieu to one of the last vestiges of babyhood: the pacifier. She was only using it at night time and for weekend naps, but she loved her pacifier. Monday night I noticed that she had a raw spot on her chin where her paci was rubbing her already dry skin. We had been debating how and when to go about getting rid of it but that decided us – cold turkey, that night. All during bath time I talked to her about what a big girl she was and how big girls didn’t use pacifiers and only babies used pacifiers and she wasn’t a baby, was she? She was pretty good and kept telling me, “No baby! No pacifier!” Until it actually came time to get in bed and she realized the pacifier was not forthcoming. Then we had a bit of shitfit. But she only cried for about 10 minutes and then went to sleep. And in the morning, she told me (numerous times) “No pacifier! No baby! Big girl!” The next night, bed time was even better and she didn’t cry at all, only told me “No Pacifier!” And the next night, not a peep about it. So it went much better than I had thought it would, much to my relief. Although it is kind of sad to see my baby growing up. God only knows what I’m going to do when she moves to a big girl bed…


Last but not least, a few things about the baby:

We’ve been calling the bun in the oven Squirt at home, but I decided that the little monkey’s blog name will be BIT for Brewer/Brewster-In-Training. So when you see BIT, we’re talking about the baby.

I’m due June 10th. For those of you who are shitty at counting or want an easy way to keep track of it, here’s a ticker:
AlternaTickers - Cool, free Web tickersAnd I’ve also added the ticker to our “About” page, so you can check it there if you forget just how knocked up I am.

We are assholes old-fashioned parents who do not find out the sex of our baby before he/she arrives. With the Littlest Brewster, on even days I called her a her and odd days I called him a him. I don’t know if I’ll do the same thing with this one or just refer to BIT as BIT, but if I slip in a gender-specific pronoun, don’t get excited because it doesn’t mean anything. You’ll have to wait to find out just like the rest of us. And then we will know if it is Brewer-In-Training or Brewster-In-Training.

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