Keep on Lactating and Save on Groceries For The Whole Family!

Posted on June 11, 2013 by ashersmom

You know that moment when you need to cook something for dinner but you haven’t been to the grocery store for a week? So you go to your freezer and are finally motivated enough to bend all the way down and move aside the ice crystal-covered frozen peas and half-black bunches of bananas that’ve colonized the lower shelves since 2010 to see if you can find something?

That was me this weekend. I didn’t find any elusive ground beef but I did find something else nutritious.

One lonely, forlorn bag of freezer-burned breast milk had somehow escaped that final week of “I’m done breastfeeding so now let’s use up this frozen stuff and get our freezer space back.”

There it was, like a creamy contortionist, frozen into its last pose.

It was weird to see it there all these months later, having said goodbye to the milk cow phase of my life back in September. I had flashes of breast pumps , of feeding tubes, of frustration and fear. And then just as quickly, I felt relief that we’re past all that and my baby is healthy and happy and eats like a pig with his actual mouth now.

I picked up the bag and stared at it, puzzled. What should I do with it? It’s almost a year old…I don’t think I wanna give it to the baby. But we are out of coffee creamer….

So I put the bag of breast milk back in the freezer and did what any normal mom (who spends way too much time on the internet) would do. I googled it. And found out there are a lot more options than I ever would’ve imagined.

Now I just have to figure out which one of these things my liquid gold will be used for. It’s a tough decision. After all, there’s only one bag.

1. Shall I preserve it into a piece of jewelry I can nuzzle in my bosom until the day I can pass it along to Meyer as a special momento of his mother’s love? If I do this, will Asher feel slighted that I didn’t save any of his breast milk to make cufflinks that he can show off at high school graduation? I was concerned this wasn’t the right choice for me until I read that Mommy Milk Creations has a special, patented process that keeps my “milk-bead” from turning yellow – ever. Well that’s a relief. Yellow breast milk jewelry is so 2010.

2. Clearly, the most hygienic choice would be to have it made into breast milk soap. Tin Roof Soap Company is ready and willing to make me a “loaf” of soap using the very own milk of my mammaries. They’ll cut it, cure it and send it back to me…because who doesn’t love to take baths in their own secretions? I think I’ll save mine, though, to lovingly wash my sons’ mouths out with when they get to that sassy stage. One time ought to do it.

3. Did you know that people are eating their own placentas these days? In case yours is just sitting around in the refrigerator going bad, here are some recipes you can use for dinner tonight. I recommend the placenta lasagna, although the placenta spaghetti looks scrumptious too. Well, guess what? You can do the same with your breast milk. But why would you wanna do something simple and completely uncreative like, say, just drink it when you can get so much more upscale and adventurous? Inspired by the quickly-pulled-from-the-market, Baby Gaga breast milk ice cream, I’ve pulled our ice cream maker out and will be giving my husband and boys the creamiest, most immunity-boosting dessert of their lives after dinner tonight. I can’t wait to see their delighted faces when I tell them what they just ate! I’m not sure how far this one bag of breast milk will go but if I can pull it off, this lady has inspired me to whip up a wedge of Toulouse boob cheese as well. I’ll save that one for when the boss comes over for dinner.

4. Asher is a total lollipop addict. Suckers are his favorite candy in the world and judging by the look on Meyer’s face when Ash eats one, I’m pretty sure he’d like to get his hands on some of them too. How to make lollipops a bit more nutritious? Hmmmm. Of course! The real nature’s candy: nipple nectar lollipops. I could just buy some from these guys but I’m stunned and disappointed to find out that there’s no actual breast milk in them. They just taste like breast milk. Well, that might be good enough for my husband but certainly not for my kids. I insist that every single morsel that goes into their mouths pack the very biggest nutritional punch possible (no, I don’t) so I’ll make them myself. I prefer to make everything at home myself anyway (no, I don’t).

Now that I’ve looked at all the options, I kinda wish I was still producing milk. I had no idea I could’ve been feeding my whole family and not just the baby. If you’re looking into ways to save money on your grocery bills, forget couponing! Just keep lactating!

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How A Toddler Is Like Your Insurance Company

Posted on May 22, 2013 by ashersmom

I don’t know how many of you have had to deal with your health insurance company very often, but if you’re like us, it’s a lot. There’s almost nothing I dread more than that call to the “representative” to straighten something out — and that something is almost always related to a “we’re not gonna pay for this” moment. Because even though I pay my part EVERY SINGLE MONTH, they never seem to want to pony up for theirs.

Since I now have a toddler running around the house who seems to employ a lot of the same policies as my insurance company, I thought I’d share with you how they’re alike.

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Advice To My (Bad) Dog.

Posted on May 16, 2013 by ashersmom

Dearest Hadley:

Your ears are comically large yet you still can’t seem to hear anything I have to say.

I think it’s time for a a little talk. You may not wanna hear this but the truth of the matter is, you’re the trouble-maker of the family. If you’d just heed my simple advice, you’d be one happy dog. So listen up…I’m doing this for your own good.

Make friends with the kids. They’re your stomach’s strongest allies. You drool for doughnuts. You slobber for Sloppy Joes. You pine for pig. Every time I turn around, you’re begging for grub. Here’s a hint: the kids are eating all the time and it’d be mighty easy for them to slip you some food if they were so inclined. When you see those shorties coming, don’t run the other way. Let them dress you up in a superman costume, paint a purple mohawk on your head and use you as a live pillow pet. You make them happy, there’ll be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and half-eaten hot dogs in your future. I guarantee it.

Give the UPS Man a freaking break already. If you don’t stop going ballistic every time he comes onto the porch, you’re gonna drive away the one person who brings you all the things you love! (And the things I love). When it comes to the list of doggy goodies we order on a regular basis, we count on that delivery man. Sit, stay and play nice. Then you can tear into the package with abandon. (You can see Hadley’s wish list at Sweet Relish here. The site is an amazing way to keep digital lists of all the things you want or need).

Stop sticking your nose in other people’s business. You’ve got the heart of a trouble-maker but let’s get one thing straight — your nose is the clear ringleader. You’ll follow that thing anywhere. And your favorite place is right through our back-yard fence. I used to wonder how you got out so often and then one day, I just happened to be looking out the back door when you pressed your little nose against one of the privacy fence boards, pushed against it until it gave and then squeezed your 35-pound body through a hole about 6-inches wide. The neighborhood report says that your first order of business when you’re out is to stick that smeller through other people’s fences to fight with their dogs. No wonder your nose is irritated all the time. Thank goodness for Opie & Dixie Snoutstik so we can heal it right up naturally.

Stop pulling on the damn leash. You know how you love to go for walks? Well, I hate them. And it’s because you pull on the leash like a rabid bear the entire freaking time. Walking you is more like skiing on concrete than walking. If you’d just stop it, we’d be pounding that pavement a hell of a lot more.

Don’t roll in nasty crap. You think it’s super fun to roll in the grass and dirt and red clay and dead birds and whatever other indescribable horrors you find in our backyard. Whatever happiness you get from this disgusting act can’t touch the satisfaction you’ll find from snuggling with your family in our bed while we watch movies. And trust me when I say, rolling in your own poo does not equal snuggling in my bed watching movies. Stop it already. It’s gross.

So there, my dearest cuddly little rascal, is the most profound advice I can give you to make your life happier and our lives happier. I’m happy to see that you’re all ears.

Love, Mom

How’d you like to win a package of wonderful Opie & Dixie products for your four-legged family members? One reader will win a bundle of all-natural goodies from Opie & Dixie including shampoo, conditioner, snoutstik and paw balm. Get a closer look here.

All you have to do is visit Sweet Relish, sign up (it’s easy peasy) and leave a comment here telling me you’ve done it. Extra points if you leave a bit of advice you’d give to your dog if you could.

Giveaway ends May 22.

Special thanks to my digital list obsession Sweet Relish for sponsoring this post.

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The Measure of a Mother

Posted on May 15, 2013 by ashersmom

Today is a special day at T&T because I have a guest post from someone I’ve admired (aka stalked) for years. Nicole Leigh Shaw, aka Ninja Mom, brings her smart, funny take on how moms are measured…and it’s not in inches. I bow down. You will too so be sure to visit her blog and follow her on facebook here.

Being a mother is tough. Not so much because one has the care (along with her co-parent, certain restrictions apply, may not be available in all states) of other human beings, but because there’s no clear definition of mother. Right, yes, the person who births a particular human is that child’s mother. But there is also that person who is seen at the grocery store with the child, helping him to pick a sugar-loaded cereal, denying her a small toy, or removing him from the middle of the seafood section when he’s trashing on the floor claiming that he’s “not done talking to the lobsters!”

That woman, like her counterpart wrangling children in the pew on Sunday, her doppelganger ushering kids through a soccer practice with erstwhile cheerleading, and her twin in the parking lot giving a stern lecture about not darting into traffic, that woman is being judged. I maintain that judgment, the collective silent critique of a woman’s interactions with her children, is the measure of a mother.

Mothers are measured. Like height, weight, and bra size, a mother can be cataloged by her actions. Does she yell too loudly at her children in public? Does she speak too softly when they run roughshod over her in the toy store? Where does she place her hand when restraining a toddler ready to bolt into a crowd? The upper arm? The back of the neck? The hair?

We are on display for the world to see, dissect, and comment upon in public forums both online and at carpool. Did you see how dirty her children’s fingernails are? That one dresses her kids better than I dress myself, does she think she’s raising Suri Cruise?

It’s painful to discover that you’ve been measured and marked like meat for consumption: prime, choice, select. One mom is good enough for PTA president, the other for cleaning up after the school carnival. Another is easier to stomach after being marinated in some booze.

Let me encourage you to take your own measure. Don’t let someone else decide if you’re the kind of mom too snooty to enjoy an afternoon with the neighborhood families at a community BBQ. Neither is it someone else’s business if you prefer filet mignon to frankfurters and your kids really do enjoy crudités.

On the chance that someone sizes you up correctly, own it. Introduce yourself and invite them to bring their kids over for craft time, or water balloon time. Sometimes we are who we appear to be, and that’s a good thing because how else will we recognize the rest of the moms who like to let their kids make mud pies or only eat organic snacks?

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