This is a blog about attempting to make your own humans (and failing miserably at first, but eventually succeeding), parenting, marriage, working mom life, aging parents, and being an imperfect human.
When it comes to airplane travel with kids, there are two options: Take the easy way out with lap-baby or no car seat (and take your chances with your child’s life and safety), OR do it the hard way, even though it’s a bit more inconvenient, and take along a car seat or harness. For the parents who choose the no-brainer “keep my kid alive” option, here are some tips to survive a flight when your kiddo needs a few more buckles.
Skinny Squeak can’t even fill out the waist of 18-month pants. This creates a dilemma, but luckily, a little DIY elbow grease solves this problem and keeps Squeak’s pants up, too!
When a book is so good that I’d rather read than go to a complimentary happy hour… that’s saying something. So I must tell you about this book.
We measured our height on a door in our basement when I was growing up, but when we later sold the farmhouse, that door—and all the memories it contained—stayed behind. For less than it costs to buy one, you can make your own wall-mounted wooden ruler height chart. Best of all, it can travel with you no matter where you live.
I’m pretty sure there’s some Sasquatch in my DNA (even if 23andMe disagrees), based solely on the amount of hair on my body. But thanks to the wonders of laser hair removal, my life has gotten a lot less hairy (pun intended).
Waterparks are kid meccas, but they’re super overwhelming for parents. We’ve visited Great Wolf Lodge in the Waterpark Capitol of the World three years running—here’s what I’ve learned.
When you feel like you cannot go on another minute, because it’s all just too much, remember this: you’re in the trenches right now. You won’t stay there. And it does get better. Here’s a story to explain how it did so for me.
![The redshirt conundrum [With an update, 7 years later]](https://www.peanutmom.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/redshirt.jpg)
Everyone has an opinion. But one thing is clear: when to send your kid is a decision parents should make with each individual kiddo’s unique situation in mind.
How does a mom survive 12 hours of the Iowa State Fair with two toddlers? I’ll tell ya, it’s not easy. But a little preparation plus a great plan for once you get there are key to success. Here’s how we get through three days of the fair and come out the other end with a barrel full of great memories.
Many parents do it: fly with their baby in their lap on an airplane. Hell, I’ve even done it. But after my eyes were opened to the risk I was taking with my child’s life, I’ve vowed never to do it again — and to spread the word of why “infant in arms” must end once and for all.
Thinking of transferring two embryos? The research on elective single embryo transfer (eSET) and birth outcomes might just surprise you. These are the reasons behind our decision to transfer just one embryo every time.
It’s been 5 years since I made the decision not to take my husband’s name.
I can now address all those “what ifs” that the naysayers warned me about before I got married.
The advantage of being a second-time mom is that I have learned from (some) of my previous mistakes. Here’s my advice on what you should definitely have in that hospital bag.
It’s hard enough creating a human inside your body. Check out my list of must-haves to make your 40 weeks a little more pleasant.
I love sharing my “been in the trenches” knowledge with soon-to-be Moms. So I asked my fellow Mommies for advice and put together a list of the slightly unexpected baby items you shouldn’t go without.
It all started with a text message that accused me of having my husband’s junk under lock and key.
I’m a huge proponent of leaving your baby’s gender a secret — from your friends, family, and yourself. Here, I make a case for the biggest surprise of your life.
To find out the gender or not to find out? That is the question, and it’s a very personal one. As usual, I have my own very strong opinion on the topic.
My doctor got rid of the private entrance for infertility patients, but I now understand the appeal of the back door (wait, that didn’t come out right).
They call it the “WTF Appointment” — the one you have with the doctors after your IVF fails, where they can’t give you any reason why it didn’t work. Nor can they tell you anything that’s really of value at all. So we just decided not to go to ours.
An unadvertised “Joy of Infertility” — finding someone willing to stick a needle in your booty for hormone injections. When I had to spend a night in Chicago for work, I suddenly found myself without a shot-giver. Finding one was a huge pain in the ass (ha ha).