Meaningful what?

Is the passion dead?

This is the question I was asking myself after a conversation I had with my husband the other night. I’d been trimming my toenails before I slid into bed and switched off the light.
Him: “You cut your toenails?”
(Very long pause)
Him: “Wow, you fell asleep fast.”
Me: “I’m not asleep. I just didn’t really think you were expecting an answer.”
Him: “Yeah, I guess there’s not much else you could say about it.”
Me: “Not really, no.”

That night I began to wonder if we were in trouble. Sometimes we still talk about interesting things like politics, current events, or the meaning of life. But after more than ten years of marriage, most of our conversations revolve around topics such as:
1. The kids.
2. His job.
3. Personal finances.
4. Household duties.
5. Humorous television commercials currently airing on ESPN.

The next day I decided to pay close attention to our conversations and try to steer them toward meaningful topics. My first opportunity came that evening after work. We were standing in the kitchen discussing the day’s events, and I mentioned my blog. “You’ve really been on a writing kick,” he said.
“Well, I’m hoping it’s more than just a ‘kick,’” I said. “I’m planning to keep this up.”
From there I began elaborating on how fulfilling it has been for me to start writing again. This lasted maybe three minutes before I noticed his eyes beginning to dart away from me and toward the TV screen. Finally I stopped talking and just stared at him. He looked at me, then the screen. “This is a funny commercial,” he said. “Have you seen this one?”

Well, no reason for me to dominate the meaningful conversation. Maybe it was his turn to share. So, later that night, after the kids were in bed, I asked him, “So, what’s been on your mind lately?”
He looked up from his laptop. “Business has been pretty bad,” he said. “And I’m about two weeks behind on my expense reports.”
I asked him how his marathon training was going. “Not great,” he said. “I pulled a muscle yesterday.”
Other items running through my husband’s head: He needed to start working on the taxes. There was more paperwork to fill out for the home refinancing. He was trying to decide what to get for his brother’s birthday, which was two months ago. We should probably get more life insurance. His car needed new tires. And brakes.
“This is a funny commercial,” I said, pointing at the TV. “Have you seen this one?”

My husband and I met in college and got married while he was still in school. Somehow it never occurred to us that we were just a couple of kids.
In premarital counseling we scored high on compatibility tests. It seemed we had almost everything in common. Looking back, however, the tests had no questions about movie preferences or the optimal number of hours per day to spend watching televised sports.

We’ve lucked out, though. Even as our differences have became obvious, even as we have both changed and continue to change, even through the moves and career changes and new babies, we continue to like each other quite a lot. In fact, maybe the passion isn’t dead at all. Maybe it’s just that the nature of our passion has changed.
Twelve years ago, I longed for someone to make me feel complete, to be my best friend, to join me for an exciting journey through life. Those things still sound nice, but at this stage in life I mostly long for eight uninterrupted hours in a comfortable bed.
That doesn’t happen very often, which is why it means so much on a Friday night when my husband turns to me and says, “Why don’t you sleep in tomorrow?”
Sleeping in. Now that’s something I feel passionately about.

Baby Nuthouse: advice for new moms

Normally, I don’t think of myself as an advice columnist. In fact, after observing my family in action, people rarely ask me for parenting advice. The other day, however, I received this urgent e-mail, and I couldn’t help but respond:

Dear Ruth,
Please help! I’m eight and a half months pregnant with my first child, and I haven’t done any research! I work during the day. My evenings and weekends fill up quickly with baby showers, doctor’s appointments, crib assembly, and phone calls from people who ask, “Hasn’t that baby come yet?”
The middle of the night would be a perfect time to fit in some parenting research as I am usually up until 3 a.m. from the indigestion and insomnia. But by that time I am too tired to be productive and I end up playing solitaire or watching YouTube videos.
I really think the baby might come out someday, and I’m going to be clueless about what to do with it!
I’d really appreciate any advice you have.
Sincerely,
Desperately Unprepared Mom-to-be

Dear Mom-to-be,
You’ve come to the right place. After reading my share of parenting literature, I’ve come to the conclusion that most of the available information can be summarized in approximately 400 words. To assist you and other time-crunched expecting mothers, I’ve compiled all of the advice you might get from books, magazines, mothers-in-law and well-meaning strangers, and summarized it in a concise, convenient format.

Never-Fail Advice for New Moms
Whatever you do, don’t let the baby into your bed. Sleep with your baby, while following all the co-sleeping safety requirements. Let the baby sleep with you until someone gets sick of this arrangement, then teach the baby to sleep in her own bed. Put the baby to sleep in her crib and bring her into your bed in the middle of the night. Just pick one method and stick with it. Be flexible about sleeping arrangements. Always breastfeed your baby on a schedule. Let the baby feed “on demand.” Use formula. Breastfeed while supplementing with formula. Use formula while supplementing with breast milk. Don’t let the baby nurse for comfort. Let the baby nurse for any reason. Stop breastfeeding after 12 months. Breastfeed the kid until he speaks in complete sentences and tells you he’s no longer interested. Introduce solids at four months. Wait until six months. Sit down to a family dinner every night. Feed the kids early so you can enjoy an adult meal after they’re in bed. If you carry your baby around all the time, she’ll feel secure. If you hold the baby all the time, she’ll come to expect it and you’ll never be able to put her down. Play with your child as much as you can; she’s only little once. Don’t play with her too much; she needs to learn to entertain herself. Space your children close together so you can get the intense baby years out of the way. Space your children far apart so you can have a break between babies. Large families are fun. Just have one child. Three is the perfect number. An even number of children is ideal. All you need for a baby is a car seat and some hand-me-down clothes. Necessities include a crib, stroller, pack-n-play, high chair, bouncy seat, swing, exersaucer, front carrier, sling carrier, backpack carrier, bicycle trailer, bath seat, wipes warmer, video monitor, full layette, monogrammed towels and coordinated nursery décor. Cloth diapers are economical and good for the planet. Go easy on yourself and just use disposables. Use both. Observe your baby closely and hold him over the toilet when he needs to go. Be sure to potty train your kid when he first shows signs of readiness, or you’ll regret it when he’s in pull-ups at age four. Lay off and let your child be the one to initiate toilet training.
That’s it! Just follow these guidelines, and you can’t go wrong.
Good luck.

Really, really sick

When you’re really, really, really sick, you want someone to take care of you. If that’s not possible, you at least want to be left alone. If you’re a stay-at-home mom with small children, you only want to survive.
Here’s what happens when Julie, a mother of three, wakes up feeling really, really, really sick:
6:50 a.m.
Julie awakens to the sounds of a crying baby and a three-year-old shouting from the bottom of the stairs: “Mom! Want milk! MOM!”
6:55 a.m.
Julie waits to see if her husband will miraculously appear with a cup of hot tea, offering to spend the morning at home so she can go back to sleep. He does not.
7:00 a.m.
She rolls out of bed and shuffles down the hall to the baby’s room.
Baby: “Mama!”
Julie: “I feel terrible.”
Baby: (holding arms out) “Mama!”
7:05 a.m.
Slowly, gripping the railing for support, Julie carries the baby downstairs.
Son: “Hi, Mom!”
Julie: “I feel like I am going to die.”
Son: “Can we have pancakes?”
7:15 a.m.
Julie puts her five-year-old son in charge of breakfast. He chooses Girl Scout cookies. Julie hides the cookies and serves dry cereal. Then she crawls to the living room, sweeps all the toys off the couch and lies down.
7:18 a.m.
Daughter: “Mom! Milk! Want milk!”
Julie gets up and pours everyone some milk, then makes her way back to the couch where she curls up in a shivering, feverish ball.
7:20 a.m.
Son: “Oops! Mom! My milk spilled!”
7:40 a.m.
On the couch again, Julie finds herself being used as a tunnel by Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends. She relocates to the floor. Immediately, the baby toddles over and body slams her, WWF-style. Julie moves into a fetal position.
7:50 a.m.
The baby gets bored and sets his sights on his big brother and sister, who are playing with trains.
Baby: (points to engine) “Aba?”
Son: “No, this is mine.”
Baby: (points to another engine) “Ba?”
Daughter: “NO!”
Baby: “ABABABABAAA!!!!”
Son: “Stop! Leave us alone! MOM!”
Daughter: “AAAAAAAA! MOM!”
Julie: “Who wants to watch cartoons?”
9:00 a.m.
Julie puts the baby down for a nap. He whines for half an hour because his naptime is usually 9:30.
9:45 a.m.
Julie lies down on the floor and promptly falls asleep.
10:45 a.m.
Julie awakens to the sounds of a crying baby and a three-year-old shouting from the kitchen: “Mom! Want milk! MOM!”
11:45 a.m.
Julie puts her son in charge of lunch. He chooses cheese crackers and tortilla chips.
12:15 p.m.
Julie puts the baby down for a nap. He fusses for 45 minutes because his naptime is usually 1:00.
1:00 p.m.
Julie puts the older children down for a nap. Her son complains because he has not taken a nap in three years. She lets him watch cartoons.
1:15 p.m.
Julie passes out on her bed.
2:00 p.m.
Son: (tapping Julie on shoulder) Mom?….Mom?…Mom!
Julie: (groggy) What? What is it?
Son: Mom, I need to tell you something!
Julie: (fully awake) What is it, honey?
Son: I decided my favorite color is blue now.
2:45 p.m.
Julie awakens to the sounds of a crying baby and a three-year-old shouting from her bedroom: “MOM! I have accident!”
3:00 p.m.
The kids enjoy an afternoon snack of cheese crackers and tortilla chips.
3:30 p.m.
More cartoons.
4:55 p.m.
Julie’s husband calls.
Julie: “You wouldn’t believe how long this day has been!”
Husband: “I’m going to be a little late.”
5:30 p.m.
Julie feeds the children toast and string cheese for dinner.
6:00 p.m.
Julie puts the baby to bed. He cries for an hour because his bedtime is usually 7:00.
6:30 p.m.
Julie starts the bedtime routine for the older two children. She falls asleep while reading Goodnight, Moon. The kids, whose bedtime is usually 7:30, go back downstairs, find the Girl Scout cookies, and turn the cartoons back on.
7:15 p.m.
Julie’s husband arrives.
Husband: “Where’s Mom?”
Son: “Who?”

Baby Nuthouse: give me this day my daily shower

It all started innocently enough.
I woke up one Tuesday morning feeling disoriented. The house was quiet, and I was alone.
Normally, I wake up in one of three ways:
1. Baby crying.
2. Child bouncing on my bed, saying, “C’mon Mom, let’s go downstairs!”
3. Child standing at bottom of steps, shouting, “MOM! COME DOWNSTAIRS!” Followed by baby crying.
When I listened more closely, I realized my husband was in the kitchen feeding the boys breakfast. The baby was still asleep.
This was my chance. An opportunity not to be squandered.
I crept quietly into the bathroom and…I took a shower.
In the morning.
On a weekday.
I realize that many Americans do this on a regular basis. For me, a weekday morning shower was a rare and precious luxury.
When I stepped out five minutes later, the baby was screaming, the boys were fighting, and I heard the rapid clip of my husband’s dress shoes as he rushed out the door.
None of this fazed me. I was clean! I was refreshed! I was awake!
I was hooked.
The next day, I sent the boys downstairs and promised them pancakes shaped like cars, with rainbow sprinkles on top, if only they would play quietly until I got there.
The morning after that, I pretended not to hear the baby starting to fuss as I turned on the faucet and stuck my head underneath the stream of water.
Before long, it got so that I didn’t feel complete without my daily shower. If I couldn’t sneak one in the morning, I’d slip into the bathroom during the baby’s nap. As a last resort I’d put the kids to bed early just to make sure I could fit a shower into my evening agenda.
Regular hygiene used to be such a simple matter. I would wake up each morning, take a shower, and get ready for the day. That was before I became a mom. People like to tell you how much your life is going to change when you have a baby, but no one had ever mentioned that showers would need to be scheduled in advance—and only evening and weekend appointments are available.
It was difficult enough to fit bathing into my day with one baby, and adding two more children to our family only made it harder. The days filled up quickly and I’d simply forget. I would notice my leg hairs resembled those of a 14-year-old boy, and I’d try to recall the last time I showered. Often, I couldn’t remember. I tried writing “take shower” in my daily planner, alongside the doctor visits and play dates. But even with this written reminder, by the time I put the kids to bed, fed the dogs, checked my email, did some dishes, ate a snack, talked on the phone, let the dogs out, picked up toys, talked to my husband, let the dogs in and threw the laundry in the dryer, I was ready to fall into bed. In that delicate balance between sleep and cleanliness, sleep usually won out.
For years, I just gave into this way of life. Every morning I splashed water on my face and slapped on another layer of deodorant. There were actually a few advantages to being on the every-three-days plan. I was saving water, energy and time. Plus, each shower became more meaningful. You know the feeling of cleaning up after a weekend camping trip? ALL of my showers were like that.
But ever since that glorious Tuesday morning when I started the day with clear eyes and wet hair, I can’t seem to go back to those ways. I’m not ashamed to admit it: I’m an addict. And I’ve got no plans to quit my once-a-day habit. So don’t try to stop me.

Baby Nuthouse: road trip FAQ

In the year since I moved from Denver to central Iowa, I’ve gone back quite a few times to visit friends and pursue my all-time favorite hobby, snowboarding. My husband doesn’t have the flexibility of schedule that I enjoy, so he usually flies out to join us midway through the trip. As a result, it’s often just me and the three kids making the long journey across the Midwestern plains. I’m already planning a March trip, which will be my third in three months.
Following are some Frequently Asked Questions about my travels.

Q: Are you insane?
A: Possibly.

Q: Why don’t you fly?
A: You’ve obviously never been on an airplane with my children.

Q: Why don’t you just stay home?
A: You’ve obviously never been to central Iowa in winter.

Q: How do you prepare for your trips?
A: I’ll be talking to my mom on the phone, and she’ll ask if I’m all packed. I’ll say, “Not quite.” Then I’ll start a load of laundry and go find the suitcase.

Q: So, you’re always getting ready the night before your trip?
A: Technically, the morning of.

Q: How do your children handle being in the car?
A: They are usually okay for the first 30 minutes or so.

Q: How long does it take you to get out of town?
A: About 30 minutes.

Q: How long does the trip usually take?
A: Eleven hours.

Q: How long does it feel like?
A: Eleven years.

Q: How long does your five-year-old son think it takes?
A: “Freakin’ forever.”

Q: Do you regret introducing the phrase “freakin’” to your five-year-old son?
A: Deeply.

Q: How often do you stop?
A: For the first two-thirds of the trip we stop every three hours or so. The last third of the trip, we stop approximately one thousand times.

Q: What did your son say right as you left a rest stop and pulled back out onto the interstate?
A: “Mom! I need some water!”

Q: How do you give your kids a snack or drink when you don’t want to make yet another stop?
A: I have perfected the blind toss to the third row seat.

Q: Does your toddler take good naps in the car?
A: She falls asleep five minutes before we absolutely have to stop for a bathroom break.

Q: So how do you keep her entertained?
A: I hand her a toy, which she holds for a couple of seconds before shouting “NO!” and throwing it to the floor. Then I hand her another toy.

Q: How many toys do you take?
A: As many as I can find.

Q: What do you do when you run out of toys?
A: I give her the potato chips.

Q: Have you ever been stopped by an officer of the law on any of your trips?
A: Yes. I was driving through Omaha lunch-hour traffic, and the policeman said I was following too closely, even though I left as much space as anyone else around.

Q: Do you think he mistook you for a child abductor or illegal alien trafficker?
A: Yes.

Q: Did you get a ticket?
A: No, but he did say, “How many kids you got in there?”

Q: What did you tell him?
A: I said, “Just three of ‘em.”

Q: Do you think that three is an absurd number of children to have?
A: No.

Q: Did the officer ask you any other questions?
A: He asked where my husband was.

Q: Did you make a sarcastic remark?
A: No, but I thought of so many.

Q: What is the funniest thing that one of your kids has ever said on a road trip?
A: Once, after driving for hours through western Iowa and most of Nebraska, one of the boys suddenly shouted, “Look! A farm!”

No worries--yeah, right

One of my biggest challenges as a mother is trying to maintain some awareness of current events without learning anything that might make me worry excessively. Usually I can strike this balance by avoiding daily papers and TV news, and taking a little time each day to scan headlines on the Internet.

But the other day, a troubling story caught my eye. It seems a large U.S. spy satellite has lost power and will probably fall to Earth in late February or early March.

My first instinct upon reading this was that I should track the story closely over the next few weeks. I would be prepared to gather the family and leave at a moment’s notice if the debris seemed to be headed toward Iowa. Or if necessary, we could huddle in the basement with a stockpile of supplies.

As I began pondering more specifically which room might provide the best protection from a heavy chunk of metal the size of a bus, I caught myself. This was a stupid thing to worry about, I realized. After all, my family was much more likely to be in a car accident than to be hit by a wayward satellite.

So, I stopped worrying about the satellite.

I started worrying about getting in a car accident.

Before I had children, I didn’t worry like this. I could read the newspaper without being traumatized. I could walk into a hotel room without checking for safety hazards. And I could scoff at the foolishness of a mother’s worry.

When we were first married, my husband was a high school teacher. One day his mom left a lengthy message on our answering machine advising him that “if someone at school has a bomb, just get out! Don’t feel like you have to try and save everyone else!” I rolled my eyes and wondered, is it possible that she sits around thinking up dangerous scenarios involving her children?

You bet she does, and now I now find myself doing the exact same thing. Take, for instance, the night I wasted an hour of precious sleeping time lying awake in bed, nearly hyperventilating as I tried to figure out what we would do if an avalanche buried our car. (All I could come up with was: probably die.)

This new, worrying version of myself materialized on the day I brought my firstborn home from the hospital. I could not believe I had been entrusted with another human life. Danger lurked everywhere. On the way home, the other cars were driving too fast. The fragile new life was crying in his car seat—could he be overheating? Inside the house, I took the stairs with caution and delicately sat on the couch. Our dog, who only days before had been my “baby,” jumped up to see what I had in my arms. I instantly thought, we have to get rid of the dog!

Of course, there was no way I could keep up that kind of vigilance, especially on two hours of sleep per night. The dog stayed. Over time, I began to relax. But bringing three little people into my world has changed the way I view that world. It is still full of wonder and boundless opportunity, but it is also full of dangers I never saw when I was responsible only for myself.

This new perspective is not completely worthless. I’m quite handy at pointing out potentially dangerous situations (“You can’t put the couch over there—your kids will climb over the back and fall down the stairwell”) and preparing for emergencies (every two-story house should have a fire escape ladder). So, I’m trying to avoid useless worry and focus only on problems that I might actually do something about.

Speaking of which, if you have any tips for surviving an avalanche, I’d love to hear them.

Consistency is key

While I was visiting my son’s preschool the other day, I overheard another mom discussing her daughter’s behavior with the teacher. “She actually listens to you!” she said in disbelief. “And she does this on a regular basis?”

I was similarly amazed watching my son, at the sound of a bell, rush around the room picking up toys and tossing them into the correct bins. At home, if asked to help clean up, he will ever so slowly pick up two or three items, then fall to the floor in a dramatic fashion and whimper, “but…I’m…too…tired! Need…someone…to…help…me!”

A preschool classroom has the magical ability to transform unruly children into compliant, good-natured helpers. Of course they slip up sometimes, but often all it takes is a gentle reminder to follow the rules, and they are back on track. School combines those special elements that work to foster cooperation from young children: clear expectations, structure, and, of course, consistency.

Everyone knows that consistency is the key to success when you are dealing with kids. However, any time a parenting book or magazine article mentions consistency, it is followed by a caveat: whatever rules, schedules and structure you put into place, there will be exceptions, such as illness, moving to a new home, visitors, vacations, or the birth of a new sibling.

This is where I run into trouble, because the last five years of my life have been one long string of illnesses, moving, visitors, vacations, and births of new siblings.

Nevertheless, I work hard to ensure that my children have some form of consistency in their lives. So, there are a few things you can always count on at our house:

The sink is consistently full of dishes. The dishwasher is consistently in one of three states: (1) dishes are being washed, (2) dishes are clean, and need to be put away, or (3) it is full of dirty dishes, and I forgot to start it.

Five minutes before we should be leaving the house, we invariably encounter some setback (dirty diaper, spilled milk, missing shoe) which causes us to consistently arrive ten minutes late to our destination.

Regardless of how quietly the children have been playing all morning, if I attempt a phone conversation the noise level in the house consistently rises by 100 decibels.

The floor is consistently covered with various objects, including but not limited to: balls, building blocks, trains, cars, baby dolls, foam letters, books, and scraps of construction paper.

I consistently announce new rules about putting away one set of toys before getting something different out.

My children consistently find imaginative ways to combine the different types of toys. I consistently decide that this boosts their creativity, so I consistently fail to enforce the rules about putting away one set of toys before getting something different out.

We are consistently vigilant about limiting TV time and encouraging healthy eating habits.

If a visitor drops by unexpectedly, the children will consistently be lounging on the sofa, watching Teletubbies and eating Doritos.

We consistently start our bedtime routine around 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. (allowing for exceptions during times of illness, moving, visitors, vacations, births of new siblings, or something just came up.)

All of the children are consistently asleep by 9:00 p.m.

If any of the children are awake after 9:00 p.m., I will consistently lose my composure.

If any of the children are awake and ready to begin the day before 6:00 a.m., see above.

Even our dogs bring a sense of stability to the household. They consistently need to either be let outside or inside, or, alternatively they can be found under the table, trying to steal food from the baby.

Let’s face it, my home will never resemble an orderly classroom. But someday, the floors will stay clean and the kitchen sink will be empty. I’ll be able to talk on the phone in peace. Most likely, I’ll be calling one of my kids, wondering if they might compromise their consistent schedule with a vacation or a visitor so that I can play with my grandchildren.

Baby Nuthouse: welcome to the nuthouse

Hi there! I’m so glad you could stop by. It’s such a chore getting out of the house these days. As you can see, the kids are still in their pajamas. What time is it, anyway? Is it after ten? Really? Almost noon? Where does the time go?
Come right on in, just watch your step. The boys were racing their toy cars in here until the baby demolished the Lego grandstand. Speaking of the baby, watch out for her, too, she’s trying to sneak off with your cell phone. Isn’t it cute how she holds it and says “ha-wo”?
No, sweetie, you have to give it back—that’s not ours. Why don’t you go find one of your own phones?
Lucky for us cell phones only last about three days past the warranty expiration, so we have plenty of old ones for the kids to play with.
Anyway, here’s your phone back. Oops, sorry about the yogurt. Let me clean that off for you.
Please, have a seat, anywhere is fine. Well, you don’t want to sit on the couch—there aren’t any cushions. Where are those cushions? I turn my back and they disappear. Oh, and that chair is actually a letter factory right now. So sorry, but hey, how about this chair over here? I’ll just move this pile of laundry out of your way. I need to take it upstairs anyway before it ends up on the floor and covered in dog hair. Let me go throw it on the bed and I’ll be right back.
Okay, all settled? Can I get you something to drink? Let’s see what I’ve got in the fridge. We have whole milk, two percent milk, soymilk, vanilla-flavored soymilk…
Just some water then? Would you like ice? Hmmm, we seem to be all out of ice. Sorry.
So, tell me how you’ve been. What have you been up to lately? Wait, have you seen the baby? She was right here a second ago. Hold on, I better find her. You have to keep a close watch on that kid these days. Just when I think she’s past the stage of putting everything in her mouth, I find her munching on styrofoam.
Here she is, she’s just clearing out all the kitchen cabinets again. Now, you were saying?
Whoa! Did you hear that? That can’t be good. Let me go check on the boys. I’ll be right back.
Okay, sorry that took a while, I had to find some Band-Aids. Oh, they’re both fine. They insist on Band-Aids for any injury even when there is no visible mark.
Sorry, you were about to tell me something. You know, I guess since it’s 12:30 we ought to eat lunch, right? Which one of these sounds best: chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, or peanut butter and jelly?
You already ate? Well in that case, I’ll do the chicken nuggets. Not a favorite of mine, but two out of three of my children highly recommend them. The other one eats only four different foods, and chicken is not on his list. Let’s see, he had toast for breakfast, so he can have yogurt for lunch.
Anyway, you were telling me…NO! NO! NO TOUCH! Honey, you absolutely CANNOT TOUCH electrical outlets! NO TOUCH! Understand? Well, I’m sorry that made you cry, but I’m just trying to keep you safe. Here, why don’t you sit in your high chair. Your chicken nuggets are almost ready. What? You want milk? Milk? Yes, milk? Okay, one second. Where did your cup end up? Did I ever put that back in the refrigerator? No, here it is. Well, this is kind of gross, let me wash it off.
So, what were you—really? You have to leave already? Seems like you just got here. Where does the time go?

okay I thought of something

Welcome, and thanks for checking out my blog. Whether you’re a friend, acquaintance, friend of a friend, complete stranger, or a family member just checking in to see what I’m up to, I hope you’ll find something to enjoy.

On your visits to this site I hope you will laugh, because we could all use a laugh. If you’re a mom I hope you will connect with other moms, because we all benefit from a greater sense of community. And finally, I hope you’ll discover a book, organization, or idea that you didn’t know about before.

Here’s what to expect on Ruth, the Mom:

Baby Nuthouse: each Wednesday I’ll post a column about life with small children. (In case you’re curious, at the very bottom of this page you’ll find an explanation of the name.)

Humor Every Weekday: Check back often for Ruth Truths, Random Ruth, TV Tuesdays, Thursday Thirteen, and Funny Fridays.

Book Reviews: Once in a while I will review a book related to our lives as moms. There are a lot of them out there, and I always seem to be in the middle of one. If you’ve read a book I review on this blog, please leave a comment with your own opinions so other moms can benefit from multiple perspectives!

Pregnancy, Childbirth and Adoption Resources and Parenting Resources: These are lists of links, and a place where I could really use your help. If you’ve found a Web site to be useful, please let me know so I can expand the lists.

Make a Difference: It’s nice that I can sit here playing around with the fonts and colors on my blog. Some women just don’t have the time; they are too busy carrying water to their village all day, then hoping the water doesn’t make their children sick. I’m including a few of my favorite charitable organizations that are working to bring change to the lives of women and children worldwide. If you know of others, please share.

Reader Participation: Get involved with opportunities to share your own stories, and feel free to leave lots of comments!

Feedback: This site’s effectiveness as a forum depends on feedback from you—yes, YOU—so please post your comments, get involved in discussions, tell me what you’d like to see more of, and share your favorite parenting resources and your own experiences. You can contact me at ruththeperson[at]yahoo[dot]com