Last Friday, while at drop-in gymnastics, Oliver and I had stopped at the water fountain to get a much-needed drink of water. (I am aware that any germ haters in the audience are starting to get a little squirmy here). After Oliver was done his drink, I found myself starting into the face of a (really cute) silent little urchin (we'll call him Timmy), who seemed to be indicating that he needed me to hold the fountain button for him. So I asked Timmy (the little imp) if this was indeed the case. Timmy nodded so dramatically that I thought he must be dying of thirst. I started to hold the button down.

Just as little Timmy was bowing his head to drink, I hear from behind me a loud and (I'm not even exaggerating here) prolonged:

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Continue reading "A germy affair" →

I'm a hyperemesis gravidarum "survivor." I hate using the word survivor, because hyperemesis gravidarum isn't a permanent condition. The physical effects only last as long as you're pregnant. It's more of a painful waiting game.

When I found out I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was elated — and to celebrate, I went out to eat. I got the biggest burger you're ever seen and happily ate the whole thing, thinking this was the sort of decadence my newfound pregnancy can guiltlessly afford me.

I was wrong.

Moments later, the whole thing came up. Everything after that came up as well…for months. I went to the ER once and was told it was just severe morning sickness and it would pass. I spent my first trimester and half of my second lying in the floor puking in a bucket. I could not move. I had to be carried to the bath and washed. Standing was impossible and walking was worse. I was so hungry, but unable to even think of eating. I lost 30lbs with my daughter. Luckily, she was born two weeks early a healthy 7lb 11oz little miracle. I felt as though I'd earned her. I had faced some sort of horrible trial and now was ready to face motherhood.

I eventually joined the Navy, where I met my current husband. He is a wonderful partner and a miraculous father-in-training to my now almost 4 year old daughter. We decided to conceive our second child a few months before he left for Qatar, and with very little time, we did. We were totally ecstatic! We went to our appointments and told our closest friends and relatives, giddy as can be.

Then I hit week 7.

Continue reading "Marijuana might have made me a healthier mom" →

Q: I planned a natural birth with a midwife and ended up in the hospital with all the medical stuff. I feel like such a failure and can’t seem to get over it. Can you help? -Anonymous

Birth is one of those unpredictable, uncontrollable situations in life. You’ve certainly learned that lesson with your whole body, right? And this is really an important, essential lesson to learn because, as it turns out, most of life is unpredictable and uncontrollable.

So first off: Congratulate yourself for successfully undergoing a “rite of passage” where you learned this important lesson! Especially as Americans, we often think we have control over our lives — and we certainly do more so than most peoples around the planet. But ultimately each of us has to grapple with that which is beyond our control. We have to learn about surrender.

Continue reading "You did NOT fail just because your natural childbirth didn't go as planned" →

This is the story of what happens when two children of lesbians (each their mother's only child) have a kid. The short version of the story: picture a swarm of grandmas circling the baby like the world's most loving vultures.

The long version:

Continue reading "Tavi's got four grandmas" →

The response to Natasha's Queer Parent 101 post was so overwhelming, that I've asked her to become a regular contributor here on Offbeat Mama!

I am a feminist. I believe firmly that a woman's "place" is wherever she wants and needs to be. (I wish very much that we lived in a world where that were possible for all women). I also believe that happy (reasonably) well-adjusted parents make happy, (reasonably) well adjusted children, regardless of whether those parents work outside or inside of the home. So why is it that I find it so difficult to answer the question: "What do you do for a living?" I find it equally distressing to respond to the ever present: "So, when are you going back to work?"

I hate the word housewife. I hate the word homemaker. These words are so loaded with patriarchal bullshit that I can barely utter them in any seriousness, much less use them to describe myself or what I do. Yet that's the check-box that applies to me. And because of it, I get dismissed by the folks at the bank, the car dealership, and occassionally, other parents. It feels like a pretty limiting check box. But what else do I call myself? How can I encapsulate what I do, day in and day out, without sounding either overly-simplistic or self-denigrating?

Continue reading "Yes, I am a feminist housewife" →

Last December, my husband and I welcomed into this world our first born son: Lincoln. Lincoln Danger. Yep. As you might imagine, a typical conversation following Lincoln's birth went as follows:

Us: It's a boy!
Friend or Family member: Congratulations! What's his name?
Us: Lincoln Danger.
Friend or Family: (blank stare) I'm sorry, did you say Danger?

After the initial surprise, said friend or family member either feigned indifference, pretended not to notice, or (our favorite) broke out into a "That. Is. Awesome. Why didn't we think of that?!"

When you choose an atypical name (even a middle name) for your child, you must be prepared to answer the why's…

Continue reading "How to pick a middle name your kid will WANT to share" →