“What a View!”


I’m not even really sure what else I could possibly add here, other than muse on the view and subsequent thoughts of passers-by and the neighbours. And to gush over the thigh and tushie fat rolls, which are just GORGEOUS.

I suppose I should mention that she climbs up there herself, she loves climbing. She uses the pink stool thing next to the chair. She sits there watching the world ogle by, blissfully unaware of her 'state of Eve.' She likes to bang on the window, sit with her toes on the warm radiator, and terrorise any cats who dare a few minutes on the sill in the sun.

Ahhh, the giggles an EC toddler brings!

Ice Cream Recipe


Family Portrait: The Mom, Evolet with Chocolate Ice Cream Face, The Dad

I loves me some ice cream! Apparently, I passed this along to my offspring. The best ice cream is homemade–using no ice and no cream. Instead, we use frozen bananas. Yumbas!

Here’s what you do, the Long Version:

1. Get yoself some ripe bananas (they should be brown spotty…avoid getting over eager and using yellow ones. Patience Obi Wan).
2. Peel and chop them into about inch size pieces. I think I used about 4 or 5…may have been 7 or 8 because I am a FEEDER.
3. Put them in a container in the freezer for AGES. Til they are frozen. Usually minimally a few hours. No need to cover them.
4. When ready, shove them into an obnoxiously efficient blender, like the Vitamix. Yes, you will need an insane blender for this.
5. Add a dollop of agave nectar and whatever else tickles you. I added raw cocoa for ours.
6. Blend away! Be sure to use your plunger and stop when it’s done…or you will end up with a banana smoothie.

Short Version: Stick some frozen bananas in a blender.

My husband was all, “No, I don’t want an–” until he saw the finished wonderfulness and then the greedy bugger ate half of it.

Note: I put a dollop of peanut butter on ours after it was done. Absolutely delectable!

This was intentional…

Part 1: Ok, remember when you were young and you used to have those dreams where you were out in public, or at school, and you were naked? No one seemed to notice, you did your usual thing, it was just…your birthday suit was your only accessory?

…I may be alone on this one.

Part 2: My BFF Tara and I were up late one night, chatting away in her computer room when her youngest of many children, a cute little guy called Donny, appeared sleepily rubbing his 8 year old eyes and complaining of feeling unwell. He looked so adorable in his t-shirt and underwear. Tara took one look at him and told him to take off his underwear.

“Son, ” she said, “you need some air on your balls.”

What?! I was floored! I laughed ’til I cried. Donny took off his underwear and went back to bed feeling better. I gently probed Tara on her parenting technique. She said her dad used to tell her that you should regularly air out your privates. Hehe!!! I wish I could have met that man. Legend.

These two separate things may seem unrelated. Alas, my daughter doing her thing on a typical day in the O’Brien household:

Sans her knickers. Rockin’ the rainbow leg warmers. Airing out her privates.

It was, I assure you, intentional. The absolute-hands-down-best-bit about ECing your baby? Giggling at THAT TUSHIE all day!!

Food Before One is Just for Fun…and Wearing

In this house, we prefer to use the term ‘learning experience’ in place of ‘mistake’. Somehow it seems kinder, more forgiving…less judgemental. Please find my latest parenting learning experience below:


Note: This shirt used to be white. The pink tie-dye effect is courtesy of my daughter. Maybe she will be a hippy when she grows up. Which is cool with me because it means she will save money on haircuts (seriously…why is it so expensive to get your hair cut?).

Ok, so it was a dark and stormy Friday night. My husband left for a conference for the whole weekend in Glasgow earlier that day. I, after tidying the house and generally being good, sat down to enjoy my vittles on the couch and bounce between cuddling a playful Evolet and zoning out to CSI:Miami (it was probably Keeping Up with the Kardashians…but I would never admit that).

Since I needed a few minutes to be a lazy mom, I gave said daughter a juicy strawberry to keep her occupied while I wolfed down my grub. She is technically still exclusively breastfed, and so I see little bits of whole pieces of fruit as ‘food before one is just for fun,’ as the saying goes. It could potentially also be ‘food before one gives mom five minutes of distraction while she scoffs.’

I sat Strawberry Girl next to me on the couch and drifted into TV land. Evers was giggling and chatting away as per the usual, leaning in to give me hugs, etc. She likes strawberries. She was happy. I was happy. Life was good.

Then I got up to get a drink. And walked past the mirror. I was surreptitiously blotchy! I had subconsciously felt patches of coolness from where she had been climbing up on me, only thought nothing of it. The cool patches, I realise now, are Lazy Mom squishy strawberry payback. Additionally, we also have pink artwork stains all over the couch. Good thing I like pink.

I’m not really sure if any of the strawberry actually got past my top, her top, her trousers, her bib, the couch, or every crevice of her face (and later I also discovered…my hair) to her tummy. My mission, however, was accomplished. I did enjoy my dinner without spontaneous grabs and eating most if it out of Evolet’s fingers. So, two points for me there.

Moral of this learning experience: Wear a red top😉

Jurassic Baby


Our freestyle parenting approach in action!

On top of the fact Evolet regularly now climbs to the top of the stairs…which is too cute for words…she also is into interior design. Or maybe I should say interior destroy.

It’s like having a mini Jurassic Park in your home. We will be chatting away in the living room and Evers will be off somewhere chatting away to herself (blub blub gub is the latest mantra, often followed by an exclamatory squeal and giggle). Then a few moments of silence. I imagine in the quiet breaths she is eyeing up her next victim. In this instance, it was the kitchen.

Suddenly our reverie is sliced up with fits of laughter and lots of scraping and crashes, the sounds of openings and closings, the waterfall noise of something being overturned. She is obviously having THE time of her life.

After about 15 minutes she starts yowling she’s hungry (neh neh neh!). So I get the boobs ready and saunter casually into what was my kitchen.

I’m still not even sure how she managed to open the silverware drawer.

Babies vs Technology

Evolet takes pictures!

She adores staring and giggling at herself on my iPad. Fun fun fun! Who is that happy little lady smiling at her?! She tries to see where she is behind the iPad. No one is there! Wow! Then she gets a bit perplexed. She gets serious. Eyes the iPad suspiciously. And then becomes a photographer.

Just look at that composition! The lighting! And dare I say meaning?–the half shot of me, is that symbolic that she is half of me?! As I begin my internal motherly ‘my child is a wonder!’ dialogue, she clips me short with her final contemplative snap:

This reminds me that genius is in the process, not the product! So I am safe in my child wonder thoughts. Or maybe it was an intentional artsy forehead thing.

I am, though, less excited about this technological camera mastery. I demurely recall our list of technological gadgets now in heaven:
-my husband’s macbook pro laptop cord (death by saliva)
-my Samsung Galaxy phone (death by toilet)
-my husband’s Samsung Galaxy phone (death by saliva)
-my iPod (death by saliva)
-our Nokia rental phone (while waiting for new Samsung Galaxy) speaker/sound (death by saliva)

Yes, I see the pattern, too. She’s a quick chick! She grabs things as I cruise around the house with her in the trusty sling. After she’s had her wicked way with her snatched goodies, she stores them for safekeeping on her lap in the sling. I find these items when I lift her out to give her a wee. One time she had hoarded a cork, a glass, a wooden spoon, a pencil, a cat toy, and a small bag of shredded coconut.

She seems determined to strategically coat the house and all it’s contents in drool. She appears undaunted by the magnitude of her task. One calculated object at a time. Last night it was the fourth carpeted stair up from the bottom. This morning it was my gym shoe shoelace.

She exudes this talent in public, too. Just last week a jar of jam crashed on the cement when I lifted her out in the parking lot at the supermarket. Receipts are tasty, too. And the car window…and steering wheel. And most recently, the gearshift.

Oh, and that technology thing again. I rescued my friend Belinda’s door locking thingie twice from Evolet’s malevolent secretions. The TV remote control, however, was not so lucky. Sigh.

Slings Rock 209


Ok, so reason 209 out of 1000 of why slings seriously rock.

My dear friend (and midwife!) Belinda and I took our dogs Lola and Skyla for an evening bonanza trek to the park. They loved it. We loved it. The evening air was mild and secret and still. Lovely. Little if any traffic, people here and there dotted about, enjoying the dusky lull. We took our time and just chatted away like schoolgirls. Only not so giggley. Most of the time.

We left about 8.30p and were gone about an hour. Evolet, as usual, played perfect-passive experience-hungry observing baby, not making a sound. In fact, it was a while before I realised she had zonked out completely! She is always so peaceful and soothingly alert that I often forget she is even there.

Yes, it is gorgeous how sweetly asleep she is. And wonderful that it is less than any effort at all to tenderly kiss her darling head. And that she feels profoundly safe and secure, nestled against my warm body. And that the movement of me helps her brain develop. And that I feel safe and secure knowing exactly where she is. And that our bodies can align and subtly tune-in with one another.

Those are all reasons 123, 576, 430, 100, 102, and 877 out of the 1000.

Reason 209 is this: Slings do not disturb the quiet stillness of an earthy, fresh, and dense summer evening.

Treadmill Baby


Evolet discovered the lure of the treadmill when she began creeping. Our dog Skyla uses the treadmill every day for an hour, and Evers goes crazy with delight when she hears the beeps as I turn it on and increase the speed. She hangs out in front, standing, feeling the bump of the moving belt and getting occasional kisses on the forehead from Skyla. She literally squeals with joy.

Sometimes she sits by the side of it and holds various objects against the moving belt so she can hear the sounds they make. Invariably, she lets them go to find a new object, and then Skyla has to do some fancy footwork to avoid them. I find these things at the bottom of the treadmill. Lately I found: 3 screwdrivers, a packet of pear crisps, a wooden coaster, a fork, Skyla’s dog leash…and collar, and a bib. I bet the bib was the least exciting for her.

Any time she is out of my sling, she makes an excited beeline for the treadmill. While doing dishes in the kitchen I can often hear her babbling away to herself, sitting on the treadmill. She hangs there for hours. It’s like her ‘local.’ Sometimes she climbs up with toys and sometimes she just stands in the front and touches as high as she can while sucking on the metal bars. Yummy! Though, I wish I could say that was the worst thing she mouths.

My husband and I are thrilled she is showing such an early interest in exercise!

Also, check out that bib! Ha!

Q: What funny obsessions did your wee ones have as babies?