Cordy had to accompany me today for a few quick errands – to the post office, and then to my work, to complete a task I forgot to wrap up yesterday.

If there’s one thing this child does not like, it’s running errands. It’s hard enough to run errands with a toddler, but make that toddler an unwilling participant, and it becomes cruel and unusual punishment on level with Gitmo.

First was the post office, to mail some papers that could not wait another day. Walking in the door, I noticed the line, about 4 people deep. Not so bad, I thought, we can make it through this, since we’ve endured longer lines before.

I took my place in line, with my squirming toddler on my hip. Letting her down would be a disaster – she’d be out the door with the next stranger who would open the door for her faster than I could beg someone to hold my place in line. So she is forced to stay in my arms, a fate she normally doesn’t mind, unless we are somewhere she doesn’t want to be.

In under a minute, the boredom was apparent. She threw her puppy stuffed animal to the ground, generally the first expression of displeasure. Trying to bend down to pick up her prized toy, while still holding a protesting toddler and not losing my balance due to my pregnant belly, is quite the task. More people were now in line behind us, and the room was becoming crowded.

Then she shifted to her new strategy. “Help! Help!” she cried to the strangers in line. One more person in front of me, I kept chanting to myself, while trying to shush her in my most cheerful voice in order to convince people this was a normal game, and she was fine. I just needed to get these papers mailed and we could leave.

“Help! Mommy! Daddy! Help!” she continued. Oh great, now people are staring at us, probably wondering exactly what my relationship is with this little girl. I tried smiling at them as I met their questioning glares. They didn’t smile back. Oh, boy. But it was my turn at the counter, so it would all be over soon.

I didn’t realize that sending something Express Mail requires it to be in a special envelope, which the postal worker handed me and asked me to step aside and address. I should have realized the post office would only work to prolong this ordeal. Cordy looked back at the line of people, and gave a quiet, sad, Oscar-worthy, “Help” to the jury waiting behind me, while leaning back against my arm. My back and arm were ready to give out at this point.

Still only having one hand available, and picking up puppy twice while writing, I scribbled the address on the new envelope, trying to keep it passably legible so that this maddening scene wouldn’t have been in vain, while fighting off Cordy’s attempts to grab the pen.

Then she perked up again, and shouted, “Ayudame! Ayudame!” (Spanish for “Help me”) I froze, then slowly turned my head and looked back into the line. Our neighborhood has a high percentage of Spanish speakers, and sure enough, someone understood her. Great, now she’s managed to alienate me to the crowd in two languages. I forced the envelope back at the postal worker, paid for my postage, and turned to run.

Cordy, of course, had to throw her puppy one more time. A nice, older Hispanic man picked the puppy up, and said something to Cordy in Spanish as he handed the puppy back to her. I smiled at him, said thank you (in English), and rushed out the door in embarrassment, not wanting to know what he could have possibly said to her.

Going to my office wasn’t nearly as traumatic. When we walked in the door, I said hi to one of the women I knew, and Cordy once again tried her “Help! Help!” routine. “Sorry, kid, that won’t work on her – she’s seen your picture on my desk, and knows you’re mine,” I told my sullen toddler. Cordy didn’t try it again.

You know, I had planned to be a good mom to her when she was a teen, by doing my best not to embarrass her. But the way she’s been acting lately, I think that embarrassing her as a teen is only fitting retribution, and I will remind her of today when she’s 15, rolls her eyes at me and complains, “But mooooom, I don’t want you to come to the movies with me and my friends! You’ll embarrass me!”

Yes. Yes I will.

Holy sitemeter, Batman! Nothing like getting linked by a high-traffic, and now TV famous blogger to drive your stats through the roof! Yesterday, more than triple the average number of visitors clicked through, most to read my take on the cocktail playdate bru-ha-ha. Izzy noticed a similar trend, as we watched our sitemeters explode. Thanks, Melissa – feel free to link to me anytime!

Speaking of stats, another big event happened to my sitemeter yesterday: I hit 50,000 total visitors sometime early in the day. 50K in just over a year – never thought I’d type that. Thanks for reading, and I hope you’ll continue to enjoy stopping by. Here’s to the next goal of 100,000!

Does anyone else have a toddler who insists on taking half of his or her toys to bed? At first it was just her puppy, but then she started grabbing one other item each night. Now she loads up her arms with toys, stuffed animals, cups and balls overflowing from her tiny frame and blocking her view, insisting that she needs each and every one in order to go to sleep.

Since bedtime is never protested as long as the toys go also, we try not to make an issue of it. But I’m starting to wonder how she sleeps in all this:

Nick Jr., please forward all advertising incentive checks to A Mommy Story…

And finally, this song has been stuck in my head for two days now, so I’m going to unload “Why Mommy Left” on all of you. If you’ve never heard of the singer-comedian Stephen Lynch, you must go to YouTube and find more of his music. He’s one of my favorite comedians, and his twisted songs always cheer me up on bad days. If you like this one, be sure to check out his song “Superhero” also.

These are the network-friendly versions of the songs – most of his work is generally not this profanity-free.

Thanks a lot, Today Show. After watching your segment on cocktail playdates, I called my mom and discussed the topic with her. During this discussion, mom said, “Well, when you were little, I’d have a wine cooler or two with my friends while you were playing with the other kids.”

Wow. After all these years, I find out that when we went over to her friends’ houses so I could play with their kids, turns out she was drinking alcohol with her friends. I never knew, and now the saintly image of my mother has been turned upside down, as I now see she was nothing more than a normal human being with a taste for alcohol and a desire to relax after working 40 hours a week, and parenting me on her own the other 138 hours. My childhood memories are shattered now that the truth has come out that my mom was a bad parent.

OK, all sarcasm aside now, WTF was up with this segment? For those who missed it, the video can be viewed at the link above. They did a short video piece, with the most sensational cutting I have ever seen (the kids were always shown with wine bottles or glasses near them), and they interviewed two blogger/writer moms who believe in the concept of cocktail playdates, while also bringing on an expert with the intention of slamming these moms, while not actually addressing what they said.

I give all the props in the world to Melissa Summers and Stefanie Wilder-Taylor for going on that show and fighting to get their (very valid and sensible) points across, despite the show’s attempts to make moms who happen to have a drink around their kids come across as nothing less than crack whores. The show tried to lump social drinking – having a glass or two over a period of time, possibly with food – in with college fraternity/sorority keg-stand binge drinking. While both Melissa and Stefanie emphasized that they were talking about one or two drinks, Meredith and Dr. Janet continued harping on the aspects of being legally impaired. Two totally different topics.

Drinking around kids is nothing new. My mom, along with others of her generation and generations before her, would occasionally have a drink while socializing with friends, all while the kids played nearby. And while I could have guessed that was going on, until she told me today, I had no idea. (It clearly left an impression, eh?) Mom also used to leave me with the babysitter so she could go out drinking at bars with her non-parent friends, too. She was 24, newly divorced, and struggling with being a single parent. I can’t blame her at all for that – I’d want a drink, too.

This piece only reinforced the belief that mothers should be held to higher standards than non-parents, fathers, or any other human beings, while at the same time also suggesting the moms are complete idiots who could never know when “enough is enough” when it comes to drinking. So we’re supposed to be holier than the Virgin Mary, yet we’re not intelligent enough to know how to stop if given a little alcohol? It’s no wonder we can’t win.

The truth is, American culture is filled with puritanical notions of right and wrong, and alcohol happens to be one of the hot buttons, especially when paired with the hot button of mothering. Many here don’t understand the word moderation, how to apply it, or how others could possibly know what it means. The Europeans are probably laughing themselves silly at us, and we deserve it. Social drinking, especially at meal time, is much more common in Europe, where even a pregnant woman can have an occasional glass of wine without being shunned. Yet their kids don’t seem to have higher levels of alcoholism, and I do believe their kids are still beating the pants off of us in standardized tests.

And this segment also suggested that it is OK for parents to drink if it’s a mixed event, like a BBQ or family gathering. (I guess it’s OK then because the men are there to stop us crazy, unintelligent women from drinking too much, right?) And nothing was mentioned about dads drinking in front of their kids. Do they get a free pass?

Moms, especially stay at home moms, don’t often get the chance to socialize with friends without their kids. If everyone else is allowed to have a drink to relax, why can’t moms? Dr. Janet kept saying that there had to be “healthier” ways to relax, but come on – these women aren’t getting drunk everyday, they’re having an occasional glass of wine now and then. And isn’t it healthier to have a glass with friends while sharing your frustrations, than to sit at home and drink alone to drown your misery?

Would I drink around my children? Yes. Would I get drunk around my children? No. Do I know my limits? Absolutely. Believe me, I drank enough in college to know my limits very well. One glass of wine would barely have any effect on me, and if I drink it over the course of an hour or more, would probably have no effects on my judgment or ability. And as I get older, I find one glass of wine is just the right amount for a social setting.

And it’s not like I drink every day. Or every week for that matter. I happen to like good wine (especially a good German Riesling…yum), and when at a social function, I enjoy having a glass. Big shocker of the day: I’ve even had a glass of wine while pregnant. Again, it’s all about moderation, people. My OB leveled with me and said the only reason doctors don’t tell patients it’s OK to drink while pregnant is because some people don’t understand moderation. She had no problems with me having a glass of wine.

I see nothing wrong with modeling responsible drinking around my kids. Keeping alcohol a big secret from them will only cause them to find out about it later, possibly from someone who doesn’t share my belief on moderation. I’d rather be the one teaching the lesson on what is proper alcohol consumption and when it is appropriate.

Stefanie said it best, and Melissa echoed it, when she said this is simply one more way that women judge each other in the quest to think themselves better than other mothers. Most moms are intelligent human beings who are simply trying to find the balance between being the best possible mother while also not losing our own sense of self in the mountain of sippy cups, Dora videos, and diapers. I’m pretty sure that when I left the hospital with my daughter, I didn’t have to sign any legal statements swearing to give up my entire life as I know it, and never do anything to ruin my child’s image of me, like drinking, watching TV, eating anything but healthy foods, and having sex.

I am a mom, but I’m also a woman, a wife, a daughter, a writer, a student, and a friend, and for my own sanity I have to be allowed to continue to develop the other roles in my life, and not just the one of mommy. Because if I shut off all other areas of my life, deny that I am anything but a mother, what kind of role model am I being to my daughter?

Yesterday was a double-dose of pregnancy news. My regular doctor’s visit was first, followed by an evening visit for another ultrasound to confirm the gender.

I went to the doctor expecting to see a weight gain this month. I was sick at the beginning of the month, but since then my hunger has quadrupled and I find myself eating non-stop all day long. I have become the stereotype of the pregnant woman stuffing her face anytime she can. If there is food near me, chances are I’m eating it, unless it specifically belongs to someone else.

But when I stepped on the scale, I was greeted by a smaller number. I’m down a half pound from last month, for a total loss of three and a half pounds since my starting weight. My doctor and I discussed it, and she’s not worried, since the baby is still right on track for growth. I started this pregnancy 20 pounds heavier than when I started my pregnancy with Cordy, so I’ve got plenty of extra to feed the baby with. However, the doctor joked that I am one of the few who can help herself to seconds and have no guilt over food, as long as I’m not filling all of those extra calories with Krispy Kremes. (Well, there goes THAT plan.)

Then, we had the ultrasound in the evening. The place we went to is Ultrasona Columbus, a private ultrasound provider. We had one of these done with Cordy, too, just to double check the gender, since she didn’t cooperate during the doctor’s ultrasound. My doctor saw nothing wrong with it, and since Aaron had to miss the big ultrasound last month, this gave him a chance to see his second child. This provider also does a limited diagnostic review, too, and I wanted to check to see if my placenta had moved up from the previous low-lying position.

We brought Cordy along as well, although we worried she might freak out like she did at the last ultrasound. She hates any place that looks like a doctor’s office. But this place was wonderful. The waiting room looked like a living room, with sofas and plush carpet, and it was filled with toys. The ultrasound room also had a home-like feel to it: a large sofa, dim lights and pretty decor, and the “table” was actually a twin bed, with the sonography machine in the corner. There was a large plasma TV on the wall so everyone in the room could watch. Cordy didn’t get upset at all, and actually had a good time running around the room and playing with the toys.

The result was that we can now say for certain that baby #2 is a girl, as she wasn’t shy at all this time. She didn’t seem to mind the attention, and gave us some very cute pictures. She currently is folded in half, with her legs stretched out and her feet up by her face. With the “4D” ultrasound, you can see movement in 3D, and we were able to watch her yawn, play with her feet, and kick me. It’s amazing how far ultrasound technology has come in two years – the level of detail this time was simply stunning. I also now know my placenta has moved up, so it’s looking like I can still try for a VBAC.

Here are a few of the pictures from the session. If I knew how to capture video from a DVD, I’d show you the clip of her yawning, but that is currently beyond my technological knowledge. If you are lousy at seeing anything in an ultrasound picture, know that you’re looking at her face straight on, with her arm visible in the second picture, and her arm across her face with her index finger extended in the third.

Now we just need a name for our new baby girl.

There’s something that has been bothering me lately, and I feel the need to confess it to all of you. I didn’t think it was a problem, my husband didn’t think it was a problem, but others around us keep telling us it’s a problem. And after hearing it enough, it makes a person wonder what kind of parent they are to not be more aware of things like this, and be more vigilant about taking action to correct the problem.

Here goes: I have a two year old, nearly two and a half, actually, and she cannot use a spoon or fork.

I know – I’m an awful parent, right? OK, maybe not the earth-shattering confession you were expecting, but nonetheless still an issue that seems to be pointed out to us more and more each day.

Cordy has no interest in feeding herself with a spoon. None at all. She’s actually become quite good at feeding herself finger foods, like cut up triangles of sandwiches, pretzels and crackers, and anything that doesn’t require an eating utensil. But put a spoon in her hand, and she isn’t quite sure what to do with it. She may give it a few tries, but generally will whine and thrust the spoon at us until we take it and start feeding her.

I should add that she is not developmentally behind due to her own capabilities. I can blame it all on parental laziness. When she was much younger, right at the age of abandoning baby food for whatever we were having, she hated having a bath. The bath generally resulted in screaming, thrashing, struggling to get out, and all of us feeling traumatized afterwards. As a result, we did our best to make sure she remained as clean as possible.

We sought out the best foods that resulted in the least amount of mess. She was given free reign on anything that wasn’t in a liquid or semi-liquid form, but when it came to something needing a spoon or fork, I insisted on doing it for her. That way I could control the spoon, ensuring the food ended up in her mouth instead of her clothes, her hands, or worst of all, her hair. Even non-liquid foods, like pasta covered in sauce, were controlled by me to ensure there would be little mess.

I should have given her more control of the spoon, but it seemed so easy to just do it myself. Even after she developed a love of the bath (although it still devolves into screaming and thrashing when washing her hair), I continued the practice, for my own ease. We’ve never been a family that sits around a table eating dinner – Aaron and I usually have our dinners in the living room, and often we don’t eat at the same time. (We have such different tastes in food that we often make different meals.) So Cordy often sits on my lap, while I feed her pasta, yogurt, applesauce, etc.

And now we’re at the point where our two and a half year old toddler – nearly a preschooler – cannot use a spoon, and doesn’t want to. My mom, who watches Cordy once a week, has started gradually nagging me about this fact, more and more each week, leaving me feeling like a horrible parent who can’t even teach her daughter basic life skills, like using eating utensils. And other people in my non-virtual life have commented on it as well.

While it wouldn’t bother me so much to have one parenting flaw pointed out, it usually doesn’t stop there – she also has no interest in potty training, can’t drink from a straw or actually anything but a sippy cup, watches too much TV, and doesn’t understand how to clean up her toys (she’s very good at putting one or two in a box, but then takes them right back out again and throws them everywhere). It’s enough to make me want to hide under the bed for a week.

At yet at the same time, I know we’re doing something right. She has learned to say “thanks”, she rarely acts out against us (no hitting and no more biting), she’s well-behaved in restaurants, she obeys simple safety instructions, she’s smart and can count to 15, and she’s generally a very happy child. So what if she hasn’t mastered a few skills, right? She’s always been a little behind in physical development, and in the grand scheme of things, I highly doubt she’ll be going to kindergarten in diapers with a sippy and no idea how to use a spoon. But there is a good chance she won’t be ready for preschool at three years old.

Am I a bad mommy for neglecting to teach my toddler how to use a spoon? Are there other parents out there who have spoon challenged kids, or are all of your toddlers skilled in the use of the spoon, and possibly moving on to more challenging utensils like chopsticks? Do I just need to bite the bullet, cover my kitchen in vinyl drapes, and prepare for the mess as I force her to use a spoon?

Advice welcome.