Rachel Callahan

The Complications of Riding a Roomba.

August 29, 2011August 29, 2011 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, I'm No Videographer, Parent of the Year

Several months ago, Chris introduced me to the fabulous YouTube trend that is the sport of combining a Roomba, a Bumbo, and a Baby.

It was brilliant. It was hilarious. And I was jealous that I hadn’t thought of it.

(I mean, with names like Bumbo and Roomba, why didn’t I realize the obvious destiny of combining those two objects??)

Since that day, I’ve wanted to take my own kid on a Bumbo Roomba Video Rodeo. So, even though Noah had long outgrown the use of his Bumbo, I took it with us this past weekend to Chris’ Aunt and Uncle’s house, because they owned one of these fabulously useful Roombas.

But what I discovered is there are many complicating factors to having a successful Bumbo Roomba experience.

For instance. If you have a fat kid.

If your baby eats more than your almost five year old does on a regular basis, he MIGHT be a heavier load than a Roomba prefers to carry around the room. So instead, it will just sit and spin back and forth, desperately trying to rid itself of it’s load of lard.

Tile floors also do not help the Roomba overcome it’s heavy-laden distress. Even when it does try to suck it up and zoom, every time it hits a grout groove, it uses that as an excuse to go no further.

Also complicating is a lack of perfect fit between said Bumbo and Roomba. If only Bumbos were made a quarter of an inch bigger…but they’re not. Which causes slippage off of the back of the Roomba approximately every 7 seconds.

And finally, the lack of ownership of a miniature Star Trek uniform. Not that any other videos had this asset either, but in my head, this video is so much funnier with Noah dressed up as Jean-Luc Picard.

But although my dream of a perfectly awesome Bumbo-Roomba video was not achieved, I will humbly share with you the fruit of my labors…

Disclaimer: No babies were harmed in the making of this video. A certain Roomba, however, may never be the same, over which I may have deep feelings of guilt and remorse, and also may owe Aunt Kitty, (heard in this video puzzling over the lack of RoombaZoom), a new robotic vacuum.

Ambassadors for Honesty About Parenthood.

August 25, 2011July 21, 2020 Rachel Callahan A Bit More Vulnerable Than I Usually Am, Actually Possibly Informational, Newbornities, On a more serious note. . ., Pop Post, Popular Posts

She was standing, staring listlessly at the merchandise on the children’s medicine aisle at CVS.

As I searched for Ali’s Ibuprofen, she turned to me and asked, “How do you know what to buy? I mean, there are so many options. It’s just overwhelming!”

I looked into her eyes for the first time. She looked exhausted and despairing, and was carrying an equally tired-looking baby.

“What do you need it for?”

“Teething. He was up all night last night, screaming, thrashing his arms, and absolutely miserable.”

She sighed and looked at the floor. “I’m so tired.”

I saw the look in her eyes – the one I’ve seen so many times in other first-time Moms, and the one that I owned for the first six months of Ali’s life.

Fear. Anxiety. Despair. Panic.

“Oh I’m SO sorry – that is the worst. We haven’t started teething yet, but I expect it any day now. It is not fun.”

She had already seen Ali, but she noticed Noah for the first time, sitting in my grocery cart. “Oh – how old is he?”

“Eight months.”

Her eyes lit up, obviously thrilled to find someone else in her place in life. She motioned to her baby. “He’s eight months too!! When is your baby’s birthday?”

Her excitement over our commonness made me even more aware of how alone she felt.

We kept talking, discovering that our boys were two weeks apart, discussing about the difficulties of babies, and picking out a pain reliever.

As we were walking away, she looked me in the eyes. “Thank you so much for your help.”

I hadn’t helped with the pain reliever thing that much, but I knew what she meant.

As I got in my car, my heart ached for her. I wanted to do more – I wanted to run back, give her a hug, promise that it gets easier, it gets better, and that she will get to a place where parenthood is enjoyable. There was so much more I wanted to say.

“They get to be so much fun – I promise!!”

“Just wait until the first time that he says ‘ub oo, Mommy’. Your heart will somersault!”

“We’ve all been there – anything you’re feeling right now, I bet I’ve felt it too! You’re not crazy, you’re not alone, you’re not an unfit parent.”

“It’s all a phase. Everything is a phase – both the good and the bad.”

I remember the misery that infanthood can be – something that I mercifully didn’t experience with Noah (or perhaps was more prepared for), but certainly had my share of with Ali. Infanthood is so different than you expect that it makes you feel completely isolated and inadequate.

I also remember that my saving grace through it all was the honesty and compassion of my closest friends and my Mom – both of whom were willing to boldly share their own struggles of motherhood and reassure me that they had experienced the same feelings.

Had they not been there, I would have despaired even more, thinking I was the worst mother in the world, and that I was somehow missing the Mommy gene that everyone else seemed to have received.

Because of their impact on me, and because I remember those feelings painfully well, I am determined to show the same mercy, compassion, and most importantly, honesty to every other new Mommy that I run into.

I want to be an Ambassador for Honesty About Parenthood.

No, babies and kids are not always easy – and not in a romantic, “oh this isn’t easy but it’s worth it” way – sometimes it’s so hard that it doesn’t feel worth it AT ALL and you wonder why you had kids.

Yes, you very well may panic after having a baby, wondering what you’ve done to your previously perfect life.

No, you may not feel immediately bonded and in love with your baby. They may feel like a tiny, screaming intrusion. But love will come. It will grow in your heart until you are bursting!

But most importantly? It gets better! You will enjoy your child. You will feel unsurpassed love for them. You will “feel” like a Mommy. You will get your sense of self back. You will be able to think about other things than your new baby all the time. You will be able to take a break and get away with your husband without worrying about your child the entire time.

It is worth it and you will love it!!

And also, not all Motherhood is created equally – your second baby may be a joy – mine was! You don’t have to fear that having another will sink you into the depths that your first may have done.

Or maybe you will struggle with a different phase than I did. My hardest was my first newborn, but Ali’s two’s were more terrific than I could have imagined. Your child may be hardest at two, and be a perfect newborn. Either way, you will get past your stage of misery, and you will enjoy your life – and even parenting – again.

Oh – and Mommy Guilt is a completely normal occurrence – a state of mind even. If you have a moment of motherhood that you’re not feeling guilty about something, enjoy it! And try not to let the guilt get you down.

Even if I’d seemed like a nosy freak that day in CVS, I wish I had done more. I wish I’d offered to hold her baby for a minute to let her compose herself, and then reassured her that this too, will pass. And, on a morning not too far off in the future, she will wake up thanking God for the amazing blessings of children that He’s given her – because that’s what I was able to do this morning.

There are too many books on how to parent, but not enough on how it feels to parent. If you want to be a blessing to someone today, don’t tell them how to fix their problem, just tell them that you understand where they are, and that you’ve been there too.

If you’re struggling with Mommyhood and need a friend, please email me at rachel (at) graspingforobjectivity (dot) com. I’ve been there! And it does get so much better – I promise!!

It’s Like Riding a Bike…

August 23, 2011August 23, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, Anal Retentivity to a Fault, Kids: The Experience., Parent of the Year, Quirky quirky quirkiness

This photograph describes my daughter in a way that words cannot.

This is The Essence of Ali.

There’s a certain gene of cautiousness that runs deep in Chris and his family, and Ali got every last drop of it. Origami would be a risk in her book, what with the potential for paper cuts and all.

A thrilling activity in her mind is lining up, in rainbow order, all of the contents of a board game…

And the most adventurous of outing would be aiding in the building of a giant Lego Buzz Lightyear.

Anything more risky than that – well, that would be just downright foolhardy, wouldn’t it?

…which might explain the gap in our parental training called…bike riding.

We bought her a bike for her birthday in January, and have let her ride it around the house, but never got around to taking her and her bike…um, outside.

Granted, we had other things going on around then, like, say, a brand new baby, but still – there is no excuse for not giving your child the chance to ride her bike.

Not that she asked to do such a thing. I mean, hello?!?! RISKS?!?! No thank you.

Finally, we realized that we would be sealing our fate is the world’s worst parents if we allowed her to make it to her next birthday without ever taking her bike out of doors.

Since we live in a mountainous neighborhood, we packed up her bike and took her to the local destination of bike-riding families, a flat-surfaced Church parking lot.

We saddled her up, applied her helmet, and started helping her learn the laborious process of pedaling.

We felt the heat of the other parent’s judging eyes…shouldn’t that kid already know how to ride a bike?

Why yes, yes she should.

Our guilt was only grinded into our open, bleeding wounds when a two year old zipped by us, speeding around the parking lot and careening around corners with ease and precision – and with no training wheels.

Yes, yes. We are the monkey brains of food, the bottom feeders of the ocean, the catheter commercials of television, the spam of the internet.

We are scum.

Ali, however, didn’t notice our obvious lateness in training.

She also didn’t notice the uber-advanced two year old.

She was actually busy – and quite intent on – learning how to ride a bike.

Wait a minute… you’re actually willing to do this?? And enjoying it??

You do realize there are risks involved, right?

But she was determined. The coordination of pedaling took some work, and the steering WHILE coordinatingly pedaling took even longer. There were many off-road journeys involved, but luckily, her trusty trainer helped her avoid disaster.

…and her number one fan cheered her on, all while dodging the nearly certain disaster of being run over by flimsy training wheels.

After about an hour, she had the hang of it, was starting to go faster and faster and faster, and was quite proud of her new daredevil hobby.

We were feeling a little less shamed by the “normal” parents in the parking lot, and were about to call it a night and ride home on a cloud of victory…

…which is right when she chose to crash.

And crash she did. The bike landed on her knee and thigh, and all of her cautious-I-knew-better-than-to-try-this attitude exploded out of every pore as she panicked and forever labeled her bike an Item of Certain Death.

Chris told her the most important rule of bike-riding: you have to get back on after you crash.

She looked at him, tears still streaming, as if he had just told her to jump off the roof. Or make origami.

I took her aside and we took a break, doing something a bit more along her lines of acceptable risk: we made fairies out of fern leaves.

Finally, the screaming, snuffling, and whimpering subsided, and somehow, miraculously, I convinced her to climb aboard and finish her ride.

She pedaled slower and more gingerly than I knew was possible, but she made it to the car… with only a slight hatred resentment towards us for making her finish.

She may finally know how to ride a bike, but on the inside, with each cautious push of the foot, she’s really still doing this:

Baby v. Food

August 21, 2011November 3, 2013 Rachel Callahan Guest Post, I'm a Glutton for Adventure, Newbornities, NoahBlogs, Pop Post, Utter Silliness

Hi! Noah Here.

And welcome to Baby v. Food!

I’m a food fanatic who’s only been eating for about two months, but I haven’t yet met anything I didn’t like to eat – food or otherwise.

Now I’m on a mouthwatering journey to pig out as often as possible, and take on the Mommy’s most legendary eating challenges.

I’m no competitive eater, just a regular baby with a serious appetite.

Today, I’m visiting The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy’s kitchen. They serve gigantic portions of miniature goldfish, fruit, crackers, and pretty much whatever food scraps The Servants decide to share with me.

I am constantly astounding The Servants with the portion sizes that I can put down. So today, The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy has prepared a massive food challenge for me.

It’s ginormous.

It’s epic.

It’s bigger than my head!

That’s right, people.

5 Club Crackers,
50 Goldfish,
2 colossal Strawberries,
21 Blueberries,
and a whole fruit cup of Mandarin Oranges!!

Of all of the babies that have taken on this challenge, ZERO have succeeded.

If I can finish this whole meal in 30 minutes or less, I will get my picture put on the wall of fame, will get a T-Shirt stating that I Survived The Baby Challenge, and most importantly, I will win a new high chair cover so that I can get rid of the awful girly toile left over from The Sister!

But there are rules to this challenge.

1. No milk.
2. No diaper changes.
3. No mid-meal napping.
4. No hiding items in my bib.
5. Paci use allowed only for brief intervals to aid in swallowing.
6. And, again, I only have 30 minutes.

With a plate of Baby Euphoria stacked between me and eternal food glory, I’m ready to take on this challenge!

This is my ultimate hunger quest. This is Baby v. Food!!!

Start the clock, people, and give me my first bite.

Ohhh YUM.

… the crunch of that goldfish is just right, the delicate mixture of gold and fish prepared perfectly. It just makes me want to sink my teeth into it!!

…if I had any.

Now. It’s time to get to business. The first strategy I’m going to employ is to eat an even mixture of all of the foods, letting the juicier fruits help me break down the drier crackers.

I also will liberally employ the Not Chewing Technique – which The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy will discover tomorrow in a most gruesome way.

I feel great. The Club Crackers are fresh, crisp, and delicious, and those pre-packaged, preservative-pumped Mandarin Oranges just can’t be beat.

Ten minutes in, and I’m already making huge progress!

…But those crackers are beginning to catch up with me.

I wanna puke,

I wanna poo,

…but I manage to hold it together and demand that The Servant give me another bite.

Oh, that bite went down hard.

But I press on.

…as do all of those goldfish on my stomach lining.

Twenty minutes in, and I’ve had all I can take. The thing I was afraid of is actually starting to happen – I’ve hit The Wall.

Here comes The Sister Who Calls Herself Ali! Just as I thought I was going to let all of those goldfish swim free,

She is cheering me on!

She believes in me!

I can do this!! For her, and to finally rid myself of that embarrassing toile!!

Four … more … bites …

Three … more … bites …

Two … more … bites …

ONE!! MORE!! BITE!!!

I DID IT!!!!

In this epic battle of Baby v. Food,

BABY WON!!!

I will now be taking questions from the audience.

Yes, the young lady to my left.

Baby, what do you think about the fact that The Servant Who Calls Herself Mommy forgot that she wasn’t supposed to be feeding you strawberries until you’re one year old?

Well, I appear to not be allergic to them, but I’ll let you know for sure in the morning.

Yes, you over there to my right.

So Baby, how do you feel right now?

I feel like I need to be wearing about eight Pampers.

That’s all we have time for, so thanks for joining us for today’s episode of Baby v. Food!!!

If you want to see the extended edition, where I reenact a backwards version of Jonah and the whale,

Go to my travel blog…or don’t. No one wants to see that.

Are You Eating Local?

August 19, 2011November 12, 2013 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Alabama Bloggers, I Love Birmingham

Are you Facebook Friends with an employee of one of your favorite restaurants?

Has your kid ever been photographed by the chef because she was the unofficial restaurant mascot?

Do you go to any restaurants and immediately feel like you’re family when you sit down because the waitress comes over and gives you and your kids a hug?

If not, you probably cook more often than I do.

(Good job!!)

…Or, you may just not be visiting locally-owned restaurants – the epitome of hospitality.

Believe me – I know that with kids, it seems so much easier to go to national, known establishments that give them logo-covered balloons and pre-printed coloring pages – places that you know exactly what to expect and how long it will take you to get in, feed your kids, clean up their unholy mess, and get out unscathed.

But I can say from personal experience that even without pre-printed balloons, local restaurants can do the kid thing even better.

We used to be the most chainy of restaurant eaters ourselves – shamefully even before we had kids. Ruby Tuesday, Applebees, Outback… never realizing what we were missing.

Then, thanks to the people that had the idea years before Groupon, Birmingham Menus, we began buying discount gift certificates for local eating establishments. Some we had already been going to for years amidst our national eating habits like Nabeel’s and The Fish Market, but some we discovered solely because of Birmingham Menus, like one of our favorites, Silvertron.

This changed our whole eating experience.

Local was…refreshing.

The food was better. It was fresher, tastier, less expensive, and, as I told you that we discovered while doing our weight loss plan, had much lower calories.

And the richness of history that we discovered was thrilling. Besides learning about our city, I’ve learned so much about my own family by visiting local restaurants. For instance, I knew that he worked there as a teenager, but it wasn’t until after I wrote this post about The Bright Star that I learned my Grandfather took his first steps as a baby in the back room!

After regularly eating local for a while, going back to Applebee’s, in all honesty, felt like eating cardboard. The imagination and freshness just wasn’t there.

But the people at local restaurants impacted us just as much as the food itself. We had real relationships, something that you already know I seek out with voracity.

When I got pregnant with Ali, many of our restaurant friends cheered for us. They anticipated with us and couldn’t wait for us to bring that baby in for them to see. Ali, and then the addition of Noah, only deepened our relationships – something that would never have happened at Ruby Tuesday.

Knowing that your kids are not only welcome but anticipated really makes you less paranoid about their unholy messes.

I’m not saying that we only eat local – we still have a couple of guilty pleasures. But we have discovered that in almost every instance, eating locally wins hands-down in every way.

This week is Birmingham Restaurant Week – an event filled celebration of our fabulous local restaurant scene.

Obviously, it’s a week of heaven for me.

And even better, the “week” actually lasts ten days.

Starting today and lasting through August 28, almost thirty local restaurants are participating this year, all offering deeply discounted three (or more) course meals. Which, by the way, is the perfect excuse to have dessert. I mean, if it comes with the meal…

Their restaurant week menus are all available at the website, and some of them even have special kid’s menus just for the event!

Chris and I attended the Preview Party last night and sampled the offerings from twelve of these restaurants, and you will not regret participating – I guarantee it.

Chris is still raving about the Shrimp and Steak from Michael’s, and I have a new favorite at a restaurant I’ve been going to since I was a little girl – the Spinach Lasagne from Nabeel’s was my absolute best taste of the night.

(Isn’t it beautiful??)

I will be blogging the event this week, visiting at least three of our favorite restaurants WITH the kids in tow to show that eating local with your kids is not only attainable, but preferable. We will be visiting Nabeel’s, Silvertron, and Rojo, and I will be blogging our experiences (and the food) at my other blog, Alabama Bloggers.

If you’re local, be sure to check out Birmingham Restaurant Week for yourself – it’s a perfect opportunity to step out of a comfort zone and try something completely new. And also head over to Alabama Bloggers over the next few days to read about some of our favorite places!

What is your opinion about eating local versus eating at chains?

What are your favorite local restaurants in your city and why?

Just Because You’re Paranoid…

August 18, 2011January 6, 2014 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., I'm a Blog Geek, Investigative Report, Just My Luck, Mystery Solved, Weird Strange and True

…doesn’t mean they’re not really out to get you.

Or at least that’s what my Dad used to tease me with during the days of my overly-suspicious youth.

I received a text last night.

A nasty one.

It was from a number I’d never seen before, out of state, and all it said was,

“Parent of the year award goes to you!! DCS will be visiting later tonight!!”

At first I was puzzled. What’s DCS?? Parent of the year?? Huh??

DCS, DCS, DCS… Department of…Child Services?!?

What the..?!?

Was this some sort of threat? And why?

Then I remembered: I had posted my Baby Tips post that morning. Surely I didn’t have some wacko person that found my post and actually took me seriously, thought the photos endangered my child, and called DCS.

Surely not…

Then some of the things that have happened in the past began flooding into my mind.

(I am, apparently, easily misunderstood when taken out of context.)

I started shaking. Not because I was scared of DCS (I was thinking it was more of an empty threat to scare me), but because I was upset that someone would think I was being careless with my children..and also, how could they have found my cell phone number?!?

Chris came in the room. I told him what had happened and showed him the text. “Are you sure someone isn’t just joking with you? Some people have weird senses of humor.”

“If it had come from a number I knew, sure – but not from an out-of-state one. That’s not in the least bit funny. Surely not.”

“But look!! They used four exclamation points. No one that is serious uses four exclamation points.”

“True. But still…how did they get my cell phone number?? Nobody would go to that much trouble for a joke. Why wouldn’t they just send me a threatening email?”

I launched my investigation. I started by using reverse look-up on the phone number. $1.99? Sure, I’ll pay that.

No name – a cell phone from Lafayette, Louisiana.

I don’t know anyone in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Next step: I searched my entire blog’s stat logs for the day: had anyone been on my blog from Lafayette and read Baby Tips? If so, I’d have their IP address.

Nope… a few Louisiana visitors went to my Mom Jeans post, but that hardly warrants my arrest.

Third order of business: I went back and read my post.

Seriously?? There is nothing in there that anyone could take as even halfway dangerous. Not even the balloon shot.

Seriously, people?

Seriously!!

But, stranger things have happened…

Chris suggested that I text them back, asking if they had the wrong number. “I’ve gotten lots of texts from wrong numbers before.”

“If you’re right and I’m wrong, then a text back would solve the problem. But if I’m right and it is an angry stalker of some sort, a text back will only fuel them to harass me further.”

“True…do what you like.”

I put my detective hat back on. I needed a name for these people. I searched the internet for a better reverse look-up. Found one – high ratings, looked legit – $4.99 for all the information you’d ever want on a person. I’ll take it.

I put the number in again. This time, it came back with a location of Sunset, Louisiana.

Wait a minute…one of my best friends (Lydia, incidentally from aforementioned Mom Jeans fame) is from Sunset, and still has family in Sunset…

…surely Chris wasn’t right…

…surely this wasn’t just a really bad joke…and from a FRIEND, too!!

The name came up.

Yup – that’s her sister all right.

All of a sudden, I found myself intensely irritated with my dear friend Lydia. She knows some of the cyberspace issues I’ve dealt with. She should know this was NOT funny.

And…seriously?? After reading my blog this morning, she had texted me the following baby tips addendum of her son:

Be sure your child always has the appropriate protective equipment on his head and knees and knows how to sit still and firmly hold the handlebars. Never be more than an arm’s reach away.

How were my pics worse than hers??

Sicko.

See if I try Mom Jeans on with HER ever again.

I tried calling her. She didn’t answer.

MM HMM. Thinks she’s funny, does she.

I text her. “Coming from a blogger that’s been harassed and threatened for real, not so funny. But I love you anyway. :)”

Five minutes later, I got a phone call.

“Hey! I was on a date with Chuck – sorry I missed your call.”

“Oh, I see. Harassing me while you’re on a date, huh?”

She laughed. “And I just got a text from you – was that meant for me? I don’t get it.”

“SURE you don’t. Your sister IS so-and-so so-and-so, isn’t she?”

“Yes…why?”

“Well, I got a text from her that I’m assuming you put her up to.”

“Oh! I got that text too. She was joking about my photo of Radford that I texted to you, her and Chuck. I guess she replied to all! Can you do that on a text message? Oh wait! Chuck’s getting it now too!”

…Apparently, people, you CAN “reply all” on a text message.

Relief.

Embarrassment.

Return of love for Lydia.

…And a bit of amusement at myself.

“Well, tell your sister that I now know her name, address, and have her background check, if she needs it for anything.”

The moral of this story: always trust your husband. He made two suppositions, and both were right. Also? Don’t stalk me – or I’ll stalk you.

…but as I learned very early on in my childhood, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not really out to get you.

Baby Tips, 2.0

August 17, 2011August 17, 2011 Rachel Callahan Newbornities, Parent of the Year, Utter Silliness

Prequels:
Baby Tips
Toddler Tips

Baby Tips, 2.0

You will have a lot to teach your baby over the years, so it’s never too soon to start. Especially regarding complicated matters, such as The Facts of Life.

Older siblings are also helpful in teaching Baby, but take care that you leave them in a safe, soft, stable environment for that training to take place.

Take care to not foster an attitude of rebellion into Baby – it will come back to haunt you.

If your baby happens to be a boy, when changing his diaper, always ensure that things are pointed in a downward direction. This will help ensure that he doesn’t soil your friends and family.

Your baby will most likely go through an awkward stage at some point.

Do not make fun of him.

Always remember the rule of thumb: Awkward Babies are Sensitive Babies.

As your baby is learning to sit independently, always place him on soft surfaces, and make sure that there are no sharp objects anywhere nearby.

Babies are easily addicted. Choose very wisely what substances you choose to share with them, or else you may have grave results.

Take care to not let Baby anger or disturb any animals – they may react unfavorably toward their aggressor.

Be cautious when placing your hands around Baby’s mouth and face so as to not transfer any germs.

Also, do not let Baby stick anything into his mouth on his own that might have been exposed to germs.

Especially items that may have been snotted on by over 682 children since last washed.

Do not feed baby items just for the enjoyment of his facial expressions. This is cruel.

Babies should typically not be allowed to eat paper products.

Take care when choosing baby toys – make sure they aren’t large enough to obstruct Baby’s breathing.

Prepackaged, preservative-filled sugary snacks should never be given to Baby.

These sorts of disgustingly unhealthy products can give Baby terrible tummy-aches.

Do not let Baby eat sand.

Nor should you let Baby’s sister feed him large handfuls of sand.

Do not place Baby inside of easily capsizable objects.

Start forming a habit early of only allowing Baby to play with gender-specific or gender-neutral toys.

Do not allow your baby to play with any small toys or items of any sort, due to eating and/or choking risks.

Also, babies should never be allowed to play with rubber, bag-like, or latex items, due to the dangers of suffocation.

No matter how young and un-mobile baby is, do not place him on elevated surfaces to take his picture, even when placed with a “responsible” older sibling.

And finally, don’t let Baby get lost in his older sibling’s shadow…or Entourage.

Why I Run.

August 16, 2011August 7, 2014 Rachel Callahan Actually Possibly Informational, Chris, Guest Post, Lose It Diet, Running, The Blissfulness of Life, Uncategorized

Chris here, guest-blogging again.

I like to run. Not fast. More jog than sprint. More wander than race.

I’ve been doing this, on average, twice a week since 2003. Sometimes longer distances or times, sometimes inside on the treadmill when its hot, cold, dark, or wet.

It has become my favorite “me” thing to do on vacation. I like to explore new places on my feet.

Why run? Because walking takes too long.

And I would look silly walking in the dri-fit, headbanded, tank-topped, spandexed clothes that are actually comfortable to sweat in.

I get out and explore beaches, cities, towns, whatever is available when we travel, and I absolutely love it. I have this crazy idea that I get to know a place intimately when I run through it. I feel the ground under my feet, I hear the nature, I see the people going about their everyday lives. I exchange simple greetings and (polite) gestures with locals. You get the idea.

Also, in an ironic twist, while the famous touristy places are often packed and pricey, you can be very much alone running in free public places.

So last weekend, I ran through San Diego. I had never been to California before, and the sunny August climate in the breezy 70’s was the perfect background for what has to be the best 12 miles I have run in these 8 running years.

So here is my route:

And here is a taste of the adventure, minus the gentle ocean breezes, crashing waves, etc.

This is SeaWorld, where I started after a $2.25 trolley ride (Note: popular, packed, and pricey.)

I headed west along the San Diego River,

(Note: unpopular, unpacked, and free. Although, if I had been with my kids, I’m sure I would have ponied up the $70 per adult admission price and watched Shamu with my wide-eyed progeny)

picked up the Ocean Beach Bike Path,

passed some dedicated bird watchers,

and then turned south down Ocean Beach.

It was relatively uncrowded for a beach in the summertime,

with experienced surfers,

and not-so-experienced surfers.

San Diego has what must be the longest pier I’ve ever seen,

which makes for great postcard-vista “set-as-desktop-background” photos.

At this point the path became a little more challenging, consisting entirely of rock,

(but very scenic rock)

sometimes with a path,

and dotted with small enclaves of beach.

The big rocks turned into small ones,

and then precarious narrow dirt paths,

and sometimes a stretch of flat, man-made, hand railed sidewalk, but always with a beautiful awe-inspiring Creator-thanking Pacific view.

All good things must come to a sharply inclined end,

but heights do make for good pictures too.

I followed Sunset Cliffs Boulevard along the coast,

then turned inland, up the side of a mountain, at first on the road and then along dirt paths leading up to Point Loma Nazarene University, 350 feet above the beach (did you see the little altitude meter on my route map?).

The reward for the climb is definitely, again, the view.

I liked the irony of ultra-water-conservative plants looking longingly at an infinite water supply…

When you pass through the college and head down the mountain, you catch a glimpse of your destination, which is reassuring that you might actually make it back without grabbing a 20 out of your Nike fanny pack and hailing a cab.

After a brief tour of the small commercial center of Point Loma, I picked up North Harbor Drive, which follows the long side of San Diego Bay behind the airport.

This long stretch included an equally long park dotted with water fountains with uncomfortably low water pressure, where you consciously try not touch the hardware with your lips, and consciously try not to wonder whether the thirsty hordes before you drank consciously or not.

I drank from them all.

Eventually I made it back downtown, and dodged the tourists along the boardwalk being lavished with opportunities to tour pirate ships and ride pedicabs.

I whittled 150 pictures down to what you see here, but trust me as much as you can. I feel like I saw an endless stream of scenic San Diego landmarks, all for a $2.25 trolley ride.

So that’s one reason I run, but there are others, such as following an epic run with an epic culinary experience like this one, enjoyed at Luigi’s in Mission Beach, with no Lose It guilt whatsoever.

Downtown on Dwellable

The Police: Not Just for Bad Tickets.

August 15, 2011August 15, 2011 Rachel Callahan A Day in the Life, I embarrass myself just for your amusement., It's Tough Being a Girl, Kids: The Experience.

As I was laying in bed pondering life a couple of weeks ago, I rolled over to Chris and shared a troubling thought.

“I don’t think that Ali has the right idea about police. Did you see that wide-eyed look of fear in her eyes when those policemen walked into Chick-Fil-A tonight? I’ve done a horrible job in this crucial area of child rearing.”

He agreed.

Ali often anxiously reminds me, “Don’t go too fast or you’ll get a Bad Ticket from the Police!!” and morosely states facts like, “When adults disobey, the Police come and take them to jail!!”, and “I’m going to learn to be wise now so that when I’m big, the Police don’t come and take me to jail!!!”

Yes, it was clear that I had fallen down on my duty to our civil servants.

But I was not about to wake Ali up at 11pm at night and explain to her how Policemen actually protect us and such, so I made a mental note to do some proper training very soon.

Sometimes, mental notes have a way of biting you in the butt.

A few mornings ago, Ali wanted to call Gramamma.

I never realized this before, but Gramamma has a horribly un-grandchild friendly phone number – it starts with 914.

So of course, Ali’s clumsy little fingers dialed 911.

I heard it dialing, realized what happened, and instinctively hung up the phone. Immediately realizing I should have waited until they answered and explained our mistake, I told her we had to wait a minute, because they were probably going to call us back.

They didn’t, so I assumed it hadn’t rung long enough, and let her call Gramamma.

About 20 minutes later, I had completely forgotten about the incident – until the phone rang.

It was City Hall.

Oops.

“Hello, we got a 911 call from this number. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry – my daughter was trying to call her Grandmother whose number starts with 914 – it was just a mistake.”

“Okay ma’am. But I have a policeman stationed outside of your house right now – would you please go tell him that?”

“Oh – okay.”

Now normally this wouldn’t have been that humiliating (at least in comparison to other humiliation-by-child moments), but there was a small matter of, shall we say, The Predicament.

The Predicament had been caused by the shrill ring of our house phone (which hardly ever rings), that apparently sounded like a hungry crying baby to my, um, baby feeding system.

And so, in a twist of cruel fate, something else had happened that almost never happens, and I had a gigantic circle of soaking milk covering the entire upper-left quadrant of my shirt.

I looked out the window. I saw the police car staking out my house from across the street. I looked down at The Predicament.

In a panic, I started looking around for a dry shirt to magically appear. It did not.

As I was considering sprinting upstairs and changing before I made the Milky Walk of Shame to the police car, he got out of his car and walked up to the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Awesome.

I opened the door, non-crying baby in one arm, Jupiter-sized milk circle on the other side, and Ali standing, wide-eyed, next to me.

“Um..is everything all right, ma’am?”

I rushed the words out, hoping (but already too late) to get them all out before he looked…down.

“I’mSorrySheWasTryingToCallGramamma AndAccidentallyCalled911.”

He took another glance at The Predicament.

“Well okay…I’ll be leaving now.”

And so, Ali now has a full understanding of Police and their many roles, what happens when you dial 911, and the sometimes faulty lactational system.

Tiny Bits of Grace.

August 11, 2011November 3, 2013 Rachel Callahan Every Now and Then I Can Be Sappy Too., Pop Post, Storytime, The Blissfulness of Life, Thoughts about Faith

Ali has an absolutely precious Sunday School teacher named Miss Bobbie. She is about my parent’s age, has grandkids the age of my kids, and is currently undergoing chemotherapy.

…yet she still has the energy, somehow, to wrangle and teach a group of four year olds every other Sunday – and constantly be bubbling over with joy, loving every minute of it.

She has taken on her cancer and resulting chemotherapy as a mission field – she is constantly looking for ways to share God’s love with all of the other people that are with her receiving hours of chemo treatments.

As part of this mission, she uses her Sunday School craft time to allow the kids to write letters and draw pictures for the other chemo patients. She has an amazingly organized system – she hands out the cards, remembers who got which child’s card, remembers a fact about that patient, and then writes that patient’s name and information on an index card to send home with our kids to pray for.

Miss Bobbie’s love for people both humbles and inspires me.

We’ve been praying for Miss Judy Green for several weeks. Ali has enjoyed making cards for her and never forgets to pray for her before bed. She probably doesn’t understand the term “cancer”, but she does understand that Miss Judy Green is sick, that her cards make her happy, and that her prayers make a difference.

A couple of weeks ago, I got an unexpected box in the mail from Build-A-Bear. They occasionally send me items to review to see if I’m interested in giving them away here, or just to give to Ali to try out. But this time, they sent me a stuffed teddy bear as a part of their love.hugs.smiles. campaign, and all they wanted me to do was give it to someone who could use a smile – no strings attached.

Immediately, I thought of Miss Judy Green.

Then I dismissed it as silly – what grown woman wants a child’s toy?

Upon further deliberation, though, I decided that it would be good for Ali, so we set out decorating the “Bear Condo”.

Ali literally spent hours painstakingly and perfectionistically coloring the box.

She wrote “Miss Judy Green” across the top,

And, even though she’d been working on it for a week, she still put the last finishing touches on it right before we walked out the door for church.

She really wanted to take the bear to the hospital and march it into Miss Judy Green’s room, but I did my best to explain that we couldn’t do that. So she delivered the bear to Miss Bobbie, and then began the impatient wait for Miss Judy Green to receive her gift.

One week went by, but Miss Bobbie only teaches every other week. Two weeks went by, and she couldn’t wait to ask Miss Bobbie, “Did you give my bear to Miss Judy Green??”

“No, not yet – I haven’t seen her again.”

On Monday afternoon, Ali and I received a phone call from Miss Bobbie.

She had chemo that morning (and still amazingly had the sound of boundless energy). When she arrived, she had asked the nurse if she could get Miss Judy Green’s mailing address. As there are hundreds of people in and out of the chemo treatment room, she doubted that she would run into her again.

The nurse skeptically said that she would have to contact the patient, ask for permission, and get back to her later.

I have a feeling that Miss Bobbie’s exuberance may have pushed the nurse into starting the process right then. And as she was checking for her contact information, she said, “I’ve got better news: She’s going to be receiving her treatments with you today!”

As it turned out, she was sitting directly across from Bobbie. She explained her delivery and gave the bear to Miss Judy Green.

…who happens to be a retired elementary school teacher and adores children.

…and who happens to collect teddy bears.

Divine appointment.

Her face lit up as she told Miss Bobbie that she would be sleeping with the bear that very night, and she was going to name him ChemoBear – she needed a new friend to help lift her spirits during this time.

As Bobbie told me this story and relayed Miss Judy Green’s excitement and emotion over her gift, I realized that none of it had been accidental.

Ali had not accidentally gotten assigned to pray for Miss Judy Green.

Build-A-Bear had not accidentally sent me a bear to give to anyone I wished.

I did not accidentally think of Miss Judy Green.

Miss Judy Green had not accidentally been scheduled to get chemo on Monday, directly across from Bobbie.

ChemoBear was meant for her, because God doesn’t just like to do huge things in our lives – He goes out of His way to orchestrate multiple people, events, and even corporations just to send tiny reminders of His grace and His love right when we need it the most.

And the privilege of Him allowing Ali to be a part of that gift and see how she can touch other people’s lives – what a priceless treasure.