Mommy's Juice!: June 2011   

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

What's Your Sign?

Taking a walk one day when I was about eight months pregnant with my first son I was stopped by an older couple who asked when I was due.  Upon telling them the date the gentleman said “ah, a Gemini like me.”  “Oh no,” exclaimed his wife, “not the twins.”  I of course am not a believer in astrology.  Mainly because my sign is Cancer and other than being crabby for the majority of the day, I really don’t seem to have any of the other Cancer traits.  Cancers are known to be patient, if I have to wait more than one minute at the Wendy’s drive through lane I’ll pull right out of line regardless of whether my order has been placed yet or not.  Cancers are also considered peacemakers, I myself love to stir the pot and thoroughly enjoy watching a good spat from time to time.  Then there’s that whole nurturing thing that cancers tend to have.  Yep, there goes another gene that missed my pool!

I also find horoscopes ridiculous.  And the fact that there are actually people out there revolving their entire days around what they pick up in the paper each morning is absurd.  I am certain the majority of horoscopes put out on a daily basis aren’t written by actual “astrologers” (which by the way, is this something you can major in at college?) but by some Dear Abby type who has the extra time on their hands since their column only comes out once a week. 

However, this couple had sparked my interest.  It’s rare that anyone has anything negative to say about an upcoming birth so to see the fear in her face over the “twins” I was about to encounter left me wanting to learn more, even if I did think it was all nonsense.  So I spent a little time researching these two personalities that Gemini are known to possess, which at that point led me to believe I had been carrying Sybil around for the last eight months. 

When Mr. Gemini did in fact arrive early enough to avoid being a wussy Cancer I jumped into motherhood and completely forgot about the twins.  But lately, they’ve jumped into the front of my mind again.  Now that we just left the terrible two’s and have entered the torturous three’s I’ve began noticing a glint in my son’s eyes combined with a sly smile that appear when something terrible is about to happen.  For instance, when I was sitting in the front yard last week and out of nowhere I see the look cross his face and suddenly from behind his back a hose appears which he uses to spray me from head to toe.  Or when I saw that look and grin yesterday as he watched his baby brother trying to sit up and he suddenly took off running across the room to push him down. 

Is this the twin?  Is this the evil other that I had been warned about?  If it starts with water and shoves, where does it go next?  At what point should I start saving up bail money?  I spent the night looking up the birthdays of serial killers and other well known criminals.  As of yet I haven’t found a connection but you better believe I’ll be reading that little boys horoscope every day.  Just in case Dear Abby has a warning in there for me.

Monday, June 27, 2011

After Five Years We Deserve a New Blender

I’ve spent the last half hour going through a friend’s wedding registry looking for a gift for her upcoming shower.  Looking though the pots and pans, dishes, towels, sheets and appliances I think of all the things that I need.  Of course my husband and I did a registry prior to our wedding.  It was actually one of our favorite parts of the whole experience.  When they handed us that gun at Crate & Barrel with the instructions “just point and click on whatever you want,” both of our hearts began racing.  I was literally shaking with excitement as we walked through the store shooting left, shooting right, even pulling off a few behind the back shots.  I literally left dizzy with anticipation of how cool our newlywed home was going to be. 

As soon as we got home I pulled out my computer to remind myself of all the wonderful things we had coming our way.  As I looked at each shiny fork and beautiful spatula I was dazed, until my eye caught the right hand column listing the prices.  I frantically scrolled down the page, looking for items that might actually be realistic to expect from our family and friends.  A pillow for $75 here, sheets for $250 there, a lamp for $299 here, a plate for $75 there.  Now granted, I wasn’t as ambitious as Kim Kardashian and her $165,000 registry, but I knew we had gone a little overboard.  I actually didn’t recall looking at a single price tag that day.  For those three glorious hours we were thinking of no one but ourselves and it was a blast. 

As I landed back into reality I called my husband to the screen and together we deleted our beautiful future away and created a more modest beginning to our marriage.  Maybe had I not gone with the less expensive wine glasses they wouldn’t all be broken now.  Our original choice of towels probably wouldn’t look as ratty as the ones we settled with.  Instead of just a regular cup of Joe in the morning I would be relaxing with a cappuccino in hand each day. 

Five years later many of the gifts that we received for our wedding have been replaced on our own dime.  And so many cool new things for the household have been introduced which we missed out on.  This got me thinking, five years is a long time, do you realize how many marriages don’t even make that five year mark?  This is something to celebrate!  And what better way to celebrate than having a party.  And what better way to congratulate someone at a party than with a gift.  That’s it!  It’s time to start a new type of gift registry.  The five year registry!  Couples who can actually make it that long can re-register to celebrate this joyous occasion and of course to restock up on goodies.  This is brilliant!  How am I the only one who has ever thought of this?  I’m certain I can talk Macy’s into sponsoring my new concept, maybe they will even host the initial kick-off of the five year registry in conjunction with my anniversary party.  Must sign off, need to visit crateandbarrel.com and start my list.  Item #1 WINE GLASSES!   

Friday, June 24, 2011

Why Teen Mom is a Good Show

I must admit, one of my (many) guilty pleasures is reality television.  It all started with Julie and Eric in season 1 of the Real World in New York.  Today it includes everything from the Real Housewives of Atlanta (who knew that city was so classy?), to the Millionaire Matchmaker (does she ever get one right?), to one of my personal favorites, Teen Mom.
I know there are many people who feel this show actually encourages teen pregnancy and the celebrity status of these teen moms.  I beg to differ.  I have to believe that when my son’s are old enough to watch Teen Mom it will not only encourage them to hold off on sex, but will leave them terrified that all teenage girls are a hot mess like these chicks and they won’t begin dating until their twenties.  As for the girls watching the program, hello, if looking at that poor Leah raising twins with her husband of two weeks doesn’t open their eyes to how difficult it is to be Teen Mom then there is no helping them.  Any teenager who watches that show and actually thinks teen pregnancy looks fun is obviously not the brightest of the bunch and probably wasn’t looking at a college career anyway, so go for it. 
 Personally, I enjoy watching the show for the boost in self-esteem it gives me each week.  Not that these girls are necessarily bad mothers, but I think I’ve got a few up on them.  Degrees, check!  Job, check!  Insurance, check! A roof over my kid’s head, check!  All outstanding warrants for my arrest handled, check!  I think I’m looking pretty good next to Farrah, Macie and Chelsea.  And if you put me beside Amber and Janelle I might just win the Mother of the Year Award.  Those two, WOW!  Sometimes I feel like the channel has been changed when they come on and I’m no longer watching Teen Mom but some other show featuring the early years of the female contestants on Rock of Love with Bret Michaels.  Hot Mess isn’t even a strong enough term for those two.  Sadly I did just hear that Amber was contemplating suicide.  Hopefully in such conditions baby daddy has stepped in and taken over.   Thank goodness Janelle’s mom was smart enough to take custody of her grandchild.  I look forward to seeing Janelle in a future season of Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, you know it’s bound to happen!
Yes, the show has placed these girls into a celebrity status but has that made their life any easier?  I’m going to venture a guess of no.  But hopefully it will make many of our lives easier, by ensuring we aren’t grandparents before our kids reach 12th grade!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

GTN - Gym, Tan, Nap (Jungle Gym That Is)

Sitting at dinner the other night I looked over at my three year old son and noticed the tan he’s already picked up this summer.  I must say, that tan with his big blue eyes and blonde hair having him looking pretty darn good.  Beware girls of the class of 2026, I’ve got a looker coming your way.   Actually maybe it’s the dad of the girls of the class of ’26 that should look out.  But I digress….  

Is it wrong that I felt a ping of jealousy when I noticed that tan?  I, here in late June, look like Casper the Unfriendly, pale-ass ghost.  Mind you, I’m a southerner who lived out her pre-teen/early teen years in the 80s.  These were the days of baby oil and bikinis.   Bad weather day, no worries, the tanning bed had you covered.  Sun spots and skin cancer weren’t concerns yet.  Our only concern was whether or not we turned enough times to keep that golden glow even.

Of course these days going to a tanning bed is a total no-no and baby oil a thing of the past.  Yes, I do wear sunscreen on the rare days I get to spend outside, but I must admit, I stick to a 20 spf or lower.  I’m sorry, but the baby butt pale white thing is only working for women like Nicole Kidman and Gwenyth Paltrow.  I’m more Snooki or JWow, without some sort of tan I’m a total grenade.

Don’t worry, I do use spf 50 on the boys, leaving them safe from sunburn but with just enough missing spf to let them get that crisp tan that had me seething with jealousy at the moment.  As I sat there looking at his smiling tan face my jealousy began to turn to anger.  Why should I have to work all week while he goes to daycare and plays at the park, takes swimming lessons, goes on picnics and enjoys the sunny days of summer on my bill?  This just straight up isn’t fair.  That little brat needs to get a …  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”  I am brought out of my furious inner rage by my son trying to get my attention to tell me about the shark that was at the pool today.  A very big shark, who was friends with a whale, but the whale couldn’t come in the pool because he was too dirty.

Suddenly all jealousy and anger were gone.  I may not be tan, but I am lucky, lucky to be able to provide a positive, fun, learning environment for my son, where he can enjoy the lazy days of summer and fill me in on them each night when I get home from the office.  He’s enjoying his childhood as I would hope he would.  And I, while a sickly looking version of my younger self, am thankful I had that time as a child as well. 

Wonder how much a spray tan costs?????


Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Don't You Dare Take Away My Kid's Prize

I probably hadn’t eaten at McDonald’s more than five times in the twelve years between college and my first son being old enough to take down a chicken nugget meal.  I, like many Americans, had decided that McDonalds was the enemy, the prime reason for the freshman 15 I had yet to lose.  I knew that all those Double Cheeseburgers, greasy French fries and oh so tasty hot fudge sundaes, had cost me way more than the dollar menu price I was dishing out for them.
When I finally started to make a paycheck equivalent to a 40 hour work week vs. the 10-15 hour a week check I was pulling off in college I decided I could exchange the McDonald’s meals for something a little classier, like Chipolte or Chili’s.  McDonald’s was visited only as a last resort, for instance in Mexico when I needed a reminder that all food doesn’t come in a tortilla.
Another such last resort occurred when my son was 18 months old and our flight from Chicago to North Carolina was cancelled leaving us with eight hours to kill.  After a few hours of my husband and I taking turns going to the bar while one sat at the (lifesaving) indoor park with toddler we decided to grab dinner.  When looking at our selections I remembered my favorite part about McDonald’s as a child, the prize in your Happy Meal!  We could grab dinner and get a toy for our son to play with as we continued our wait.
Now I know there are actually people out there that think this prize is a bad idea.  People who in fact think they can actually win a lawsuit against McDonald’s for even offering this prize to children around the world.  To those people I say, “get a freaking life.”  The McDonald’s prize is a lifesaver, whether used to help kill time in an airport or to convince your child to eat the apples you conveniently added to his meal instead of the greasy fries.  I LOVE the McDonald’s prize and hope that they never consider its departure.
Since that fateful day in Chicago when my son had his first 4-piece nugget meal things were forever changed.  We now visit McDonalds at least four times a month, since I can’t seem to drive by one without the words “nuggets, nuggets, nuggets” being continually repeated in my ears.  And that’s okay.  Because I have noticed the changes McDonald’s has made since my broke college days and I must say they are nice.  Fresh smoothies, green salads, parfaits… this is a new McDonald’s.  And one I am on board for.  Especially since it makes my son happier than any fancy restaurant ever could!
On a side note… after our second son was born he had to spend four weeks in the NICU at a hospital three hours from our home.  Unable to afford a hotel for that period of time the Ronald McDonald House was recommended to me.  Skeptical, I reserved a room for myself where occasionally my son, husband and/or mother would stay as well.  There simply aren’t enough nice things to say about my experience.  The facility, the staff and the volunteers all made an extremely difficult time in our lives so much easier and we could not be more appreciative.  Yet another fabulous reason to go and enjoy that quarter pounder! 

Monday, June 20, 2011

We'll Be Paying for Swim Lessons After All

When we discovered I was pregnant for the first time we decided to wait and let the sex of the baby be a surprise.  You have so few opportunities in life to really look forward to something with such anticipation so we figured why not?  Most of these occasions happen in your childhood: not being able to sleep on Christmas Eve with the anticipation of what Santa might bring, discovering which of your friends would be in your class each year, rushing to the mailbox everyday to see what college said yes.  I was at a place in my life where I knew that Santa would be bringing me a gift certificate each year, I saw the exact same faces at work day after day, and the most exciting thing I’d had in my mailbox in the last six months was a refund check from the electric company for $14.65.  I needed a surprise in my life.

I personally was convinced it was a boy during the entire pregnancy right up until the final month. And in all honesty, I was hoping for a boy.  A boy just seemed like a better fit for our family.  I’ll take a basketball game and a beer over shopping and Sex in the City any day of the week.  I was also very aware that if we were to have a girl she and I would have to move out of the house upon her 13th birthday because there is no way my husband could handle a teenage daughter.  This hit home when we drove by a high school girls volleyball team doing a fundraiser car wash.  “What the hell do they think they’re wearing” he asks.  “Bathing suits, it’s a car wash,” I reply.  “You better believe no daughter of mine will be seen out in something like that!”  Well, at least we would save money on swimming lessons.

The main reason I thought it was a girl at the end was because I hadn’t gained that much weight in spite of eating whatever I wanted.  This left me to assume my unborn daughter must be anorexic and refusing all the tacos and burgers I’d been sending her way.  I was already looking in to self esteem classes for infants to assist in this unfortunate turn of events.

But as it turns out I was wrong.  And it wasn’t the first look at my child that brought me the knowledge of his sex, or the doctor giving the initial “it’s a boy” reaction when the little penis made its way out.  No, for me it was the first pump and extremely loud “YES” that my husband let out as if the Bronco’s had just won the Super Bowl, that let me know my SON had been born.  And I couldn’t have been happier. 

Saturday, June 18, 2011

God Bless the Bouncy House

Although you won’t see me at Church on Sunday mornings, I definitely consider myself a religious person.  Growing up in a small town my parents didn’t have many options when choosing a Church near our home.  Luckily for me they went with the Methodist Church in town opposed to the Baptist.  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Baptists, in fact I have nothing against any religion, as long as you believe in something good I’m all for it!  I was happy to be Methodist because well, God doesn’t ask for a whole heck of a lot from Methodist’s.  No confessionals required, no reason for communion to take place every Sunday, no special schools with plaid skirts to wear.  Just show up on Sunday, or don’t, as long as you are following those Commandments as closely as possible he’ll plan to see you in Heaven one day! 

And of course my favorite part of the Methodist Church: no sermons over 45 minutes!!  We could leave Church after Sunday School, go out to lunch, visit my Grandparents, then head back home only to hear the African American Church up the street still singing through the windows.  I felt so sorry for the poor kids stuck in that marathon of worship as I rode my bike by trying to catch a glimpse of God.  I just assumed he must be there every Sunday healing the blind and making the crippled walk, because why else in the world would they still be going at it!

Many of my favorite childhood memories come from experiences I had through Church.  Trick-or-treating for Unicef, going out Christmas Caroling with a group, Vacation Bible School, and my personal favorite Brunswick Stew sales (if you don’t know you better ask somebody!).  And now that I have children I want them to be able to enjoy these types of experiences for themselves, while of course learning how to be good Christian boys with outstanding morals (an area their dad and I might not be the best examples for). 

I haven’t yet made that step back into the Church Community, (still doing drive-bys to see who gets out the earliest) but it is on my list of things to do soon.  In the meantime, I’ve began to lay with my son every night and help him say his prayers.  After asking God to bless his family I leave a second for him to add anyone else he would like for God to watch over.  So far his slide, the pool and the bouncy house at school are covered.  I suppose that’s a good start!

Friday, June 17, 2011

My Laundry Pile Can Live On!

As I sat pacing my living room floor at 4am this morning holding a screaming five month old who showed no signs of slowing down, I began to ponder life with a nanny.  I’ve always envisioned a nanny as someone who would arrive at my door riding a unicorn and carrying a magic wand that puts children to sleep with just one wave.  Nanny’s were people who lived in a fairytale land and were untouchable to a working mom like myself. 
As the pacing continued I started to think, maybe with so many people out of work right now hiring a nanny could be possible.  We already spend a small fortune on daycare, why not put that money towards full time, round the clock help.  We have an extra bedroom.  Granted giving that room to a nanny would mean that I would actually have to fold the clothes when they come out of the dryer instead of throwing them in a pile on the spare bed until needed.  But that might just be a sacrifice I could make.  And who knows, maybe this magical nanny cleans too!
She would most certainly have to be on night duty.  Morning duty would be great too.  Then I could actually wash, dry AND brush my hair for work, as opposed to the “pick one” method I do now.  I could hit the gym after work like I once did or go out and enjoy happy hour with the girls.  I’ll come home and find my little bundles of joy bathed, fed and ready to kiss me goodnight.  I would actually have my life back. 
That’s it, a nanny is the answer!  She can take the kids to the park and the pool, read them books and do fun arts and crafts.  They can cook together, sing together, take long walks through the woods.  The boys will be in Heaven! 
And then it hit me, having a nanny wouldn’t relieve me from motherhood, it would actually rob me from the most rewarding part of my life.  These small things that seem so inconvenient now are in reality some of the most precious moments I’ll have with my children.  How could I possibly hand that off to someone else?
So I guess I’ll have to keep pacing the floor at night and showing up at work looking like a homeless person.  Happy Hour will continue to consist of trying to throw together a quick healthy (well edible) meal or sipping a glass of wine in between pushes on the swing, and that’s just fine.  Because when he falls off that swing and I’m the only one who can ease his pain it will feel good.
Besides, I really don’t think the dog would have been very happy about a unicorn parked on our front lawn!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Why Margs for Mommy?

It took me quite a while to come up with a name for my blog.  I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to include the word “Mommy.”  Yes, I am a mommy, but I am so many other things as well.   I hated to have that word be the single definition for who I am.  I’m also a wife, a daughter, sister, friend, employee, Denver Bronco’s fan, Democrat (who can be easily swayed), Southerner, smart mouth and as many would say overall pain in the ass.   By using the title of Mommy for my blog am I taking away from these other “me’s”?
I looked at each me and realized that being a mommy has in fact taken top priority over my other roles.  There’s much more time at home with the boys now than time out with the girls.  A bad daughter, I visit my parents much less frequently because let’s be honest, unless there’s a pot of gold waiting for me at the end of the runway I have no desire to fly with a toddler and infant right now.  The poor Denver Bronco’s, who need fans now as much as my baby needs a boob, have been one down during these last few terrible years.  My smart mouth took a backseat as soon as my son began repeating everything I said.  God forbid he show up at school and tell his teacher to grow a pair. 
Then there is the wife role.  As I am sure many of you out there will agree, this one has fallen WAY down on the ladder.  I assume I’ll wake up 18 years from now, roll over, and realize there is someone lying beside me.  He looks vaguely familiar, I don’t recall that grey hair or pouch in the belly area.  Hmmm… oh yes, my husband!
So I came to the conclusion that indeed Mommy is the role that has become predominant in my life.  And since I wasn’t planning to blog about politics, primarily because my opinions are based on what I hear on Jon Stewart’s show, it was decided the Mommy fit.  But just so you wouldn’t think my whole world revolved only around my kids, I added my second favorite thing into the title, a cocktail!
Lighten up!  I’m totally kidding, its my fourth or fifth favorite thing!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Organic Foods and Drunk Midgets, Light Reading for the Beach

I’m a working mom, a very hard working mom.  I have no jealousy whatsoever of stay at home moms because I truly believe that this is the hardest job in the universe.  A day alone with my two kids leaves me counting down the seconds to 4pm which I feel is the appropriate time to open a bottle of wine and celebrate almost making it through the day. 

That said, when with stay at home moms I often feel like I’m on another planet.  Seriously, how much can you talk about your kids?  Don’t you have any other interests or hobbies?  Doesn’t your husband piss you off enough now and then to complain about him with your friends instead of discussing whether or not the new denim diapers hold as much pee as the regular Huggies? 

I spent a weekend at the beach with a good friend of mine recently who stays at home with her two children.  As we sit down by the ocean to relax, I pull out a copy of “Are You There Vodka, It’s Me Chelsea” as she grabs an assortment of Parenting Magazines that I had no idea even existed.  “Really, that’s what you brought to read on the beach?”  She replies, “oh yes, these are so informative, I find so many fun arts and crafts to do with the kids and they have great recipes.”  Recipes at my house consist of frozen pizza, burgers on the grill and the occasional can of soup.  Arts and crafts come in the form of coloring books and finger paint.  There just isn’t much time for recipes and crafts. 

She begins to share information with me on the organic baby foods she learned from Parenting and has been making at home.  MAKING?  BABY FOODS?  Isn’t that what Gerber is for?  Apparently the magazines have also taught her to make a birds nest from sticks and mud, knit winter “booties” and paint the entire cast of Sesame Street on her children’s faces. 

The next helpful tidbit she picks up from the magazine and feels obliged to share (completely interrupting a hilarious chapter I was enjoying in my book about drunk midgets) is in regards to how to ensure your kids will behave in public.  As I listen to a variety of tips from bringing coloring books and games they can play at the table to making sure they have had a nap before venturing out I begin to fall asleep from boredom.

That evening we went out to a nice seafood dinner with our husbands and children.  As I sat and watched her daughter rip to pieces the fun placemat she had brought her to color and her son run around the restaurant with my son moving chairs from one table to another, with no concern whatsoever if someone was actually dining at the table, I thought back on my drunk midget and realized how much more productive my afternoon had been then hers.  

Cocktails at the Christmas Play

I realized motherhood here in the mountains of Colorado was going to be very unlike motherhood in other parts of the country when I attended my first daycare function.  Being a new mother who had to get back to work as soon as possible in order to help pay the bills, my son started daycare at 3 months old.  At 6 months old I got a notice that his “class” would be participating in the daycare’s annual Christmas play.  I pondered what exactly a “class” of infants was going to do to entertain a crowd but figured, I’m a mom now, roll with it.  So off to the Christmas play we went!
Conveniently my husband had his office Christmas Party the same night and was unable to join me for this major milestone in our newborns life.  So I ventured out alone into a bold new world.  The world of parents doting over their kids singing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer like they were singing the National Anthem at the Super Bowl. 
As we’re all standing around the auditorium where this masterpiece was about to take place, I bumped into an old acquaintance that had two older children in the same daycare.  She was holding a red Dixie cup and explained to me that it contained a vodka and tonic.  Really, drinking at your child’s Christmas play!  She then explained to me, “this isn’t my first rodeo, I’ve learned how to get through these.”  As I looked around the room I noticed other Dixie cups.  Now being a Colorado import from North Carolina, I was completely shocked!  You wouldn’t see a cocktail anywhere near a child’s Christmas play in my neck of the woods.  Granted, Dad might show up with a pretty good buzz on, but he at least left the bourbon in the car until the final bow was taken.
Like the proud parent I was I sat with my video camera and taped every second of my infant son sitting on his teacher’s lap with reindeer ears on while Jingle Bells played in the background.  And then came the next class, and the next, and the next, and the next.  You get the point.  Not wanting to be rude and leave in the middle of another parent’s proud moment I stuck it out to the bitter end, often shooting a glance over to my friend who had a huge smile on her face through each carol, dance and dull moment of the evening.  And that’s when I realized, parenting in Colorado is going to be a fun ride!

Childbirth is NOT a Miracle!

Warning, the next person who tries to tell me what a “miracle” child birth is should brace themselves for the blow to the head they are about to receive.  Days after I had my first son, in the middle of one of his colic fits, I sat rocking him in my living room while my mom watched on with that goofy look in her eyes that people get when they want to cry with joy.  She says, “isn’t childbirth just a miracle?”  “No mom,” I said, “it would be a miracle if I could get him to shut up!”
The definition of a “miracle” according to Webster’s Dictionary is: an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.  So can someone explain to me what is extra “ordinary” in an occasion that happens over 4 million times a year in this country?  And God only knows how often in those smaller countries that don't have the morning after pill as readily available as us fortunate Americans do. 
That said, childbirth is not a miracle and should not be confused with one. 
To help clear this matter up, I will provide for you a few examples of true miracles:
#1 Doctor’s begin prescribing something for infant’s with colic, cold or other ailments for which they are screaming their heads off in pain about, instead of informing us, "it will eventually work itself out."
#2 The price of a can of formula is reduced to under $10.
#3 Mom’s pre-pregnancy body falls right back in to place exactly 1 minute after delivery. 
#4 Better yet, mom is rewarded with the return of her 18 year old body for all she has been through.
#5 Babies are born with their full set of teeth, completely eliminating any future “teething” drama.
#6 Babysitting rates fall below $5/hour allowing mom and dad the occasional night out at a restaurant that doesn’t have crayons at the table.
#7 The Wiggles ratings plummet with all episodes being eliminated from existence.
#8 Let’s go ahead and add Barney to that too. 
#9 Doctor’s clear alcohol as not a detriment to pregnancy but a benefit to the child’s growth during the nine-month pregnancy which let’s face it, is when we need booze the most.
#10 Father’s automatically become able to breastfeed upon child’s birth, while mommy is able to flaunt the resurrected 18 year-old breasts miracle number 4 has granted her.
These, my friends, are miracles.  Childbirth, while a true blessing and an experience to be forever cherished, is not a miracle.  Unless of course, your husband is the one delivering!