The following conversation occurred between my kids and a not-so-nice child in the somewhat recent past:

“Do you have an XBox360?

“No.”

“How about a PSP?”

“I… don’t think so.”

“A PS2?”

“Nope.”

“A PS3?”

“Negative.”

“How about Guitar Hero?”

“No, but we have Rock Band!”

“Man, you guys are poor.”

As you can imagine, I was shocked when I heard that the definition of poor had changed so drastically over the last twenty years. When I was a kid (cue the violins and collective groans) it meant Read on …

There are two words to summarize my weekend: babies and pumpkins.

1) Babies. Mile High Mamas had a booth at the Oh Baby! Baby & Family Expo on Saturday and Sunday. I met many great women, saw some fantastic products and there were babies. Oh, so many babies. Welcome if you are visiting us for the first time and we hope you will become an active part of our fun community!

2) Pumpkins. Not just any pumpkins, but The Great Pumpkin that my husband Jamie has been giving suck from the womb growing for many months now. Friday night was the pumpkin’s open house.

Because we are just kooky enough to hold a party for an inanimate object.

But do you know what? Our friends were kooky enough to attend, bring pumpkin gifts and pose for pictures with The Great Pumpkin. And the highlight of the event? The great ribbon cutting vine snipping, followed by hauling it to the trailer. And just how did they do it? Eight men + one pumpkin lifting tarp + a whole lot of muscle. And even more sore backs.

Colorado’s largest pumpkins congregated at the Rocky Mountain Giant Vegetable Growers weigh-off on Saturday. If you had ever asked me as a little girl if I would marry a man who would become conjoined with such an organization, I would have laughed until I was blue in the face.

Or orange.

And the results all [five] of you have been waiting for? The Great Pumpkin’s weight is Read on …

Here’s the thing about autumn: I love the changing colors but not the temperamental temperatures. And though I relish the cooler climate, the unpredictable weather sends me into a tizzy when trying to dress my children in the morning.

That is why I fell in love with LAF Brand’s Attachables™ Clothing. With removable sleeves, these great shirts help your infant, toddler or preschooler always dress right. When it’s cold, put the sleeves on, or when it’s hot, simply take the sleeves off! The sleeves attach by Velcro and only the soft side will touch your child’s skin.

I am a big fan of the convenience and my kids love the styles. Read on …

I am a big fan of preschool. Or rather, my daughter is a fan and has blossomed both academically and socially since she began last year. I am just the grateful recipient of the fruits of everyone else’s labors.

And the three hours I get to myself every day isn’t so bad, either.

Mile High Mamas recently touched base with James Mejia about the Denver Preschool Program (DPP) who is a father of a preschooler and CEO of DPP.

What is the Denver Preschool Program (DPP)?

Denver Preschool Program (DPP) is the result of a ballot initiative approved by Denver residents in November 2006. Currently in its second year of existence, DPP offers tuition credits for families living in the City and County of Denver to assist them in sending their children to quality preschool programs. The program is open and voluntary for all families with children in the last year of school before kindergarten.

DPP also provides quality improvement grants for preschool providers. All licensed providers that agree to participate in the DPP quality-improvement system are eligible – for-profit, non-profit, public and private providers operating centers as well as family child care homes.

How can a family find out if their child(ren)’s preschool is enrolled in DPP? Does the preschool have to be in Denver? Read on …

Guest blogger Kagey is a mom of three living in southeast Centennial with her husband, Mr. Adventure and her dog. Her house is never quite clean, her clothes are always a little out of date, and she is always looking for more time to write, but at least she can laugh about it all.

After a successful checkup, I recently took the kids to a playground by the doctor’s office. As my son and daughter scampered to tackle the slide, a teenage boy walked up with a small boy, about 2 years old.

The teen turned out to be the boy’s uncle. We stood together watching the kids play, and he began talking. It was as if he was the ancient mariner from Coleridge’s poem, and I was compelled to listen, even though I could tell right away it was a story I didn’t want to hear. It was the stuff of my nightmares.

Somewhere in the hospital behind me was a mom, the teen’s older sister, making decisions about life support, watching read outs of brain activity with desperation. A few days before, the mom, dad, two year old boy, and two month old girl, had come to Denver for a short vacation. The mom stayed in the hotel room with the baby while the dad went to play in the pool with the son. Something – a heart attack? a small stroke? they aren’t sure what – happened to the dad while he was swimming. The boy was not in the water, thankfully, but he had to watch as his dad thrashed in the pool until strangers arrived to help.

The dad’s heart was stopped for a long time, and he was technically dead Read on …

Mini Me has a new Sunday School teacher. She is a sweet lady with six kids of her own and four grandchildren.

Mini Me’s class is a rambunctious little group which includes two sets of twins and my chatty daughter who, to my utter horror, can’t manage to keep her dress down in church. I tried making sure that she had shorts on under her dress each Sunday, but that only serves to empower Mini Me more to pull the bows out of her hair, kick off her shoes, and wear her skirt on her head.

The last teacher split town with barely a moments notice. (Can’t say that I blame her.) So when the new teacher came along I was hoping this would mean a fresh start for Mini Me and our good family name.

After church a couple weeks ago, we sat down for a serious talk. I told Mini Me that her new teacher was a really nice lady, someone that I would like to be friends with, but she won’t want to be friends with me unless Mini Me was a good girl in class.

I thought my argument was pretty convincing, but hers was even better.

“Mom, do you have to be friends with everybody?”

Apparently not.

Fess up. Have you ever felt embarrassed by your kids in social situations? Have you ever avoided play dates or lunch dates because you were afraid of how your kids would behave?

Yes, I was that girl in high school. “The friend.” At the time I actually thought I was a fat, ugly pig… but as I look back at my high school pic compared the the Beautiful People… I must have been wearing Teen-Colored Glasses. Meaning, I wasn’t as pretty as the Beautiful People by a longshot - but I certainly wasn’t as fat and ugly as I thought I was. Certainly the 80’s hair, fashion and make-up didn’t do much for me - but it looked pretty horrible on the Beautiful People too… so I consider us even on that score.

I was 18 when I lost my virginity. In some ways I am proud of that because when I did it, I was ready for it. But in some ways, I honestly know it happened at that age because I just couldn’t get a guy to date me to save my life. I can’t tell you how many times I got the “I just want to be friends” or “I don’t want to mess up our friendship” speech. There are many variations of it, but it all of them come down to pretty much the same thing. “I just don’t want to date you.”

There was a guy I had a crush on since 7th grade. We became friends around 9th grade. That year I asked him to Homecoming. He went with me, but “just as friends.” Talk about embarrassing. The good news is he and I ended up being *real* friends through the ages and still talk every once and a while now.

I had a dream the other night, Read on …