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The Anti-Sugar Ad From Mile High Mamas (Consider Yourself Warned)

This is sugar.


This is your child on sugar (when over-consumption deludes the young child to think she can leap off the arm of the couch and land on her face without consequence.)

Any questions?


The Mamas

P.S. Tomorrow is the deadline for our Halloween picture contest. Your picture could land you a two-night stay at SummitCove in Keystone or an exclusive preview to see MADAGASCAR ESCAPE 2 AFRICA.

Pat the Tummy

It is enthralling, isn’t it?

I remember as a young woman shyly asking a cousin if I could touch her very pregnant belly. I was curious what it felt like. A waterbed? A balloon? A bowl full of jelly? A wildcat in a pillow case?

I was surprised her belly felt firm, never giving much thought to the strong muscles that cradle the womb. The best part was when she moved my hand to a spot where her son was kicking. Wow.

Despite being pregnant many times, I still find the belly amazing. It’s like a juicy gilded-peach disco ball—ripe, round, and eye-catching. That is why I am never surprised if someone reaches out to say hello to my bump.

Most pregnant women hate when strangers touch their bellies, charging it’s a violation of personal space and rude to intrude. They feel like a public spectacle, property of the prying masses. I nod when fellow moms express how frustrated they feel when accosted by outstretched hands.

I admit I’ve never fully understood these rants.

Win a Two-Night Stay in Keystone for our Halloween Picture Contest

Congratulations to Devon Preeo, winner of our BornFit activewear giveaway!

It’s your last week to enter your Halloween cuties in Mile High Mamas’ Cutest Halloween Picture Contest!

Your little BOOS could land you a two-night stay at SummitCove, a family-friendly condo rental company in Keystone. Simply download your favorite Halloween photos of your children, past or present. There is no limit to how many pictures you may enter. Runners up will receive a family four-pack of tickets to the exclusive pre-screening of MADAGASCAR: ESCAPE 2 AFRICA on November 5th and a prize pack of promotional items. Contest deadline is November 1, 2008.


[photopress:Taylen___the_Princesses_1.jpg,full,pp_image]Speaking of dressing up, several staff members of Morton’s The Steakhouse in Lower Downtown, recently transformed themselves into Disney’s princesses to present Taylen Zabel her wish: a trip for her and her family to visit the happiest place on earth – Walt Disney World. Taylen, a seven-year-old from Steamboat Springs has been diagnosed with medulloblastoma–a brain tumor. After Taylen received her wish, she and her family enjoyed

Car Seats Suck

Oz Spies, who started blogging while pregnant with her son Axel, spends her days working in the nonprofit sector, chasing after a very active baby boy, and trying to find time to paint her toenails, walk the dog, feed the cat, and kiss her husband. You can read more at Knocked Up.

My eleven-month-old son Axel hates the car seat. He loathes being strapped in with every last ounce of his skinny body. He curses the heavens in baby babble almost every time we go for a drive. If he had his way, I think he’d get a hold of a couple of phone books to sit on and take the wheel himself. We’d go wherever he wants to go – probably someplace with mounds of graham crackers and all you can eat Cheerios and unlocked cabinets, where babies crawl free and gnaw on bark without meddlesome adults telling them it’s filthy and will give them splinters in their mouths.

I give him his sippy cup, which usually means that he’s quiet for 60 seconds, and the car seat is getting soaked with milk for 10 minutes. There’s now an attractive milk stain circling the base of the car seat. Stains are good for resale value, right? I pack toys around him – a rattling caterpillar, a purple crinkly hippo face, a wooden ring adorned with a pirate and a compass and a bell – and he throws the toys over the side, too. He’s bailing out the car seat, to keep it light in case it suddenly needs to float, which is very good thinking in the high alpine desert of Denver.

Once the seat is empty, he screams. He pulls against the car seat straps. He beseeches other drivers to bust him out of his safe, dependable, Japanese-engineered station wagon prison. Sometimes, if he’s really tired, he’ll give in and fall asleep, but other times he yells and sobs for 40 minutes. He’s immune to the charms of NPR and Modest Mouse. Even the adored toys that are really trash, like empty plastic water bottles, lose their power when given to Axel in a moving vehicle.

The car seat hatred is similar to the stroller hatred and the being carried hatred and the shopping cart hatred – he’ll tolerate all of them, but usually not for long. Try to link them up together – car seat then stroller then being carried – and you’re asking for a writhing baby fit of fury.

Don’t be a “d”

This past weekend, we had house guests visiting from Wisconsin. Considering how highly contested the presidential election is here in Colorado, they expected to see lots of Obama and McCain ads. But they were struck by the number of statewide ballot issues that saw plenty of air time too.

“How are you keeping track of all of these?” they asked.

I shrugged. “I’m taking a cheat sheet to the polls.”

Seriously though, there are a total of 18 amendments and referendums to consider – and those are just the ones that are up for a vote across the entire state. I’d bet that there are at least a dozen more at each of the local levels.

There will probably be some people who either: a) Don’t vote on these issues at all; or b) Vote completely at random; or c) Read the measures for the first time there in the voting booth. While the “a” and “b” category voters are slackers, it’s those “c” category folks who keep the rest of us standing in line for three hours.

The Preemptive Haircut Discussion

As we sat in swimming lessons today, the mother of a friend of Declan’s leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Did you notice Asher’s hair?” I honestly hadn’t, but on closer inspection, it appears that he and a pair of scissors had had an argument. And the scissors won. Asher recently had had a fairly short haircut, so it really took a trained eye to see the gaping hole. But there definitely *was* a gaping hole. Apparently Asher became bored in class he decided RIGHT THEN was the time to get creative. With his hair.

Asher’s parents had discussed it with him at length, just once, and decided to not bring it up again. That if he gets bored again, they were sure his teacher had *plenty* of things to occupy his time. That since they had recently paid for a haircut, he would have to live with the consequences of his beautician-for-a-day antics, and they would not go back and spend more money to fix the issue. But also that, kids will be kids, hair grows, he learned his lesson, so be it – and most importantly, to repeatedly discuss it would intrigue Asher’s very strong-willed and long-haired younger sister.

So we whispered about it quickly in the echoey chamber of the swimming hall and quickly shut up when the boys came near.

But my friend also mentioned

When sleeping together does not mean sleeping together and the tale of a sleep-walking mouse

My husband and I no longer sleep together.

Now, before you go referring me to Dr. Ruth, let me clarify. I am talking about the actual sleeping part of sleeping together. With two children and the hope of adding another one to the brood sometime soon, we are doing just fine in the other category and we have a happy marriage.

It’s just that our sleep habits are lacking.

I am an early bird. I like to be in bed by 10 p.m. whereas my husband prefers to stay up later and has gotten into the habit of falling asleep in front of the TV. Sure, he will humor me by accompanying me to bed but then he’ll sneak out as soon as I start mumbling in my sleep and sneaks back in before dawn.

Though make no mistake, what I reveal is far better than the History Channel any day.

Last week, he installed a big-screen HDTV projector in our basement. I suspect I will never see him again.

I became a neurotic sleeper when I worked in radio and set two alarm clocks out of fear I would sleep through my 4:30 a.m. call time. Then I had kids and it was all over for me. I’m lucky if I sleep six hours straight.

Jamie’s sleep issues started even before we were married with a sleep-walking incident during his visit home to Meet the Parents (the movie is actually based on our true story).

BornFit Giveaway for Active Mamas!

[photopress:BornFit.jpg,full,pp_image]Last month, my neighbor Monica and I took our babies hiking. She looked like she had just stepped off The Runway for Cute Activewear while I wore a scruffy pair of yoga pants.

“I bought this skort last year from my friend’s company,” she raved.

“What company?”

BornFit! Have you ever heard of them?”

As it turns out, I had. Just a few weeks prior, the company’s publicist had contacted me about doing a giveaway for Mile High Mamas. I’m not sure if this was a huge coincidence or if everyone besides me is wearing BornFit. Either way, I view it as a sign.

If you’re one of the few who is not “in the know,” BornFit is an innovative apparel collection that creates athletic wear for moms of all ages. The company focuses on inspiring mothers to remain active throughout all stages of their life. BornFit’s special garment details include tops with a more “relaxed fit,” designed with more room in the mid-section and a longer length in the front and back. BornFit offers women

Are You on Facebook?

[photopress:MHMbutton.png,full,pp_image]Mile High Mamas is!

Make sure to join in the fun of connecting with other Colorado moms on one of the world’s largest social networks. Introductions are underway and we’d love to have you become a part of our group.

If you’re a Colorado mama, go here to join. It’s free! It’s easy! It’s fun!

Learning Curve

Just like the name of her blog, The Casual Perfectionist, Momma is an admitted perfectionist, but she’s trying to be casual about it. She and her husband have a little girl named Claire, who will be 3-yrs old at the end of November. Momma is a firm believer in the fact that if you haven’t laughed really hard today, you weren’t really paying attention.

Any parent will tell you that parenthood is full of surprises. There are joys and challenges. For me, as a perfectionist, I knew what a lot of those things would be going into this project. I studied enough books and various forms of information on the subject to complete a Master’s Degree in it. I gleaned as much knowledge as I could from friends and family members who had been there. And, I’m just enough of a perfectionist to know that I’d have to jump in with both feet, not look back, and go with the flow.

(Apparently my Master’s Degree came with a concentration in Cliché Usage.)

I couldn’t wait to experience the challenges and see if I could handle them.

There were the obvious challenges ranging from “how to maintain an adult conversation after having only two hours of sleep” to “how to take a relaxing shower when you’re home by yourself with the baby” to “how to carry a baby in a car-seat-carrier and the groceries at the same time” to “figuring out the best way to maneuver over kiddie gates without tripping yourself.”

But hidden beneath the surface are the things that you don’t read about; the things that make you question whether you’re cut out for this kind of work; the things that you only discuss with your best girlfriends, in a hushed voice, and you only talk about them if someone else brings it up first. These are the things that make you wonder if anyone can ever take away your real college degree, because there’s obviously been some kind of mistake.

There’s the morning at 3 a.m. when