Second child, I thought, we'll have this whole sleep issue wrapped up in no time! Ha! Of course, the baby had the last laugh. 5 months into it we had seen glimmers of sleep, the odd 8-to-11 hour straight shift. We'd gotten our hopes up. This is it, we'd think, our baby sleeps through the night! But it was all just a cruel tease.

Seriously, by now, I'm the one who should have her PHD in children's sleep. I have read them all and everything works up to a point. Happiest Baby on the Block got us through the first 2 months. The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer got us through months 3 and 4. But at 5 months we were stuck for a solution. The Weissbluth and the Ferber, though they work, seemed too harsh for Lucy's age. What to do?

So when I read about The 90-Minute Baby Sleep Program by Dr. Polly Moore, I couldn't resist. Dr. Moore was a sleep researcher who got pregnant and thought, "No problem, I'm an expert at sleep." Then her babies showed her who's boss. Her nursery became her sleep lab and she noticed something that wasn't talked about. 90-minute sleep/alertness cycles.

This immediately made sense to me. Lucy was taking 45-minute naps (half of 90!) and waking up crying. Dr. Moore's book taught me that she was crying because she didn't want to be awake just yet, and we were rushing to her too soon. Sure enough, after a month of staying home and committing to working on Dr. Moore's amazing N.A.P.S. techniques, Lucy is napping longer and sleeping through the night. There was a bit of CIO, but more fussing than crying. I can live with that.

The best part of this book is that it's short. You can read it quickly (during nap time perhaps?) and it's not full of overwhelming sleep science jargon. Moore even acknowledges that children are different and provides three different sample babies to show various sleep and nap schedules, and how they might change as they grow. She even mentions The Baby Whisperer, so if you've been using Tracey Hogg's techniques this book is icing on the cake.

Simply put, it's awesome. Parents-to-be and new parents (even if this is your third child) should run out and get their hands on this great resource now.

I'm not totally sure when it happened, but my son has an anthem. I think my sister played it for him in her car over a year ago. It was an attempt to distract him from the fact that I wasn't with him and somehow the beat caught his attention. Now my three-year-old is obsessed with Queen's "We Will Rock You."

As soon as you start the "din-din-cha, din-din-cha" beat he gets this angry rock face. It's hard to suppress your giggles. He knows the words. He screams, "You got mud on your face, you big disgrace..." with such attitude, its scary. (OK, it's more cute than scary.) He has this need to do this jerky jumping movement he calls dancing. As the song winds down, he plays such a fierce air guitar that you fear his arm will fall off.

The other day, our 11-year-old niece began to sing the song for Nate. "NO!" came the little tyrant's voice. "Stop it Becky! That's not your song. That's my song! You can't sing it." It caught us all off guard. We didn't realize he'd become downright possessive over the song. In his mind, the song is just like a toy or a favourite cup. It brings him so much joy that it's hard for him to share it with anyone else.

What about your kid? Does he/she have an anthem?

I've been (noticeably?) absent on ParentDish for the past couple of weeks, thanks to a particularly nasty bug that cycled through everyone in this household. But wait! It didn't stop there, NO! It took out my parents, my sister and anyone else I regularly call to play with/watch my kids while I take an hour or two to write.

Great. Then my husband got it. Which is the worst. Because he never gets sick. But when he does, watch out. So I ended up taking care of three sick babies and keeping my own illness just slightly at bay. Do you do that too? It's not like moms -- especially those of us who are still dealing with babies -- ever get a sick day. So you fight through it so that you can tend to everyone else's needs. (Including 35-year-old men who suddenly think they can get away with sleeping for 14 hours straight!)

By last weekend, we were all feeling a bit better. And then it came back! The aftershocks I guess. Round 2. And today I find myself blowing my nose with one hand, while I wipe theirs with the other. Ugh. Will this ever end? Really, no family should have to spend so much time together indoors unless they are on vacation. They are making me NUTS!

What's worse is that I'm breastfeeding and must avoid my go-to Advil Cold and Sinus. So it's hot lemon and honey for me. Which means I have to wash my hands every time I make a cup, because I'm totally paranoid that Baby Who Must Suck My Fingers ALL DAY might get botulism off my sticky hands. Good Lord I'm going crazy. When will this winter end?

What about you? How are you dealing with cold and flu season? Getting any rest? Getting cabin fever yet?

When we finally moved out of our duplex and into the house where we now reside, I remember thinking, "How did we ever survive without a washer and dryer?" My husband went one further. "This dishwasher may just save our marriage."

Then we got used to having those conveniences. I went back to work when Nate was 15-months-old and soon the new battleground became dinners. Who was home to make them? And who kept burning the garlic?

This past Christmas, my two awesome girlfriends (incidentally, moms met through blogging) gave me a Crock Pot. It seemed so old fashioned at first. Like something that should have gone out of style with Tupperware parties. But the instant we tasted our first slow-cooked turkey chilli, we were hooked. "This may just save our marriage," my husband uttered again.

(Hmmm... maybe we should explore this idea of needing appliances to aid our marital woes...)

Now we can't stop. This week alone I made this split pea soup with ham hock, then modified this Jamie Oliver recipe for minestrone the next day, reusing the ham hock instead of bacon. (It was a BIG ham hock.) Tonight we're having braised beef ribs with sautéed spinach on the side. I love cooking with wine on a Friday night!

So now that I'm converted, enlighten me. What slow cooker recipes are you loving? Though it's saving my marriage, not sure if it's saving my waistline with all these fatty cuts of meat. Got any lo-cal or veggie suggestions?

After the frantic rush of getting everyone dressed, pouring the cereal, nursing the baby, getting the snowsuits on, strapping into car seats... wait. Where was I going with this?

For most parents, mornings are insane. Quite often, I don't remember to eat until someone's having a nap. So I've been making breakfast shakes.

Starting with fruit -- frozen berries and bananas work well -- add any combination of the following: (health benefits in parentheses)

* yogurt (pro-biotics)
* silken tofu or soy milk (high in protein, calcium, magnesium and iron; low on calories and zero cholesterol)
* orange juice (vitamin C)
* a teaspoon of flax seed oil (Omega-3 fatty acids)
* wheat germ (too many to list: read them all here)
* cinnamon (anti-oxident)

Blend. Drink. Easy. I've even thrown instant coffee in there (when really desperate for caffeine). What you create is up to you. It's a portable, vitamin-rich meal in a glass! Skip the tofu and the flax oil and you should be able to pour into popsicle molds and freeze. Worried the kids will try to steal your meal? Just tell them it's good for them.

Just before the holidays, we received a package containing That Baby DVD and CD: acoustic rock classics for kids and the grown-ups who love them. From the moment I popped this bad boy in the DVD player, my three-year-old was mesmerized.

The CD/DVD collection was created by Rob and Lisi Wolf, the mom and dad team behind the popular Jewish-themed OyBaby brand of CDs and DVDs. They seem to have the recipe down pat: take some cute animated graphics, add some pleasant images of families, throw in some puppets, some lip-synching kids here and there, and layer over a track of easy-to-like songs and gorgeous vocals. Ta-da! A great DVD that your kids (age 0-5) will enjoy that actually won't annoy the parents!

Though the DVD got pushed further back in the pile once Santa delivered mainstream favourites like Ratatouille, it does score high marks with my kid because "it doesn't have scawy guys." And we could all do with less "scawy guys."

On the other hand, That Baby CD is in heavy rotation on Nate's Lightning McQueen CD player. Chock full of soothing, folky hits, it's a perfect wind-down toward bedtime or naptime. (I dare you to listen to Stephanie Schneiderman's mashup of Donovan's "Happiness Runs" and Joni Mitchell's "Circle Game" without singing it for the rest of the day!)

Buy the DVD ($24.95), the CD ($14.95) or both together for the great price of $34.90, at ThatBabyDVD.com

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I remember hearing a saying once: Buy them the most expensive toy and they'll want to play with the box it came in. Albeit, at three Nate is a bit young to pretend he's Slash, but watching his big kid cousins play popular video games, like Guitar Hero and Rock Band, has piqued his interest.

Enter my husband, a master air guitarist in his own right. (I have been trying to convince him to enter the Air Guitar Championships for years!) Add two Tinkertoy sticks and some pillows and you have a two-man family band.

Watching the two of them together reminds me of how simple childhood can be. How we often complicate things unnecessarily by buying the latest developmental toy or gadget.

Obviously when kids get older and are subject to peer pressure and commercial messaging, buying them more stuff is unavoidable to an extent. But when they are still this perfectly small and unaware, it's nice to be reminded of the joys of imagination, the treasures in the recycling bin, and the magic of offering your time.

I really, really wanted my second child to be female. So when the doctors announced I had birthed a girl, I knew in an instant that she would never let me have my way again.

With my son, we had an instant bond in utero. I knew his gender and had a good sense of the type of person he would be. He made himself known to me with his kicks and a sense of his spirit. When he came out, he proved that my instincts were correct, giving me my first real taste of mother's intuition. He's still fairly predictable and easy to read.

But my daughter is mysterious. When she would kick me, I would look down at my belly in amazement, ready to tickle her feet. But Little Miss Mystery would quickly hide in some dark placental corner. Now, she gives plenty of smiles, but mostly keeps to herself. She will babble, but she's not interested in dialogue yet. When you think you have figured out the way she needs to be cared for, she gets wise and turns the tables on you.

She is devious. If her brother comes near her she shrieks like a kettle coming to full boil, as if to get him into trouble. If I am reading while I nurse her, she turns round and purposefully closes the magazine or book, then resumes to nursing. If I speak while she's nursing, she pulls away and turns to look at me with angry eyes that say, "No! Pay attention to ME now." If we try to wean her off a night feed by offering the pacifier, she pulls it out of her mouth, flings it out of the crib and screams as though we've insulted her intelligence.

I am obsessed in love with her feisty spirit and the fact that she knows exactly who she is and what she wants -- something she guards fiercely. I am slowly getting to know her, but it has definitely been a challenge. Somehow, the ones who play hard to get make you love them in a different way. She is my sullen 12th grade crush, keeping me on my toes, never letting me have the full dimensions of her love. And I am completely smitten.

As if I didn't have my hands full trying to sleep-train a newborn, I'm also a potty training a three-year-old. My entire day seems to go like this:

"Nate, do you need to pee?"
"Um, no."
"Are you sure?"
"I DON'T have to pee!" Tantrum, tantrum.
"Not even for Spidey treats?"

Smile erupts on his face. He starts quaking with excitement. Stickers stopped working months ago. We've moved onto horrid gummy candies that come in Spiderman packaging.

"OK! Let's pee!"

Poop is another story. Some days are a success. Most days involve me washing crap out of Hot Wheels boxer briefs.
(Isn't being a stay-at-home-mom fun? Quick, how can I spin these skills into something more resume-friendly, so I can plot my escape?)

My blog pal Nicole has drawn this awesome potty training manual flowchart doodle that makes me laugh until tea comes out my nose. It hasn't helped with potty training, but it makes me feel better about how terribly it's all going.

How's potty training going (or not going) in your house?

I don't know when this obsession with robots started in my house, but then again, I never thought I'd get excited at the sight of a fire truck either.

In my quest for robot slogans for my husband's Valentine's cards, I came across a slew of robot Valentines on Etsy. Seems there's a whole lotta folks out there who think nothing says love like robots. Check out the gallery and stock up for next year!

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It seems we have reached the conundrum that all parents reach. If we didn't have kids, Valentine's might still be an excuse to get romantic, make each other a card, have a nice dinner and sex that lasted longer than 3.5 minutes.

Now that we are tired parents of two, Valentine's wouldn't even be on our radar were it not for the excitement of a certain preschooler. After the marathon making of Valentines for his teachers and classmates, came the excitement of the actual day. My mother bought him a Gap shirt that says "Prince Charming" and he could not wait to wear it.

"I'm going to wear it and be a pwince mum. And then Jordyn's going to be a mermaid!" My son clearly has a crush on both Ariel and Jordyn, the most popular girl at his school. His Disney fantasy, while perplexing, is actually quite cute.

Last night, I heard Nate mumbling something to himself as he went through his dad's drawer. He had pulled out an old love letter from me. Then he said, "Dear Nadine, I love you." It made me smile, but also made me a little sad.

"Do you think your Dad will give me a Valentine?" I asked hopefully. "Uh, sure." came the uncertain reply. We of little faith.

At about 2 am last night, awoken by the sound of crying (as opposed to being awoken by desire like we used to) we turned to each other in the dark and laughed. "Happy Valentine's Day" we grumbled. "Meet you back here in five years." And off we went to deal with the two new loves in our lives.

But lo and behold, as I was typing this post -- who should walk in with cinnamon hearts and a single red rose? My prince charming.

I adore my husband. He's a great partner and an even greater dad to our kids. But sometimes, he's so good, I just want to smack him.

Case in point: "We need to go to the store to buy some Valentines for Nate's classmates," I bellowed from my desk. "We'll just make them!" came the enthusiastic reply from the living room. Huh?

I started to get agitated. "Well, it's in two days. So when are we going to make them?" Fine, he wants to play Martha Stewart, but really, the best-laid plans always fall in Mommy's lap at midnight the night before. Can't we just make my life simpler by just buying them?

While I typed away, I heard construction paper being cut in the next room. I went to have a look. I found him painstakingly drawing robots (we are a family obsessed with robot love) with Crayola markers on each card. Well, perhaps "painstakingly" was over-stating it a bit. (See crude drawing, top right.) Then he asked me for slogans so he can personalize them. Oh dear.

The best I could come up with is "Be my Brobot" for the guys. Then I looked up robot valentines online for inspiration and came up with a few more. My husband handmade 24 valentines in total and made each one unique. It made me tired just to think about the effort.

I love him. I love that he can spend an afternoon drawing and saying, "Does not compute" over and over again, laughing at himself each time. I love that he goes that extra mile for his family. I love that traditions mean so much to him. But a small,dark part of me really wanted to throw my laptop at his head.

I am feeling the mother of all guilt, but I really need some sleep. After nearly six months of being treated like a cow, I could use a break. At least while I get my zees. That's not too much to ask, is it? So this past week, I started mixing some formula in with the bottle of expressed breastmilk that my husband gives my daughter before bedtime.

The thing is, it's working. She's finally sleeping eight-hour stretches. Meaning I'm finally sleeping too! So why do I feel so awful?

I come from a family of allergies. My mother has asthma, my father eczema and my sister arthritis. As a result, breastfeeding exclusively was something I was psychotic about with my first born. But my two kids are SO different. My son needed to fall asleep at the breast forever. My daughter wants to be completely on her own to sleep. My son is still a meager eater. My daughter is as hungry as an ox.

When she nurses my boobs deflate from overwhelming D cups to saggy A/B cups in 15 minutes. I used to scoff at mothers who claimed they couldn't make enough milk. Now I'm beginning to understand. It could be that she's ready to try solids, but with our family history of allergies, I'd like to wait a bit longer.

I keep reminding myself that my motherhood mantra is "You do what works for your family." This new technique is working. My husband is bonding with our daughter, while I have the ability to give my son some one-on-one time. Plus everyone is waking up rested and smiling. Surely I shouldn't be in knots over four ounces of formula? Still I can't help feeling deflated like my breasts. But the alternative is feeling tapped out -- in more ways than one.

What have your breastfeeding experiences been like? Were/are you able to follow the recommendations of the WHO and the pediatric associations and breastfeed exclusively for six-months?

I know I'll be branded a lefty when I say that European attitudes toward children appeal to me. But here goes. In France, children have Wednesdays off school and parks are filled to the brim with families. In Spain, families meet for lunch and a nice long nap every day. In much of Europe, kids see boobs in newspaper cartoons and no one bats an eyelash. I love it all and am currently planning an extended trip to take the kids to visit their relatives and get an early dose of European culture.

Alcohol is part of the family meal in Europe and presented casually, not as something illicit. Growing up with this approach, I have to say that my attitude towards alcohol (college years exempted) has been one of casual appreciation. Something that compliments a meal and brings people together in joy and conversation. This is a direct result of my parents' behaviour and openness.

A winery in Spain is taking this idea one-step further. Spanish winery Bodegas Castiblanque has piloted a program to teach children about wine-making, while integrating aspects of a traditional curriculum. (math, science, etc.) You can read about the program in detail here.

It wasn't that long ago that Jennifer Jordan was asking whether you thought children should be banned from wineries in the U.S. Now we see, as often happens, a completely opposite take by the Europeans. So, what do you think? Would you send your kids to such a course? Do you think it encourages drinking? Or do courses like this educate in an interactive way that promotes common sense?

Thanks to Elizabeth for the tip!

I had a bizarre experience a a few weekends ago. One that I've been contemplating and wondering about ever since. We had headed downtown and decided to grab lunch at our favourite department store cafeteria. After lunch, my husband went to the bathroom quickly while I waited by the escalator with the kids. Suddenly, a security guard appeared out of nowhere. He shot me a quick grin and headed straight for my kids.

"Hi! Who are you?" he asked Nate, a little too excitedly. I was instantly creeped out.

Nate looked at me to get my approval. I thought I was probably over-reacting and encouraged him to answer the man. "I'm Nate," he replied quietly.

"Hi Nate! I'm Manny!" he stuck out his hand enthusiastically to shake Nate's. "And who's this?"

"This is Lucy!" Nate can hardly contain his affection for his sister.

The man continued for another minute or two with "How old are you?" and other such seemingly innocuous questions. What made me uncomfortable was that this man was not acknowledging me at all. Most people who want to comment on your kids' cuteness tend to make a bit of small talk with you as the parent. No so with this man.

I shot him a look that said, "Shouldn't you be doing your job right now?" and he began to walk back to his post. He didn't say goodbye or anything. He just started walking away, dodging behind pillars and such to play peekaboo with Nate.

By the time Jan rejoined us, all trace of this weirdo was gone. Still I couldn't shake the creeps. Was I over-reacting? How can you tell a perv from a totally innocent admirer of children? Has all this media hype about predators heightened my awareness, or has it made me overly paranoid?