About: Lisa Barker
- Website
- http://jellymom.com
- Bio
- Lisa Barker writes the award-winning syndicated parenting humor column, Jelly Mom™ - a weekly feature in The Salinas Californian (circulation 19,000) and monthly in School News Roll Call parent’s magazine (circulation 323,000+). Jelly Mom™ has also been printed in The Eureka Reporter, Omaha Family, Mount Shasta Herald Supersaver and Llano Estacado Family Resources in Texas.
Author's Posts
Help, We Are All Being Held Hostage
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
You’ve got to be really, really ill to want to stay home in our family. My eldest daughter had a fever one night. Her head felt like it had swelled five times its size and her throat and ears ached. Still, she dragged herself by her teeth down the hall to the bathroom and took a shower. She was bent on going to school.
But she only summoned the strength to stand for five minutes. She was desperately sick with the flu and reluctantly went back to bed on my command.
Soon enough, the four-year old awoke. My daughter tried to stifle her breathing. If he heard even the faintest noise from her room—like the death of a skin cell—she would be found out. Sure enough, she inhaled and he pounced.
“Rachel’s home! Rachel’s home! Rachel, are you home? Are you sick? Are you staying home all day?” and so began his incessant chattering.
“Momma!” she croaked.
“Aiden, leave your sister alone. She doesn’t feel well.”
There is no one who looks more disappointed than our four-year old when he can’t visit with an ill sibling. And being under the weather is one thing, but being sick and feeling guilty is too much to bear. Eventually, Rachel gave in and camped out on the sofa.
“Rachel! Move your feet! I’m sitting there! Move your feet! Momma, Rachel’s not moving her feet!” He pestered her until she woozily sat up. “Play Candy Land with me!”
She relented.
“NO! I’M RED, YOU’RE BLUE! I WIN, NOT YOU!”
Her head must have felt like shattered glass. This is why my husband drags himself off to work everyday no matter how he feels. He’s got an office all to himself. If I had a room all to myself at home, I’d be in it. I’m sure the teens feel the same way.
But there is no escaping the little one, though I’ve tried. I have to lock the master bedroom door as well as the bathroom door to ensure a few moments of privacy, but sooner or later somebody picks the locks and I am found out. Even my husband will ask what I am doing.
“What do you think? I’m in the bathroom!” (Oh, sure, it’s just me, a bag of chocolate and a stack of magazines to catch up on, but they don’t need to know that.) Everybody has their hiding place and stashes of goodies to soothe them.
We don’t know when the four-year old took over the house. It was probably when he started screaming “NO!” as a two-year old and then whined through age three. We’ve given up. We’re being held hostage – HELP!
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Lost & Found: One Mind
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
Many times my husband will come home from work and ask me how my day went and I will tell him, “I know I was busy all day, but I don’t have any idea what I did!”
Well, I finally figured it out. I’m not losing my memory I’m losing my mind.
Every day I make a list of things to do and every day several things get crossed off the list, but I can’t even remember doing them. Now I know why. My four-year old has been checking things off my list behind my back.
See, I told you kids are out to get their parents by giving them gray hair and dementia!
Another thing he does is un-do everything I’ve done right after I’ve done it. I’ll clear the table, leave the room to fold laundry, then come back and see the table set again. While I’m second guessing myself in the dining room, he’ll be in the hallway dumping clean clothes into the hamper.
I think he’s ready for school. It’s time that he messed with the mind of some other adult. The teacher will collect papers, then turn around and see more papers to collect. Where did they come from?
While she’s collecting those papers, my son will be taking out blocks. Before she sees who did that he’ll be doling out snacks. And knowing my son he’ll recruit helpers.
I thought it was an odd coincidence that each teacher my eldest son had was only one school year away from retiring. Well, they better hire a bunch of fresh recruits because his little brother has been a great understudy.
My mother calls him a leprechaun. My sister, who calls her son Wheels, just shakes her head. One of the last times we visited her, my four-year old tore through her house getting into things at breakneck speed, grabbing her cell phone for the great finale and speed dialing before she could catch him. Apparently he was calling command central at 666-####.
This is the same child that takes off running the minute we open the van door when we arrive somewhere. If we walk anywhere near a patch of dirt he drops and rolls in it. If there are buttons to push and switches to flip, he’s doing it.
I used to want more babies, but now I just want a nap. Some people hire a ‘mommy’s helper,’ but I can’t imagine having another adult in the same room I’m in telling my son what to do while I veg out. Oh, wait. Yes, I can. I do that the minute my husband walks in the door at the end of the day.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Cooking Up a Comedy of Errs
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
On September 6, 2007 I, Lisa Barker, did not burn, cut or maim myself when I cooked dinner.
Don’t laugh. This is a big feat. If there were chain mail I could wear while cooking dinner my husband would buy it for me. But he would have it asbestos-lined because, he reminds me, metal is a great conductor of heat and without him to look out for me, I might be writing a future column from the burn unit of a hospital somewhere.
So the next day I ventured into the kitchen, perhaps with a bit too much confidence, and burned my finger and stabbed it twice before I got dinner to the table.
My body is a battlefield of scars and nicks from the culinary wars. The end result is usually a great meal, but not without sacrifice.
Take cheese graters for example. I never know which knuckle I’m going to sacrifice that day. Hot oil. That’s a burn waiting to happen whether it’s a splash, a spill or worse, a deep fried fingertip. So I try to limit the amount of deep fried food we eat—for my own longevity. I don’t think our insurance covers accidentally french-frying yourself.
I can’t even cook toast without injuring myself. How, you might ask? It’s very simple. My hand is drawn to the hottest spot on the toaster. Yeah, that’s right—the part where the bread is supposed to go.
The most injuries happen just before I serve. It never fails. While kids are clamoring and tripping over themselves to either help or get first dibs on the food, Mom is earning a new scar. I’m in a hurry and the kids are congregating and the same thing happens every night.
“Mom, what’s for dinner?”
“Food!” everyone else replies.
I don’t have to say anything anymore because the rest of the family chimes in to give the same answers to the same questions asked every night while I drop a hot potato pancake on my foot.
“What kind of food?”
“Edible food!” they chorus, while I cut my hand on the sharp edge of the lid of the applesauce can.
“What did you do now, Woman?” My husband is tallying the bruises, blisters and cuts for the evening.
“Nothing,” I always say.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I can kill myself just fine on my own.”
Later the kids are inspecting the sausages carefully and wondering out loud if any looks like a finger. “Tastes like chicken, right?”
You know, after an evening of this I need something I can do to relax. My husband suggested I get a hobby. I like to do home improvements.
So I bought power tools….
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Look Out! It’s The Estrogen Express
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
My husband is a manly man. He takes great pride in being the head of the household and he does a great job as a husband and father. I don’t mind deferring to him…but he’s about to be dethroned.
There are three women living in our house. Any sane man will tell you that that is two women too many. No longer will Mars rule this household because Venus is rising.
Very soon the moods of we women will wear down my stalwart husband and drive him underground into the dark recesses of a male mind hiding behind the sandbag wall of computer games and sports. This is the season when the head male of the household learns to grunt and retreat, while the lionesses roar…and burst into tears, their emotions in sync, locked together like train cars charging through the night. It’s the Estrogen Express.
Already, my daughters and I make late night runs to the store for chocolate, the darker the better. And don’t be thinking about touching that ice cream. It’s ours.
Oh, we make sure there is some token bucket of ice cream out there for the men folk, but it’s one bucket for the three of them and one for each of us. And chips.
And yes, we cry. A good cry never did anyone any harm. And we don’t have to have a reason for crying. We just do it.
We also hug. And we fall over each other cooing and crooning over babies, puppies and kittens because they’re so cute! Because instinctively we know how precious life is. We have the capacity to bring forth life. We have power.
We have cramps.
So stay out of our way. No, wait! Make us orange juice and pick us up some headache tablets. And those other things. You know, the ones with wings, but not too long, or too thin! And no perfumes, but make sure there are at least 18 in a pack.
Please don’t grumble. Just turn up your collar and pull your hat down low and go. Be back soon. Thanks for running to the store.
Now let us be. Let sleeping lionesses lay. It won’t be long before these days pass and storms gather again, some exploding into thunder and lightning, others passing quicker than you can blink.
Don’t flinch. We just want to hug you. We love you. Really. You did remember to pick up that magazine and a Crunch bar, right? Well, did you?? How could you forget! You don’t love me, do you?
No, that’s okay. I’m fine. Really. Nothing’s wrong.
If you really loved me, you’d know what the matter was.
And so it happens. The Estrogen Express has run down another man.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Top Signs of Volunteer Burn-out
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
One of the best things parents can do for their children is to volunteer in the classroom or for an after school sport or club. But sometimes parents, especially moms, can over-commit and that can quickly lead to burn-out and resentment. Post the following list on your refrigerator to help keep your volunteerism in a healthy range.
You might have volunteer burn-out if.
1. You know the teacher’s planner better than she does and she has to ask you where to find such and such in her classroom.
2. Whenever you eat pasta you think of a dozen wearable art projects you can make with it.
3. On the average there are more kids at your house daily than you have actually given birth to.
4. You have a PDA to keep track of all the things you volunteer for.
5. Your husband, sitting next to you, has to call you on his cell phone just to schedule some snuggle time.and you have to clear it with the P.T.O. first.
6. Whenever you hear the timer on the stove or the alarm in the morning you snarl because it reminds you of how much time you DON’T have.
7. You’ve started volunteering for more projects to get out of the ones you are already committed to.
8. You realize that you’re in this for life, which is funny because you no longer even have one.
9. You spend more evenings out than you do at home but you’re not having any fun.
10. You’re away from home so much you need to be reminded where it is.
11. You know exactly how many days, hours and minutes until the next holiday break.
12. You’re thinking of committing a petty crime so it will show up on your next background check and prevent you from volunteering.
13. Your child innocently asks for dinner and you give a thirty-minute speech on how all you do is give and you’ve got nothing left to give.
14. You fantasize about sending a bill for your time to those you volunteer for or wonder if your time and talent are worthy of a tax write-off.
15. That sarcastic voice in your head is demanding to be heard and you’re only too happy to oblige.
16. Every time somebody praises you for your volunteer work you eye them suspiciously, certain that they will give you more to do.
17. You’ve decided that the Golden Rule is for sado-masochists.
18. The kids want you to volunteer for some activities on the weekend. At home.
19. You’ve contacted the witness relocation program to hide you from the committee chairperson.
20. You’re thinking of going back to work full-time just to cut down on your workload.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Signs That You Are a Chocoholic
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
1. You like to dip strawberries, cherries and bananas in chocolate so you start experimenting at dinner with broccoli and cauliflower substituting chocolate for cheese.
2. You buy a bottle of chocolate syrup and carry it around in a small paper bag for a quick nip when you need it.
3. You pour yourself a cup of coffee in the morning and use twelve chocolate spoons. You never touch the coffee.
4. You were delighted to discover that they make a chocolate bar for PMS, so you buy yourself three every month to get you through pre-menstrual, present-menstrual and post-menstrual syndrome.
5. Your significant other buys you a five-pound box of chocolate for Valentine’s Day and you eat the whole thing in one night. The next morning you try to call in sick, but you can’t dial the phone because your sugar levels are so high you can’t calm the tremors. So you nurse yourself back to health with little nips from that chocolate syrup bottle.
6. Whenever you see ‘Back-to-school’ advertisements you drool because you know there will soon be kids at your door selling the World’s Finest Chocolate bars for a dollar each.
7. When kids come to your house on Halloween you ‘make change’ by depositing hard candies in their pumpkins and withdrawing Snickers, Crunch, Hershey’s and 3 Musketeers bars.
8. Whenever there is a morning meeting scheduled at work you grab a double chocolate monster-sized muffin to go with your cup of cocoa, then sit on the edge of your chair all through the meeting waving your arm calling, “Me, me! I know, I know!” and they have to call a break so you can walk off some of the effects from all the sugar.
9. You actually call it a ‘hit’ at three o’clock in the afternoon when that chocolate craving strikes and you need it to get through the rest of the day.
10. You’ve eaten all twenty-four pieces of chocolate in your advent calendar by December 1st.
11. You think the best after-holiday sales follow Halloween, Valentine’s Day and Easter.
12. You think Hershey’s 65% cacao bars are for rookies and Lindt’s 85% cacao bars are for professionals.
13. You think it’s great when you go on a diet and the breakfast bars, snack bars, protein bars, and shakes come in chocolate and you’ve actually tried diet chocolate-flavored cola.
14. You plan to start a grassroots movement to get the cacao bean listed in the protein section of the food pyramid.
15. You think the woman in the Dove commercial who’s satisfied with just one piece of chocolate is faking it.
16. You’ve got ‘Chocolate Forever’ tattooed on you somewhere.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
I’m A Soul Woman
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
I tried one of those self-tanning gimmicks. It took me almost an hour to choose from all the products and if I had just spent that amount of time in the sun, I wouldn’t have had to spend twenty dollars on an experiment.
Everybody’s going to know I got a tan out of a bottle if it goes bad. 1) I’ll have a complete body rash. 2) I’ll look jaundiced, or… 3) I’ll look like George Hamilton.
It turned out to be none of the above. Instead I developed a fascinating case of upper body acne. Lovely. Now I know what I missed out on in high school.
It’s been two months and the acne still hasn’t cleared. It’s like my skin said, “Let’s party!” and my pores said, “Bring it on!”
You know a lot of women my age—pushing forty—go under the knife to look twenty years younger. Ha! I have them beat by five more years. And now I have a sudden urge to read Teen magazine and join the Drake Bell fan club. Okay…I joined the fan club two years ago.
Have you ever done that? Have you ever expressed an interest in the younger generation? You can really creep your teens out when you express an interest in a celebrity their own age. Of course, you can’t slobber all over the guy’s picture—or marry him unless you’re a forty-year old and a celebrity yourself—but you can say, “My he’s quite a talented young man!” right?
Pbbft. I have Drake and Josh dreams.
Now I’m not saying I need to start staying 30 feet away from children, I’m just saying that occasionally I dream of a television episode. In its entirety. I think the boys are cool. I think they’re talented. I think it has something to do with the Nickelodeon station being on 24/7. I think I need to move this column along.
So I got the tanning products. I loyally slathered it on and worked the cream into my skin. I denied that I was on a carrot-only diet. I gave up. The inside of my clothes were not stained (because it washes off), but I certainly wasn’t about to let my husband see my grimy laundry. “Geez, woman, don’t you shower??”
“Hey, I wash!” I yelled down the hall after my husband, just as my eldest emerged from their bedroom affecting their best “Yea-ah, whatever,” look. I hate to lose.
“Hey, I had one of THOSE dreams last night…”
“Mother!”
“I’m a soul wo-man, dada da dada da, I’m a soul woman!”
One thing is for sure. I might be a pimply old woman with an odd orange hue to her skin, but I can dance!
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Parenting Teens: Next Will Come A Plague of Locusts
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
It happens every day at 3:20PM. I brace myself behind the kitchen counter, the door opens and I defend myself with apples, peanut butter and pretzels.
They mow through them like linebackers then retreat to their rooms where they unburden themselves of the three hundred pound backpacks they lug everywhere.
I prepare for the second wave. Milk, cookies, and fruit are strategically placed on the table and are quickly devoured as they descend on them like voracious insatiable locusts.
Thirty minutes later, I hear squabbling and toss out samples of a spice cake I baked earlier. This calms the hungry beasts for a few more minutes and then they start to howl, “When’s supper, Mom?”
“Soon!” I try to placate them. “If you’re done with your homework, go out and play.” It’s a strategic risk. Playing will only make them hungrier.
My husband arrives with the wolves on his heels. I deal plates out on the table like a blackjack dealer. I barely get the food on the table before the beasts are drooling over their place settings.
“Amen.” And they’re off! Firsts, then seconds, then, “What’s for dessert?”
This will continue until snacking tapers off just before bed. But after eight hours of sleep, they will awaken and it will be as if they have never eaten. They prowl through the kitchen stalking yogurt cups, bananas and bagels.
No, these aren’t boys; these are my thirteen-year old twin daughters. They are growing so fast that their bodies and minds are just burning up fuel by the second.
But this growth spurt is not just affecting my daughters; it’s affecting me, too. As I watch my babies grow there’s a part of me that misses the little girls that they used to be. They eat for nourishment and I eat for consolation.
The girls are spurting upward and growing taller by the second. I’m spurting horizontally and in a circular fashion. People have stopped asking me when the baby is due…because I’ve been carrying it for four years now.
Note to self: Just because the kids are having a growth spurt, doesn’t mean you are, too, woman.
Isn’t that the truth?
They say stock your kitchen with healthy food and for the most part I have because I want the kids to make good choices. And I am doing that for myself…but four servings of something good for me is still three servings too many.
It’s funny that I started my vocation as a mom eating for three and now I’m doing it again as I watch my babies grow into adults. But I’m calling this stage of parenting the plague of locusts.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Things That Make Children Deaf
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
Any parent knows that the moment a child sees water there will be instantaneous deafness. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an ocean, lake, river, stream or mud puddle. Even a Dixie cup full of water is a child magnet…because children cannot hear parents when they see water.
Suddenly, the brain sends a signal that bypasses the ears and goes straight to the child’s legs and tells the child to jump, dive, stomp or splash in the water. Not until the child is soaking wet and shivering do parents’ voices register.
“What did you do that for? I told you we were NOT getting wet today!”
Come on, parents. Did you ever get near water yourself as a child and NOT get wet?
The minute the car stops so the family can take a look at the water, all bets are off. Somebody is going to get wet and it’s going to be a total soak. In fact, the amount of soaking will be directly related to the lack of towels and dry clothes on hand, meaning the less prepared you are the more soaked your child will be.
Unless the water is in a sink filled with dirty dishes, your kids will not be able to resist its magnetic pull.
Another great distraction is the television. The third parent has far more command over children than do mom and dad. Television ON = child’s hearing OFF.
“Junior, how was your day?”
No response.
“Did you enjoy the lunch I made you?”
Still no response.
“Your father and I decided to buy you a pony….”
It doesn’t matter. It could be the news and even a three-year old will stop, pivot toward the tube and the eyes will glaze over, the jaw will go slack and there’s no getting through to him.
“I’ve got ice cream!” you sing. Who cares? No child can resist television. You’d do better if you made a commercial. “We interrupt this broadcast so Timmy’s dad can say, “Tim, it’s time for bed. Now.’”
And try talking to a child delving into a sack of candy. A child cannot see, grab and stuff candy in his mouth AND hear at the same time. It’s biologically impossible. Cookies, pizza and soda have the same effect.
Children mean well, but there are certain things a parent must avoid in order to keep a child’s attention. So put away the candy, turn off the television and drive to the middle of the desert where you can use these things to negotiate with your child (some call it bribery). They’ll be putty in your hands as long as you can stand the whining—something that tends to make parents deaf.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
It’s A Boy Thing
October 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment
©Lisa Barker
If something is broken around here I know that one of the boys did it. I don’t even have to ask. The girls would never do such a thing. If they break something, they tell me. If the boys break something I discover it piece by piece.
They also build things. Boys are like carpenter ants. They feed on protein and sugar and then destroy things in the house in order to build nests that are otherwise known as forts.
Another thing boys do is give parents heart attacks. Last week my four-year old son ran away. But this time it was different. He meant to run away. In the past if the door was left open, he’d run out and down the street willy-nilly like a dog on the loose. You know the kind. You spoil the mutts, give them treats and then the door opens and they run off like they don’t know you from the dog catcher. Some dogs just trot around the yard and then go right back into the house. Others run for it and up until last week so did my son.
This time, though, it was deliberate; he had a plan. And two hair-graying hours later, after a big ta-doo that involved police and concerned neighbors searching, he was finally home and we were finally de-stressed enough to talk about it.
“Why did you run away?”
“Because I don’t want to live here anymore.”
“Why? Why don’t you want to live here anymore?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
And then we slowly came to understand that this poor little kiddo was dealing with his older sister’s illness in the best way he knew how. He saw an older sister lose the ability to walk, run and play, to eat and drink and he was scared to death it would happen to him…unless he ran away.
You bet we loved and hugged him up. Thankful that this latest escapade only aged us twenty years and we still had our youngest boy, we spoiled him with treats and attention. The whole family did.
And we thought all was well until the next morning when he said to his father: “Dad, I’m done with my life.”
“What?” Immediately my husband conjured a bazillion reasons for this statement. He wondered if there more trouble on this little one’s mind.
“I’m all done with my life. I don’t want any more.” And he showed my husband his empty cereal bowl. He didn’t want any more Life cereal.
See? I told you boys give parents heart attacks.
I had to call my sister, mother of two delightful daughters and one boy nicknamed “Wheels”. I knew she’d understand.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!