Admission: we watch entirely too much television in our home. It's just too easy to leave the tube on all day. I like to have it on partly for company; the noise makes an empty house feel less lonely. TV is also a source of relaxation for me. If I can't sleep at night or if I'm feeling anxious or sick about something, I know that I can flip on the trusty box and find comfort in its soothing blue light and low electric hum. And, truth be told, I really enjoy watching TV too! My diehard habit of leaving the TV on all day pressed on into parenthood. The first few weeks after Oliver was born, …

Do you remember before you had kids when you could spend all evening on the couch watching TV with your spouse? You could run out the door on a whim to eat dinner out. You could watch movies on a Saturday afternoon or curl up with a good book for four hours straight. Your time was your own—even if you didn't have very much of it. Losing my free time was one of the most difficult transitions I had into motherhood. The day Oliver was born I felt suddenly devastated that I would no longer have that uninterrupted quality time with my husband. For the foreseeable future it was just Mommy and Ollie…

It is bedtime for the Basingers and my 18-month-old Oliver is bawling in his crib. Tonight we went through our daily routine of putting on jammies, brushing teeth, reading stories, saying our prayers and laying down in his crib. For several months this schedule worked like a charm. He didn't always go quietly to sleep right away, but he was happy to lay in his crib and talk to himself until he nodded off. This week we've had a major upset in the system—for reasons unbeknownst to me—and Oliver thinks he needs to be rocked to sleep every evening and then come in bed with us half way through the…

I will never forget this one afternoon, back when I was a teenager working part-time at a retail store, when a mother brought her toddler son into the store while she shopped. He promptly threw a fit and rolled around on the floor near the front doors. This particular mom chose to ignore her screaming child and headed to the opposite side of the store to chat with a friend. That little boy wailed for nearly an hour—I remember checking my watch frequently—and his mom paid absolutely no attention to him. Meanwhile, I think we lost some customers who got sick of listening to the commotion, not …

At our house we are in that fun transitional stage from baby chatter to actual speaking. Like most infants, Oliver quickly mastered the art of "point and grunt" when he wanted something. More recently that behavior has matured into "point, grunt, and then stomp your feet and cry." Yeah, that one gets old real fast! During this period I was able to teach him the American Sign Language sign for the word "please" so that he could communicate more effectively and also learn some politeness. This simple sign is executed by rubbing your chest in a circular motion with your hand. It didn't take more…

For my son, Oliver, the true joy of battery-operated toys is the batteries themselves. There's just something irresistable about those shiny little cylinders that adults like to fiddle with before they hand over a toy. They must be the best part! Grandma and Grandpa have a Winnie the Pooh push train that takes four AA batteries, but they always take one out when the toy isn't being played with, mainly so that it doesn't start singing spontaneously during the night. When Oliver goes over to their house to play, the first thing he does is go for that train and watch Grandpa install the last …

When I opened my Internet browser recently, there was a headline on MSN.com about why little boys play with sticks. According to Daniel Engber of MSN Slate, this was one of the top 31 unanswered questions of 2010 sent in by readers to the Explainer column. One of the 31 random questions will be chosen as the Explainer Question of the Year and will be researched and answered in a full column of its very own. I was first intrigued by the headline because I, too, wondered why little boys are so infatuated with simple things like sticks. This past summer Oliver was a new walker and enjoyed the …

At the end of my first trimester of pregnancy, I find that I'm unable to remember anything. Where did I put that can of soup I bought yesterday? Did I even buy it? What time was I supposed to work today? Oh yeah, that's next week. Or the latest incident: Kmart calls me back about what I thought was a duplicate charge on my debit card. "It looks like you also purchased a [undisclosed Christmas gift] that cost the same amount as the other transaction," the person tells me. "I did? I mean, yes, I did. Sorry. I forgot all about it already!" This phenomenon, often known as "pregnancy brain," has …

The saying that other people "have more hours in their day" must be true because I can never seem to get anything accomplished during my 24 hours. A typical day consists of getting three meals for myself and Oliver, keeping his high chair cleaned off, hopefully getting a load of dishes through the dishwasher, spending a few minutes with my husband, and otherwise keeping Oliver entertained throughout the day. Some of my closest friends are do-it-all super moms who can keep immaculate houses while caring for two or more small children, working part time, and going out with friends a couple of …

Preparing for and giving birth to your first baby is one of the most beautiful experiences that life has to offer. There are so many exciting facets of first-time parenthood: Learning about how your baby develops in the womb, researching names, collecting adorable gifts and treasures from well-wishers, and let's not forget the glorious perfection of nature as it guides the human body through labor and delivery. OK, so many of us aren't able to share in that perfection bit, but I think most mothers would admit that even a tumultuous arrival was worth it in the end. Babies are too precious not …

Personal possessions take on an entirely different value and meaning when a toddler lives in your home. I learned an acute lesson of this very nature when I entered my bathroom recently to find my 17-month-old perched atop the vanity with cosmetic brush in hand and a liberal coating of mineral foundation covering the counter. He was just putting the finishing touches on a wall mural when I discovered him, guiltily dusted from head to toe in beige powder. I couldn't decide whether I was more upset about having to replace a $12 makeup product or having to spend the next 30 minutes cleaning up …

I count myself as one of the few Northfield High School graduates who didn't say, "I'm getting the heck out of this one-horse town!" Instead, I lived at home, commuted to tech school for an accounting degree, and married my high school sweetheart at the prime age of 20. Leaving Northfield was never a plan or an option. Ironically, I've noticed that a lot of alumni end up returning to Northfield after their big college adventures, having had their eyes opened to a bigger world and their ideas broadened to social issues beyond the quality of the municipal liquor store or how to keep …