Therefore, here are 5 Tips for Writing a Book (that You’ve Likely Never Heard Of):

Last Friday morning, we had a scheduled photo shoot for the Hold It Baby. Might I remind you that we live in Phoenix, where it hasn’t rained for about 19 months.

So what do you think it was doing when I awoke at 6:05 a.m. to head to the shoot?

If you guessed “raining,” you would be correct.

Is it really raining? Yes, yes it is.

My first words?

“You cannot be serious.”

But kids love rain, and the increase in humidity made the hair of all women present look much like that of Monica Gellar in the Friends episode where they went to the Bahamas. So that was fun.

Also, our rock star photographer is allergic to bees. Guess what flying insect comes out in droves when it’s raining in Phoenix? Yes, bees. So while she worked her magic with a camera, I hopped around her flailing my arms, completely willing to sacrifice myself if necessary for the good of the company.

Is that dedication or what?

Avoiding the bees

Click Here to view Finding the Best Sippy Cup (as featured on the Baby Sugar Diaries at LilSugar.com)

What is your favorite sippy cup and why?

Share your time-management strategies via the comment section or on the Hold It Baby Facebook Page!

Learn some of her tips and tricks for doing so here.

This morning, as I plunked my 2-year-old into her car seat, she began with her usual protests.

But she snapped me out of my own mindless we-have-to-buckle-you-in monologue with a new line.

“Hook m’up, Mama,” she ordered.

Huh?

“HOOK M’UP! she repeated, now shoving her sippy cup in my face.

As I so often must do, I asked her 8-year-old brother for a translation.

“I dunno,” he casually responded, “Sounds like she saying ‘Hook me up.’”

My thoughts exactly.

“OH!” I realized.

You see, when I attach her sippy cup or her board book or her stuffed animal to her Hold It Baby, I always say, “Let’s hook you up!”

So now she suddenly gets it (apparently), and wants to be “hooked up.” Which is so totally cool.

Except for one thing.

She wants to be “hooked up” over and over (and over) again. And since she can’t get the silicone band off the sippy cup or unclip her stuffed animal (because this toy holder cannot be outsmarted by a 2-year-old), she simply continues to yell, “Mama, NO HOOK M’UP!” for the entire length of the car ride.

At least it’s something different…

I’ll admit it — until today, I talked on my cell phone while I’m driving. A lot. Pretty much all the time. Because I’m a multi-tasker through and through.

But most of the time when I’m talking on my phone while driving I’m simply having a casual (unnecessary) conversation. My time would be better spent listening to the radio or conversing with my kids.

Suddenly, I realized that as a mom who’d created a product to prevent parents from being distracted while they were driving, it was hypocritical for me to proactively put myself to be in just as distracting (if not more so) a position.

I threw my phone into the backseat, drove home, and signed Oprah’s pledge. I’m sure that shakes will begin soon enough. But I’ll muddle through because there’s nothing bad that can come from this decision. Plus, it will please my father immensely.

As for that little invention that prevents parents from being distracted while driving? Blindly rummaging through the backseat with one hand on the wheel (and barely one eye on the road), trying to locate our child’s dropped sippy cup, pacifier, book, or stuffed animal is far from safe. In that split second, it would be easy to cross the center line, hit the median, run a red light, or miss the sudden braking of the driver in front of us.

Even if we refuse to pick the item up (for the umpteenth time), it’s easy to be distracted by the screams of fury emanating from the disgruntled child behind us.

I propose that we make our vehicles No Drop Zones as well as No Phone Zones by ensuring that our kids’ items are unable to be dropped or thrown. I’m even okay if you find a product superior to the Hold It Baby for accomplishing this task (though, while a bit biased, I don’t think it’s likely). In the end, I don’t want anyone to be run into, or to run into anyone else, and blame the fact that she was trying to locate her kid’s favorite board book for not seeing (and going right through) a red light.

To learn more about how the Hold It Baby On-the-Go Toy Organizer can make your car a No Drop Zone, click here.

My wonderful minivan Lulu is a No Drop Zone. What about your vehicle?

***

If you decide to purchase a Hold It Baby! On-the-Go Toy Organizer to make your car a No Drop Zone, please email us at info (at) holditbaby (dot) com and let us know!

Did you know that over 1 billion people on this planet do not have access to clean, safe drinking water?

Think about it the next time you take an extra long shower or a relaxing bath.

Clean, safe drinking water is a commodity that, for the most part, we take for granted. But for people in developing countries, the impact of not having this luxury is substantial.

At Hold It Baby, giving back is essential. Our current goal is to raise enough money to provide 250 people with clean, safe drinking water for the next twenty years.

To find out more about how much this will cost (it might just blow you away), or how you can help us reach our goal, please Click Here.

I love good quotes; I keep them plastered around my office, in my car, in the kitchen, pantry, laundry room, and anywhere else I might be when I need a boost (which is often and everywhere with 5 kids under the age of 10).

As an aside, I find New Yorker cartoons equally necessary. However, their purpose is to make me laugh, not think. Laughter is very necessary in my world. And easier than thinking. For the record, I do not like Far Side cartoons. I simply don’t get them. I think I’m missing a requisite brain cell or something.

At any rate, here is one of my favorite sayings:

“Just when the caterpillar thought its life was over, it became a butterfly.”

It’s human nature, it seems, to instinctively view what appear to be discouraging events (setbacks, inconveniences, even failures) negatively. Now, I don’t believe in failure as the dictionary describes it (a person or thing that is not successful). My definition of failure is: an experience in which the universe feels compelled to grab someone by their hair and whip them in an altogether different direction because they simply aren’t listening!

I’ve learned over the years that what may be initially perceived as a setback or inconvenience often ends up proving beneficial on one way or another.

I’m reminded of the day I was running late to pick up my kids from school and hit every red light on my way there. Those red lights seemed so inconvenient, until I came upon a multi-car collision two blocks from the school and realized I likely would have been involved had I not been stopped by all of those lights.

Or the night we ran out of toilet paper at 7:30, forcing me to get out of my pajamas and into the store. But I ran into a friend in the cake aisle (it’s right by the toilet paper, I swear), and she gave me a great lead for a project I was working on. I hadn’t thought to call her, yet she was the perfect person to help me.

Much more devastating, I’m reminded of those whose alarms didn’t go off on September 11, 2001, causing them to miss Flight 11, Flight 93, Flight 77 or Flight 175. Or those who got stuck in traffic on July 7, 2005, and missed their train in the London subway.

What initially seemed an inconvenience on those days literally saved their lives.

So you’ve got this caterpillar who finds himself slowly being bound up — by what, exactly, he’s not entirely sure. He then finds himself stuck inside a hot cocoon. If he finds himself this way in July in Arizona, he’s probably really miserable. He may even be claustrophobic to boot.

In this scenario, he has two choices.

He can think, “This is awful. I’m hot. I can’t see anything. Why is this happening to me?” feel sorry for himself, and resign himself to certain death. Or, he can think, “I don’t know what is going on here. But it’s cozy and dark so I’ll take a nap and trust that something decent will come of it.”

In the end, something much more than decent comes of it. He emerges a beautiful, free-flying butterfly. As a caterpillar, he was confined to seeing only that portion of earth that rests on (or very near to) the ground and only as widespread as his legs enabled him to travel each day. But, as a butterfly, he can explore the world in its entirety, seeing it from whatever angle he chooses.

Most of us wake up each morning with some semblance of a plan, but we don’t truly know what each day holds. We don’t know what each days’ events hold. We can only control so much. So, in the end, much of our sense of peace comes down to faith and attitude. To trusting that no matter what the current circumstance, there is something to be gained. To looking at each experience and wondering not why it happened but how to turn it into something positive.

The Little Engine that Could didn’t know he could climb that mountain until he told himself, “I think I can.” Which reminds me of another of my favorite quotes.

“They can because they think they can.”

***

What is your favorite quote?

In turbulent economic times, I’m fascinated by the corporate culture and philosophy of businesses that not only survive but thrive.

As such, the staying power of specialized body services establishments intrigues me. I’ve yet to see a Going Out of Business sign on a nail salon; in fact, new ones seem to be opening daily.

A foot reflexology provider has opened next to the grocery I frequent on Wednesdays. They’re having a grand opening special: 60 minutes for $30. This appeared an incredibly good deal–until I learned (after my session) that the regular rate is a whopping $35.

After six consecutive days of voluntary incarceration in response to the very real risk of spontaneously combusting between the front porch and the vehicle, David asked what I’d like to do today.

I needed nary a moment to answer.

“That one-hour reflexology special,” I said. “I’m getting that.”

And off I went.

A lovely Korean gentleman ushered me to a Lazy Boy-like recliner. It quickly became clear that my therapist and I would be communicating entirely with hand gestures, as Chung Li speaks exactly two words in English: “Hi” and “No.” The situation felt eerily familiar; like a never-ending afternoon with a toddler.

As when entering a renowned ethnic restaurant at which neither the employees nor the patrons speak much English, I chose to go under the assumption that these people truly know what they’re doing.

After about 15 minutes, Chung Li started on my feet. I have to momentarily stop the story here to ask if you watch The Amazing Race. If you don’t, ignore the next few sentences. If you do, did you see the last race wherein participants had to endure 10 minutes of traditional foot reflexology during which they writhed in pain? Did you sit on your bed, as I did, wondering how badly that could really hurt? Well, let me assure you…very badly.

A few seconds in, I heard what I was convinced was my soul screaming for mercy. But, in fact, it was only my ringing cell phone (which the gentleman up front had kindly asked me to turn off, however I’d forgotten amidst my joy at having temporarily escaped the country in which my children can’t seem to stop yelling).

Embarrassed, I asked Chung Li to hand me my purse; he didn’t understand. So everyone was subjected to the “I Like to Move It” ringtone for 27 very long seconds.

After my session ended, I called home. What, I wondered, was so urgent that it required my answering a mid-trip-to-heaven phone call?

“Well,” said a solemn David, “Grace went upstairs a bit ago and, a few minutes later, began yelling ‘Lennie’s not breathing! Lennie’s not breathing!’ Turns out, she wasn’t. Lennie, the hamster, has peacefully passed on.”

“Oh,” I responded, not sure whether to be saddened or relieved. “Was Grace devastated?”

“Well, she tried to act like she was, but I think she’s more relieved at not having to clean the cage anymore. She said cake would make her feel better, and quickly segued to an ongoing monologue detailing the average life span of a hamster and the fact that Lennie apparently surpassed it.”

I pulled into the driveway and mentally prepared for the pet funeral–the second in the last few months.

We gathered ’round Lennie’s cage and said a prayer, wishing Lennie the best in Hamster Heaven.

It was then time to “dispose” of Lennie’s earthly body. I realize that burial is the most appropriate course of action. With two dogs, however, David didn’t think there was a hole deep enough to prevent the inevitable discovery, unearthing, and depositing of a decomposing hamster into the family room.

“Grace,” I delicately suggested, “How about if Papa holds the trash bag and you delicately pour the contents of Lennie’s cage into it.”

“You mean, pour Lennie into that TRASH BAG?” questioned Grace, horrified.

“Um, yes,” I quietly confirmed.

This is the expression with which she responded.

“David,” I called, “You’re going to have to dump the body yourself.”

Grace is still standing in the dining room wearing the same expression as in the above photo.

May Lennie the Overachiever rest in peace. And may the feeling in the bottom of my feet return sometime this week.