Andrea Traynor is an internal comms gal by day and a freelance writer (and one of those "mommy bloggers") by night. She’s a passionate shopaholic with a penchant for baby- and kid-gear, makeup and so.many.clothes, and has an insatiable sense of wanderlust. Andrea founded www.mommygearest.com because she was tired of seeing one-sided reviews that failed to provide consumers with both the pros and cons of products, services and travel destinations.
Andrea has two young children who are lovely 89% of the time. The man of the house – even if he doesn’t always wear the pants – is a doting husband who does dishes and understands the importance of diamonds.
Figuring out where to stay in Tremblant when there are, literally, hundreds of options at your fingertips -- thanks to Tremblant's own accommodations, Airbnb, property management companies like Tremblant Living and sites like Expedia -- can be daunting.
There's so much that goes into a bespoke suit -- from the subtleties of a man's posture to the numerous fittings before the suit is even finished -- that it inevitably comes with a much higher price tag; you'd be hard-pressed to find a proper bespoke suit for less than $2,000. They're also made by the tailor (or within his small team) and not shipped off to a factory or overseas, adding to the premium pricing.
While Madrid is a city in which you could easily spend a year and not see, do or eat everything, it's also an easily accessible stopover if you're just passing through. I managed to sneak in about 24 hours in Spain's capital city. And it's amazing how much one can accomplish in such a short time with an itinerary. Unless you're the aimless wandering type, a plan is key.
I was a club kid of the late-'90s in London, when house music had merged into the mainstream and was no longer solely entertaining audiences of the "underground" variety. Back then, I never made it to the music Mecca that is Ibiza. And I've always regretted it. Twenty years later, to prove that a 40-something could still work the local scene, I hightailed it to what may very well be considered the clubbing capital of the world.
Whenever I'm about to travel to a new destination, I pour myself into research that -- hopefully -- leads me to the most interesting activities, Instagram-worthy points of interest, a better understanding of cultural expectations and the best places to indulge my #FoodPorn obsession. San Diego is no different!
Whether your kids have racked up enough points to travel to the moon and back, or don't even have passports yet, introducing them to new destinations can be done even on a shoestring budget -- through books. I scoured our local bookstore, grocery store and at-home library to bring you the top 10 books that are sure to ignite the travel bug in your child.
Well done. Any wayward young girl or new mother who considers you a role model may now elect not to breastfeed her child. All because of your inaccurate, uneducated, misguided and -- truly -- disgusting sentiments about what is one of the most loving, selfless and beautiful relationships a mother can have with her baby.
They were at a cottage. Just two days ago on a crisp September morning. My friend sat on a raft with her 19-month-old little boy. They were cuddling and soaking up the sunshine when she heard a strange noise; her toddler started to shake and wail uncontrollably. When her husband rushed over to them, another shot hit the boat beside them.
It's senior kindergarten. My son is five. We don't need calculators or binders. Heck, we don't even need pencils or paper. So why have I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I've forgotten something? And now I'm writing this post as my to-do list as we ease back into the routine in which most kids thrive and most parents rejoice. Maybe it'll help you, too.
One nap, two naps, three naps, four; Why's my newborn such a bore? Come on, wake up! It's time to play! My dear, don't sleep the day away. I know you're sleeping... But... I noticed your bedroom door...
Two summers ago I developed the rash of all rashes. There was only one medication the doctors told me would make it go away: prednisone. A steroid that crosses into breast milk. Breastfeeding was too important to me, so, I declined. That is -- until today. After almost 30 consecutive months of breastfeeding, I reclaimed my boobs.
Dear Andrea, circa 2007: You decided to wait until your 30s to have children. Good for you! You don't understand it yet, but one day you will be "that mom." The one who lets her kids watch TV for hours so she can get the house ready for a party. The one who gives up on wiping a snotty nose while out in public.
I've adopted a lot of the attachment parenting principles, but co-sleeping isn't one of them. Unless they're sick or scared -- which of course happens from time to time and they're welcome in our bed -- I just can't do it. And I'm OK with that. So, attack me all you want but here are the top five reasons I don't co-sleep.
I haven't made a New Year's resolution in years, maybe decades. But our family life is only getting busier. Between one kid in JK and one starting preschool next month, swimming lessons, gymnastics, potty training, Angry Birds and dress-up, I need some parenting resolutions to kick-start 2013.
Ultimately, you have to decide why one diapering method works better for your family, your child and your wallet. There are pros and cons to each, and whatever your reason for using cloth or disposables -- you shouldn't feel guilty about a choice that works for you.
I was nursing my then eight-month-old who -- until that point -- was an ardent breastfeeder and had been gobbling up baby mush for two months with gusto. Then he started biting me. I turned to Google. I don't recall how many pages upon pages I looked at before stumbling across baby-led weaning. BLW in a nutshell: Baby starts eating once she can sit up unsupported and pick up her own food and put it into her mouth unassisted.
On a recent trip to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) today I was hit with scene after scene of moms, dads and other caregivers lighting up. In some cases, cigarettes dangling in the faces of some of these poor kids while mom had a chat with dad.
One man held the door for us as we were exiting the Direct Energy Centre (nice thing to do); seemingly unaware, he blew smoke into my face, and into my daughter's who I was wearing in a baby carrier (not a nice thing to do). I was livid. I coughed dramatically and waved my hands wildly in the air.
It's August, so inevitably just about everything, at every turn, is back to school-related. But some of us aren't sending our kids back to school -- we're sending them off to school for the first time. My first-born -- my baby boy who's actually four-years-old and no longer resembles a baby in any way except in my mind -- starts junior kindergarten in less than a month.
We are so not ready.