I would like to be able to tell you that I am one of those perpetually peaceful people who seem to radiate a slightly smug contentedness from deep within their soul. I would like to be able to tell you that I write in a gratitude diary every day, right after my 6am Yogalates session and bowl of organic muesli. I would like to be able to tell you that I am able to handle anything my children throw at me – figuratively speaking – because I am inherently calm and happy and balanced. I would like to be able to tell you I’m like that because I would like to be like that but the thing is, I’m not. Maybe in a parallel universe, but not this one. I’m just not good at relaxing. During the birth of my second daughter, I tried very hard to breathe deeply through the contractions, to focus my energies inward and breathe the pain out. My husband later told me that I sounded like a horse.

In this universe, I’m just your average, garden-variety ineffective parent whose favourite method for calming down involves a large glass of shiraz and an even larger block of chocolate, and whose body would simply snap in half if made to do the downward dog.

When my mother was a stay-at-home-mother of four she went to yoga classes once a week – we used to say she was going to Yoghurt Classes – and she once told me that yoga saved her sanity in those days. So one day I went to a yoga class for new mothers and stretched for about 50 minutes before being told to lie down and listen to the lovely music and breathe deeply and just as I felt the tension melt away and the thoughts leave my troubled mind and just as I reached that state of blissful contentment… I fell asleep. I might have snored. Well, at least I didn’t neigh.

I really love the idea of meditation, but although I have tried I just can’t do it without the snoring. So, like all good mothers, I am living the life of a calm and contented human being vicariously through my children. My kids are learning to meditate. In our house, every day ends with reading from a book called The Wishing Star: Meditations for Children by Marneta Viegas. There’s a good reason why this is a good thing.

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I want to start off by stating that I do not have anything against Babies R Us. For many Americans it is the most accessible all-in-one baby Mecca. And let’s face it — it’s affordable.

With that said, I spent the entire morning helping my expecting sister fulfill her baby registry at my local Babies R Us — and I was left in a panic! While my sister’s traditional tastes were more than met with the store’s inventory, my desire for streamlined mod prods was left unanswered.

I was most disturbed by the “bouncies” or baby loungers. They are necessary, I know that. I do not diminish their need or usefulness — but they were not good! These little baby pods lay front and center in one’s living room (typically), and I would think they could be both functional and aesthetically pleasing. For expecting parents craving modern and contemporary design, Babies R Us just fell short.

So, after hours of pastel pink and blue, I came home to my trusty computer. I began searching and found, of all things, the bouncer that Halle Berry has provided for her little one. Now, I don’t believe in jumping on the celebrity bandwagon, but this it good:

The Bloom Coco Lounger Plexistyle – available at Nomi for $350. Nomi is definitely worth checking out if you like more modern designs – and have a more liberal budget!

This posted originally appeared on Behind the Curtains.

Literally.

I know I run the risk of being accused of puffery, given that one of the proprietors of Cool Mom Picks also likes to write about blow jobs for this site, but I don’t give a shit. For the “gifting challenged” like myself, their Mother’s Day gift guide is an invaluable resource. Every year I stress about finding a good gift, only to end up with either flowers or the ultra-lame “take the kids off her hands for the day” non-gift. The thing I like most about their guide is it’s not some list dreamed up by a marketing department, full of things they think mom’s want, but rather the gift recommendations are hand-selected by Kristen and Liz and are items they wouldn’t mind unwrapping on Mother’s Day morning themselves.

Dads, don’t be an asshat and once again try to pass off breakfast in bed as a legitimate gift — go check out the guide, pick something handmade and personalized, and be a hero.

Like a lot of kids, my youngest son is prone to blurting out riveting observations at any given time. Fascinating things like, “You’ve got a blue shirt on!” and, “Mom’s at work!” Thanks, Commandant of Perspicuousness! While hanging out in our basement playroom this morning, he pointed at the laundry room and said, “Penny [the cat] just went in there!”

I asked, “Went in where?”

“Into Mom’s Laundry!”

I like that. I like that very much.

This is common knowledge for us old timers, but here’s a tip to you newlywed men out there: if you want to someday be able to retire from doing laundry, simply feign incompetence. But this is not as easy as it sounds. If you are of reasonable intelligence you can’t go the bumbling idiot route or she’ll never buy it — for instance, a red sock in the load of whites is way too obvious. No, you have to be more subtle. Use a bit too much or too little laundry soap, use the wrong water level or temperature, forget the dryer sheets, and my absolute favorite, consistently fold items in a neat but completely wrong way. It will be a needling irritation that builds and builds until your wife banishes you from laundry duty forever.

You’re welcome.