This does not compute with me on many levels. I truly cannot wrap my head around their family dynamic. As an only child and a mother of one, my entire life experience is different than any member of this family.

When the Duggar household sits down to dinner they are sharing a meal with more people than I can count in my family, and I am including cousins.

As a new momma, I have to wonder how Michelle Duggar does it. It’s been a while since she was a new momma, but she is regularly the mother of a newborn and has raised, or is raising, more kids than a small day care center.

On their Web site, I learned that the Duggars are licensed real estate agents, host and facilitate the Jim Sammon’s Financial Freedom Seminar and are devoted Christians.

After an early miscarriage, they asked God to “bless them with as many children as He saw fit in His timing.”

Blessed indeed.

But 17 kids and number 18 on the way? I still cannot imagine how that momma must feel - how her body rebounds.

One thing I suspect, though, is that Momma Duggar gets more cards and kisses on Mother’s Day than all the other moms.

One of my co-workers has two daughters who regularly play princess, but sometimes with a twist. They are princess pirates, princess superheroes, etc. They are creative and seem to strike a good balance.

I wore a tiara as recently as last weekend (yes, there is a photo), but I’m a little concerned about the princess culture that seems a necessary part of childhood for little girls. Can we not play Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead? How about Lara Croft?

It’s time to upgrade to a convertible seat - and my “thank you for being a citizen and paying your taxes” bonus rebate cannot arrive soon enough. Seriously, the convertible car seat that appears to rate highest with users (Britax) costs almost $300!

While there’s no price too high for safety, I’m pretty sure the price tag is justified by convenience and ease of use since other less expensive car seats receive good safety ratings as well. But there is something to be said for ease of use!

My mom recalls the days when car seats were less sophisticated and optional. Not with longing, everyone agrees that keeping kids safe is a good idea, but with a sense of wonder about how things have changed.

My great-grandparents regularly drove my cousin and me in their big yellow Buick when we were young kids. The four of us would pile into the front seat, Jason sitting in the middle and me on Nanny’s lap, and we would head down then road. If Jason or I needed a nap, we just laid down in the back seat where Nanny kept a few homemade purple pillows.

Of course, I also remember the night Pappy wrecked the Buick and I was not in a car seat. No one was injured, but my great-grandfather stopped driving after the accident.

Accidents happen still so I need to get the car seat upgraded as soon as possible. Sophia is a big kid (tall and fabulous) and we need to make sure she stays safe.

I need to purchase at least two convertible car seats, possibly three, so I’m going to start shopping for a good deal. I’m a little hesitant to buy used because I want to make sure that I have all the manuals and necessary parts, but I may change my mind if I can find the right deal.

I also have to figure out what to do with the car seat and bases we currently have. Should I take them to consignment store or find a place to store them in case we have another child in a couple of years?

Oh my - I cannot believe that I am already at the stage where I am talking about and considering another child.

Time flies.

My mother, who teaches school and is having her cousin watch Sophia during the day, is ecstatic to be Grandma all week. When we spoke on the phone last night she said that baby hugs and kisses are wonderful and something that has been missing from her life for a long time. I’m sure that by the end of the week she’ll be happy to pack up the baby and send her home, but for a few days they are both enjoying the time together.

Here in Richmond, life without baby hasn’t been great. As I have said before, once you have a kid all of the things you thought were wonderful just don’t seem as grand. A good night’s sleep, drinks with friends, time alone - it’s just not the same. It’s those baby hugs and kisses. They’re addictive.

It’s only Wednesday, but in my few days without my daughter around I have confirmed a few things:

1- My hair does look better when I blow it dry. I am going to have to actually spend money on a decent hair dryer so I can fix my hair more often.
2- Fixing my hair only involves blow drying. Hot rollers are a thing of the past.
3- I am going to have to find a real child care solution. My in-laws have been great, but it’s time to enroll the kid in baby school.
4- My house will never again be clean. This doesn’t bother me as much as it should.
5- My old convertible is nice, but the four-door family sedan drives better and is easier to park. Who knew?

It sounded great – a new baby and a new blog to write about our experiences – but it’s been a challenge. If there’s any question, just look at the last time I had the chance to post an entry.

Not that I haven’t thought about blogging, had experiences to share or questions to put out to the world. I have, but I am also still working on the balancing act.

But who isn’t? It’s not just new parents. Everywhere I look people are struggling to fit their life into their schedule. Veteran parents tell me that the first few years are rough, but then it gets easier.

I am unconvinced. It seems that after a few years it’s time to introduce more chaos in the form of classes, play dates and baby meetups.

Regardless, I take some comfort in knowing that there’s a bunch of people who are overworked, stressed and could use a solid week of sleep. I am reassured that I am not alone when my co-workers yawn during meetings – and some of them don’t have babies.

And speaking of the baby, she’s great. I mean really great. I’ve turned into one of those parents who spends too much time answering the obligatory, “How’s your daughter,” question. Just this week I realized that a new grandmother at my office couldn’t wait to get out of the elevator with me because I was going on, and on, and on about Sophia.

As a proud new parent it’s my prerogative. I am holding back somewhat because I want to announce daily to everyone within earshot that I am honored to be a parent and incredibly lucky. I want to make them look at the photos on my iPod.

Instead, I steal glances of my desktop background (one of Sophia’s Easter photos) throughout the day rush home to spend a few hours together each evening. It’s the least I can do before we have to wake up and start the process over again. Which we are getting ready to do right now (She types as she hears the baby beginning to stir.)

Sound crazy? Don’t tell J. Lo and Marc Anthony. Apparently her push presents are quite the showstoppers. I’ve heard about these for a few days now and found this blog post stating that the new momma received a diamond ring and earrings engraved with the twin’s initials.

Ain’t money nice?

But seriously, I didn’t learn about push presents until Sophia was born and am still undecided as to whether I think they’re OK or not. I’m not the type of girl who turns down jewelry, or any gift for that matter, but something about push presents doesn’t agree with me. One issue is the pushing. If you have a C-section, are you still eligible for the gift? There’s technically no pushing, but the result is the same nonetheless.

More importantly, it just seems that the gift has already been given. A healthy child is an amazing gift and diamonds just don’t compare. They’re nice, but not even in the same ballpark.

Of course, if my husband decides to get on trend at this late date I will not push the package away, but I will never appreciate any gift the way I do my daughter. 

Sunday, around 10 a.m.
It was a lovely Sunday morning. The house was quiet and options for the day were limitless. I held Sophia in my arms feeding her a late morning bottle, we all slept in, thinking about how important these moments are since our life seems so hectic sometimes. After she finished the bottle, I held the baby up to burp her when she projectile vomited the entire bottle back at me. Stunned, drenched and freaked out, I held the baby close and went to the bedroom to clean us up, still trying to process what had just happened. The baby seemed fine after losing her brunch, she was already baby-babbling and grabbing her toes, but something was not right. She hardly ever spits up, and has never thrown-up an entire bottle.

Sunday, between 10 a.m. and noon
I am labeled as someone who overreacts. My husband points out that babies throw up and that Sophia is fine. We can judge that she is fine by the way she is playing, bouncing, babbling and having fun. So what that she hasn’t expressed any interest in food since tossing back up the bottle. She’s not going to eat the same amount every day. What am I going to do, call the doctor and say that my 6 month old threw up?

Sunday, early afternoon
I listen to my husband. This occurrence alone warrants its own blog. I keep an afternoon coffee date with a friend and agree to take the baby along. My husband is trying to finish his thesis and could use a few hours alone to work.

Sunday, 2:30 p.m.
The baby and I meet a friend for coffee. My husband was right, she’s fine. Not hungry, but fine. I’m not at all worried about her. Look at how alert she is and the way she plays and babbles. I won’t think another minute about how the baby feels, or about that fact that my friend has said on many occasions that if she sees a baby vomit she will do the same. It’s a reflex and she cannot stop it.

Sunday, about 2:35 p.m.
An employee at the coffee shop remarks on Sophia’s size. Yes, she’s a good-sized little girl. She’s strong and healthy!

Sunday, about 5:30
The baby is hungry so we give her a bottle. All is well.

Sunday, about 8:30
Sophia finished about half of another bottle and I put her to bed. She’s zonked! She always sleeps a lot when she is at home with us on the weekends.

Sunday, about 11 p.m.
No noise from the nursery for a while so I check the baby monitor. I see that Sophia has moved to the side of her crib and is right against the rail. I’ decide go in and get her situated. When I look in the crib I notice that her hair is wet. Does she have a high fever? I’m freaking out. Then I notice that the crib is wet. It’s not sweat – the baby threw up in her sleep and it’s everywhere. I grab her up, take her to our bedroom and begin cleaning her up and assessing the situation. I call the pediatrician’s office and wait for a callback. In the meantime, my husband and I hold her and let her lay on our bed. I knew something was wrong and I want to cry and tell her that I am sorry.

Sunday, almost midnight
The nurse on call at our pediatrician’s office returns my call and says that there is a stomach bug going around and it sounds like our baby girl caught it. She recommends giving her Pedialyte to prevent dehydration and give the bug couple of days to run its course. If she keeps throwing up, though, we’ll need to bring her to the doctor’s office.

Midnight
My husband leaves in search of Pedialyte. I ask him to get the non-flavored kind so that Sophia will not get addicted to the taste of yummy fruit juice.

Monday, not long after midnight.
I am holding Sophia. I can’t stand the fact that she is sick and I want her to feel well. We walk around the house – it’s quiet and peaceful like it was earlier in the day. The baby throws up again, but this time it’s stomach bile. There’s just not a lot left in her little tummy. I call my husband, and his cell phone rings in the other room. I’m freaking out. I call his parents, they live a few miles away, and ask for a ride to the emergency room. I’m concerned about dehydration. They tell me to call 911. I call 911.

Monday, around 12:45 a.m.
Paramedics arrive at our condo and tell me that the baby is not dehydrated. I tell them about my conversation with the nurse on call at our pediatrician’s office and they concur. They say that if they take us to the hospital, the doctors there are just going to give her Pedialyte. They recommend that I calm down, wait for my husband to return and then administer the magic elixir at home.

Monday, around 1 a.m.
My husband arrives to find paramedics in our house. He’s freaked out. They leave and we prepare the Pedialyte. Sophia hates it. She will not drink it from her bottle or a cup. At this point we decide to administer a half ounce with a medicine dropper. We do this a couple of times over the next hour and she goes to sleep. I do laundry and my husband leaves in search of flavored Pedialyte.

Monday, 6 a.m.
The baby is awake and drinks a couple of ounces of apple flavored Liquilyte, which is what my husband found at the store. I’m relieved knowing that she has something on her tummy and the nurse said that this would soothe her stomach as well. My husband leaves for school in D.C. and I try to get ready for work. The baby is not herself, though, and it’s a struggle.

Monday, during the day
Sophia stays at grandma and grandpa’s house like she usually does during the day. They administer the Liquilyte as suggested and even get her to take a bottle later in the day. The baby is doing well. Not 100 percent, but better. She’s going to be OK. I call way too many times to check up.

Monday, during the evening
Sophia and I have a challenging evening. I’m concerned about her becoming dehydrated since her appetite hasn’t returned. She takes about half a bottle before falling asleep in her playard in the living room. I decide that we need to sleep closer together so I can keep my eyes and ears on her. She’s in the playard, I’m on the couch.

Tuesday, about 4 a.m.
I wake up. All is well and I am debating whether to get up or try to go back to sleep when I hear Sophia’s bowels let loose. I pick her up; the poor thing is still trying to sleep but is covered in phase two of this stomach virus. I take her to bedroom and begin the clean-up. It takes a while but I manage. We go back to the living room and I place her on a blanket in the floor while I try to clean the playard. That’s not going well so I decide to try later. In the meantime, Sophia is ready for another clean-up session. This scenario happens one more time before I have to clean up and get ready for work. Poor kid, she is not feeling well and it appears that the only thing we can do it comfort her and let her work it out. I call my father-in-law and ask him to pick her up instead of having me bring her over this morning. I can’t put her down to get a shower. She needs the attention.

Tuesday, around 10 a.m.
I arrive at work. I’m not feeling well, but who would be after a couple of semi-sleepless nights and a morning of sick baby poo? Even though this is not a major illness it takes a lot of energy, physical and emotional. I bought and iced Americano at Starbucks on the way to work that will perk me up. For some reason, though, I just have no desire to drink my $3 beverage.

Tuesday, around 11 a.m.
I am heading home. I feel awful and am sure that I am ready to throw up the turkey sandwich I ate for breakfast.

Tuesday, noon
Yep. No more turkey sandwich. I have a conference call at 4 p.m. and I am calling in from home, and I have to get some work done before the call. Must finish throwing up before the call. Cannot toss cookies during a conference call. I call the in-laws and let them know that I am down for the count as well. They assure my that while things with the baby are still loose, she’s doing OK. They insist on keeping her until I feel better and I put up little resistance. I’m struggling and scared that I could not take care of both of us.

Tuesday, 4:45 p.m.
Luckily the conference call is wrapping because I need to visit the bathroom again. I seize a moment and leave the call. I spend about 10 minutes throwing up in the bathroom.

Tuesday evening
The house is empty and quiet and I am in a coma-like state in the bedroom. I move periodically from one side of the bed to the other, but am otherwise out of it. The phone rings and it’s my husband calling from D.C. He just threw up as well. I call the in-laws one more time and check on the girl and learn that there’s more concern about her loose stools because she will no longer drink the Liquilyte or Pedialyte, which my father-in-law found. They assure me they are taking good care of her; I know they are and leave it at that.

Tuesday, around 11 p.m.
I try to drink the unflavored Pedialyte because I need something to calm my stomach and this could do the trick. It’s weird how it’s unflavored but doesn’t taste like water. Maybe it’s the consistency. Regardless, I get why the kid doesn’t like it, but I can tell you that it was easy on my stomach. I decide to follow the nurse’s advice and have a small amount every 30 minutes, working up to a bit more if I can. It works and in the course of this regiment I taste the apple and fruit punch flavored versions as well. They also taste bad so I decide that we need to try the grape flavor.

Wednesday
Everyone in my family is sick. The baby has a diarrhea, my husband is throwing up and I am somewhere in between. I call the pediatrician’s office and they tell me that this is how it all plays out. We need to be mindful of dehydration and diaper rash, but otherwise this is just how it is. They suggest giving the baby “binding foods,” such as applesauce, bananas, rice cereal and potatoes. My in-laws make that their mantra and tell me to stay away for another day. I go into the office for a brief meeting but am otherwise asleep or working from home. I cannot take being away from the baby and decide to visit her at the in-laws house. I feel helpless and am thankful that they are taking good care of her. I visit for a while but eventually have to leave. The house is empty when I get home and my heart is broken. I feel like I am not doing a good job taking care of us, but then I remember that asking for help is not a bad thing. My in-laws love Sophia and it seems that somewhere along the way they decided to love me, too. I am grateful. I take another pass at cleaning the base of the playard, ground zero for phase two of the stomach virus, and eventually put it out on the front porch. It smells horrible and my stomach is not strong enough to clean it up. Later on I make chicken broth and eat it with about six saltine crackers.

Thursday
The baby is a bit better. Things are still loose, but better. They have their own thing going on, my in-laws and the baby, and when I call it’s like I am disrupting their thing. I decide this is good, but want to snatch up my baby before she forgets me and decides to call someone else “mommy.” I have to go to work, though, so I will have to wait a few more hours. I take Imodium and head down the road. I look bad and feel worse, but the odds of me losing my chicken broth from one end or the other are slim.

Thursday evening
We’re all at home, we all feel bad but it’s the happiest moment of the week. My husband arrived back from school today and looks like the walking dead. He smells bad as well, but that is also a whole other blog. My baby is not 100 percent but she is getting better. We had a nice warm bath followed by bananas and a bottle and then she was ready for bed. I held her for as long as I could, but eventually put her in the crib since she was trying to stretch and get comfortable and was finding it hard to do so in my arms. I keep checking on her, and her diaper, and all seems well. If this lasts then I think we are out of the woods, otherwise we’re going to the doctor. We are going to have to replace our playard, though, since it’s impossible to clean the base. It cannot be sanitary and I cannot bring myself to bring it inside. I decide that this is how otherwise perfect looking playards end up at Goodwill and the consignment store and decide that I am just going to have to buy a new one.

And as any new parent knows; everyone has an opinoin about parenting.

Are parents like me responsible for the reality television, broadcast yourself phenomenon? Our children have cameras in their face before they know they have cameras in their face.

I couldn’t resist the infant monitor with video when shopping at the baby superstore. Sure, it cost more than the non-video monitors and I realize that, theoretically, I should be asleep when my baby’s asleep, rendering the need for video unnecessary, but I bought it anyway. I’m that kind of a gadget geek. When we’re done using it in the nursery we can convert it into a home security system.

The video camera rests on a base with a wireless antenna and can be wall mounted or placed on a shelf or ledge to maximize the view of the crib. The camera in our house stares down on the crib with maximum overview.  There’s a small green light beside the camera indicating that it is powered on and broadcasting.

I think Sophia has figured out that the camera is on her and her time in the crib is broadcast for mom and dad to see. She seems determined to stare at the camera. When I check the portable monitor she’s staring back at me if she’s awake.

My husband doesn’t like the video monitor. He’s not interested in it and since we have a small house he doesn’t have to be (further argument for why I do not need this device). Unless we’re asleep, we can hear Sophia in her nursery when she wakes up or frets during the night.

So while I am willing to admit that I may have overspent on the baby monitor and was lured by the flash of technology, I am having a hard time coping with the fact that I may be this kind of parent - the kind with video cameras mounted in their child’s room.

Sure, she’s a baby and it’s all for safety, but I can’t think of a reason not to have the video camera. I’m not planning to remove it from her room when she’s a toddler and needs less monitoring at night.

I really didn’t see this coming. I was worried about turning into the worst combination of my mother and my aunt, not The Man with a portable video baby monitor clipped to the waistband of her yoga pants.

Luckily for me, Mandy Moore is here to inspire me. The young attractive successful singer/actor/fashion designer/corporate spokesperson is promoting a new Web site that will surely save my life and my waistline.

Many Moore wants me, because I am a woman, to visit uPumpItUp.com. More specifically, KraftBrands.com/upumpitup. Yes, the makers or Crystal Light and Mandy Moore have jumped on the social networking bandwagon. (For more on social networking, see my FaceBook page.)

In an Interview with Page Crawford posted on YouTube, Moore says the Web site aims to promote women’s general wellness and wellbeing. It’s about finding balance.

Apparently Crystal Light approached Moore to get involved because their research revealed that three out of four women think their life is unbalanced in some way. Did three out of four women say they wanted Mandy Moore to help them solve this problem?

In the interview, Moore says that the women’s stories on the Web site could be incentive for others to get healthy. Perhaps this is not very Web 2.0 of me, but I never really look to strangers to give me a boost. Their story may be interesting, but I tend to take corporate-sponsored success stories with a grain of salt.

But Mandy Moore says, “It’s positive, you know?”

Yes, Mandy, I do. I think it’s great.

I’m especially looking forward to seeing you address your goals - learning to cook and vacationing alone. I’m sure your experiences as a well-paid singer/actor/fashion designer/corporate spokesperson learning to cook for yourself and venturing into the world without an entourage in tow will really hit home with me. Keep pumping it up! (And if you need some cooking pointers, check out my videos.)

Now excuse me, but I need to run on my treadmill and dye my hair before this kid wakes up. We’re trying applesauce again this morning before I head off to work.

I tell you, Mandy, let me know what it’s like vacationing alone.