Pooter & I were looking on the computer for some local Earth Day activities. We came to one website and she saw the globe, so I said-That's for Earth Day.
Burf Day. We already know what birthdays are.
No, Earth day.
Burf Day!
Well, it's like a birthday for the earth.
Burfday for the earth! Burfday for the earth!
Sure, why not?
Anyway, I celebrated Earth Day in a totally granola way-I rode my $5 bike to the food coop, with my canvas grocery bag, bought some bulk goods and biked home. On the way home, I bought a 50 cent lemonade from some kids who were raising money for the people of Darfur. I love my hippy town. And I bought my husband an ED present-the biggest beet I have ever seen. That's right, I said beet. It's the size of a baby's head. A Mangel-Wurzel, to be sure. Read Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins if you want to understand. It definitely was an Alobar of a beet. A tale that begins with a beet, ends with the devil. So they say.
I never sent out Christmas cards because I never got pictures taken of the girls. Then I was going to send them out as valentines. Then Easter. So maybe I'll finally send out cards for Earth Day. Could happen.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Monday, April 07, 2008
So, I went to see Dr. Robert Sears Saturday night at the NJ La Leche League's annual convention. The best (and funniest) thing about it was the atmosphere. I'm used to being out in public and having the only high-spirited child. For instance, on the rare occassion that we try to bring a toddler out dining, we'll usually start off with trying to distract her with the books and toys we've bought. Then we take turns doing laps of the restaurant because she wants to "go runnin'". "Let's go runnin'! Come on, daddy, come on!" Then there's 5 minutes of eating and she's back to doing laps. Now, multiply that by 75 families and you get the idea of the ruckus involved at the annual La Leche League dinner. Only a pediatrician could have spoken to that crowd without a break in his speech.
It wasn't too cacophonous while he was talking, everyone quieted down a bit. It was really nice to see no strollers. Every one was holding their baby-in slings or on hips. At least the ones who weren't runnin' around the buffet table. I personally hate those baby carriers that turn into car seats, meaning that your baby doesn't ever have to feel human touch, except for diaper changes, I guess. The human touch factor remains important in our family now that we're smack in the middle of the toddler experience. Not unlike our teenager, one minute she's proclaiming her independance and the next minute she's whiny and clinging. The breastfeeding works great with calming her temper tantrums, as does the co-sleeping. Although both get to be a grind at times, there's nothing like having a warm little one curl up next to you.
Anyway, Dr. Sears' talk was pretty good. I'm not sure if it was $30 (plus $15 for the book)good, especially when it constitutes my "night out" allotment for several months, but I did learn some stuff. Namely I learned that we won't be vaccinating the Poot for several more years. He is definitely NOT anti-vaccine, but since we've gotten through the infant years without illness or vaccines, her risk is pretty low until she hits older childhood. The best thing about it is that here's a renowned pediatrician saying that there really is something to the vaccine debate. I'm tired of medical people who think that if you don't vaccinate, your some kind of heal-me-with-your-magic-crystal nut. Like most issues today, the debate gets polarized into the two extreme camps; those who say vaccines are completely safe and that Big Pharma is only here to help us and those that think vaccines are a huge conspiracy to steal our souls, like an X-Files episode.
I don't know what's a worse way to get news and learn about issues-the internet, where you can some eye opening information, but also the most ignorant viewpoints ever to take up cyberspace, or the regular media which dumbs down everything into 5 minute sound bites interspersed with car accidents and school shootings. It's hard to be a "see both sides of the issue" girl in today's society. Anyway, look forward to a coming post on vaccines soon.
It wasn't too cacophonous while he was talking, everyone quieted down a bit. It was really nice to see no strollers. Every one was holding their baby-in slings or on hips. At least the ones who weren't runnin' around the buffet table. I personally hate those baby carriers that turn into car seats, meaning that your baby doesn't ever have to feel human touch, except for diaper changes, I guess. The human touch factor remains important in our family now that we're smack in the middle of the toddler experience. Not unlike our teenager, one minute she's proclaiming her independance and the next minute she's whiny and clinging. The breastfeeding works great with calming her temper tantrums, as does the co-sleeping. Although both get to be a grind at times, there's nothing like having a warm little one curl up next to you.
Anyway, Dr. Sears' talk was pretty good. I'm not sure if it was $30 (plus $15 for the book)good, especially when it constitutes my "night out" allotment for several months, but I did learn some stuff. Namely I learned that we won't be vaccinating the Poot for several more years. He is definitely NOT anti-vaccine, but since we've gotten through the infant years without illness or vaccines, her risk is pretty low until she hits older childhood. The best thing about it is that here's a renowned pediatrician saying that there really is something to the vaccine debate. I'm tired of medical people who think that if you don't vaccinate, your some kind of heal-me-with-your-magic-crystal nut. Like most issues today, the debate gets polarized into the two extreme camps; those who say vaccines are completely safe and that Big Pharma is only here to help us and those that think vaccines are a huge conspiracy to steal our souls, like an X-Files episode.
I don't know what's a worse way to get news and learn about issues-the internet, where you can some eye opening information, but also the most ignorant viewpoints ever to take up cyberspace, or the regular media which dumbs down everything into 5 minute sound bites interspersed with car accidents and school shootings. It's hard to be a "see both sides of the issue" girl in today's society. Anyway, look forward to a coming post on vaccines soon.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
**Late Notice**
I just found out, but the NJ La Leche League is having their annual conference this weekend in Edison, NJ.
Dr Sears (see link on the sidebar) will be speaking Sat afternoon on parenting and Sat night on vaccinating children. If you're in the area, check it out. Onsite registration is available and tickets are also available just to see Dr. Sears Sat night.
Dr Sears (see link on the sidebar) will be speaking Sat afternoon on parenting and Sat night on vaccinating children. If you're in the area, check it out. Onsite registration is available and tickets are also available just to see Dr. Sears Sat night.
More gentle than dulcolax!
We take the Pooter to the "Choo Choo store" (aka Barnes & Nobles) about once a week, especially in the cold and wet weather. If you don't know, almost every children's section of B&N has a Thomas the Train setup on a table with trains and stuff for the kids to play with. We like to go there, grab a cup of coffee and sit and read while Pooter plays with the other little kids. Except that lately it's fallen out of favor with us because she doesn't understand why we can't open all the shiny packages and play with them. As long as she sticks with the trains, though, we're fine. The odd thing, and probably gross, too, but I have no shame, is that EVERY time we go to B&N, she has a poop.
That's not the oddest thing, although perhaps they could work it into their advertising: Not regular! Try Barnes & Nobles! (and no, she doesn't drink their coffee).
No, the oddest thing is that no matter how many times we take her there, her parents always seem to forget extra diapers.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Where else would I share this?
You are either going to love these videos or hate them, but you won't be indifferent to them. I love them, that's why I just had to share them with SOMEONE. (My family already knows I'm nuts, so they're not interested.)
Well, if that's not enough to scare you away, there's this...
Well, if that's not enough to scare you away, there's this...
Monday, March 24, 2008
The Kindness of Strangers
A long time ago, when I was young, poor and very pregnant, I got a flat tire while driving on Route 287. Needless to say, I didn't have Triple A and I didn't have a cell phone. Actually, most people at the time didn't have cell phones. Reaching over my big belly, I started unpacking the trunk to get out the spare. A young man pulled over, asked if I needed help and proceeded to change my tire. He got in his car and drove away. I never saw him again.
I suppose I could have been afraid. I could have sat in my locked car and just rolled the window down a crack and asked him to call for help, but it didn't enter my mind. That's not always the case-I have been in circumstances where I've avoided a stranger, or not asked for help. What's the difference? Perhaps my sixth sense told me he was ok. It's a risk, to be sure. Recently, I was speaking with a group of women about this subject. One told me how as a child, her mother would invite all kinds of people, people she met places, over to dinner. They lived out in the country and sometimes these folks would do some work around the house and then sit down to the dinner table with them. To me it conjures up another time, not just a time when one person could trust another, but also a time when a person could trust their own ability to discern the good from the bad.
Somewhere along the way we seem to have lost this ability. Who among us today would meet a person on the street and invite them in for dinner? From childhood on, we are taught to fear strangers. This is despite the fact that federal statistics do not show an increase of in child abductions or murders. On an internet advice column a mom asked "My son is very outgoing and friendly. How do I keep him from approaching strangers?" Could you imagine seeking advice on how to quell your child's enthusiastic and outgoing nature? The columnist wrote back what I already know-most children, and people in general, are hurt by people they know. It's not the stranger in the trench coat you need to fear, no matter how many lurid news stories you may see on the subject. The danger is out there, to be sure, but is exaggerated by a media hungry for sensation. Taken to an extreme, this fear of strangers can work against a child. In 2005, a Utah boy went missing in the mountains. The 11 year old boy, Brennan Hawkins, avoided rescue workers for several days because he had been told to stay away from strangers.
Security consultant Gavin de Becker wrote a book about all this, called Protecting the Gift. In addition to advice for parents on how to keep kids safe, it offers valuable insight into teaching your child how to discern who's safe and who's not. He encourages parents to have kids deliberately talk to strangers, in the store, on the street. With parents safely near by, have your school age child ask for directions or for help with a purchase. Afterward, talk together about the person they spoke with: what were they like, did they help, etc. This should be mandatory parenting, like teaching your child their address and how to answer the phone properly. It not only teaches your child social interaction but gets them thinking about who they can trust, why and under what circumstances.
Another important point, raised by de Becker and others, is teaching a child (or anyone, really) to heed their inner voice. You've probably all heard stories of the trusted scout leader, teacher or other authority figure who abused children. Inevitably, someone is quoted saying how nice the person is. We need to get away from the notion that bad people who hurt children are slobbering perverts in trench coats. Instead, we're taught to be nice, especially if we're girls, even when a little voice inside our head is going, "Hmmm, I don't know about this person. Something's not right." What the experts say is that if the siren is going off in your head-listen to it, even to the point of being rude. It can mean the difference between getting to safety or not.
Sometimes we need to rely on the kindness of strangers and sometimes we need to be wary of people. It's not foolproof, but teaching your children to listen to their inner voice and discern who they can trust will go a long way in boosting their confidence and in the end make for safer kids.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Littlest Epicure
It's strange how your thoughts can wander when you're making a sandwich. Well, my thoughts, anyway. The sandwich was straightforward and one of my favorites:hummus and avocado. Plain 'ole avocado, no guacamole, although gauc' is good too. For interest I applied a few grape tomatoes and oil-cured olives. Sometimes I'll do cheese instead, like hummus, avocado and brie with tomato. All on a nice, rough textured oat bread from the bakery in town. Ymmm.
Anyhoo, as I was planning on sharing the sandwich with the wee one, I started thinking about nursing. Actually, it stemmed from an incident at work earlier this week about nursing, but more on that some other time. There's a great benefit of breastfeeding, especially extended breastfeeding, that no one talks about: developing baby's palate. There's a reason why Indian babies develope a taste for spicy chili dishes and Japanese babies love fish and Jamaican babies love meat pies and jerk chicken. It's because by the time they are ready to eat "adult" food, they have already tasted it through their mother's milk. Big deal, you might say, so my kid will never appreciate baba ghanoush. So what? But it's more than just enjoying the taste of things. Think about it, by 1970, the breastfeeding rate in the US was in the low teens. Every baby drank formula that tasted pretty much the same all the time no matter who the manufacturer is. Now think about what American adults eat. McDonald's. Outback. Bennigan's. God-help-me, Taco Bell. In a word, crap. Food that tastes exactly the same whether you eat it in Bangor, Maine or San Diego, California. Food that is loaded with fat, salt and high fructose corn syrup. Food, that despite what the commercials tell you, comes from a can or a freezer.
I'd like to see a study that shows the effects of breastfeeding in obesity. Oh, wait, here's one: from the CDC no less, I thank you. I'll bet you my last drop of breastmilk it's because breastfed babies develope a taste for better, wholesome food than bottle-fed babies. And breast fed infants are less likely to develop asthma, diabetes and heart disease later in life. The original super food.
I was breastfed for six weeks, pretty good for 1968. And my mom used cloth diapers, but that's another post. We ate a LOT of processed food. Cheese Wizz in a can, spaghetti-O's, instant mashed potatoes, Hydrox cookies, Tang, Hi-C, Rice-A-Roni. And God knows we never ate a vegetable that didn't come out of a can. My mother, God bless her, worked four nights a week, so we ate a lot of warmed up leftovers. No nibble of food was too small for my mom to wrap up in tinfoil. Wasting food is a sin, ya know. In the time before microwaves, she'd save little bits of whatever in tins that she saved from, I don't know, food that came in tins-chicken pot pie, for example. At least once a week, Dad would place a dozen or so tins of various leftover stuff on a cookie tray and heat it up in the oven. I think it reminded him of C-rations. All of that may explain why I tend to keep leftovers in the fridge until they are absolutely, without a doubt, beyond consuming. "Is this still good?" "I don't know, but wait a week and we'll know for sure."
None of this explains my love of good food today, though. I have my Italian grandmother to thank. We ate over their just about every Sunday and holiday. I was so amazed by real butter as a child I ate it by the pat-full. And sauce that didn't come in a can. So my childhood wasn't totally devoid of flavor; it had garlic and oregano, onions and fresh grown basil from my grandfather's garden. On very special occasions I was even allowed to drink a little watered down wine.
When Pooter was starting on solids she was crazy for pureed fruit and veggies for, like, 3 weeks. Then, suddenly, she didn't seem interested. One night my husband made a kickin' penne with vodka sauce. The baby crawled over and stuck her entire face in the bowl. Is it in the genes or the breastmilk? She's not saying, she's too busy eating.
Anyhoo, as I was planning on sharing the sandwich with the wee one, I started thinking about nursing. Actually, it stemmed from an incident at work earlier this week about nursing, but more on that some other time. There's a great benefit of breastfeeding, especially extended breastfeeding, that no one talks about: developing baby's palate. There's a reason why Indian babies develope a taste for spicy chili dishes and Japanese babies love fish and Jamaican babies love meat pies and jerk chicken. It's because by the time they are ready to eat "adult" food, they have already tasted it through their mother's milk. Big deal, you might say, so my kid will never appreciate baba ghanoush. So what? But it's more than just enjoying the taste of things. Think about it, by 1970, the breastfeeding rate in the US was in the low teens. Every baby drank formula that tasted pretty much the same all the time no matter who the manufacturer is. Now think about what American adults eat. McDonald's. Outback. Bennigan's. God-help-me, Taco Bell. In a word, crap. Food that tastes exactly the same whether you eat it in Bangor, Maine or San Diego, California. Food that is loaded with fat, salt and high fructose corn syrup. Food, that despite what the commercials tell you, comes from a can or a freezer.
I'd like to see a study that shows the effects of breastfeeding in obesity. Oh, wait, here's one: from the CDC no less, I thank you. I'll bet you my last drop of breastmilk it's because breastfed babies develope a taste for better, wholesome food than bottle-fed babies. And breast fed infants are less likely to develop asthma, diabetes and heart disease later in life. The original super food.
I was breastfed for six weeks, pretty good for 1968. And my mom used cloth diapers, but that's another post. We ate a LOT of processed food. Cheese Wizz in a can, spaghetti-O's, instant mashed potatoes, Hydrox cookies, Tang, Hi-C, Rice-A-Roni. And God knows we never ate a vegetable that didn't come out of a can. My mother, God bless her, worked four nights a week, so we ate a lot of warmed up leftovers. No nibble of food was too small for my mom to wrap up in tinfoil. Wasting food is a sin, ya know. In the time before microwaves, she'd save little bits of whatever in tins that she saved from, I don't know, food that came in tins-chicken pot pie, for example. At least once a week, Dad would place a dozen or so tins of various leftover stuff on a cookie tray and heat it up in the oven. I think it reminded him of C-rations. All of that may explain why I tend to keep leftovers in the fridge until they are absolutely, without a doubt, beyond consuming. "Is this still good?" "I don't know, but wait a week and we'll know for sure."
None of this explains my love of good food today, though. I have my Italian grandmother to thank. We ate over their just about every Sunday and holiday. I was so amazed by real butter as a child I ate it by the pat-full. And sauce that didn't come in a can. So my childhood wasn't totally devoid of flavor; it had garlic and oregano, onions and fresh grown basil from my grandfather's garden. On very special occasions I was even allowed to drink a little watered down wine.
When Pooter was starting on solids she was crazy for pureed fruit and veggies for, like, 3 weeks. Then, suddenly, she didn't seem interested. One night my husband made a kickin' penne with vodka sauce. The baby crawled over and stuck her entire face in the bowl. Is it in the genes or the breastmilk? She's not saying, she's too busy eating.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
What Happened to Walking?
The first real snow storm of the winter happened this week while I was at work. Looking down onto Route 27, I could see traffic already at a standstill. Now, normally my husband will pick me up but this evening I called him and told him I’d walk home. This decision caused shock and dismay among my co-workers. “You’re going to walk? In the snow? At night?” You think I had said I was going by way of a tightrope across the Raritan. My logic was simple: traffic is at a standstill and it’ll be quicker to walk. And it was-it took me 30 minutes to walk the 2 miles, a trip that took my husband over an hour to do earlier in the day.
I will and I have walked in all kinds of weather. I’ve walked across open prairie in the heat of summer and I’ve walked in pouring rain. About the only weather I despise walking in is a high wind, because there’s just no escaping it. Possibly a sandstorm would be worse. If I’m ever caught out in the desert, I’ll let you know.
No one walks anymore, at least not in the middle class. I’m sure that many of those horrified by the thought of my walking home pay good money for a gym membership. I’m further sure that when they get to the gym they vie for the closest parking spot. You know where I’m going with this. I’ve seen people drive to a strip mall, go in and out of a store and then get back in their car and drive a few feet down to the next store. How many people do you know whose only walking is from the house to the car to work to the car back to the house? There are places in NJ where it is not only inconvenient but dangerous to walk from one store to the next because there are no sidewalks or intersections to cross at.
I could get into all the environmental reasons for using people power instead of fossil fuels. Then there are the health benefits and the savings of having one car, one insurance policy, one gas bill. But really, is there any better reason than just getting off your butt and feeling alive. I used to arrive at work snarling over who cut me off and how long I had sat in traffic. Now, I arrive feeling full of energy and ready to start the day.
Funny thing is, most days I ride the bike to work. Now, if walking two miles is nice, biking two miles is a piece of cake, even with the hills. This truly amazes people. They’re not sure if I’m crazy or just lost my license. The truth is that it’s convenient. Driving from my house to New Brunswick takes 5-10 minutes depending on traffic and lights. Then I have to park about a mile from work in a parking deck and take a shuttle. Waiting for the shuttle to fill up takes another 10 minutes and then it’s a 10 minute drive to the hospital. 30 minutes to go two miles. Biking: 8 minutes, 13 if I stop at Starbuck’s. On a bike I bought at a yard sale for five bucks. When I hit that downhill and fly over the Albany St. Bridge for a few minutes I feel like I’m 10 again and that is good enough reason for me.
I will and I have walked in all kinds of weather. I’ve walked across open prairie in the heat of summer and I’ve walked in pouring rain. About the only weather I despise walking in is a high wind, because there’s just no escaping it. Possibly a sandstorm would be worse. If I’m ever caught out in the desert, I’ll let you know.
No one walks anymore, at least not in the middle class. I’m sure that many of those horrified by the thought of my walking home pay good money for a gym membership. I’m further sure that when they get to the gym they vie for the closest parking spot. You know where I’m going with this. I’ve seen people drive to a strip mall, go in and out of a store and then get back in their car and drive a few feet down to the next store. How many people do you know whose only walking is from the house to the car to work to the car back to the house? There are places in NJ where it is not only inconvenient but dangerous to walk from one store to the next because there are no sidewalks or intersections to cross at.
I could get into all the environmental reasons for using people power instead of fossil fuels. Then there are the health benefits and the savings of having one car, one insurance policy, one gas bill. But really, is there any better reason than just getting off your butt and feeling alive. I used to arrive at work snarling over who cut me off and how long I had sat in traffic. Now, I arrive feeling full of energy and ready to start the day.
Funny thing is, most days I ride the bike to work. Now, if walking two miles is nice, biking two miles is a piece of cake, even with the hills. This truly amazes people. They’re not sure if I’m crazy or just lost my license. The truth is that it’s convenient. Driving from my house to New Brunswick takes 5-10 minutes depending on traffic and lights. Then I have to park about a mile from work in a parking deck and take a shuttle. Waiting for the shuttle to fill up takes another 10 minutes and then it’s a 10 minute drive to the hospital. 30 minutes to go two miles. Biking: 8 minutes, 13 if I stop at Starbuck’s. On a bike I bought at a yard sale for five bucks. When I hit that downhill and fly over the Albany St. Bridge for a few minutes I feel like I’m 10 again and that is good enough reason for me.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
My New Year's resolution
Nothing like the holiday season to make me feel inadequate. The same magazines that assure me it's okay to simplify my holiday traditions also contain roughly 800 cookie recipes, scores of homemade gifts and do it yourself home makeovers, "just in time for Christmas". I'm glad I have approval from the mass media to scale back my holidays, lest I shop myself into a coma. For better or worse, I am the un-Martha, and so very unlikely to suffer from overdoing it. However much I say "I'll get around to it", I still suffer from Martha-envy, though, when I see these moms who have their act together. One woman I work with has a Christmas theme every year. In addition to her decorating, all her gifts center around the year's theme, say pirates or outdoor games. That's a level of committment I can't adhere to when I'm still shopping at 4pm Christmas eve.
It's not just Christmas. Throughout the year I promise myself that I'm going to be one of those moms who makes every meal from scratch. I try to believe that I will set aside one day a week to bake bread, or soup, or work on a craft project. In my free time I'll organize my closets, I tell myself, when in reality my free time is likely to be with a cup of coffee and book. My dissatisfaction goes even deeper, I'm afraid. I get jealous of those woman who run their families like a Swiss clock. I want to be one of those moms who puts the fear into their families with a look that says, "Do your chores. NOW." , while husband and kids go scurrying for the cleaning products. I want my schedule to be a model of efficiency, without a wasted moment. I want a house that glistens with cleanliness, where dog hair is nonexistent and toys are put away every evening. Then, when Christmas rolls around, I'll be the first to have my cards in the mail. Instead, on Christmas eve, I'm wrapping the presents hours before they'll be ripped open and putting on my makeup in the car on the way to Grandma's house.
Ah, who am I kidding. I am and always will be the mom who thinks cheese and crackers is a perfectly acceptable dinner option. I see nothing wrong with taking the kids out of school to spend the day in the city. If the only time I clean my house if before company comes, so be it. Once in a while, when I'm feeling especially motivated, I take all those cookie recipes, self help articles (The Pete Seeger Diet! How playing the banjo helped me lose 5 pounds!) and DIY projects, sort them into a neat pile and put them away in a drawer. Then I go back to my coffee and my book.
I guess my new New Year's resolution is that I'm going to like myself for who I am. If some miracle occurs and I become an organized, detail oriented, got-her-stuff-together type of woman-well, then I resolve to like that self too.
In the meantime, I look at my neighbors, one male and one female, who do seem to have their acts together. There yards are always raked, their recyclables are put out on the right days and so one. Neither one looks particularly happy. Coincidence? I'm not taking any chances.
It's not just Christmas. Throughout the year I promise myself that I'm going to be one of those moms who makes every meal from scratch. I try to believe that I will set aside one day a week to bake bread, or soup, or work on a craft project. In my free time I'll organize my closets, I tell myself, when in reality my free time is likely to be with a cup of coffee and book. My dissatisfaction goes even deeper, I'm afraid. I get jealous of those woman who run their families like a Swiss clock. I want to be one of those moms who puts the fear into their families with a look that says, "Do your chores. NOW." , while husband and kids go scurrying for the cleaning products. I want my schedule to be a model of efficiency, without a wasted moment. I want a house that glistens with cleanliness, where dog hair is nonexistent and toys are put away every evening. Then, when Christmas rolls around, I'll be the first to have my cards in the mail. Instead, on Christmas eve, I'm wrapping the presents hours before they'll be ripped open and putting on my makeup in the car on the way to Grandma's house.
Ah, who am I kidding. I am and always will be the mom who thinks cheese and crackers is a perfectly acceptable dinner option. I see nothing wrong with taking the kids out of school to spend the day in the city. If the only time I clean my house if before company comes, so be it. Once in a while, when I'm feeling especially motivated, I take all those cookie recipes, self help articles (The Pete Seeger Diet! How playing the banjo helped me lose 5 pounds!) and DIY projects, sort them into a neat pile and put them away in a drawer. Then I go back to my coffee and my book.
I guess my new New Year's resolution is that I'm going to like myself for who I am. If some miracle occurs and I become an organized, detail oriented, got-her-stuff-together type of woman-well, then I resolve to like that self too.
In the meantime, I look at my neighbors, one male and one female, who do seem to have their acts together. There yards are always raked, their recyclables are put out on the right days and so one. Neither one looks particularly happy. Coincidence? I'm not taking any chances.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
When she was five
she was skipping down the street
without a backwards glance.
When she was five
she ate homemade ice cream
and blueberries.
When she was five
she would go up to the boardwalk
to drink from the fountain
and run back to the blanket
demanding more crackers.
When she was five
she could tie her own shoes.
When she was five
she could,
without anyone's help,
get ice pops from the freezer,
brush her own teeth,
put a movie in the VCR and watch it.
When she was five
she would so sweetly lay her head on my shoulder
and tell me I was the best mom ever.
When she was five
she noticed boys
and noticed when they didn't notice her.
When she was five
her mother made mental snapshots
to hold fast
this butterfly,
this little woman.
S. McNicholas 1996
she was skipping down the street
without a backwards glance.
When she was five
she ate homemade ice cream
and blueberries.
When she was five
she would go up to the boardwalk
to drink from the fountain
and run back to the blanket
demanding more crackers.
When she was five
she could tie her own shoes.
When she was five
she could,
without anyone's help,
get ice pops from the freezer,
brush her own teeth,
put a movie in the VCR and watch it.
When she was five
she would so sweetly lay her head on my shoulder
and tell me I was the best mom ever.
When she was five
she noticed boys
and noticed when they didn't notice her.
When she was five
her mother made mental snapshots
to hold fast
this butterfly,
this little woman.
S. McNicholas 1996
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Summertime and the living is easy
Although I enjoy every season, I may love summer more than all the other seasons combined. Summer, surpassed only by Christmas Eve, is a time of infinite possibilities and endless imagination. And, of course, summer is much longer than one night. There’s nothing like a hot, languid day to take me back to childhood, when my mother would push me out the door every morning and I wouldn’t be expected back home until she hollered, many hours later, “Suuuuuuuusaaaaann! Suppeeeerrrrrrrr!” There would be echoes of the same up and down the block as kids went scrambling home.
Having a small child around really brings it all back to me. On Solstice, Sally discovered fireflies. She’s also learning about ants, backyard kiddie pools and ice pops-most of which winds up dripping down her chest until she looks like she’s covered in tribal paint, a la Lord of the Flies. One day, before it was really hot, we went to the beach. She would have run right into the ocean until she realized that those things, called waves, make you wet. After that she was content to chase after seagulls. Summer fun is great, also, because there’s so much to do that doesn’t require much money. Have a picnic in the park, blow bubbles, watch some fireworks. Call me a Benny*, but nothing says “summer” to me like The Shore. Yes, I know it can be expensive, especially if you’re going to a Benny Heaven, like Seaside or Point Pleasant. Do you have any idea how much those boardwalk games cost nowadays? Even skeeball, which I thought would be a dime forever, is now 25 cents.
However, national and state seashores, like Sandy Hook and Island Beach, are only $10 a carload. When I was growing up, an outing to the beach was akin to King Darius and is household moving to the Summer Palace. We’d pack up the station wagon (of course it was a station wagon) with any and all things we might possibly need for two adults and several children. Enormous thermos full of iced tea, beach blanket, beach umbrellas, beach chairs, cooler full of fruit, snacks and sandwiches-emphasis on the sand, and an endless supply of toys and diversions. So grab a cooler and some friends and go. The same can be said for parks. NJ is home to several National Parks, Sites and Recreation Areas and home to dozens of State Parks. Four National Historic Trails run through the state, including the Appalachian Trail. For info, go to http://www.nps.gov/ or http://www.state.nj.us/dep/parksandforests/index.html .
Want to stay local AND beat the heat-try your local library. Most offer a variety of summer programs. The New Brunswick Public Library is right across from the Co-op, so stop in after shopping and see what they’ve got going on. New Brunswick has lots to do in the summer, including the NJ International Film Festival now through July 19th http://www.njfilmfest.com/ . Across the river, Highland Park will be hosting Random Acts of Fun on July 5, 19 and August 2, a block party on Raritan Avenue with activities for kids, music and a chance to win prizes. I will caution you, if you use a search engine to find activities in Highland Park, make sure you type in NJ. More than once I’ve been reading a web page for a while before I realized I was reading about Highland Park, Illinois or Highland Park, Nova Scotia.
Don’t want to leave home? Then head to the nearest Rite Aid, or whatever you have close by, get the cheapest kiddie pool you can find and cool yourself while reading a good book and sipping something frosty. Get a sprinkler for the kids and join them in running through it. Don’t have kids? Borrow some or just pretend some are stopping by later. Buy a watermelon and have a spitting contest. Sit on your porch and enjoy a thunderstorm. Whatever you do, get out of climate control once in a while and enjoy the most valuable lesson summer has to offer: a chance to slow down and relax.
*Benny stands for Bergen, Essex, Newark and New York and refers to those who visit the shore for the summer but don’t live there. In some parts of the world they’re called Shoobies, ‘cause they don’t go barefoot.
Having a small child around really brings it all back to me. On Solstice, Sally discovered fireflies. She’s also learning about ants, backyard kiddie pools and ice pops-most of which winds up dripping down her chest until she looks like she’s covered in tribal paint, a la Lord of the Flies. One day, before it was really hot, we went to the beach. She would have run right into the ocean until she realized that those things, called waves, make you wet. After that she was content to chase after seagulls. Summer fun is great, also, because there’s so much to do that doesn’t require much money. Have a picnic in the park, blow bubbles, watch some fireworks. Call me a Benny*, but nothing says “summer” to me like The Shore. Yes, I know it can be expensive, especially if you’re going to a Benny Heaven, like Seaside or Point Pleasant. Do you have any idea how much those boardwalk games cost nowadays? Even skeeball, which I thought would be a dime forever, is now 25 cents.
However, national and state seashores, like Sandy Hook and Island Beach, are only $10 a carload. When I was growing up, an outing to the beach was akin to King Darius and is household moving to the Summer Palace. We’d pack up the station wagon (of course it was a station wagon) with any and all things we might possibly need for two adults and several children. Enormous thermos full of iced tea, beach blanket, beach umbrellas, beach chairs, cooler full of fruit, snacks and sandwiches-emphasis on the sand, and an endless supply of toys and diversions. So grab a cooler and some friends and go. The same can be said for parks. NJ is home to several National Parks, Sites and Recreation Areas and home to dozens of State Parks. Four National Historic Trails run through the state, including the Appalachian Trail. For info, go to http://www.nps.gov/ or http://www.state.nj.us/dep/parksandforests/index.html .
Want to stay local AND beat the heat-try your local library. Most offer a variety of summer programs. The New Brunswick Public Library is right across from the Co-op, so stop in after shopping and see what they’ve got going on. New Brunswick has lots to do in the summer, including the NJ International Film Festival now through July 19th http://www.njfilmfest.com/ . Across the river, Highland Park will be hosting Random Acts of Fun on July 5, 19 and August 2, a block party on Raritan Avenue with activities for kids, music and a chance to win prizes. I will caution you, if you use a search engine to find activities in Highland Park, make sure you type in NJ. More than once I’ve been reading a web page for a while before I realized I was reading about Highland Park, Illinois or Highland Park, Nova Scotia.
Don’t want to leave home? Then head to the nearest Rite Aid, or whatever you have close by, get the cheapest kiddie pool you can find and cool yourself while reading a good book and sipping something frosty. Get a sprinkler for the kids and join them in running through it. Don’t have kids? Borrow some or just pretend some are stopping by later. Buy a watermelon and have a spitting contest. Sit on your porch and enjoy a thunderstorm. Whatever you do, get out of climate control once in a while and enjoy the most valuable lesson summer has to offer: a chance to slow down and relax.
*Benny stands for Bergen, Essex, Newark and New York and refers to those who visit the shore for the summer but don’t live there. In some parts of the world they’re called Shoobies, ‘cause they don’t go barefoot.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
It's more than baby blues: postpartum depression
When postpartum depression makes the news, it’s usually because either a celebrity is involved or because some woman hurt her baby. Despite its common occurrence-1 out of 8 women will experience it-it is still not openly talked about. Maureen O’Hara in this month’s Mothering magazine talks about depression, including PPD and how it’s still stigmatized in our society. It’s even more pronounced in a society where we’re expected to raise our children isolated from the extended family support systems that humans have lived in since before we walked upright.
According to Ruta Nonacs, MD, on emedicine.com, most women will experience minor mood disturbances in the postpartum period. 10-15% of women will have the more serious postpartum depression. Postpartum psychosis, the most severe form, is seen in only 1-2 women out of 1000 births. Risk factors or PPD include prenatal depression or anxiety, childcare stress, marital or family issues, low social support, history of previous depression, low socioeconomic status, unwanted pregnancy, history of genetic mental illness and substance abuse (Wikipedia). Even with increased awareness, PPD often goes unnoticed and untreated. In addition to the toll this takes on mom, it can affect relationships with other family members and can inhibit the normal development of mother-child attachment. Research suggests that untreated PPD can have long term affects on baby’s development and behavior (Nonacs).
It’s no surprise that women go through significant changes immediately following birth. Hormone levels of progesterone and estrogen that rose gradually throughout the pregnancy now drop off sharply. So how can you differentiate between “Baby Blues” and depression? It can be common for women to have mood swings, irritability and tearfulness after the baby is born. These usually peak on the 4th -5th day following birth and are resolved within a few weeks. Most importantly, they do not interfere with the woman’s ability to care for herself or her baby.
Postpartum depression usually sneaks up over the first three months, although it can have a rapid onset. PPD is persistent and debilitating. Symptoms of PPD include: depressed mood, tearfulness, inability to find pleasure in events that were formerly pleasurable, insomnia, fatigue, appetite disturbance, suicidal thoughts, and recurrent thoughts of death. Women with PPD may have incessant fears about their babies’ health or, conversely, be ambivalent towards or have thoughts of harming their babies. I think this last one often causes women to hide or ignore their symptoms. When I had my first daughter I was a poor, single mom with a history of depression. Her father did not help with her care and I was afraid to go to take my problems to my family for fear of looking like a failure. Several weeks after she was born I started having images of accidentally putting her in the oven or the freezer and forgetting her there. I couldn’t get it out of my mind and I really thought I was going crazy.
My silver lining was my support network. At the time I had several friends who were pregnant and gave birth around the same time as me. We babysat for each other, laughed and cried with each other. We had someone who never tired of hearing every minute detail of the newborn experience. Another thing that helped was breastfeeding. Nursing releases prolactin, a hormone that stimulates the mammary glands to produce milk. Prolactin has also been shown to increase feelings of satisfaction. In a study done by Maureen Groer, at the University of Tennessee School of Nursing, women who breastfed were more likely to report less stress and negative moods in the postpartum period than formula feeding mothers. She reports that breastfeeding seems to be protective of women’s moods in the postpartum period.
Some women may need more help. There are traditional and non-traditional therapies for PPD. There’s no shame in taking antidepressants to get you over a tough spot. If you are breastfeeding and think you need to go on antidepressants, talk with your doctor about the best medicine and when to take it. kellymom.com is a great resource on breastfeeding and has information on BF and antidepressants, alternative therapies and PPD. In April, 2006, Governor Corzine signed a bill requiring health care professionals to screen new mothers and provide information on PPD> The NJ Department of Health and Senior Services has a web page on PPD, http://www.state.nj.us/health/fhs/ppd/index.shtml or call the 24 hour hotline(in NJ)1-800-328-3838. If you think you may have PPD, or if you think someone you love might have it, get the help you need, it’s the best thing you can do for yourself and your baby.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Family Leave: The Law and Your Rights
On February 5, 1993, Bill Clinton signed the Federal Family and Medical Leave Act, fulfilling one of his campaign promises. The law guarantees employees 12 weeks a year of unpaid leave for giving birth to or adopting a child, caring for a sick child, parent or spouse, or being unable to work due to health reasons. New Jersey had already passed a similar law in 1990, granting you 12 weeks of unpaid leave every 24 months. Knowing what you’re entitled to can be confusing. I took family leave in 2005 and even my human resource department was unsure of certain things. Make no mistake, HR is looking out for the company’s best interest, not yours.
According to the federal law, family leave is unpaid leave provided for birth, placement of child for adoption or foster care, to provide care for the employee's own parent (including individuals who exercise parental responsibility under state law), child, or spouse with serious health condition, or employee's own serious health condition. The NJ law is similar, except that is does not provide leave for your own medical conditions. Each law has limits on who is eligible. For a good run down on the differences between the federal and the NJ laws, go to http://www.dol.gov/esa/programs/whd/state/fmla/nj.htm or you can get further information by contacting the nearest office of the Wage and Hour Division, listed in most telephone directories under U.S. Government, Department of Labor, Employment Standards Administration, or by dialing 1-866-487-9243. The Office of the Attorney General, Division of Civil Rights also has a website with info: http://www.state.nj.us/lps/dcr/law.html#FLA
When you’re thinking about taking family leave, you need to give your employer at least 30 days notice. Where I work, you must use up all of your paid leave concurrently with the unpaid leave. That means, if I have 3 weeks sick time accrued, my family leave starts with my first day off giving me 3 weeks paid and 9 weeks unpaid. This is at the discretion of your employer and is not specified in the law. Sit down with your HR person and get everything in writing. A friend of mine took family leave due to an illness and was not told that she could take it intermittently. For instance, if you are getting treatment for cancer, you could take the federal family leave for a few days following every chemo or radiation treatment, which sometimes require months of treatment. She took all her leave at once and thereafter had to drag herself to work no matter how sick she felt.
In NJ women are also paid temporary disability before and after the birth of a child. In normal circumstances, this is for 4 weeks before your due date and 6 weeks after vaginal birth, longer if you had a C-section or other birth complications, another disability or are unable to perform your job. Again, check with your employer. They may let you take your disability first and then dip into your paid sick time or they may make you use up your sick time first, leaving you with less weeks to collect disability. Find out how much your disability is going to be. In NJ, the weekly benefit amount is calculated on the basis of your average weekly wage. If eligible, you will be paid two-thirds of your average weekly wage up to the maximum amount payable, which is $502 for disabilities beginning on or after January 1, 2007. Also, see if your job has supplemental disability insurance you can sign up for. With supplemental insurance, you can usually collect up to 60% of your regular pay. Don’t plan on getting 100% of what you normally earn and you can’t double dip, meaning you can’t take paid sick leave and disability at the same time.
While you’re out, your employer must retain your benefits as they were while you were working. If you pay for a portion of your benefits, you might still have to pay that portion but you do not have to apply for COBRA. When you return they must give you the same or a commensurate position. There are exceptions, check with the above site or phone number for more info. And again, have a talk with your company’s HR department and get everything in writing.
Unfortunately, many parents cannot take advantage of the Family Leave Act because they cannot afford to take unpaid time off. NJ Citizen Action Campaign (http://www.njcitizenaction.org/pfl.html) is working on a bill in the NJ legislature that would allow for employee funded family leave insurance. Granted, it’s not as good as Denmark, where mothers get 18 weeks off at full pay after the birth of a child. Maybe someday we’ll live in a country where the needs of families are given a higher priority. In the meantime, know your rights.
**This article was written for people living in NJ. For information on your state, try here.
According to the federal law, family leave is unpaid leave provided for birth, placement of child for adoption or foster care, to provide care for the employee's own parent (including individuals who exercise parental responsibility under state law), child, or spouse with serious health condition, or employee's own serious health condition. The NJ law is similar, except that is does not provide leave for your own medical conditions. Each law has limits on who is eligible. For a good run down on the differences between the federal and the NJ laws, go to http://www.dol.gov/esa/programs/whd/state/fmla/nj.htm or you can get further information by contacting the nearest office of the Wage and Hour Division, listed in most telephone directories under U.S. Government, Department of Labor, Employment Standards Administration, or by dialing 1-866-487-9243. The Office of the Attorney General, Division of Civil Rights also has a website with info: http://www.state.nj.us/lps/dcr/law.html#FLA
When you’re thinking about taking family leave, you need to give your employer at least 30 days notice. Where I work, you must use up all of your paid leave concurrently with the unpaid leave. That means, if I have 3 weeks sick time accrued, my family leave starts with my first day off giving me 3 weeks paid and 9 weeks unpaid. This is at the discretion of your employer and is not specified in the law. Sit down with your HR person and get everything in writing. A friend of mine took family leave due to an illness and was not told that she could take it intermittently. For instance, if you are getting treatment for cancer, you could take the federal family leave for a few days following every chemo or radiation treatment, which sometimes require months of treatment. She took all her leave at once and thereafter had to drag herself to work no matter how sick she felt.
In NJ women are also paid temporary disability before and after the birth of a child. In normal circumstances, this is for 4 weeks before your due date and 6 weeks after vaginal birth, longer if you had a C-section or other birth complications, another disability or are unable to perform your job. Again, check with your employer. They may let you take your disability first and then dip into your paid sick time or they may make you use up your sick time first, leaving you with less weeks to collect disability. Find out how much your disability is going to be. In NJ, the weekly benefit amount is calculated on the basis of your average weekly wage. If eligible, you will be paid two-thirds of your average weekly wage up to the maximum amount payable, which is $502 for disabilities beginning on or after January 1, 2007. Also, see if your job has supplemental disability insurance you can sign up for. With supplemental insurance, you can usually collect up to 60% of your regular pay. Don’t plan on getting 100% of what you normally earn and you can’t double dip, meaning you can’t take paid sick leave and disability at the same time.
While you’re out, your employer must retain your benefits as they were while you were working. If you pay for a portion of your benefits, you might still have to pay that portion but you do not have to apply for COBRA. When you return they must give you the same or a commensurate position. There are exceptions, check with the above site or phone number for more info. And again, have a talk with your company’s HR department and get everything in writing.
Unfortunately, many parents cannot take advantage of the Family Leave Act because they cannot afford to take unpaid time off. NJ Citizen Action Campaign (http://www.njcitizenaction.org/pfl.html) is working on a bill in the NJ legislature that would allow for employee funded family leave insurance. Granted, it’s not as good as Denmark, where mothers get 18 weeks off at full pay after the birth of a child. Maybe someday we’ll live in a country where the needs of families are given a higher priority. In the meantime, know your rights.
**This article was written for people living in NJ. For information on your state, try here.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Eating Right from the Start
Salome and I have entered a new phase of nursing. She’s almost a year and a half, now, and when she feels like nursing she walks up to me and lifts my shirt up. She hasn’t yelled across the grocery store yet, “Mommy! Nummies!” but I sense it’s coming.
In the meantime, she continues to broaden her food horizons. This is the child that generally eschewed baby food, homemade or store bought, but would eat baba ghanoush like nobody’s business. She has always liked garlic, possibly because I eat a lot of garlic and it passes through breast milk. I used to wonder how children in India could eat such hot, highly spiced food. Then I realized-they literally get it in their mother’s milk. Anyway, despite all evidence to the contrary, Salome won’t be breastfeeding forever, which leads us to ponder the question that so many parents fret over. What do you feed them?
Our oldest daughter proclaimed herself a vegetarian at age eleven. Really, she was more like a potato-tarian, since it didn’t seem like she ate anything else. We’re keeping the baby a vegetarian for now, too, and we ourselves eat very little meat. One thing we have done to increase what the teenager eats is to get her cooking. We bought her a vegetarian cookbook geared toward kids and let her pick out recipes. Spinach lasagna roll-ups and stuffed peppers are two of her favorites. Since the baby’s been born we’ve made a concerted effort to cut back on processed food and cook more of what we eat, so we know what’s in it. It’s a lot easier than it sounds. We make double batches and freeze stuff and just try to keep it simple. When we do buy store bought, we look for a short list of ingredients. No long list of things you can’t pronounce and definitely no high fructose corn syrup. But that’s another article. In addition, we’ve been eating more whole grains, fruits and vegetables. The teen helps cook and we just cut it up small for the baby. She pretty much eats what we’re eating with few, small adjustments-like nothing really spicy and nothing that’s a choking hazard. We keep a loose leaf binder of the recipes we like and soon our favorites become second nature to make.
So what are we eating? Well, this morning hubby made grits. Never have I eaten grits this good. These weren’t the pale, watery grits I’m used to. He made them with stone ground cornmeal, available at the co-op, and just enough cheese for flavoring. The result was a thick, golden porridge perfect for a cold, rainy morning. We’ve also been eating more oatmeal and brown rice. One quick meal that the teenager loves is our homemade version of the tortilla-less burrito. Rice, black beans,(refried or whole), salsa and cheese. It’s easy, cheap and healthy. Making your own also allows you to substitute in whole wheat flour and other healthy ingredients. My husband loves to cook and has started expanding his repertoire. This week he made his own cashew butter and last week it was home made English muffins. Almost every week we make a batch of our own granola and it lasts all week, low in fat and sugar. Do I even have to mention that all of this is cheaper than eating out? If we can learn to churn butter and make our own wine, I may never leave the house.
The other benefit to eating like this is that I feel better. After giving up caffeine, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for my health. I have more energy and I just feel good. Imagine how you feel after eating a breakfast sandwich from a fast food chain and a super large coffee. Now think how good you’d feel after eating home made granola with yoghurt and berries. There’s no comparison.
In the meantime, she continues to broaden her food horizons. This is the child that generally eschewed baby food, homemade or store bought, but would eat baba ghanoush like nobody’s business. She has always liked garlic, possibly because I eat a lot of garlic and it passes through breast milk. I used to wonder how children in India could eat such hot, highly spiced food. Then I realized-they literally get it in their mother’s milk. Anyway, despite all evidence to the contrary, Salome won’t be breastfeeding forever, which leads us to ponder the question that so many parents fret over. What do you feed them?
Our oldest daughter proclaimed herself a vegetarian at age eleven. Really, she was more like a potato-tarian, since it didn’t seem like she ate anything else. We’re keeping the baby a vegetarian for now, too, and we ourselves eat very little meat. One thing we have done to increase what the teenager eats is to get her cooking. We bought her a vegetarian cookbook geared toward kids and let her pick out recipes. Spinach lasagna roll-ups and stuffed peppers are two of her favorites. Since the baby’s been born we’ve made a concerted effort to cut back on processed food and cook more of what we eat, so we know what’s in it. It’s a lot easier than it sounds. We make double batches and freeze stuff and just try to keep it simple. When we do buy store bought, we look for a short list of ingredients. No long list of things you can’t pronounce and definitely no high fructose corn syrup. But that’s another article. In addition, we’ve been eating more whole grains, fruits and vegetables. The teen helps cook and we just cut it up small for the baby. She pretty much eats what we’re eating with few, small adjustments-like nothing really spicy and nothing that’s a choking hazard. We keep a loose leaf binder of the recipes we like and soon our favorites become second nature to make.
So what are we eating? Well, this morning hubby made grits. Never have I eaten grits this good. These weren’t the pale, watery grits I’m used to. He made them with stone ground cornmeal, available at the co-op, and just enough cheese for flavoring. The result was a thick, golden porridge perfect for a cold, rainy morning. We’ve also been eating more oatmeal and brown rice. One quick meal that the teenager loves is our homemade version of the tortilla-less burrito. Rice, black beans,(refried or whole), salsa and cheese. It’s easy, cheap and healthy. Making your own also allows you to substitute in whole wheat flour and other healthy ingredients. My husband loves to cook and has started expanding his repertoire. This week he made his own cashew butter and last week it was home made English muffins. Almost every week we make a batch of our own granola and it lasts all week, low in fat and sugar. Do I even have to mention that all of this is cheaper than eating out? If we can learn to churn butter and make our own wine, I may never leave the house.
The other benefit to eating like this is that I feel better. After giving up caffeine, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for my health. I have more energy and I just feel good. Imagine how you feel after eating a breakfast sandwich from a fast food chain and a super large coffee. Now think how good you’d feel after eating home made granola with yoghurt and berries. There’s no comparison.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Free-Range Baby
I bought one of those Pack N Plays last summer. $7 at a yard sale. It was the closest we’ve come to reining in the baby. I think I used it twice. I envisioned how handy it would be, now that the baby was outgrowing her bouncy chair. For when I wanted to do things, like clean or take a shower or even lie around doing nothing for five minutes. I had every intention of using it. Unlike my husband, “We’ll never use it.” He said. As usual, he was right. You can’t take a sling-raised, kangaroo-cared, nurse on demand baby and stick her in a pen. She rebelled. She yelled. If she could have gotten her little hands on a screw driver I’m sure she would have dismantled it.
It can be hard living up to my ideals. I kept thinking that a REAL attachment parent would never even consider caging their child. But, you know, she sleeps with us, she nurses on demand, and God forbid I get five minutes in the bathroom with the door closed. Fortunately my husband is a man with infinite baby patience and strong arms. He’ll carry that child everywhere. Then, when she fights to get down, he’ll follow her and patiently redirect her when she tries to juggle the glassware. He’s a good man.
So between us, my husband, Mr. Man-with-a-plan and my “make-it-up-as-I-go-along self,” have been raising the free-range baby. We try and baby proof the house as best we can. Anything remotely poisonous is downstairs in the basement. Breakables are out of reach and electrical outlets are covered. Everything else is pretty much fair game. Since we’re trying to keep the toys down to a manageable amount, there’s a lot of “real stuff” to explore. Take plastic containers out of bottom cabinet. Check. Overturn cat bowl. Check. Climb into now empty cabinet. Double check. We spend a fair amount of time putting back things that she’s taken out. Emptying the book shelf is a current favorite.
So what’s the big deal? Well, Mr. Higgins has been spending a considerable amount of time on The Internets looking up child development. According to the experts, a child’s first word is likely to be “No”. Or even “NO!” So far, our little pooter says dada, kitty, dog, fishes, and mummum. She certainly lets us know when she doesn’t want or like something, but so far, no “no.” She does, however, convey “yes” in a unique way. When she likes something, she pats it-the way you’d pat a dog’s head. The cats, the water in the swimming pool, my chest when she’s hungry, all get the same happy pats. When she really likes something, say Curious George is on, she holds both hands over her head and squeals. It may be nonverbal, but its meaning is clear, “yes, Yes, YES!”
I have always had disdain for those baby carriers, the ones that turn into car seats and so your baby can go from home to car to wherever without ever being touched. Babies were meant to be held. Now I have another reason-I think it’s so much better to have baby involved in what you’re doing and seeing. Just like a play pen, it’s another way to keep baby out of the way and marginalize what they get to experience. No wonder so many kids say “no” first. The first couple of years their minds are like sponges, soaking up everything they come into contact with. Do you really want that to be a time of “don’t do that, don’t touch that, and don’t go there”? I don’t. I want her first years to be a time of YES!
The Family Bed
Most of the things I do as an attachment parent I thought long and hard about-cloth diapers, breast feeding, using a sling, extended breast feeding. Not vaccinating. Even the fact that we don’t use a play pen was something that my husband and talked about (it’s true, our children are free-range). But one thing we do just sort of happened, organically. Co-sleeping. I had never envisioned myself sleeping with my baby. I thought it was dangerous and irresponsible. When my now-teenager was wee, I’d occasionally be so tired that I’d fall asleep nursing her and every time I’d wake in a panic to see if I had smothered her. Once, I put her back in her crib and in my fog forgot that I had done it. The next morning I woke and literally tore the bed apart thinking I had lost her.
The night she was born Salome stayed by my side all night in the basinet and didn’t sleep much. I was exhausted from labor, but didn’t want her going to the hospital nursery and Husband had gone home with our other daughter. She nursed every hour and by morning we were both wiped out. The next night, I held her in the crook of my arm the whole night and napped while she nursed. We both were sound asleep when the morning nurse came in and freaked out on me. (“She can’t sleep through the whole night, she’ll be dehydrated!” “But she’s tired from the move”) Remind me again why I didn’t have this baby at home?
When we got home I kept her in the basinet at the side of the bed for one night. Again, every two hours it was wake up, move the baby to my bed to nurse, doze, wake up again and put baby back and try to get back to sleep. In the mean time, I was reading every thing I could on the internet and had come across the idea of co-sleeping and how to do it safely. The second night home from the hospital, Salome slept next to me and has every night since.
I’d recommend to anyone thinking about this to read everything you can about it. Dr. Sears has a lot of good things to say about the subject-either on the web site askdrsears.com or his books, The Baby Book or The Baby Sleep Book. The biggest safety points are these: Sleep with baby only on a firm surface-NO waterbeds, pillow top mattresses or couches. Be careful of head boards or side rails that could trap baby if she rolls. NEVER sleep with your baby if you or your partner is intoxicated, obese or extremely tired. One note on that last one. Cosleeping with Sally made me better rested and so when I slept with her I was in a normal sleep pattern, not so exhausted that I couldn’t sense her in the bed, like with my older daughter. Our sleep became of cycle of her skootching over to me and nursing and both of us falling asleep and staying asleep while she nursed on and off during the night. In fact, I was amazed that as a new mom I could get a good night’s sleep and feel rested in the morning, better able to care for my newborn. And, don’t forget, put baby on their back to sleep.
The positives of sleeping with your baby show up in multiple ways and reinforce the daytime parenting you’ll do. Baby is more secure, better rested and chances are more likely to breast feed for a longer time because “Mom’s Diner” is close by all night. The fact is that families since time began and in most parts of the world today still sleep in the family bed. Dr. James McKenna, at The University of Notre Dame Mother-Baby Behavioral Sleep Lab, is doing compelling research that cosleeping actually prevents SIDS. About every year, 65 babies in the US die from non-SIDS related, accidental deaths, usually related to suffocation. Most of these are due to cosleeping non-safely, as described above, on waterbeds or with parents under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Compare that to the number of babies who die from SIDS; over 4200 babies every year, most of whom are sleeping in a crib, in another room. Furthermore, Dr. McKenna’s research shows that the way mother and baby respond to each other in sleep actually prevents SIDS. The baby will naturally roll towards the mother and nestle under her arm. Mom will naturally incline her head down towards the baby. Without going into a lot of physiology in this short article, Mom’s exhaled CO2 actually acts as a pacemaker for baby’s breathing (CO2 stimulates the breathing response in humans).
Our own experiences offer proof of this. Salome would fall asleep next to me and eventually wriggle herself into my armpit, her face turned up towards mine. I could hear her uneven, newborn breaths: rapid, then a pause. As I fell asleep next to her, I could hear her breath even out. Nursing was a breeze in this position. When she got hungry in the middle of the night, she’d start nuzzling my side. I’d roll towards her slightly and help her find the nipple. After a few minutes, we’d both drift back to sleep.
Now that’s she over a year and much bigger, I don’t worry so much about smothering her, although we do exercise common sense. What a joy it is to see her in the very first moments as she wakes up every morning, rolls over and smiles at me. Then she turns toward her dad and starts hitting him on the head to wake up. Better than an alarm clock, every time.
**If you’re thinking about co-sleeping, there are lots of options and information out there. Companies now sell side-sleepers, that attach to your bed and keep baby in arm’s reach. For the very little, there are co-sleeping devices for the bed that keep a firm wall around the infant so they won’t roll or someone won’t roll onto them, but I found that Salome (at 8lbs, 14oz) was too big for them almost from the beginning. If you want more information about this or any other subject, please visit laughing-baby.blogspot.com
What I want for Solstice
What I want for Solstice:
My family
CD’s:
Beck-the new one
Sting-the new one
Hiromi(Japanese Jazz Pianist)-Brain
Tix to a Chorus Line on B’way
Ayun Halliday’s –Mamalamadingdong
Book on CD-anything by Wayne Dyer but especially The Power of Intention
This started out as a wish list. A new baby sling. The latest in organic, ecologically-sound, pesticide free woolen baby jammies made by indigenous orphans. That sort of thing. I start to berate myself. “Sure, Susan,” I say, “you can wrap it up in an alternative package, but you’re still selling consumerism for the holidays.” That’s no way to celebrate. Especially when I really love this time of year. I like when it starts to get cold and you have to bundle under the covers again. I like Solstice. Having depression, the longest night of the year is very symbolic for me and I like to do a little Solstice magick. I even like Christmas Eve, lapsed Catholic that I am, because when I was little, Christmas Eve seemed like the one night when anything was possible. Improbably, that feeling has managed to stay with me.
The old man and I discuss (read: argue) what, if any Christmas traditions we’ll follow and whether or not we’ll perpetuate the Santa myth. It gets heated at times. Meanwhile, the little one is agog at the displays that are going up. Late last night we made an emergency cranberry sauce and eggnog run. As I was busy rushing around the aisles and trying to avoid the other frantic shoppers, I noticed her looking up. On top of every aisle they had those enormous, lawn displays. You know, the big obnoxious ones that require a generator and a team of elves to set up. The whole horror show. She was delighted. I tried looking at them from her perspective. Bright, garish, full of movement and noise. She doesn’t know a reindeer from a rooftop, but she knows fun when she sees it. Suddenly, to me, this tacky display turned into yet another amazing thing this world has to offer. We walked around for awhile with our heads up in the air, taking in the sights and forgetting the cranberry sauce altogether. She made the other shoppers laugh and then I’d catch their eye and we’d smile at each other. A miracle of the season-holiday shoppers being nice to, instead of trampling, each other. All brought to you by a little child. Maybe those wise men were on to something.
So whatever you’re celebrating-have a happy Kwanzaa, a joyous Diwali, a bright Hanukah, a meaningful Eid-al-Adha, a merry Christmas, a jammin’ Junkanoo, a beautiful Bodhi day, a shining Solstice and most of all peace, love and happiness in the New Year.
My family
CD’s:
Beck-the new one
Sting-the new one
Hiromi(Japanese Jazz Pianist)-Brain
Tix to a Chorus Line on B’way
Ayun Halliday’s –Mamalamadingdong
Book on CD-anything by Wayne Dyer but especially The Power of Intention
This started out as a wish list. A new baby sling. The latest in organic, ecologically-sound, pesticide free woolen baby jammies made by indigenous orphans. That sort of thing. I start to berate myself. “Sure, Susan,” I say, “you can wrap it up in an alternative package, but you’re still selling consumerism for the holidays.” That’s no way to celebrate. Especially when I really love this time of year. I like when it starts to get cold and you have to bundle under the covers again. I like Solstice. Having depression, the longest night of the year is very symbolic for me and I like to do a little Solstice magick. I even like Christmas Eve, lapsed Catholic that I am, because when I was little, Christmas Eve seemed like the one night when anything was possible. Improbably, that feeling has managed to stay with me.
The old man and I discuss (read: argue) what, if any Christmas traditions we’ll follow and whether or not we’ll perpetuate the Santa myth. It gets heated at times. Meanwhile, the little one is agog at the displays that are going up. Late last night we made an emergency cranberry sauce and eggnog run. As I was busy rushing around the aisles and trying to avoid the other frantic shoppers, I noticed her looking up. On top of every aisle they had those enormous, lawn displays. You know, the big obnoxious ones that require a generator and a team of elves to set up. The whole horror show. She was delighted. I tried looking at them from her perspective. Bright, garish, full of movement and noise. She doesn’t know a reindeer from a rooftop, but she knows fun when she sees it. Suddenly, to me, this tacky display turned into yet another amazing thing this world has to offer. We walked around for awhile with our heads up in the air, taking in the sights and forgetting the cranberry sauce altogether. She made the other shoppers laugh and then I’d catch their eye and we’d smile at each other. A miracle of the season-holiday shoppers being nice to, instead of trampling, each other. All brought to you by a little child. Maybe those wise men were on to something.
So whatever you’re celebrating-have a happy Kwanzaa, a joyous Diwali, a bright Hanukah, a meaningful Eid-al-Adha, a merry Christmas, a jammin’ Junkanoo, a beautiful Bodhi day, a shining Solstice and most of all peace, love and happiness in the New Year.
The Organic Baby Bum
I guess the first thing that made me an Alterna-Mom was my decision to use cloth diapers. Sixteen years ago(yes, sixteen), when I was pregnant, I knew I didn’t want to swaddle my baby’s rear in plastic. I credit my mom. Of course, when I was born, she didn’t really have a choice. Disposable diapers were around in 1968, but they gave my sensitive baby butt a tremendous rash. So I got the same cloth diapers that my older brother and sister used. My mom would talk about washing the diapers and hanging them on the line (remember clothes lines?) in winter and having to defrost the frozen rectangles before she could use them. How much easier, I thought, it would be for me with a dryer and modern conveniences like diaper shells and Velcro closures.
In the end, though, since I used a laundromat, I wound up using a diaper service. For the same price as disposables, I left out a big bag of dirty nappies every week and got a big bag of clean, cotton ones in return. With baby number two, I wanted to do the same thing, natch. I looked in the phone directory for National Diaper in Milltown. Out of Business. Somehow I thought that cloth diapers would be even more popular now, but the heady post-hippie era of the 90’s was replaced by something even more grim than Reaganomics. I speak, of course, of the Wal-Mart culture. Why use disposables when God has given us the Diaper Genie? (more on that later.) Finally, I found a diaper guy in North Jersey who agreed to deliver to my Old Bridge home. It was as good as I remembered-no diaper rash, no smelly disposables and all I had to do was remember to leave the bag out once a week.
Now, some people disagree with a diaper service. The trucks use gas, or diesel, the machines use more electricity, and bleach, too much water is used, etc. I used to buy into this, too. Then I read, in Mothering magazine, that the whole “clothe diapers are just as harmful as disposables, just in different ways” myth is just that-a big, fat myth. It seems, in 1990s, that Proctor & Gamble commissioned a study that found that cloth was actually more wasteful than “one-use diapers”. This was in response to a growing trend in the 80’s to actually outlaw disposables because they were found to cause more frequent and severe diaper rash (Pediatrics, September, 1979) and that “preexisting skin or breathing disorders may become aggravated through prolonged exposure” to SAP’s, or super absorbent polymers, which are used in disposables. (OSHA material safety data sheet on SAP’s). If you remember, these are the same ingredients that cause Toxic Shock Syndrom. Despite the fact that P&G’s study was flawed, they used it to start a publicity campaign to say that disposables are biodegradable and earth friendly. They even touted them as a “soil-enhacer”. Bosh. In the 40 years that disposables have been around, they now account for 2% of all solid waste in our landfills(EPA study) and some sources say that these disposables will take 500 years to decompose. The reality of cloth diapers is that they use no more water per diaper than flushing the toilet and they decompose in 6 months after being used many, many times.
All this brings me to the Diaper Genie. This may be the most environmentally evil product ever invented. For $30, you get a big plastic pail filled with a long plastic tube. Every dirty disposable is stuffed into the tube and given a twist. In the end, you have a long string of individually wrapped plastic diapers. Finally, a product that combines the worst qualities of disposable diapers with the worst of, say, sausages. 10,000 years from now, archaeologists will look through our landfills and see these diaper sausages. Unable to believe that any society could be so wasteful, they’ll invent fanciful reasons for them, like maybe we recycled our children’s waste into floatation devices or used them to contain oil slicks. Sigh.
Cotton diapers, whether you wash them yourself or use a service, are easy. I still diaper my baby old-school style: pins and waterproof pants or a woolen cover. There are multiple mail-order companies that provide all sorts of diapers and diaper covers: Mother-ease, Cottontail Babies, Happy Heiny’s and, of course, Fuzzi Bunz. Any web search on cloth diapers will bring up a variety of commercial sources. There are also many sites on making your own cotton diapers and diaper covers on the cheap. Karen’s Diaper Page (diaperpages.com) is a great resource to get you started. It also has great links. I knit and sew and have made my own wool soakers for very little money. Or go to my website, laughing-baby.blogspot.com for more info on cotton diapers and other attachment parenting links. Happy Heiny’s!
Birth Bonding
Birth Bonding
I’m not going to go into a lot of detail and facts about birth and bonding-we have the very capable midwife Virginia for that. I did want to talk about two very different, and far from perfect, birth experiences. If I can ask for your indulgence, I’d like to talk about the birth experience of my two daughters. Telling the story is also part of the birth, so any significant others, family or friends of new mommies should be patient when they’re telling you about every contraction they had in real time. Even for adoptive parents, the details of how they adopted, when they found out they would be parents and what their first days were like is important in the telling. With repetition the tale becomes mythic. Eventually it will be told to the child until they too can tell it and it becomes part of the family legend.
With darling daughter #1, I was a very young 22 year-old who had never kept a house plant alive, let alone a real, live baby. Even when I had played with dolls, they were the fashion forward Barbies, not the feed me-burp me-change me baby dolls. I had no idea what I was in for, which in retrospect was good, for I didn’t anticipate pain. I took a Lamaze class and thought that was it. After 8 hours of natural labor, just when I was ready to say, “Ok, I changed my mind, I’m going home now,” I gave birth to a little pink bump of a baby. She was instantly whisked away and measured, poked and prodded, and pronounced safe and sound. When she was finally put in my arms she seemed groggy and confused. I tried putting her to my breast, which was not easy in the hospital gown. The nurse tried to dissuade me, saying she didn’t need to eat yet (the same nurse who told me to stop making so much noise and push, maybe?). Finally I got my boobs free and offered one to the baby, who looked at me like, “What am I supposed to do with this?” I was confused. Don’t little babies know how to nurse? I thought it was instinctual. I got my twenty minutes to “bond” with her and then they scooped her away to the nursery. For more prodding, I suppose. I was encouraged to leave her in the nursery at night, so I could get my rest. (“You’ll have plenty of time with her when you get home.”) They also said it was okay if she had some sugar water. No formula, cause I was breastfeeding, just a little something so she wouldn’t go hungry if I was sleeping.
Fast forward 14 years. I was now 36 and having darling daughter #2. My dreams of a home birth were tempered by my age. I wanted to have her at home, but I wanted to play it safe, too. I even had a male OB. But Hubby and I wrote out a birth plan and told him about it. No drugs, no episiotomy. We wanted the baby immediately on my tummy while hubby cut the cord. No Vitamin K, no eye drops. We had a plan. My husband kept bugging me to go to Lamaze again (he hadn’t been) but I told him, “I know all that stuff, I know how to breathe, I’ll be fine.” And for the first 4 hours of labor I was. I took a hot shower; I put a hot back on my lower back when the contractions came. I sniffed some lavender and made sure everything was packed. Then the contractions started coming in waves, stronger and stronger and I panicked. The experienced nurse and CHAMPION of natural child birth panicked. Hubby tried to reason with me, it’s too soon to go to the hospital, you’ll be alright etc. but I was in some serious pain and KNEW it would only get worse, right?
An aside. I really missed the boat by not taking us to Lamaze or another style of birth class. Of course I knew how to breathe, but when I started to lose my nerve, my partner didn’t know how to back me up. He was supportive, but by missing out on the class, he didn’t know how to be a coach. Anyway, I was now screaming at him to get in the car or I’d drive myself. Once in the hospital I was literally getting of the elevator and asking for an epidural. Eons later I got one and all the “stuff” that goes along with it. My pain went away and then my blood pressure dropped, so I got fluid. Then I got a catheter to pee through. Then I wasn’t progressing so I got the pitocin. Then more pitocin.
Fortunately, the baby remained well through all this or I would have bought myself a C-section. But no, finally I was told to push and twenty minutes later I had a BIG, squalling bump on my belly. I couldn’t believe it. She looked very purple, but nobody seemed worried. They dried her off with me helping. Daddy cut the cord. I had a gown with snaps, so she was able to nurse right away. Finally when I had my fill of her (she was pink by then) I said it was okay for them to weigh and measure her. But no pokes and no nasty eye drops. When she was all bundled up they gave her to me. Then everybody congratulated me, told me I did a good job and had a beautiful baby AND LEFT. It was just the four of us-my hubby, my oldest daughter, my new daughter and me. Salome was wide awake, calmly alert, like she had been waiting 9 months for this, just as we had. She made eye contact with all of us, like she was sizing us up. It was such a powerful moment. We stayed like that for how long? An hour or two, maybe, just getting to know each other.
When the baby went for her nursery check-up, Daddy went with her. When I got to my room, the baby came to me and stayed with me the whole time. No bottles, no sugar water. The second night I made a little nest for her in the bed and she slept with me all night, getting up once to nurse and go right back to sleep. The morning nurse scolded me for not waking her to feed (“she’ll dehydrate!”) and for not putting her back in the bassinet. I just put on my best oh-sorry-nurse-I-didn’t-know face and ignored her. After all, my baby and I had a lot of catching up to do. Nine months worth.
I’m not going to go into a lot of detail and facts about birth and bonding-we have the very capable midwife Virginia for that. I did want to talk about two very different, and far from perfect, birth experiences. If I can ask for your indulgence, I’d like to talk about the birth experience of my two daughters. Telling the story is also part of the birth, so any significant others, family or friends of new mommies should be patient when they’re telling you about every contraction they had in real time. Even for adoptive parents, the details of how they adopted, when they found out they would be parents and what their first days were like is important in the telling. With repetition the tale becomes mythic. Eventually it will be told to the child until they too can tell it and it becomes part of the family legend.
With darling daughter #1, I was a very young 22 year-old who had never kept a house plant alive, let alone a real, live baby. Even when I had played with dolls, they were the fashion forward Barbies, not the feed me-burp me-change me baby dolls. I had no idea what I was in for, which in retrospect was good, for I didn’t anticipate pain. I took a Lamaze class and thought that was it. After 8 hours of natural labor, just when I was ready to say, “Ok, I changed my mind, I’m going home now,” I gave birth to a little pink bump of a baby. She was instantly whisked away and measured, poked and prodded, and pronounced safe and sound. When she was finally put in my arms she seemed groggy and confused. I tried putting her to my breast, which was not easy in the hospital gown. The nurse tried to dissuade me, saying she didn’t need to eat yet (the same nurse who told me to stop making so much noise and push, maybe?). Finally I got my boobs free and offered one to the baby, who looked at me like, “What am I supposed to do with this?” I was confused. Don’t little babies know how to nurse? I thought it was instinctual. I got my twenty minutes to “bond” with her and then they scooped her away to the nursery. For more prodding, I suppose. I was encouraged to leave her in the nursery at night, so I could get my rest. (“You’ll have plenty of time with her when you get home.”) They also said it was okay if she had some sugar water. No formula, cause I was breastfeeding, just a little something so she wouldn’t go hungry if I was sleeping.
Fast forward 14 years. I was now 36 and having darling daughter #2. My dreams of a home birth were tempered by my age. I wanted to have her at home, but I wanted to play it safe, too. I even had a
An aside. I really missed the boat by not taking us to Lamaze or another style of birth class. Of course I knew how to breathe, but when I started to lose my nerve, my partner didn’t know how to back me up. He was supportive, but by missing out on the class, he didn’t know how to be a coach. Anyway, I was now screaming at him to get in the car or I’d drive myself. Once in the hospital I was literally getting of the elevator and asking for an epidural. Eons later I got one and all the “stuff” that goes along with it. My pain went away and then my blood pressure dropped, so I got fluid. Then I got a catheter to pee through. Then I wasn’t progressing so I got the pitocin. Then more pitocin.
Fortunately, the baby remained well through all this or I would have bought myself a C-section. But no, finally I was told to push and twenty minutes later I had a BIG, squalling bump on my belly. I couldn’t believe it. She looked very purple, but nobody seemed worried. They dried her off with me helping. Daddy cut the cord. I had a gown with snaps, so she was able to nurse right away. Finally when I had my fill of her (she was pink by then) I said it was okay for them to weigh and measure her. But no pokes and no nasty eye drops. When she was all bundled up they gave her to me. Then everybody congratulated me, told me I did a good job and had a beautiful baby AND LEFT. It was just the four of us-my hubby, my oldest daughter, my new daughter and me. Salome was wide awake, calmly alert, like she had been waiting 9 months for this, just as we had. She made eye contact with all of us, like she was sizing us up. It was such a powerful moment. We stayed like that for how long? An hour or two, maybe, just getting to know each other.
When the baby went for her nursery check-up, Daddy went with her. When I got to my room, the baby came to me and stayed with me the whole time. No bottles, no sugar water. The second night I made a little nest for her in the bed and she slept with me all night, getting up once to nurse and go right back to sleep. The morning nurse scolded me for not waking her to feed (“she’ll dehydrate!”) and for not putting her back in the bassinet. I just put on my best oh-sorry-nurse-I-didn’t-know face and ignored her. After all, my baby and I had a lot of catching up to do. Nine months worth.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Adventures in nursing
I am forging new ground with the breastfeeding. The baby is teething and crawling, gnawing on everything and not wanting to stand still for a moment. This is when I stopped nursing her older sister. I didn't know how to handle her biting and then she discovered that a bottle was portable. She could eat and cruise around. We were done with nursing. This one, however, might wean when she's 5. She loves to nurse. We got through the biting okay. The first time I yelled-it was a little shocking, as I think I already mentioned. But after that I just paid attention and when she got "bitey", I took the nipple away from her without any fuss. If she was hungry, she went back to eating and if she wasn't, she was done.
Now she's been crawling for 3 weeks. She's everywhere...we usually nurse lying down. She starts on her back with her head turned toward me. Then she rolls towards me. Then, nipple still in mouth, she rolls on her stomach. Fortunately she unlatches before she does a full 360. Any noises, voices and she's looking around. Then, with work, Dad was supplementing with formula and before I knew it, my milk production was down. The last 2 days I been making a concerted effort to nurse her for a long time. We go in a darkened, quiet room and I just let her nurse and sleep and nurse some more. Everything seems to be better and we haven't used any formula. Meanwhile, the Baby That Ate Detroit dive bombs my chest with her mouth wide open whenever I have my shirt off. Like I said, she'll wean someday.
Now she's been crawling for 3 weeks. She's everywhere...we usually nurse lying down. She starts on her back with her head turned toward me. Then she rolls towards me. Then, nipple still in mouth, she rolls on her stomach. Fortunately she unlatches before she does a full 360. Any noises, voices and she's looking around. Then, with work, Dad was supplementing with formula and before I knew it, my milk production was down. The last 2 days I been making a concerted effort to nurse her for a long time. We go in a darkened, quiet room and I just let her nurse and sleep and nurse some more. Everything seems to be better and we haven't used any formula. Meanwhile, the Baby That Ate Detroit dive bombs my chest with her mouth wide open whenever I have my shirt off. Like I said, she'll wean someday.
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