The Happy Place

I've mentioned that we've been going through some change here at the Rust abode. From Beck's perspective, having a nanny here 3 days a week might be the biggest change of his life. Before this his dad was with him everyday, and on the occasion he wasn't, it was his Grammy - which is pretty much the 3 year-old equivalent of Mardis Gras, all party, all the time.

But now, three days a week, Erica, our nanny, comes over. From my perspective, she seemed like a big party too, immediately the two of them were forming a rock band, having dino adventures, making huge Play Dough feasts and having Pandora fueled dance parties. Still I knew this was going to be an adjustment. I mean essentially, this was a total stranger and until we all got used to her, it was going to be a little weird. So when Beckett started crying, inexplicably, when he would wake up from naps or inquiring nervously each morning who would be with him and his sister that day, I expected it and tried to comfort him as much as possible.

Then a side of him we don't often see started coming out a little more frequently, an angry side. I am not one for time outs or yelling and screaming to combat undesirable behavior. I read a quote from Dr. Jane Nelsen, who wrote a book on making time-outs positive and I really love it. "Where in the world did we get this crazy idea that in order for children to do better, first we have to make them feel worse? Children do better when they feel better."

Nelsen talks about the useful side of time-outs - giving the parents and the kids a break from their emotions or separating themselves from the thing that made them angry. She suggests having a "feel good spot" where the child can go, alone or with the parent to collect themselves. (Note: I haven't read the whole book, just a good article on it by Kelly Bartlett.)

So when I told Beckett to choose a plate for his dinner and he clenched his fists and screamed, "I DON'T WANT TO!" and then gritted his teeth and collapsed in a heap on the floor, I asked him if he could go anywhere in the house to feel better, where would it be. He mumbled "the sofa," from the bottom of his heap.

"Okay, let's go there," I said. He got up and half crying, made his way over to the sofa in the family room. I sat down next to him and he snuggled in a little. I said, "You got pretty angry back there." He nodded and I asked if he knew why.

He said, "I'm just so tired of everyone telling me stuff." I understood this as he was tired of being told what to do, most likely by all the tall people around him. This was a sentiment he had expressed to his dad recently too. He promised to ask Beckett if he would do things instead of demanding and I told B, there on the couch, that I would be better about that too. The poor kid was feeling very out of control of his life. I have to say, I completely know the feeling. So we sat for a little while until he felt better and was ready for dinner. Luckily Marlowe was napping through all this.

He's been pretty angry and sad a few other times since then and he has kept going back to the happy place - his term, that always makes me giggle a little. Sometimes he wants his dad or me there, sometimes he wants to be alone. But it's working for him and that is something to be thankful for.

And speaking of thankfuls - I am thankful to everyone who honors me by reading this blog. Wishing you all some quality family time over the next few days. Much love ~S

Baby Jail: Happy to be Locked Up

This weekend has the potential to to be a shining star on my November social calendar. Friday, what is sure to be the birthy fundraising event of the year is happening in Nulu and Saturday a group of my closest friends are getting together for food, adult beverages, and excellent conversation, at the newly opened El Camino in the Highlands. A place I've been dying to try.  My calendar, however, is blank...unless you count renting The Brave Little Toaster and watching it with my three year old.

The reason for this is we're in baby jail, a not-so-flattering term for declining adult only events because your child won't take a bottle, is having separation anxiety, or just isn't ready for a babysitter yet. In our case it's a little of all of that.

Hillary and I tried a dinner date a few weeks ago and ended up eating our dinner out of Styrofoam boxes in our living room. The babysitter called after an hour and a half (we waited 45 min for a table) saying Marlowe had been screaming the entire time. I wasn't entirely surprised. Hill and I laughed and got our food to go. But I have to admit there was a brief moment at that restaurant, as I was slamming my mojito, in which I thought maybe we should just stay. Familiar voices crept into my mind: the baby will be fine, crying is good for her lungs, you have to live your life.

I snapped out of it pretty quickly and remembered that my husband and I have chosen a different path for our family. We want to make decisions that respect our kids and their feelings and emotions, and that means taking into consideration the undeveloped emotional state and understanding of our five month old. I thought of her crying for two hours because she needed her parents, okay, let's be real, her mom, and my decision was easy. We'll try again when she's older.

So this weekend, while I will miss celebrating a huge accomplishment for local women and enjoying delicious food with my besties, it's okay. This time with baby Marlowe is fleeting. Soon she'll be toddler Marlowe and before we know it middle-schooler Marlowe and I'll be wishing I had some of that separation anxiety back in our lives.

Good Moms Feed Their Babies

This post was inspired by Mothering's "Blog About Breastfeeding" event.

I sat sobbing in the huge room with clear bassinets and incubators lining the walls. My 4 lb 7 oz, daughter lay with just her diaper on under a heat lamp in front of me. The hospital's lactation consultant had just brought me a bag of small receptacles for collecting my colostrum. She was giving me a moment to compose myself.

Marlowe was seven weeks early, one day old and perfectly tiny. I was stunned to have a child in the NICU. It was something that had truly never crossed my mind. After a brief moment of snuggling her post delivery she was whisked away to a nearby children's hospital, my husband in tow. I spent a lonely night in the hospital bonding with a breast pump every three hours. Everything felt so wrong.

My memories of the days in the hospital after the birth of my first child are warm and hazy with nothing but coziness and love. The cold quiet of the NICU, interrupted only by ailing babies crying in unison, shocked me in a way I wasn't expecting. I focused on Marlowe's little fingers, blew my nose and looked at the lactation consultant.

"Breastfeeding is really important to me," I said. "I exclusively breastfed my son until he was two. Please tell me what I need to do to make that happen with Marlowe."

She told me that I needed a hospital grade pump and that I should be pumping both sides at the same time for 10-15 minutes every 2-3 hours.

Good, I thought. Directions are good. I will bring milk in tomorrow.

"They will be supplementing her with formula, however. Until you start producing enough milk."

I gasped. "But..." My mind was racing. What was it about formula that I was so opposed to? I couldn't think. Then, "what about nipple confusion?" My facade had cracked. The tears were flowing again.

"I don't believe nipple confusion is a real thing." She sounded stern and I started crying harder.

"Babies know where the good stuff is. If you put her to the breast, when she's ready, she'll take your milk." Her voice was softer. She touched my knee. "You want her to grow as quickly as possible. That's how you'll get her home."

Okay, so there was the plan, at least, to get her home. I pumped religiously for a week and only had drops to show for it. I was stressed and frazzled, not getting enough calories, water or rest to increase my supply. I went to a  friend who happens to be a birth educator for help. She suggested herbs. I took them and they helped. I left her that day with more than advice on my milk supply, however. She told me this - "good moms feed their babies."

I've thought about that a lot. Marlowe needed food. I couldn't give it to her immediately. She had to get it elsewhere. I've dropped my formula hang up since then. Moms everywhere are doing what they need to to feed their babies. Be it by formula, their own breast milk or a donor's. They are all good moms, feeding their children so they will grow.  

Two months later, Marlowe nurses like a champ, and I am grateful for that. I am also grateful for the help we had in the beginning when she couldn't.

Ode to Baby Wearing

My husband and I both wore our first child. Mostly when we were outside the house, but sometimes inside too, if he was extra fussy. It calmed him and gave us hands free snuggle time. This time around it's a whole different story. Baby wearing has saved my life, or at least preserved what sanity I still possess.

Infants like to be held. A 2.5 year old needs to be fed, played with, dressed, diapered, cuddled and kissed. Also this mom needs a cup of coffee (or two) in the morning. I also enjoy eating occasionally. All these things happen around here because of a wrap, carrier or sling - depending on the situation.

Here are my mini-reviews on the carriers I own.

Wrap - Moby Wrap - Wraps are pretty much really long pieces of fabric that you can wrap and twist around your body in different ways for different sizes of children and different holds. I really like the Moby for around the house or short jaunts. It keeps Marlowe close against me so there is little jostling and it's not bulky, so I can easily wash dishes or see in front of me to type this blog, for example. It's very versatile. I leave it at home for long walks or times when I know I'll be wearing Marlowe for most of the day because it's fabric and it stretches. So by the end of a couple of hours she is much lower than she was initially, which can cause issues if I'm out and about.


Soft Carrier - Ergo Carrier - This is an easy on, easy off, carrier that has two clips and an insert for infants, to keep them supported until they can hold their heads up on their own. It can be worn on the chest or back, but I personally like the chest option. It's super sturdy and there is no slippage, so it's great for long haul wearing. There's a sun shade and pockets. It's really nicely designed. My only issue is that right now Marlowe's head kind of flops around, it's nothing too concerning though and it doesn't seem to bother her at all.

Ring Sling - I was never too impressed with my ring sling until Beckett got to be a toddler. It's great for hip holding. I would just pop Beckett in at social events and he'd feel like part of the conversation. He stayed entertained and my arm didn't feel like it was going to fall off.

Obviously, you only need one, not three, but the more the merrier. I loved wearing my first baby. I would especially recommend it through that fourth trimester or if you have an early arrival. It promotes bonding and listening to your heart beat while all snuggled up against your chest makes babies who had a rough start, or are just having a hard time adjusting to the outside world, thrive. But for parents who are adding kids 2, 3 or more I am calling the baby wearing apparatus of your choice an absolute must. You will never be happier to have two hands available.

Of course, use caution while sipping that latte and make sure any crumbs from lunch get brushed off of Junior's head afterward. 

Labeling: Attachment Parenting

Gen X is an I'm-not-into-labels generation, who is really into labels. This goes for our society in general, but I notice it a lot among my peers. I have participated in this game myself - "This bar, (which I frequent) is always full of hipsters. Who me? No, I'm not a hipster, I just like the beer selection."

Labels, however, are a part of our culture and like them or not, everyone has some. As I've gotten older, I have become comfortable with most of mine. For example, I'm a Liberal, a vegetarian, a feminist and an attachment parent, to name a few. I get some eye rolls at that last one. I'm always a bit confused by this reaction for two reasons.

Reason one is this - most people are practicing or have practiced at least one aspect of attachment parenting and just don't realize it. They have chosen to breastfeed on demand, wear their baby in a carrier, sleep with their child in the room with them or have decided spanking or screaming wasn't the way they wanted to discipine their children. What I am saying by claiming an attachment parent label is, I have done some research and I am making purposeful choices in an effort to raise an empathetic, self assured kid who will grow to be independent, instead of just leaving it up to chance. I mean nothing is 100%, but I think raising a kid deserves at least as much effort and research as I put into my Masters degree. In my opinon, that's about as nonoffensive as it comes. And if someone is still offended by it once they know what it is? Well that brings me to my second point of confusion.

Reason two - No one said you had to do it. I certainly didn't. To be blunt, I don't give an esse or an effe (pick one) what you do, as long as it doesn't harm others. I'd like the same curtesey. I feel about AP like I feel about being a vegetarian, it works for me and my family and I would never assume any one else was interested, unless they actually showed interest. Like AP, there are people in my acquaintence who are actually angered by vegetarianism. What is it that offends them? The Boca burgers taking up freezer space at the grocery store? No one is taking your cow meat or bacon away, calm down.

Is this all just ignorance or insecurity, perhaps? I'm not sure. I do know no one is judging you. Or rather, if they are judging you that's their problem. Only if you care, does it become yours. So what's my point?

Live and let live or live and let die, if you're a McCartney fan. Label if you must, but let's not put too much weight behind them. And, since I know the judging won't stop, at least do your research and make sure you know the details behind what you judge.

Ina May Gaskin Movie

Last night I saw a screening of the documentary - Birth Story: Ina May Gaskin & the Farm Midwives. It was so inspiring and amazing, not just because I'm a woman who happens to be pregnant, but because these women came up and into themselves in a time and place that let them bloom into exactly the people they were supposed to be. I think that's a hard thing for women, and men, today. Midwifery is such a calling and passion for all the women in the movie. It's a rare thing to get an in depth view of.

(I wanted to post the trailer, but free Wordpress won't let me. Watch the trailer here. Wordpress has many rules I'm finding. It's distressing. I will be moving the blog as soon as I can. But more on that later. )

As impressed as I was with the documentary, the midwives, the footage of all the different births and Ina May herself - she's a big time hero of mine - I was impressed with our birthing community. Woman and families of Louisville, you rock. I don't know the official turn out, but it had to be around 200 people. There were tables set up before hand with so many of our wonderful birth related service providers, from doulas to placenta encapsulation ladies, everyone was represented. After the screening there was a panel of local midwives, including two from my own birth team who answered questions and lead a very interesting discussion on the state of midwifery in KY today.

It's so heartening to be in a community that shares so many of the things I hold so dear to my heart.

Boys vs. Girls

I read a really nicely written blog post today by Kim Simon about the Steubenville rape and how we need to take responsibility for raising kind, caring and tuned in sons, not just as people, but specifically with their future sexual partners. You should read it, here's the link.

She hit on something that really resonated with me. My son, Beckett, is two and a half, and at the end of June we are expecting his little sister. I have always wanted one of each. I wanted to experience the differences and similarities of raising someone my own gender and one of the opposite, plus boys against girls on family game night and, yes, I'll admit, I want to buy cute girl clothes. However when I found out I was pregnant this time around I wondered if maybe a boy would just be easier.

I've got the hang of this boy raising thing now, I thought. We keep the visual media to a minimum, curb the violent play (which seems to crop up out of nowhere) with plenty of creative, independent play. We use gentle discipline and help him work through feelings that he doesn't understand, just as Simon suggests in her article. He is kind and we hope to keep him on that track. With another boy, I could put him on that same track and I'd be dodging the pink and purple onslaught from well meaning gift givers. Then there's the princess culture, body image issues, revealing clothing at too young an age, the worries about having a girl stacked up in my mind very quickly.

But Simon goes on to point out that raising a kind boy, something that isn't really that common a goal for rearing males in our society, is only the first part. As he ages there needs to be lots of frank and open discussion about sex and that really scares me. I'm not sure I know how to do it.

My parents are my best friends, but for whatever reason, that is not a subject I have ever been comfortable speaking about with them. When I was a sophomore in college, my dad, who knew that my boyfriend was coming to visit me down at school, asked me frankly and in a friendly tone if we were having sex. Of course we were.

I freaked.

"Ah! Dad, I'm not talking to you about this. Mom! Tell him to stop!" I escaped as quickly as possible to my bedroom.

What could my dad have done differently? Perhaps, have been my mom, other than that I have no clue. But I have time to learn and as Simon points out the conversation will change as he grows.
I think the take away here is that we worry about our girls, and with good reason, a lot of thoughtful parenting is required in this day and age to raise confident and self aware young ladies. But we should be giving as much thought to raising our boys and it doesn't stop with instilling them with empathy, it starts there.