I've Done This

I've licked my newborn babys hair.

Yes, it's true.  Those of you who knew Wolfie when he was born, will remember that full, thick, lush head of hair he was born with.  And those of you who have also given birth to babies with a full head of hair know how soft and silky it is.

So, I was smelling him, and rubbing his soft hair against my cheek, my chin, my lips....and went for the lick.  Just like a, oh I don't know, mama giraffe or something.

I've licked my baby's hair and so have you.  Or something similar, right?

Parenting on Display

When we go to public places where families go, such as Target, the grocery store, the playground, the...ahem...county fair, there is a lot of family action.  We see all sorts of parenting styles, discipline models, and general child management.  We can clearly establish which families use methods with names.  There's the Time Out, the 1,2,3, the Threats, the Bribes.  There are the tantrum throwers and yellers...and their kids.  (couldn't resist)

I wonder if parents kick up their discipline methods a notch when in these public places.  I mean, it's like the age old philosophical question "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a noise?"  My philosophical question is, "If there are no other parents around, does the mother still implement the discipline at the same level of intensity?"

My children mostly behave wonderfully and are a dream to take to public places.  It's true.  I don't have the feeling of dread going to Target with three kids as other mothers may experience with their brood or singlets.  But I have often been in Target and have noticed mothers disciplining their children kind of extra loud.  With a look cast my way.  Is it just me?  I feel like sometimes parents are quick to discipline their children, and with more severe intensity, than is necessary while in a public place for the sake of other people. 

It's as if parents want to display their discipline method.  I'll hear, "If you do that again you're going in time out." as if I'm supposed to think, "Ooooh, she uses time out."  Or I'll hear, "ONE......twoooooooo...................." and I'm supposed to think, "Oh, how great.  She didn't even have to get to three.  Her system totally works."

I'm not criticizing any moms or dads or methods here.  I'm simply questioning the gusto in which it's being used in public places.  This phenomenon coupled with the verbal or mouthed "I'm sorry" a mom directs towards me in Target as her child cries wants to make me shout, "Sorry for what?!  So what?!  Your kid is crying.  No one is judging you because, guess what, kids cry in stores all the time."

Is that it?  Are we afraid of being judged by how loudly or badly our children behave so while in public we are so quick to put our parenting skills to work.  On display?

Here's the scenario: my children and I, and two other moms and their children were all at the playground at the same time.  One sibling, under two maybe, was playing with a ball and his brother, 3ish maybe, swooped over and snatched the ball out of his hands.  Crime of the century?  Maybe in that household.  Mom immediately jumped into the Time Out and 1,2,3 combo because her son didn't get himself over to the time out tree fast enough. 

I thought, if there were no other mothers at the park, would this have been his consequence?  Or would it have been more of a dialogue.

I'm going to pay more attention to how I discipline my kids in public places.  I'm going to consciously make sure that my actions are for my children and not for other moms.  Because, really, the last thing I am ever going to do is tell someone else I'm sorry for my children.

can you hear it?

When we had Wolfie, we lived in Chicago.  Logan Square, on the square.  I often said I could shoot a rubber band and hit the monument from our rooftop deck.  City living is noisy.  There is constant ambient noise.  Mostly street traffic.  But living spaces in the city are small and there is a lot of noise inside too.  Loud furnaces.  You can hear your neighbors.  Everyone plays their music loud to drown out everyone else's music.

We lived in a 4 room condo.  The furnace was smack in the middle of the place.  No matter where I was, if the baby was in another room there was ambient noise interference.  And no matter where I was, I thought I could hear the baby crying.  But he would not be.  It was almost always the furnace.  Or the exhaust fan in the bathroom.  Or just the sound of the shower.  I thought I heard the baby crying when he wasn't crying at all...just a few feet away.

Do you know what I'm talking about?  Maybe there is a term for it.

How many times did I turn off the shower, crane my ear toward to open bathroom door to hear...nothing.  Nope.  That wasn't the baby crying after all.

This phenomenon continues.

This afternoon the girls were napping.  The boys are gone (riding trains in Chicago, ironically).  I sat outside.  It was gorgeous today, right?  And breezy.  And you know I ran inside three times thinking I heard crying.  Each time I looked in the girls bedroom and found them sound asleep.  Not even stirring.  Making no noise but I swore I heard my baby crying.  My 2 and 4 year old baby girls that are completely capable of getting out of their beds to come find me if there was a problem.  Maybe the wind carried some other baby noises to my backyard.  Maybe it's some ear trick that happens to very tired mothers.

Maybe I just miss them.

Looser

The first time Wolfie played soccer was the spring co-ed soccer league when he was four, Tulip was almost two and Luna was still in my belly.  We were a tight little bundle of a family.  Even though Luna had emerged by the time all the soccer families reunited after summer vacation for the back-to-school soccer season, she was still tightly strapped to me in a baby wrap and Tulip was pretty content to share my lap with her.  Same tight bundle of a family of five.

Today was our 6th soccer season and I'm proud to announce we have two soccer players in the family.  Tulip's first game was at 9:00 this morning and she was awesome.  This was a first for her...and for us, her parents.  And in the traditions of firsts, I noticed a few more.

1.  Wolfie went over to the playground by himself. 
2.  Tulip was running and kicking a soccer ball.  In an actual soccer game.  I mean, she was wearing official shin guards.
3.  Luna initiated a game of catch with another younger sibling and this was a first because she was doing this in underpants. 

My tight little bundle of a family has gotten looser over the past six seasons.  Exercising their growing independence and it felt...um...okay.  I can't come right out and say if felt good because I want them to orbit me.  But, it was very bittersweet that my four year old soccer player is no longer my first born son, who is now so big he can go over to the playground by himself.  (He came back pretty soon after - I think the adventure for him was the actual going over there by himself).  Bittersweet, too, that my new four year old soccer player is Tulip.  She's four!  And just jumped right into the soccer game without looking back for reassurance!  She looked back with that happy proud I'm-waving-at-you-wave-back-at-me smile, though.  Bittersweet that my baby is less and less of a baby in her big girl underpants and her ever increasing vocabulary. "I play catch that girl."  "I want to go to castle too."

So it was a good morning.  It was a morning that made me really feel like a parent.  And I guess that does feel really good.  Okay?

I've Done This

I have used a baby wipe to freshen up my armpits.

Sometimes, even though a shower is necessary, it is not feasible.  In those instances where you need to make a mad dash out the door, I recommend using a baby wipe (or wipes) to get the job done quickly and effectively.

Mamas, I know you've done this too.  And Papas - this totally sounds like something you've done or will do, right?

Happy Friday everyone!

bfing is awesome

I am a breastfeeding mama and so proud of it.  Not that I think I am a better mama than those who do not breastfeed, I am just, literally, proud of myself for doing it.

I am still nursing Luna at 26 months which means that I have breastfed my children for a total of 60 months of my life; that's 5 years (and counting)...

This is why breastfeeding is awesome (for me, at least, and in my opinion):


The Bond
Oh, who knew.  The first time I breastfed a child it was overwhelming.  In a good way.  No, in an awesome way.  Yes, the hormones are largely to credit for this but there are so many other factors.  Wolfie's sweet little fluttering eyelashes.  The sound of contently suckling.  Knowing that I was meeting my newborn's three simple needs: "They are warmth in the arms of its mother, food from her breasts, and security in the knowledge of her presence. Breatfeeding satisfies all three." Grantly Dick-Reed

The Accomplishment
Breastfeeding a baby makes me feel like a super hero.  It's as simple as that.  I have a super power - my body makes milk.

The Coolness Factor
It is simply cool to breastfeed a baby.  Anytime, anyplace.  My breasts could have been used to sell beer or cars but instead I chose to use them to provide food for my children.  How cool is that?

Biology
Okay, here's where the childbirth educator in me comes out.  There are so many awesome benefits to feeding your baby your breast milk.  First, you are making exactly the right food for your baby no matter what age/developmental stage/need.  Your body adapts to the baby's dietary needs.  Awesome, right?  Second, let's say Luna is getting sick.  She's getting a cold.  Her body produces antigens which are present in her saliva.  She nurses and those antigens enter my bloodstream via my porous skin.  My body immediately begins to make antibodies for the breast milk so the next time Luna nurses she will receive antibodies.  That's right - in addition to the super power of making milk, I also make medicine.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!  I am one privileged mama to have (and still) experienced this wonderful gift and bond with my children.

AP Fail

Attachment parenting is something I believe in and try to practice.  I have given birth three times in a joyful participatory drug-free manner, carried my babies in slings and wraps close to my heart, have breastfed each baby for as long as they desired (still am), and am dedicated and connected to who they are and what they like and need and how they feel and so on.

And I have co-slept.  There is a difference between co-sleeping and bedsharing.  Though they shared their own room consisting of their own beds, the children have always been welcome in our bed.  In fact, our bed is a mattress on the floor in order to be more accessible for toddlers in the middle of the night.  Yes, this was a conscious parenting decision - "Let's just put our new mattress on the floor.  It'll be easier for the babies to crawl into bed with us" one of us said while the other spouse simultaneously nodded in agreement.

The summer vacation ritual has been that Tulip is the first to awake.  She crawls into bed with me and gets in "her spot".  Wolfie wakes soon after and nestles into "his spot".  Luna had been in a crib until recently.  Now she is in a bed of her own which means she is free to roam.

Now things have shifted.  You see, there is only one mama.  And mama only has two sides.

This morning Luna visited me at about 4:00, nursed and stayed.  I love it.  Tulip found me and took the other available spot, Wolfie's spot.  When Wolfie arrived, he stood at the foot of the bed and began negotiations.  Among the three I sensed mounting tension and saw lips jutting forward, quivering, heard strain in their voices as they communicated their desires knowing someone was going to get a bad deal.

Oh, and it was 6:15.  Why, oh why, won't my kids sleep in.  It's summer vacation for goodness sakes.  I do not like a few things.  1) Not getting enough sleep; 2) Being cajoled out of bed with pulls on the arm or the dreaded whip-off-the-blanket; 3) Being urged, verbally, to get out of bed now, get out of bed now, get out of bed now by a small person at the side of my bed where, when I am good and ready to get out of bed, would like to swing my feet.  By myself.

I want to get out of bed alone.  I mean, even if there is a sleeping little person there, I could still get up when I am ready, and physically get up on my own without any...ahem...assistance.

Gabe sleeps though all of this nonsense, by the way.

So here is my solution this morning.  I tell the girls that they had a turn to snuggle me all to themselves and it is Wolfie's turn.  I tell the girls that they can play in their room for a little while (I mean, why don't they just do this when they wake up anyway?) and Wolfie is going to snuggle me for a little while.  The girls get out of bed; Wolfie gleefully, triumphantly jumps into bed.

But.  The girls stay in my room.  In fact, they stay right by the bed resisting the urge to do numbers 2 and 3 mentioned above.

Then.  Luna, who is two and doesn't really understand compromise (or probably does because two year-olds are smarter than we give them credit for; so smart in fact, that they can rely on the fact that we all assume they do not understand something like compromise and then get exactly what they want) and crawls right back into her spot.  Uh huh.  She did.  Tulip looks at the three of us, crushed.  She says, simply, "Luna got back in bed with you."

I tell Tulip that I have a new spot for her...right on top of me.  Tulip = supreme victor.  Wolfie gets it and so does Luna, because she's two and knows exactly what she just did.

Then I tell them that they can go watch a show because, here I will shamelessly quote myself, "Mama needs to sleep by myself for a few minutes and get up on my own."  I tell Wolfie they can watch a Fishtronaut and I'll get up soon (21 minutes, I know this).

Yes.  I substituted Netflix for myself.  Why?  Because Wolfie totally learned how to do the whole thing - he can turn on the TV and use the Wii controller to select and play shows.

Oh, and because when Mama gets to wake up on her own, by herself, she is a much, much happier mama.  And happier, well-rested mamas make for better attachment parenting mamas.

Or, is it the other way around?