Byebye Baby, Hello Banshee

“Babe, can you open this?”  I hand the jar of honey across to David, who’s just gotten Ebba settled into breakfast.

He struggles for a half-second, the honey-stuck seal pops, and he hands me the open jar back across the half-wall that divides the diningroom from the kitchen.

All of a sudden, Mt. St. Ebba erupts.  “Brrrllllaaaargh!!!!”  Her eyes bulge out of her red face, tongue waggles like she’s doing some sort of butchered Haka, and she shrieks, pointing at the offending jar of honey.  “MMMMAH!!!  AH!!  BLAAARRR!”

I hold the jar of honey up and say “Honey?  This is just honey for me tea, sweetpea.  Eat your breakfast.  You have egg, yogurt, and cereal.”  I put the honey away.  She sees me put honey in my tea at least several times a week.  It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

“NAY NAY NAY NAY NAY!!!”  She shakes her red head and thrashes in her seat, her wind-shield wiper arms trying to knock her delicious, nutritious breakfast to the floor.  She signs “more” repeatedly, which to her actually means “Give me what I want right now!” (Despite my best efforts as a speech pathologist to show her what it actually means.)

I see we aren’t going to get anywhere fast with this.  Breakfast, as we know it, has ended.  Quickly I run through my rolodex of options.  After all, I’m a child development expert, of sorts, so I should know exactly what to do in this moment, right?  No, not right.  (Or, as Ebba continues to tell me “NAY NAY NAY NAY NAY!!!”)

David, my ever-loving husband looks to me for our next steps.  What should I do, I wonder.  Should I refuse her the honey and end breakfast?  Should I give her a little and then try and reign her back on track?  Should I give her as much as she wants?  Should I put it in her yogurt?  Should I force her to eat “just one more bite” of something and then reward her with some of the delicious, delicious stuff from the jar?

I opt for option 2 and give her a small bit of the honey.  She calms, smacks her lips, smiles.  ...And then points for more.  

“All gone!” I say with a shrug.  “Have some egg.  Mmmm!”  

I can see the blood rising in her face.  It starts around her neck, then to her ears, then up across her forehead, and then she’s all open mouth.  “NAAAAAAY!  Moooore!!”  Well, at least she got the meaning of “more” right this time.

Infant Ebba's tantrums were less intense!

I look at this screaming, writhing body in the booster seat and wonder when she arrived.  When did my little baby go?  That one screamed and cried sometimes too, but usually for things I didn’t have to say “no” to, and even if I did, she was easily distracted.  I remember when she was a little baby, I looked forward to when she was “older” and I could “reason with her.”  HAH!

This thing, this newly arrived Ebba, this kid where there was once a baby, she clings to her desires.  A simple “no” can cause convulsions, and attempts to distract her are met with flailing arms and a look that says “are you freaking kidding me!?”  

She’s a person now.  She wants what she wants.  And even though I hate the scream-fests that appear to be increasing in frequency, I’m happy that she’s arrived.  It’s not what I expected, we’re certainly not doing a lot of “reasoning,” but she is so much fun.  And I’m learning everyday.

It happened so suddenly, the switch from baby to person, that I didn’t have time to prepare my responses, to set my stance.  The key to dealing with these outbursts is to set appropriate limits and to be consistent.  Everyone knows that.  But how do you do that.  You need to know where your limits are and trust your judgement.  Don’t question yourself (something I do all. the. time!).  This morning, I was all “maybe I shouldn’t have given her any honey.  Maybe I should have given more.  What was the right answer!?!?  The thing is, it’s not about a right answer.  It’s about the consistency.  So regardless of where the limit is set, you have to stick to it.  (Like...honey. :) )

And then you have to be prepared for the consequences.  A happy baby is a secure baby, or so I’ve read.  And a secure baby is one who has had limitations set in a consistent fashion.  Despite the fact that I’ve worked with the under-5 set for as long as I can remember, for some reason I thought that setting limits would not yield screaming meltdowns.  If a secure baby (one that’s had limits put on it) is a happy baby, shouldn’t Ebba have been happy and smiling when I told her “no you can’t have a whole jar of honey for breakfast?”  Shouldn’t she be elated that I have exercised my parental muscle in order to make her feel safe and loved?

She did not look very happy thrashing about, red-faced on the floor.  But I took a deep breath and steeled myself.  “I’m doing the right thing,” I told myself.  “I am teaching her what breakfast is.  I’m teaching her that I care enough about her to not let her eat only honey.  And I’m learning too.  I’m learning what Ebba responds best to and how she acts when she doesn’t get it.”

I sound like a hard-ass here, but I’m totally not.  I have made it my parental mission to never say “no” to Ebba unless there is a really good reason.  For me, a really good reason isn’t “I got tired of pushing her in the swing so I made her get out,” or “I didn’t feel like cleaning up the mess when she wanted to play with ALL THE TOYS so I only let her take out one at a time.”  But “we have to make dinner by 5:30 so we need to leave the park at 5” and “picking up and attempting to eat discarded cigarette butts from the sidewalk is dangerous” are both good reasons for saying “no” or stopping an activity.  This is my own metric, I’m sure it will differ from parent to parent.

We’ll see how it goes over the next few months (years!) while I work on setting limits for Ebba and learning from her how best to teach her as she grows older.

How have you other newbie-toddler mummies been dealing with the change from baby to kid?

It's not all tears these days though!

The Other Side of the Boob

I had an interesting experience last month.  We had a girl over to interview her for a babysitting position for E, who was just over 12 months then.  E was coming down with a cold (or getting over one, or something.  It’s hard to keep track these days.), and she was getting a little grumpy and clingy with me.  So, while we continued the interview, I lifted my shirt, pulled the cup of my non-nursing bra down, and I nursed E.  The nanny-candidate didn’t flinch.  That’s not what was interesting about the experience.

What was interesting was that I felt weird.  I wondered if she thought I was strange, sitting here breastfeeding my baby who, really, was almost a toddler at this point.  I wondered, also, if E was even getting any milk, and I wondered if it mattered.  I wondered if I was messing up our relationship by continuing to breastfeed or if I was making her even clingier or if I was doing the right thing or...  

Well, that was interesting.  Interesting that I’m still nursing (seems more accurate than breastfeeding at this point).  Interesting that I feel weird about it.  Interesting...

If you had asked me a year ago what I thought I’d be doing now, I definitely wouldn’t have said breastfeeding.  Back then I counted every time I breastfed E, expecting it to be the last, waiting for her to reject the breast.  Back then I was crying over spilled 50mL bottles of pumped breastmilk that took painstaking hours to fill.  Back then, I was pretty certain that when E was 1, I’d sit around watching all of my friends continue to breastfeed and strengthen their bonds with their toddlers while E played by herself in the corner...and then went and made her own poison formula bottle and fed it to herself, you know, since we’d have no bond at all.

Back when I felt a little more desperate to nurse *

But, that’s not what happened.  And I feel like I should be elated because of it.  In some ways I am, but in most ways my feelings are much more jumbled than that.

As most of you know, I’ve had my struggles with feeding E.  I wanted so, so desperately to do a good job, to do what was best, to breastfeed my baby.  When she was 3 weeks old, I bought my first can of formula, and her breastfeeding has been supplemented with it ever since.  I just never made enough milk for her, not nearly enough.  And, no matter what you read or what other people say, it can happen.  It’s not a question of doing something wrong or not trying enough or (god, how could I believe these things!) not loving her enough.  Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.  And that’s why formula exists.  It’s not poison.

From 1 month until almost a year, Ebba’s main milk intake was formula in a bottle, with as much breastmilk as she asked for.  After 11 months, her main milk intake was cow’s milk, still with breastmilk thrown in when she wanted, though not nearly as often.

When E was about 11 months old, I thought she had weened herself. And I wasn’t sad.  I congratulated myself on lasting that long.  At 2 months, I thought we’d barely make it to 3.  At 3, I just knew we’d never make it to 4.  But the months kept coming and E kept breastfeeding.  So, when, before her first birthday she just stopped asking for the breast, I didn’t force it.  I let our nursing rituals fade away.  

Less than 2 weeks later, however, E started asking to nurse again, in earnest.  She wanted it all the time, everywhere.  She would pull and tear at my shirt and whine “boob boob boob.”  And I’d blush and wonder why, in all my infinite wisdom, had I ever thought that her learning that word was cute?

I was confused.  Sometimes I was so happy that she still seemed to feel this connection, stronger than ever.  Sometimes I felt manipulated and used. (by a 1 year old.  seriously, I know how absurd that sounds.)  Sometimes I felt embarrassed, or like I’d done something wrong, or like people were staring.  Sometimes I just didn’t want to nurse her and I’d try to distract her.  Sometimes I would nurse, but I’d sigh and say “I thought we were done with this.” As it turns out, extended nursing is as uncomfortable as all those sanctimommy and lactivism blogs say it is.  I see why they fight for breastfeeding rights.  (Or, well, do I feel it’s uncomfortable because they say it is?  I don’t know.)

Things are a bit better now.  I generally nurse E when she asks (which is getting less and less again), and I try not to worry as much how much milk she’s actually getting, because I’ve realized it doesn’t matter.  I don’t begrudge her asking for it (well, not usually), and I nurse her when and where I feel comfortable.  

I think that’s the main thing about extended breastfeeding (scratch that--that’s the main thing about any feeding.)  At this point it’s not so much for nourishment as it is for bonding and comfort.  And that’s okay, as long as the mom feels comfortable too.  It didn’t feel good to me when I would huff about and whip out my boob for E with a discontented sigh.  It probably didn’t feel good to her either.  So, then, what was the point of the whole exercise?  That’s why I do set limits now on where and when I nurse.  I’ll say things like “wait till we get home,” or “I’ll nurse you over here instead.”

Why would I want a bottle when I can have this!?

Whatever circumstances you’ve gone through as a mum and whatever choices you’ve made, those are the right ones.  If you didn’t breastfeed past 4 months, kudos to you (it was probably much easier to ween then, hah!).  If you’re breastfeeding your 3 year old, wow!  I doubt I’ll be joining you for that.  If you’ve had to formula feed since birth, rock on.  You are amazing and doing what’s best for your baby.  If you’re a single dad bottle feeding.  If you’re a mom tandem nursing twins.  If you’re introducing formula to go back to work.  If you’re exclusively pumping.  If your tits just hurt too damn much to breastfeed past a month.  All of you.  Kudos to you.  It ain’t easy!!  Feeding a baby isn’t easy, no matter how you do it.  It’s also extremely rewarding and builds that bond no matter how you do it.

I see now more than ever the importance of us all supporting each other.  Because all sides are hard.  People do need to support breastfeeding, which is something I never realized before.  But now I get it.  It is hard.  It’s uncomfortable.  Some people do stare.  Sometimes you don’t want to.  It’s not easy.  

But all of those other mums out there feeding their babies how they’ve had to, or how they feel comfortable, well, we all need support.  Feeding a baby his hard.  Fighting about it makes it harder.  The most important thing is building that bond with the baby--well, okay, the most important thing is making sure the baby gets food and survives of course, but after that, it’s building that bond.  And the only way to do that is to feel comfortable and feed with love.  If we’re fighting about whether someone gave up to easily and switched to the bottle too soon or whether someone should cover up their boobs in public or whether someone’s feeding their kid when he’s too old...well, then no one is comfortable.

I feel really lucky that I’ve been able to see so many sides of this issue.  I don’t know how long I’ll continue to nurse for or how I’m going to go about weening.  I’m sure I’ll probably need support to sort out my feelings about nursing my 1 year old.  I know everyone out there feeding a baby needs support, I know it more than ever now.

So, I support you.  I support ALL of you because what we’re doing is just freaking amazing and hard, but we’re still doing it.  Feed on!

Big and Strong and Well-fed!

* A little note about the pictures:  I really wanted to include one of me bottle-feeding Ebba, but I couldn't find one!  I'm not actually surprised.  I have been so ashamed of having to formula-feed my baby that I must never have consented to a photo of it in action.  I should have.  It's adorable and cozy-looking.  Bottle-feeders out there, I'm not forgetting you!  This just goes to show how much we need to shed the stigma.

Postpartum Depression Series - A Look Back at the Beginning

(not the most creative post title, but it's getting late! :) )

This is the first in a series of posts I’ll write about my turbulent journey into motherhood and experience with postpartum depression.  It’s my hope that by being honest about my own situation, I can help other mothers get help when they might not have otherwise.

Most of the time, I felt hollow.  A bone without marrow, brittle and empty, ready to splinter under my own weight.  I desperately wanted time to myself, fantasized about it like water in a desert, but when I finally got it, it felt wrong.  A mirage of an oasis on a distant hill -- I reached it only to have a mouth full of sand.  I felt a tether attached to my heart; the organ was ripped from my chest every time I closed the door between me and my baby.  I would think “Finally, a moment of peace,” only to realize that I was even more stressed than before.  My mind raced, “What if she needs me?  What if my milk is drying up even more because I’m away from her?  What if she wakes up in ten minutes and I’m actually sacrificing time I could have been sleeping?”

When I did get time to myself, rather than relaxing, I obsessively completed “chores” that I held to be all-important.  I spent hours folding cloth diapers just so, even though there were going to be opened up and shat on again within 12 hours.  I organized the bottles and nipples and other crappy bottle-feeding accouterment with autistic precision onto the drying rack.  (bottles on the left over the sink, nipples in a row each in line with a bottle, nipple rings after that, then the blue “airflow” attachment standing up next, followed by the beige nozzle that fitted into the blue part on the far right)

It wasn’t normal.  I wasn’t myself.

I didn’t recognize it though, not for a long time.  It was hidden behind lack of sleep, behind feeding problems, behind lingering exhaustion from the birth, and behind the grey and cold winter weather.  And, I mean, is any new mum herself ever again?  Having a child changes your world forever, whether you end up with depression or not.  It is the biggest change one can have in life, I’d say, bigger than marriage or career or home-ownership, or a move across the country or around the world.  Those things don’t change who you are.  But having a child does.  You become “Mom.”  It’s the first time you live for someone else before yourself.  Sure, when I got married, I started to consider my husband’s life in my decisions, but we could discuss things.  He wasn’t wholly dependent on me, helpless without me.

It was terrifying.  

Of course, there were other emotions: wonder at my beautiful daughter’s already expansive repertoire of facial expressions, heart-wrenching bliss every time she fell (forehead-thudding) asleep against my chest in her carrier, excitement when she reached every new tiny milestone (“She has eyelashes now!  She has a voice!  She’s unclenching her hands now!”)  But, there was also terror, and a deep, deep sadness that it took me a long time to see behind all the other happy-new-mom feelings.  I always thought that postpartum depression would be a sort of catatonic-state turn-your-back-on-motherhood kind of thing.  I didn’t realize it could be both things.  It almost made it worse, like “If I’m so happy to be a mom, how can this sadness even be real?

I was afraid not just that something would happen to Ebba, but also about what would happen to me.  Would I ever be human again?  Was I absolutely horrible for even having that worry?  Was it unmomly to miss myself?  Because, I did.  I missed myself terribly.  I missed the way I would spontaneously break into dance in the livingroom, the way I accelerated uncontrollably if there were no cars in front of me, the way I snuggled into David in the night.  I missed my irresponsibility, I missed my youth, I missed my freaking hair; why the fuck did it keep falling out!?

I’m not sure what the worst part was, if it was the confusion over my situation, or the thought that I was all alone, that no one could possibly identify with me (though I had plenty of friends who said they did!  I just assumed they had no friggin’ idea), or if it was the fact that I looked ahead and for the first time in my life I saw no light at the end of the tunnel.  

Actually, I think the worst part was thinking that I had failed.  I had an image of how I would be as a mum, and the word depressed was nowhere in that image.  I thought of (and still do, sometimes) all the moments I had probably missed, all the activities I didn’t do: more baby yoga, mom meetups, babytime, babywearing groups, Mothers Unfolding, La Leche League.  The thought that these early moments as a new mum will never be offered to me again devastated me.  Even if I have another child, I will never be that fresh-out-of-the-shell new mummy, laughing and crying and commiserating with the other new mummies.  (the fact that I actually did do a lot of these things was beside the point! hehe)

Though I have had friends who went through depression before, it was still difficult for me to admit that that is what was happening in my own life.  I never really consciously thought, “I’m better than that,” before, but suddenly that’s what was running through my head.  “It’s not depression, because I’m better than that.”  It took one morning when all I did was cry to make me realize that I needed help.  I finally, after four months of this, reached out to a friend and started making the calls I needed to make.  I told my doctor, in a breaking voice (followed by a hurricane of tears), that I was “not dealing so well with the whole feeding thing,” and she jumped into action and got me connected with all the referrals I could possibly need.  I found myself on the (incredibly long) waiting list for Reproductive Mental Health at BC Women’s hospital, and I googled support groups to try and get help sooner.  Quickly, I found Hollie Hall at Pacific Postpartum Support and I attended my first support group two weeks later.

Once I acknowledged my problem and admitted it to people, there was an avalanche of support.  It’s out there, if you ask.  And, though at the time I didn’t think it would, it has helped immensely.  My only big regret is not getting this help sooner.  I enjoy life as a mom so, so much more now, and I wish I could have pushed that enjoyment earlier in Ebba’s first year, to when she was 2 or even 1 month, instead of 4 or 5.

My baby is going on 9 months now, and this milestone marks, in some way, my return to reality.  I’m starting to go back to work, and, more importantly, I have ended most of my postpartum depression supports.  On September 17, I attended my last support group, and on September 20, I met with the psychiatrist one last time.

As those who saw me the weekend after that know, I am not “fixed.”  A few days of bad sleep and a few too many hours of the Facebook comparison game rendered me a blubbering idiot once more.  But at least I am a blubbering idiot with strategies now, which (though it might not look like it while I’m crying into my tea at a cafe) makes a big difference.  Because, really, this is nothing compared to how I was in the beginning.

I won’t go into the story behind those early days, or even my theories on why I descended into depression.  It might have been the feeding stress, but many women have postpartum depression or postpartum anxiety (my diagnosis) without any such catalyst.  Maybe it would have happened to me anyway.  The causes don’t matter so much.  What matters is realizing that so many women struggle with new motherhood, whether it be a tiny hiccup or a huge hurdle, but it is possible to get better.  All you have to do is ask for help (again, whether it just be leaning on a friend over coffee, or talk therapy, or groups, or even medication.)

I am dedicating this post to expecting and new mums everywhere, whether you hit bottom as hard as I did, or just are struggling a bit with the hormonally low baby blues.  It’s dedicated to the moms like me who thought, “that happens to other women, ones who don’t plan properly.”  (Oh how wrong I was.)  It’s dedicated to the expectant moms who are already worried that it might happen to them.  It’s dedicated to the moms who wake up crying most mornings and don’t know why -- because they love their new baby so much, how could they be depressed?  To the mums who think it’s a passing phase.  And, you know, it’s even dedicated to the mamas who are totally blissed out, it’s dedicated to the bad days that even you have sometimes.  No one is perfect, and no one should try to be.

But this is also dedicated to me, to my experience and to the strength that I have tried to muster over these past few months.  And it’s dedicated to Ebba, for being so supremely awesome and helping me to overcome this without even trying.

I’ll write more soon with more specific information about my (continual) recovery process, so stay tuned and feel free to forward this to any new mums you know out there.

The One-Thing-To-Do List

I am, and always have been, a list maker.  I leave any place I've ever been strewn with a million scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes with things like "forward cold laundry, fold cold laundry, start diaper laundry, clean white pot, empty dishwasher, refill dishwasher, tidy living room, clean toilet, clean shower, clean sink, write in the blog..." and so on.  My lists are usually down to the most minute detail, because otherwise I find myself standing in the middle of a room, not knowing where to start.

But the problem with that is that I never finish a list.  There's just too much detail in them, and so it can leave me feeling defeated at the end of the day, buried under a mountain of un-done to-do's.  So, as of today, I'm instituting a new system: the One-Thing-To-Do List.  Each day, I will only allow myself to put ONE thing on my to-do list, and if I accomplish that, then I everything else will be gravy.  Of course, I'll still have a mental list of all the other shit that needs to get done (take out the trash, vacuum, wash k'tan baby carrier, dishwasher the bottles,...) so it's going to be a bit of a learning curve, letting myself off with doing only one thing.  But I think I can manage.  Today, it was take Ebba for her first swim.  CHECK accomplished. :)  Tomorrow, it will be doing the laundry (this is a bit of a cheat, because there is cold, hot, AND diaper laundry to do.  But I'll give myself a pass if I get just one of those done. :) )

Because I'm such a list-maker, I'm still going to have a running list of all of the things I would like to possibly do, if I get time.  Each day, I'll pick one thing off that list, for the One Thing To Do, and in my spare time, I might pick another little thing from the list. :)

I will keep you all posted on how it goes!

How do you all keep abreast of the bazillion things you have to do as a (ugh) responsible adult?

The Three Month Blah

So I don't know if every mum goes through this, but I've decided that in new mummy-hood there is something equivalent to the 7 Year Itch: the Three Month Blahs.

I guess it's not really the same as the 7 Year Itch because it's not that I question my decision to have a kid, or question my relationship with E. (which I guess is what the 7 Year Itch is all about in marriage). I'm still loving E. and loving being a mum...but it's different now.  The end of the 3rd month marks the completion of what some call the "fourth trimester," a time where your baby needs you just as much as she did in the womb.  She's helpless, adorable, and all-consuming.  But at the end of the fourth trimester, a new milestone is reached, the honeymoon is over, and this means several things:

1. First of all, Ebba's diapers have had to be sized up to the next size!  While I adore her bigger, chubbier baby bum, I miss the teeny peanut bum of yore.  There's a bit of bittersweet finality to this simple change. Those diapers will never be snapped on their smallest setting again -- at least not for Ebba.
2. There is time for reflection and, maybe just in my case, regret.  It's my theory that when people get sad about their "baby growing up," it's not that they necessarily miss the days when she was a teensy baby, it's that they miss their chances to do things exactly perfectly in those days.  At milestones like three months, one can look back and go, "oh I didn't carry her enough, I didn't work hard enough on her feeding...did I sing to her enough?  cuddle her enough?"  It's absolutely counter-productive, because dwelling on these things in the past necessarily means that you'll be missing things in the present, so at the next "blah" milestone, you'll just look back and be like "was I too hung up on the past?  Did I miss something amazing?..." and then the cycle just continues.
3. This probably goes with the above, but I'll give it a separate point.  At three months, since that precious "fourth trimester" is over, it seems like things should be coming to a certain balance now.  Things should be on a schedule, routines should be established, you should understand your baby's hunger/sleep/boredom cues 100%, etc etc.  I know I'm being too hard on myself, but I still have no idea when Ebba needs to do what!  It makes planning for the day a bit of a bitch.  Okay...this is probably a slight exaggeration.  She has a pretty set bedtime, and a very set bedtime routine.  We also have some established morning and nap routines.  But her nap lengths and times vary like crazy...and shouldn't they be more concrete now?  And sometimes when she's tired, I still try to shove a bottle or boob at her and get a look like "wtf, mummy!?"  Or when she's hungry and I try to rock her to sleep and she starts screaming "neeeeej, neeeej!" which is Swedish for "no," but baby for, "I'm hungry, bitch!"
4. Again, an offshoot of the previous point, but deserving of its own space, I think: At three months we have to give up that "I'm a new mum" excuse.  The baby is no longer a newborn, we are no longer new mums.  It's both exciting and terrifying.  Previously, if the house was a mess or I arrive late to something, I could just say "well, I have a teensy babe at home."  But now, she's not so teensy!
5. Ebba is more demanding.  I'm not sure if this is true of all 3-month-olds, but I've noticed Ebba needs me more -- not in the way I mentioned above as in the fourth trimester helplessness.  No, now she needs me to perform.  The days of placing her in her swing for a quick spare moment are dwindling.  Now her angry grunts translate to: "sing another song, mummy!" or "I wasn't done with that book, mummy!" or "Keep dancing, mummy!"  While this is super exciting because it means an increase in her awareness and interaction, sometimes mummy just needs to rush to the bathroom and can't stay and sing or read or dance! :)  Perhaps I should hire E. a jester for those moments.

There are lots of positives to Ebba's new milestone too, of course!  I don't mean to be a negative nelly.  It's been fantastic watching Ebba learn to roll over (we're almost there on the back to front!!) and smile and giggle and follow a conversation with her eyes.  And it's nice that she's sleeping longer and doesn't wake us up 7 times a night (only 6 now, haha).  But, well, my baby's growing up!  *sad face*

So, other mums, have you encountered the Three Month Blahs with your little bundle?  How did you handle it?

Fit Mama

Oh, hello again blogosphere!  I apologize for my absence, but see, something has been taking all of my attention lately: a cute baby!  It's a bit difficult to focus when Ebba is doing amazing things like smiling, kicking over her little ring tower, and even almost rolling over these days!!

I do have that AMP Duo diaper review on its way, as well as a few other posts in the works, but I thought I should just fire off a short one in the meantime.  Maybe I can actually *complete* something other than changing a diaper for once. :)  I think that's what motherhood is: starting a million things and finishing one.

So, I thought I'd post a quick bit on returning to exercise after having a baby.  Babycenter has these guidelines for knowing when you're ready to get back into it.  But, basically, I think the most important things are:

• Wait 4 weeks to do more than just walking (6 weeks if you had a C-Section
• Make sure your Lochia has finished
• Check to see if you have abdominal separation
• Trust your body

I started back into exercise much later than I had anticipated, waiting until 9 weeks.  Mostly, this was because of our feeding issues.  I would have been back at 4 if I could have!  But, I wanted to stay connected to Ebba as much as possible to see what could be done for my milk supply.

The first activity I returned to after walking was yoga, because I knew I could pace myself there, and I found a fantastic class where I could bring baby!  In the class, we can either hold baby in some poses, or have her playing down on the mats at our feet.  Ebba likes to do both. :)  I enjoy the fact that we can stop to feed baby whenever we need to, or can adjust what we're doing as needed at any time.

After a week of yoga, I felt confident about returning to the Real Gym!  I was actually a little nervous about heading back, but once I got into it, I felt great!  I'm just doing some short full-body workouts these days, since I don't have nearly enough time to do a split (only certain muscle groups on certain days.)  Doing a light full body workout is also a great way to make sure your body is ready for more strenuous activities -- it's a nice way to ease back into things.  Here's a sample of what I've been doing, with 2 sets (3 for legs) 1-12 reps each:

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor OR a trainer.  I have been working out steadily for about 5 years now, but that in no way makes me an expert.  This is not a recommendation.  If you want to start working out after birth, I'd ask your doctor or midwife.

• Legs: alternating dumb bell squat with dumb bell lunge
• Back and chest: alternating 1 arm dumb bell row with incline chest press
• Back and chest: alternating assisted pull up with assisted chest dip
• Shoulders: alternating front raise with shoulder press
• Biceps and Triceps: alternating skull-crusher with bicep curl
• Abs: For this I was much more careful.  I did a short round of crunches, along with a plank (1 min) and some pilates exercises that I have no idea how to describe. :)

It felt SO good to get back into working out!  I think it's a great step back into the normalcy of life after the craziness of childbirth and newborn days. :)

Any other mummies out there who want to share their return to workouts?

Is this a blog? What is this?

Of course this is a blog!  And I'm pretty sure most of you guys know that, too, which is why I don't often ask you, "Is this a blog?"

Then, why do so many people feel the need to ask kids questions like this, where the answer is already known?  What is a question, anyway?  According to one of the google dictionary (authority on all matters, of course), a question is:

"A sentence worded or expressed so as to elicit information"

 When we ask a child, "What colour is my shirt?" what kind of information are we eliciting?  We probably aren't really wondering what colour our own shirt is, unless we're colourblind.  No, instead we're wondering if the child knows what colour the shirt is.  Of course we'd like our child to learn colours, but using these types of questions doesn't teach anything; it tests.  And parents don't need to test their children.

In my work, I see lots of parents interacting with their children, and one of the main conversation strategies that parents use is questions.  Parents seem to love to ask their kids questions.  And, why not?  It seems like this would be a way to get children to talk, right?  It's difficult to have a conversation with someone who has little or no words, like a kiddo or baby, so often we resort to interrogatives to help us along.

Here's the thing: what questions really do is shut down a conversation by limiting what the child can talk about.  Take these examples:

• Child: [playing with a train]
• Mom: "What colour is this car?"
• Child: "Green" [pushes train up the ramp]
• Mom: "Good job!  It's green.  Where is the train going?"
• Child: "To work."
• Mom: "Where does the train work?"
• Child: "Rail yard."

• Child: [pushing a train up the ramp]
• Mom: "The green train's going up, up, up!  My train is going to the store." [moves her train along the track]
• Child: "Mine going to work in the rail yard."
• Mom: "I bet that's hard work."
• Child: "Yep.  But he strong."

When we add language in the form of comments to a child's play, they learn sentence structure as well as concepts such as colours, direction (up/down, etc), numbers, and much more.  We are, without even trying, teaching our children just by talking!  Children also often feel comfortable expanding and adding their own comments to the play when they aren't being "tested" with too many questions.

The other benefit to decreasing questions is that it gives us a chance to sit back and see where the child wants to direct the play, instead of pulling the child's language to our ideas.  Then, we can follow their interest, which will keep them talking more and longer.  Asking a child to play based on our ideas is the equivalent of asking you guys to discuss my favourite TV show...whether you like it or not.

Some ideas to use instead of questions:

• Comment on what your child is doing.  (ie: "Your train went down the mountain!  Weeee!")
• Comment on what you are doing in play (ie: "I'm going to make this train really long!!")
• Use phrases like "I wonder..." or "Hmm...what if..."  (this is a nice way to ask a question without really asking one! :) )
• Join in your child's play physically, rather than verbally.  Let your child initiate the conversation. For example, grab a train and run it on a track with your child, rather than talking at first.

And, remember not to stress too much about not asking questions.  Sometimes we have to!  But making sure the questions aren't the norm will allow your child to explore his creativity without too many boundaries.

For more ideas and discussion about this topic, you can check out Heather Shumaker's post.

Two Months is SHORT!

Well, we're here. It's been two months since Ebba took her first swim on this side of my perineum, since she gurgled out her first cry, and since she released all her meconium into her daddy's lap. :)

It's been quite the journey, even just so far.  Ebba says it's been exhausting putting up with us:

There is something a bit bittersweet about reaching the two month mark.  It's kind of a milestone, and it acts as the border between measuring Ebba's age in weeks and measuring her age in months.  She's old now.  In a week's time, she won't be 9 weeks, she'll be 2 months.  And in 2 weeks, she won't be 10 weeks, she'll still be 2 months.  If I want to be snarky I can say "two and a half months."

I used to get annoyed at parents who still gave their 1-year-old's age in months, but I understand it now.  The smaller the unit of age measurement, the smaller your baby.  I don't even know how I'll feel when we hit the year mark and have to give up months.  As far as I'm concerned, Ebba is 59 days old today, not two months.  And when she is 1 year, she'll be 365 days old.  When she's 18 years old, she'll be 6570 days old.  Okay, that's a bit crazy, and besides, I'm too lazy to calculate for leap years.  Maybe at 18 I'll have to start measuring in months. :)

In honour of this landmark birthday, I decided I would make some parenting resolutions.  Since Ebba was born on New Years Eve, I didn't really make any resolutions this year.  For these resolutions, my goal is to make them manageable and reasonable.  No more, "I'm going to be the perfect mum!"  So, here goes:

• I'm going to smell the top of Ebba's head at least five times a day so I never forget what it smells like.  (sunshine and strawberries, for those who were wondering!)
• I'm going to snuggle with Ebba during a nap several times a week, instead of putting her down and rushing off to clean up the kitchen or put away the laundry.
• I'm going to have at least one conversation a day with her, without anything distracting me from her little sounds.
• I'm not going to stress about schedules too much.  Ebba knows what she needs when.  (Though, she does need a little help knowing it's nap time sometimes!)
• While I'm not stressing about schedules, I am going to try to bring in some more routines, so the lead up to bed and bath and other big events is always the same each time.  (I keep forgetting to read our bedtime book before bed! oops! :) )

I think that's enough for now. :)  Any other mommy resolutions out there?

amc

Life Without a Lens

photo credit

Memory, when you're a mum, is a funny thing.  Some things stand out sharp, like the moment I picked Ebba up for the first time, or her first bath, or the first night we laid down just staring at each other in the moonlight.  But, in between these tiny blips, I pretty much remember nothing.  It's not like I remember things wrong, or that they're fuzzy...it's just, kind of a black hole.

I realized this last night, and it made me a little bit sad.  When it's my own memories that slide into nothingness, it's sad enough.  But those first few minutes, days, weeks with Ebba -- I wanted to remember them all!  Now, I find myself asking my mum and stepdad, "Did I cuddle her? How often did I feed her? What was she like?  What was I like???"  It's not like I don't have fond memories; as I said above, I have little blips.

But this got me to thinking...  Before we had cameras and video cameras and all of that fancy stuff, did people remember things more?  I'm pretty sure that my memory for facts was better pre-Google.  Is it the same with memories of our own events?  I actually caught myself wishing that I had had people take more pictures of us as a family.  And even wishing I had been one of those annoying mums who took videos of every little burp and poop and cry my newborn did.  Yes, mum, you can give me your big-eyed 'I told you so' now and whip out your camera as much as you want next time we see you!

Or, on second thought, maybe not!  Maybe our over-reliance on electronic memory has made our own memories falter.  And while it's nice to have an external, objective way to see the past, there's something so wonderful about seeing the past through your own subjective lens, remembering the attached emotions and thoughts -- things that don't come out in those high-res videos on the hard drive.

So, as an alternative, I'm going to make an effort to preserve these cherish-worthy moments as organically as I can (boy, isn't that the buzz-word of the century!), by really living in them and turning my full consciousness on them.  Perhaps that will be a better way to preserve a memory.  To help me, in case the mindfulness doesn't work on its own, I'm going to start journalling regularly again because there's something about writing something down that solidifies it.

And, if all else fails, I guess I'll have my photos to fall back on. :)  I'm not going to venture out here without a safety net!

What are your guys' thoughts on preserving memories?  Are photos the way to go?  Or can we enjoy our present, and our past more by putting away the external lens and really submerging ourselves in the moment?

An Unhappy Customer

Here is Ebba's Yelp review of Chez David and Amanda this evening:

I've eaten here before and it was never awful, but, you know, not great.  But tonight...tonight!  The food was alright, even though I'd ordered breastmilk and they served me formula.  I mean, I sorta understand; breastmilk is hard to come by these days.  But if you put breastmilk on the menu, that's what you should serve.

The real downer of tonight was the service.  I came in licking my hand a bit, which obviously means I'm ready for food.  Okay, so I often lick my hand, even when I'm not hungry.  It just...feels nice, alright?  But if you're in the business of serving me milk, you should know when I want milk.  I had to resort to whining before anyone even jumped into action, but it was still a whole seven seconds before I had a bottle in my mouth.

As if that wasn't bad enough, they removed the bottle before I was even finished so they could burp me.  Then, when I vomited on myself, no one noticed and I ended up rubbing my own face in it before they could clean it up.  Finally, finally, at the end of the meal, I was offered the breast that I came here for in the first place!  But it was too late, they had already mocked my tirades one too many times over the course of the meal.  I'm not sure if I'll be coming back here.  Two thumbs down!

Fluff Reviews (BumGenius AIO and Pocket)

So, because I'm so vocal about my obsession, people have been asking me a lot about cloth diapers.  Which ones do I use?  Which ones do I like?  Why?  etc.  So, I'm thinking there might be cause to continue my little diaper reviews.

I'll start off by saying I didn't actually even end up buying the Grovia AIO that I reviewed last time.  While I did totally love it, there were others I loved more! So here goes a review of some of those.

These days, Ebba is mainly wearing BumGenius.  These are some of the most popular diapers out there, and for good reason!  First off, they come in super cute prints, like the "Albert."  But, they have other benefits too!  They are very leak-free, as far as I can tell (she's gone 6 hours overnight without a change), and they started fitting Ebba at around 4 weeks.  (Well, that's when we tried the first one...they might have fit her even sooner.)  Both of these diapers can come with snaps or velcro.  I prefer the snaps (pictured), but David prefers the velcro because it's more similar to disposable diapers, and therefore quicker to go on and off.

The varieties I have Ebba in are the:

BumGenius 4.0 pocket

and the:

BumGenius Freetime all in one

As you can see, these two diapers look essentially the same from the outside:

(Except the colour and orientation. :) )  The real difference is that for the pocket diaper, you have to shove the insert(s) inside (the second one is for more absorbency), and for the all-in-one, there is nothing to stuff; you just fold over the two flaps that are already attached.  Both of these are incredibly convenient, and one usually lives in our outing bag. :)

The only drawback to these diapers is their size.  Since these are one-size diapers, that means you can snap up the bottom to make it 1-2 sizes smaller.  Ebba is so little, we've got her on the smallest size, which means that the bottom of the diaper is quite bunched up.  She doesn't seem to mind, and the only drawback is that it means she often fits into a larger size of clothes.  I believe as she grows, the diaper won't look nearly as huge on her, so it's only a temporary drawback!

Neither of these types is organic, but they do have an organic version called the Elemental, if you want to do only organic diapering.  (Of course, you pay for that choice!)

Right now we've got, well, way too many of these diapers because I keep buying them!  But that's just how good they are.  Two bums up to BumGenius!

Next up to be reviewed: the AMP Duo pocket diaper!

BUY ALL THE DIAPERS!!!

Okay, to make up for my attempt at some kind of coherent intellectual post today, I will post this!

Courtesy of The Natural Parent's facebook page

Hopefully my apology is accepted, you guys!  I will refrain from the intellectual-ish posts until my brain returns.  ...which will probably be in about 18 years.  Stay tuned. :)

Organic Learning

Recently (okay, today), I read this post about the use of calendars in preschools...and how maybe enforcing this kind of rote learning of time concepts might not be as great as we thought.  The post is on Heather Shumaker's blog -- she's also the author of "It's Okay Not To Share," a book I believe I've mentioned in a previous post.  Shumaker writes about what she calls the "Renegade Rules" of childrearing; things like, well, allowing kids not to share. :)  Most of the renegade rules are counterculture (our culture anyway), but not at all counter-intuitive.  Her point, I believe, is that kids will learn.  Period, full stop.  So, we don't need to shove learning down their throats.  All we need to do is provide proper environments to allow (what I would call) organic learning, an opportunity for the child to stumble upon the concept in their own time and in their own way.

Reading some of her ideas has caused me, not only to think about my future as a parent, but also to reevaluate what I do as a professional.  As a speech pathologist, I work with children who have a variety of special needs beyond their speech or language difficulties.  I've worked with many children on the Autism spectrum, children who have Attention Deficits, and children with unlabelled learning difficulties but who struggle in school.  Through all of this, I thought I have strived to allow my clients to learn in the most natural way possible, but looking back I know this probably isn't the case.  Sitting at a table with a single, sometimes unfamiliar adult, is not the normal way children learn.  I should have been tipped off by the fact that with some of my kids, our first goal was learning how to sit quietly and respond to commands like "Give me," and "come here."

Now, for those of you in this or a related field, I have to specify that I am no behaviour consultant.  Behaviour consultants are the professionals that works exclusively with children on the Autism spectrum.  They tend to have a more behaviourist view, and use a lot of discreet trials for learning.  This works well for children on the Autism spectrum, so there is no judgement here about the use of those kinds of structured situations, but I wanted to specify that that is not what I do.

However, I am often at that end of the spectrum of therapeutic techniques.  It's just easier to feel like you're isolating a certain skill if you've got a structured activity.  And it's easier to feel like you're measuring it if you're sitting at a table where you can easily tic off wrong and right answers.

But, if as Heather Shumaker says (and everyone already knows), children learn best in natural situations with minimal adult control, why should children with "labels" be any different?

I'm sort of veering off track here (baby brain!), but let me give an example to try and get back on track.  :)  One of my first things I do when I come to a new preschool, or even sometimes a home, is to ask if they've got a schedule or calendar posted.  "This will help your child know what to expect and when to expect it," I would state expertly.  And, to some extent this is true, especially for children with Autism.  But, really, children's knowledge of time as we understand it is fairly slow in developing.  I mean, kids don't even start to use past tense usually until around 3 years of age.  And even then it's often, "Last year," instead of yesterday, or "100 million hours ago" instead of a few minutes.  "Monday" is the same as "Saturday," unless an adult reminds them that "no, on Saturday there's no daycare, remember?"

So, really, why do we teach kids the days of the week and the numbers on a calendar if they have enough trouble remembering that after nap we have snack, and after snack we go home?  They can, as Shumaker pointed out, still learn time and number concepts organically by playing natural counting games on the playground, being told what activity comes next, or talking about what they did that morning when mum comes to pick them up.  (these are, by the way, all things I also do in my therapy.  Like I said, I'm not totally a sit-at-the-desk kind of therapist. :) )

To play devil's advocate, I'd like to answer my above question about why we teach kids calendar concepts.  While I agree with Shumaker that the whole task of sitting down at circle and going through the days of the week might be a bit inappropriate, I do think that using calendars to show big events coming up can be very useful.  For example, if there is going to be a big change in schedule, like a field trip or grandparents' visit coming up soon, it can be helpful to cross days off of a calendar to visually show the passage of time.  Granted, you aren't going to say, "On the Tuesday the seventh of October, grandma is coming."  You can, instead, say "Look, in eight more sleeps, grandma is coming!"  Then, after every 'sleep' you can cross off another day and count how many are left.  You can even show things in relation to each other.  For example, "In 8 more sleeps, grandma comes.  She's coming right after we go to the museum."  In this way you are teaching number concepts, as well as time, by giving it meaning, but you aren't explicitly and rote-ly (yes I did just make up that word!) teaching it.

What do you guys think about teaching time to little ones?

There is No Recipe

When I think of parenting, these days, I think of my husband in a kitchen with a whole host of ingredients and no cookbooks in sight.  Or, maybe a cookbook open to a recipe that he modifies (read: improves!) beyond all recognition.

See, when my husband cooks (which is, I must admit, wayyyy more than I do!), he doesn't need a recipe.  He can take several recipes and blend them, or just take the ingredients in the fridge (leftovers, some wilting parsley, a cup of beans, some rice) and make a gourmet 4-course dinner.  Seriously, this man can create gold out of stone.

What does this have to do with parenting?  Well, if you peruse the parenting section of the book store or browse any of the 1 bazillion parenting blogs, you will be surrounded by cookbooks of all varieties.  People love their recipes for parenting.  From Dr. Sears' attachment parenting to Magda Gerber's RIE, and even to Babywise, which I haven't even bothered looking into because every time it's mentioned, people make faces of horror.  And, even outside of these overarching philosophies, there are opinions on sleep training, feeding schedules, feeding techniques, bath routines...everything under the sun.

The problem with these parenting "recipes" is that the ingredients are always different.  No two babies will behave the same, even with the exact same recipe.  So, while it's nice to have some guidelines, no one (with the exception of your baby, maybe) can tell you exactly how to parent.  But certainly everyone tries to!  And the problem with that is that you will most often come up feeling short.  I do, anyway.

[EDIT: my very wise aunt, after reading this post, pointed out to me that babies aren't the only ingredient that differ from family to family.  Parents also come in all shapes and sizes, and no one parenting style will fit every parent and every lifestyle!  Each family dynamic is completely different from the next, so there is no "one size fits all."]

This past week, I've tried to be more like David (the loving husband) in his kitchen when I parent.  Take a few veggies from the fridge, some noodles I found in the back of the cupboard, add a special mix of my own spices, and some beans from the pantry (okay, I'm not a cook so you'll have to use your imagination here!) and VOILA, a perfect pasta.  Or, take a few things from this parenting recipe, a few from that one, and add my own special spice and VOILA, a good enough parent.  Note that I didn't say "a perfect parent," because there isn't one.  (this is where my own 'perfect parent' makes that "I told you so face," because she's been trying to make me believe this simple truth since before Ebba was born.  I got it, now.  I got it. :)

Anyway, as I was saying, these parenting recipes that claim (directly or indirectly) to make you into the perfect parent, or to show you a picture of perfect parenting without mentioning how unachievable it is just serve to make you get down on yourself.

For example, I totally buy into Attachment Parenting.  The tenets of AP are incredibly appealing in that most of them will make you be like "duh, don't all parents want to do that?"  However, beyond that, they have a fairly prescriptive view of how to achieve those tenets.  (Made all the more prescriptive by 'my way or the highway' critical mums who look down on others who 'do it wrong.'  But this is a topic for another post.)  For example, we'll take AP's "Respond with Sensitivity."  This no-brainer principle basically means "meet your child's needs and don't punish her for asking."  But, sometimes (both in AP literature and in what you hear from other AP parents/blogs) this translates to: if you're baby is crying, you're doing something wrong.  In the principle itself, you see this quote:

"High levels of stress, such as during prolonged crying, cause a baby to experience an unbalanced chemical state in the brain and can place him at risk for physical and emotional problems later in life."

While I know this probably is referring more to things like the Ferber method of sleep training, where parents are encouraged to leave their baby in the crib and not pick them up regardless of crying, it still makes me feel guilty on those days when Ebba cries and cries and doesn't seem to want to eat, need a diaper change, or be tired/hot/cold.  I feel helpless and don't know what to do to help her.  Am I raising her to be insecurely attached!?

And I am lucky.  I'm not sure Ebba has ever cried for more than 5 minute intervals (she's been fussier longer, yes, but full on crying for that long, no.)  If I were a parent with a colicky baby (knock on wood) or just a more sensitive baby, I would feel like everything was all my fault.  The truth is, if your baby cries for more than five minutes, you aren't a bad parent, and your child will still most likely develop secure attachment.

Babies are sometimes mysteries.  A friend of mine with twins warned me, "People will expect you to know what they want and need at all times."  She said that when the twins were new, people would always bring them to her when they cried, asking earnestly, "what do they need??"  And she would respond, "I don't fucking know!"  (Well, probably not in so many words. :) )

I recently read this blog post about what your baby needs.  One of the points talks about what to do when the baby cries.  In the point on crying ("Hear me, don't just fix me), she says

  "Sometimes I just want to cry in your arms and have it be okay with you. Relax. It feels comforting to have you here, calmly listening and trying to understand."  

I really liked the way this point focused on listening to the child's emotion, rather than scrambling to do everything you can to stop the crying, lest the child become "insecurely attached."  Granted, I know that this point, and that of Attachment Parenting are probably saying the same thing overall.  However, in the AP phrasing it seems to say that crying indicates something the parent is or isn't doing.

Another example from AP is with the feeding.  Yes, yes I am still on about mine and Ebba's feeding.  I have finally begun to accept that we will always always need to top up our 30-45 minute breastfeeds with a bottle.  My vision of being this (ahem, perfect) earth mama with vegetarian shoes, boob out, and dread locks until Ebba was in kindergarten or whatever has been shattered.  I've accepted that.

But, you know what made it hard to accept?  It seems like many AP supporters seem to think that if you aren't breastfeeding, you aren't really practicing AP and therefore aren't a good parent.  The fact that you fail at one part seems to indicate that you fail at all parts in their eyes.  I read an article in The Natural Parent (a magazine I, otherwise, love) recently that talked about bottle feeding in a more attached way.  After a lengthy introduction all about the millions of reasons breastfeeding is far superior to bottle feeding, the author went on to describe ways you can try and make your bottle feeding at least good enough.  Some of these were so outlandish I'm not sure any new parent could do it.  Things like trying to pump your fore milk and hind milk separately (or, if you don't have enough milk, getting a donor to do so), and practicing skin to skin all the time (what about if you're out?  Or if your baby is crying to eat so you don't want to waste time stripping her and you down, lest you let her cry so long she attaches insecurely!? :) ).  The whole article had the tone of talking down to bottle feeders, which I didn't find very fair.

Anyway, my point is that no one book or philosophy can tell anyone how to parent.  And, I'm slowly learning that it's totally okay to take things piecemeal from different philosophies to suit my own needs and those of my child.  So, while I might not breastfeed exclusively, and I might go out to dinner once without my infant strapped to my chest, I am still treating her with love and respect, and I (hopefully) am instilling her with secure attachment and all that mumbojumbo. :)

The main thing is this: Happy Mommy = Happy Baby.  And if mommy spends all her time trying to fit into a mold or cook a certain recipe, she ain't gonna be so happy.

A New Valentine

Love is a funny thing.  So many people, from Plato to Haddaway, have tried to tackle the burning question: "what is love?"  But I think the problem with finding an answer lies in the fact that Love is not an absolute.  It's not definable as one entity because it encompasses so many different facets.

For example, I love cilantro, my husband, my mom, and travelling, but the love I feel for each of those things is so different.  Should they even be called by the same name?  Surely my love for cilantro is much stronger than my love for my husband.  (Wait, no, maybe that should be the other way around. ;) )

Happy Valentines Day!!

When Ebba was born, I learned a whole new kind of love, something I hadn't ever felt before.  It's not just that I'd probably jump in front of a train for her (I'd probably do that for the ol' husband too if push came to shove).  No, this is bigger, the kind of thing that doesn't grow like relationship love, but rather starts gigantic and then seems to...swell, organically.  I think it's a feeling that can only come when you have something that relies on you completely...and for the most part, you don't mind. (What's the difference between Ebba and a deadbeat moocher?  Nothing, except that I don't mind Ebba's moochiness. :) )

So, tonight -- Valentines Day -- David and I went out for our first solo dinner (duo dinner?) since Ebba's arrival.  We left the babe at home with my parents and were gone all of 2-3 hours.  We lasted not even two hours into the meal before we whipped out our phones and started looking at photos of Ebba, saying things like "Look how cute her little nose is!"  That is something I hadn't experienced before, that kind of longing to see someone after only being away a few moments.  And when I returned home, the first thing I wanted (neeeeeded) to do was  just pull my baby up into my arms.  And then we snuggled awhile.

So, what is love?  My take?  It can't really be defined or captured, only experienced in all its different forms.  And my recommendation is the more chances you get to experience it, the better!

How was your Valentines Day?

amc

PS - I don't think David and I will be out for many Ebba-free dinners in the near future.  We just missed her too much and I barely enjoyed the meal!  (Okay, some may call that codependence rather than love, but isn't the parent-child relationship codependent by nature at this age?)

Fluff Time! (Grovia AIO Review)

It was like Christmas here last week, when a box of all different kinds of cloth diapers from New and Green arrived on our doorstep!  I had completely forgotten that I ordered them.  So, for the past 5 days, I have been stuffing and snapping inserts, sizing the wee things, and changing Ebba's diaper way more often than usual just so I can give them all a try. :)

I figured, since I have them all here, I may as well write up a review for some of them.  First off is the Grovia organic All In One.

For those of you not in the know, there are tons of different kinds of cloth diapers these days -- not just those flat ones that require pins, plastic pants, and a lifetime of origami lessons.  (we do have and love some of that variety too, though.  They aren't nearly as difficult as they look. :))

But, I'm not reviewing those today.  The Grovia I'm reviewing is "all in one," which means it's as close to a disposable diaper as you can get.  You put it on and take it off all in one step - nothing to fold, stuff, or pin.  These usually come with snaps or velcro.  Some brands (like Bum Genius) offer a choice between the two, but the Grovia AIO just comes with snaps, as far as I know.

The interesting thing about this AIO is that, unlike disposables and other AIO diapers, the snapping system is reversed.  The flaps snap inside the front cover, rather than out around the front.  This actually makes the diaper quite a bit trimmer (it's already a fantastically trim diaper).

With some diapers, you have to trade trim-ness for absorbency; sometimes, if the diaper is thin, it doesn't absorb as much...and to get a lot of absorbency, sometimes you need a big thick diaper that has your baby's legs just sticking comically out the sides.  However, with the Grovia, it's trim AND super absorbent!  I haven't had a leak with this diaper yet, and I've been using it lots because I love it and it's SO CUTE!  Just see for yourself.

So, plus 5 stars for the Grovia AIO, and minus some dollars from my wallet to buy more! :)

Back to our regular "adventures in parenting" programming in the near future, so stay tuned!

Forget the Laundry

There are a few lessons that I am having a hard time learning as I enter the second month of my parenting journey.  One of them is that spending Ebba time is way more important than making sure the counter is free of dirty dishes and that the laundry is clean and folded at all times.  We have enough forks to last a week and I have enough undies to last a month, so why this preoccupation with keeping the mundane household tasks moving at warp speed?

I don't know.  It's not like I'm anal or anything, but I do like to have things a bit clutter free around the home.  It makes my mind feel less cluttered too.  But the way I see it, now that Ebba is around, there are less hours in the day.  And when she is not sleeping, eating, or crying, I have a choice of tasks.  I can:

(A) Play with Ebba, or
(B) Do housework

I know the answer seems like a no-brainer to most of you, probably.  But for me it was actually difficult!  I had to force myself to ignore the ever piling hampers and stacks of dishes in favour of giving my little one an infant massage or dancing around the livingroom with her.  Now, though, the rewards of Ebba time way outweigh the rewards of a clean house, so I think I'm getting the hang of it.  It helps that she's smiling a lot now in response to what we do.  (One of her favourite things is watching  her mum dance like a crazy person in front of her.)

I'm really glad I'm learning this now, because as I look ahead at future Ebba time, I realize that it's just going to get messier and messier.  I want to be the kind of mum who doesn't mind when finger painting goes off the paper, the kind of mum who doesn't constrain water play to "just in the bucket, honey," and the kind of mum who is okay with rough and tumble play and pillow fights.  I realize there will always be limits, like water play "just outside" and finger painting "not in the dining room" might be okay, but I don't want to give limits that are too restrictive to allow Ebba's natural and healthy brain development.

Recently (back before Ebba took up most of my reading time. :) ) I read a book called "It's Okay NOT To Share," by Heather Shumaker.  In this book, she outlines the Renegade Rules of child-rearing.  Rules like, "Hog that toy all day" and "Paint off the paper," that allow children to feel in control and accepted while they grow and learn.  She discusses how giving children freedom (while setting reasonable and non-arbitrary limits) develops the child's emotional intelligence so that in later life they can become happier, and more self-regulated and well-adjusted teens and adults.  Isn't that what we all hope for our children!

So, everyday I'm making more of a conscious effort to "forget the laundry" and focus on what really matters, the tiny human that moved into my house just over a month ago!!

What are some trade-offs you other mums (or dads!) have made now that you're parents?

One Month In

It's time to wish a happy belated one-month birthday to my little bunny!!  Here is how she celebrated:

Bad lighting in this pic.  I'm not actually a zombie!

So, now that it's been a month and I know everything about motherhood (har har) I thought I'd write about what it is to be a mum.  If you're interested in seeing my post on what it is to be pregnant, you can look here.

Being a mum is:

• realizing that you know nothing about being a mum.  :)
• Taking 3 days to finish a blog entry :)
• feeling more emotions at once than you ever have before: pride, joy, terror, exhaustion, awe, love, frustration, confusion, elation, amazement...  All. At. Once. :)
• talking about your baby's poop to more than just her Dr., even though you vowed you would never, ever do that.
• quickly amassing a whole list of other things you "would never, ever do" but now do: 
• spending whole days in pajamas (and I mean several days in a row in the same pajamas)
• Watching TV with the baby in the same room (okay, she's asleep when that happens, but still)
• freaking out about every little thing - "is she sleeping enough?  Is she sleeping too much?  Isn't she only looking to the left?  No, wait, today she only looks right!!  oh god!"
• having your sleep deprivation whisked away when you lie next to your baby, and she smiles at you in the moonlight
• sleeping for days on sheets covered in baby-pee and spit-up because you just haven't had a chance to strip the bed yet.  And, really, she's just gonna spit up on the clean sheets as soon as you put them on anyway, so why not just keep these on until she's past the baby spit-up phase? :)
• consuming only foods that can be eaten with one hand
• doing all of your own business (including toilet business!) in a hurry while sing-song-ing "Mummy's here!  I'll be right there!"
• feeling like you have a million and one things to tell people you haven't seen in awhile, then realizing it all consists of your baby's sleeping, crying, and pooping habits
• measuring a day's success by what baby is wearing.  If she's in a cute 2-3 piece outfit, it was a good day.  If she's in a 1-piece sleeper, it was a pretty stressful day.
• appreciating your partner more than ever before
• feeling a part of a new, exclusive mummy club; exchanging knowing smiles with other mums you pass on the street
• and experiencing such a new kind of love like you've never felt before that makes everything (including the pee-stained sheets, poo-namis, and midnight cry-fests) worth it

Surprise, surprise, being a mum is tougher than being pregnant.  But that doesn't make it any less wonderful!  In fact, it's more amazing than pregnant-me could have ever imagined.

So, happy one-month of life to Ebba and happy one-month of motherhood to me. :)

Thanks for reading,

Amanda