A tired mind and an hour to kill…

  I feel once again like I am at this crossroads where anything can happen. Here at the library without children for the first time in days, it feels as if the world should become quiet and stop for a time, and yet it keeps ticking on, the sound of espresso jetting out into a Styrofoam cup, the self checkout machine bleeping and blooping. I have another hour and a half of free time ahead of me and it seems that whatever I choose to do, it will be a wasted hour. I want to work on my book, my blog, my imaginary store that I’ve been building in my head. I want to curl up on a pile of cushions and read a book, take a nap. I want to spread out on the floor with paper and scissors and make the series of child’s stories that have been brewing in my head. I want to create. I spend my days cleaning and sorting and straightening and averting imaginary disasters. I inevitably find myself standing over the sink and dishwasher with little fingers pulling my hair, pushing my head. “Weren’t we just here?!” they seem to demand.

Yes we were, little one. And we will be again before you know it.

Then I am pounding out a cheap, but unsatisfying dinner and hoping that my husband won’t hate it. Wondering when, when he will be home to relieve me. Tired of being the last remaining sane brained adult in the house. I need a fresh ear to listen to the girl, a fresh brain to help me make decisions. Mine is toast.

Once he is here, I stop. Leave the dishes on the table until the morning. Hope future me will forgive this present me for giving up and handing the reins to her.

Be Well

A doctor that I once worked with would call “Be well!” to her patients as they exited her office from their yearly check ups. It struck me as a bit uncharacteristic coming from the mouth of a member of the medical community. We assume that doctors like to keep us, at least intermittently, “unwell’ or else they would be out of a job. So we do everything that we can to keep ourselves on that golden path of health. We take supplements and go to the new cadio-spinning-bo-laties class at the gym. We avoid sugar and caffeine and fat and stress. We detox and cleanse. And when we, or the ones we care for, get sick, we feel that we have failed them and ourselves. Or at least, I do. In the past several months, my house has become a den of sickness. It started in October when Little D passed her sniffles to Buds and me. The sniffles turned into six weeks of coughing, interrupted by a few days of vomiting and body aches, which was actually a refreshing change of pace until the fevers started spiking again and the baby pressed his palm against his ear and groaned long and mournfully. Todd abandoned us in the midst of things when his back went out and he had to have emergency surgery. (I felt awful for the day that I stood over him lying in bed and commanded that he “Buck up, because I need your help now!”) I was sure that there was some sort of penance that I needed to do to make things right, so I called my Older Friend and Mentor and formally apologized for judging her in my pre-children years when she would describe similar situations in her home and I would thank God for blessing me with a hardy immune system that my babies would no doubt benefit from. I would nurse longer, would feed them healthier, would keep them safer. I knew so little then. She forgave me, but still the pox was on my home. Just after Thanksgiving, it seemed that we were reemerging back into a place of normalcy. I was Christmas shopping with the baby when I ran into an aquaintance at Target, her arms loaded up with cough drops and vitamin C.

“Oh hi!”, she said, her hand reaching out to touch Buds on his fuzzy head.

I stepped back, looking at her purchases.

“Are you sick?”

She looked from her medicine back to me again. She looked hurt.

“Oh, it’s going to be like that then..” She turned and walked away. And I wondered what I had become.

Then for Christmas, my dear mother-in-law, who loves me no matter how awful I am, and always insists past my insistence on getting me something that I want, gifted me Aviva Jill Romm’s “Naturally Healthy Babies and Children”. I had initially requested it in hopes of learning more about herbal remedies that would keep my babies out of the doctor’s office. I saw myself mixing tinctures over a boiling cauldron and administering them to my healthy glowing children. I thought that she would teach me how to keep my little ones well. I began at the beginning, scanning a bit for helpful advice. Her first chapter: “Teaching Our Children About Health Responsibility” the sub heading “Begin With Acceptance”. She says:

“Remember that there is no one, pure perfect path…If we think that we must live “purely” and do everything “perfectly” to conquer or escape illness, we are creating the inner stress of always fighting or avoiding something..We should teach children that illness is a part of life, not the result of anything that they have done wrong..Ultimately, health is loving ourselves “for better and for worse”…And if illness does occur, it should be our goal to attend to it with grace and compassion, not guilt or blame.” pages 7-8

These words have changed everything about how I care for my family now, during times of illness and wellness. We are still in the thick of it. Today, we were supposed to be gathering with friends and family to celebrate Buds’ first birthday, but we made the tough decision to postpone the event for the sake of our children’s health and the health of our friends’ babies. And we had a wonderful day together as a family without the stress of pushing our little ones through an event that they would not necessarilly enjoy. And in the middle of writing this, D woke from her nap feverish and weepy and I went in without my usual resentment at being disturbed, to give her some mama love and to give Todd a much needed break.

Empathy

For those of you who are local, I want to share information about Ann Curry’s photography exhibition at the Palm Beach Photographic Centre. Yes, she is THAT Ann Curry of Today Show fame. Her exhibition is called “Empathy”. It is made up of a collection of photographs that she took during her travels for work and also include some very personal ones of her father just before and after his death last year. I was able to watch her introductory lecture on our local “West Palm TV” station, and I was struck, as I always am, by her gentleness and candor. All she asks from us as we look at her photographs, she says, is that we care. Between her striking subject matter (rape victims in Pakistan and the Congo, the Dali Lama,, AIDS patients in Iran) and her obvious skill behind a camera (she studied photography while she was in college) it is difficult to view the final work without feeling strong emotions. I walksd through the exhibit with Little D, almost three. She would point at a picture of a girl who had been brutally raped or a Sudanese boy that had seen his family killed by soldiers and she would ask, “Tell me that story, mama.” I had no words for her. All I could say was, “That girl is crying because she was hurt. And the boy saw something that made him very sad.” Sometimes I would point out details in a picture. “Look at those boys sitting on that dirt floor. That is their school. Does it look like your school?”

Go if you can and take someone you love with you. Thank God for the priveliges that we are blessed with in this country.

December 31st, is the last day that the public will be able to view the exhibition free of charge.

http://www.palmbeachdailynews.com/arts/content/arts/2009/11/27/curry1129.html

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Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes (and bare feet…)

In honor of Christmas week, I have decided to channel my inner talk show host, “Gran-Oprah”, and present my own list of:

A Crunchy Mama’s Favorite Things

1. Hyland’s products – Sniffles and Sneezes, Calms Forte, Honey Cough Syrup – I love them all. They’re natural, safe and they work! The sniffles and sneezes will dry up Little D’s nose in fifteen minutes flat!
2. Thirsties Fab Fitteds – In my three years of cloth diapering two little ones, I have tried a lot of diapers. Thirsties are my absolute favorite. I only have one, but it is the royal blue velour star of my stash. The velcro stays put, the gathers hold in messes, while the velour is super soft and cushy and never leaves a mark on baby’s skin. I do wish that they had an organic version, but that would be just TOO perfect.
3. Mei Tais – I have an Ellaroo, a Babyhawk, a Ball Baby and a OMT Didymos silver waves wrap conversion. For those who are a bit wrap challenged, like me, mei tais provide the best option to keep your baby secure and close to you. With a little practice you can get baby in and out in under a minute, and most mei tais wrap up small enough to fit in a diaper bag. The long waist and shoulder straps are infinitely adjustable and fit all different body types. Plus, I’ve finally figured out how to nurse in it without flashing the world.
4. Diva Cup – To be honest, between nursing and being pregnant, I’ve only had about five periods in the last four years, but I did get a chance to try out the Diva Cup before Buds gave me the plus sign last yeat, and I really liked it. That you rinse out and reuse. I would not have pushed this a few years ago, but I think that American women are starting to get over their silly aversion to touching their bodies.
5. Vinegar – It cleans everything and doesn’t give me a headache like every other household cleaner out there does. Just dilute it with water and a few drops of tea tree and sweet orange oil in a reusable spray bottle and you have a cheap and easy solution to everything from spotty windows to toilet gunk.
6. Cod Liver Oil – I’m pretty comfortable talking about my ongoing struggle with depression, and I’ve even referred to myself as the poster girl for Prozac. (I’m available if you want me, Eli Lilly.) But despite being an RN, I did not realize what a toll breastfeeding would take on my psyche until Little D was four months old and I was a blathering mess. The DHA that boosts baby’s brain development was being nabbed from my own personal stash. I’m a bit wiser the second time around and I now chug about two tablespoons of the good stuff (I like Carlson’s) straight from the bottle every morning after breakfast. It is amazing how much clearer and more rational it helps me feel.
7. Breasts – I held some grudges against my breasts before I became a mama, namely for not being able to wear a button down shirt or go without a bra, but motherhood made me appreciate why God made me with a generous bosom. They nourish and comfort. They’re portable and convenient. They make me feel like a walking miracle.
8. Baby washcloths – I wipe everything from bottoms to faces to counter tops with these. Just not all at once.
9. Any book by Dr. Sears – He’s my hero. Seriously. I can say that I would not be as gentle and nurturing a mama without his Baby Book and Nighttime Parenting Book. And I love that I can point to him (and his sons) and his decades of experience when the naysayers come out against my parenting choices. At the core of his philosophy is the fact that babies have needs, and our job as parents is to learn how to recognize and respond to those needs. Who can argue with that?
10. I asked Todd if there was any sort of invaluable parenting item that he could not do without that he wanted to add to my list.He said “Work.”Then we laughed together. I can’t fault him, because I know that I would go insane if it wasn’t for the two days a week that I work outside the home. His job however takes him away from home five days a week and many evenings. But it makes it possible for us to “live in a house and eat food” as I tell Little D when her cries follow him out the door. And even more than that, his choice makes it possible for me to raise our children. And so I think that a loving husband and father is truly this Crunchy Mama’s most favorite thing.(I rent him out on the weekends, in case you’re interested…).

I’m doing it wrong, too

I read this blog post from Emma Willer the other day, where she listed all the things she has done “wrong” as a parent.

http://wherewiller.wordpress.com/2009/12/11/parenting-ur-doin-it-wrong/

It made me think that now that I am writing this blog and putting myself out there as this “green-living-AP-sishly-natural-parent” will I get found out for the fraud that I am? Are the blog police looking through my trash right now? So in honor of Emma I am posting the following offenses that I have made in just the past week:
1.  I let Little D watch a DVD in the back of my minivan while it idled, with the AC running (South Florida here people, record highs) and justified my actions by assuming that nursing Buds in the front seat was offsetting my carbon emissions.

2.  I then went home and microwaved some Easy Mac for Little D’s lunch in a plastic container. If the movie watching doesn’t rot her brain then the yellow #5 tinged tumor I have created within her probably will.

3. She took one of her pretend naps where  she proclaimed, “I just woke up!” when I went to get her out as if I hadn’t noticed that she’d been singing “I want to be a Tinkerbell” at the top of her lungs for the past hour. She then proceeded to fight with Buds over a metal popcorn container that she had decided was her new throne and he had deemed shiny. Screaming and whining ensured. I picked up the offending container, wallked out of the house and dumped it in the outside trash can-recycling be darned.

I may have yelled, too.

And glowered.

And felt just awful about it later.

The thing is, I’m not going to pretend like I’m one of those mamas who has it all together. I’m a mess and I’m constantly making mistakes and learning and then forgetting what I’ve learned. I feel that we as mamas do each other a disservice when we put up a false front, and pretend that we somehow have figured out how to make this raising a person thing work. We need to know that there are other parents out there struggling as hard or harder than we are. We need to learn from each other. After I beat myself up for yelling at Little D, I went back and explained that even though what she did was wrong, it was not nice of me to yell at her. I apologized, and we snuggled for a bit. Until Buds crawled over to pull up on my shoulder and play D’s head like a drum…

What A Wonder(ful) Wash

I love my cloth diapers.
I love them so much that I am actually writing a book about them. (The Successful Author Lady said that I absolutely should not mention my book idea to anyone, but she was wrong about the nap thing, so it is possible that she could be wrong about this as well. Anyway, most of the people who are reading this probably know me and I doubt that now they’re saying, “Diapers?! Wow! What a super idea!” and running out to write a similar book. It’s probably more like “Diapers?! Wow! That woman is getting weirder by the day!”. So, I don’t think that you’re going to steal my ideas, but don’t think I’m not watching you all just the same.)
In my search to meet other like-minded parents, I was introduced to Tripp and Noah who moved here a couple years ago from Kansas. They have a precious little four-month-old girl named Adeline and NO LAUDRY FACILITIES! That’s right folks. They’re the most devoted, retro cloth diaperers that I have come across to date. They live in a small apartment complex with coin-operated washers and dryers that they simply can’t afford on their limited budget. So, even before their daughter was born, they discovered an innovative way to get their laundry done. It’s called a Wonder Wash. (Here’s a link:

Wonderwash

Sorry, I’m still no good at that HTML stuff, bear with me.)

They places their dipes, water and detergent in the pressurized container, crank for two minutes and drain. The they repeat it again with two rinses. They were able to line dry their clothes until recently when the management made them remove their clothesline. Now they use two hanging racks in their second bedroom. Tripp estimates that, though it only takes twenty minutes from start to finish to do the wash, it takes much longer to dry the dipes inside, putting them on about a three day cycle. I loved meeting Tripp and Noah and hearing about their devotion to cloth diapering even in the face of some real tough obstacles. It totally trumps the time that my washer died when Little D was just three months old and I had to wash all my dipes in the bathtub for a week.
If you’ve had obstacles to face during your CD journey that you have ultimately overcome, I would love to hear your story, and I welcome your comments below.

In which I expound on absolutely nothing.

As a mama, it can be very difficult to find time to write. I recently touched on this subject with a Very Successful Author Lady that a friend had introduced me to. She actually suggested that I write this blog. Our conversation went something like this:

Author Lady: You should write a blog.

 Me: I really don’t see myself as the blogging type.

 Author Lady: Why not?

 Me: I’m just not as creative as I used to be, and I’m short on time. I mean, just today I had to choose between writing and taking a nap with my baby. (I totally chose the nap, by the way…)

 Author Lady: (Looking aghast at me.) Successful women don’t take naps!

 Me: HA HA HA!!! I’m going to write that in cursive on my office wall!

 Uncom fortable silence follows during which I think the Very Successful Author Lady is looking a bit peaked.

 Todd has tried to help as much as he can when he is home, but he still gets a bit stressed out when faced with the task of watching both kids at the same time. I was setting up my computer this afternoon and both kids were down for naps when Buds must have hit his twenty minute sleep limit, because I heard crying followed by Todd yelling “WHERE’S HIS BINKIEEEE!!!! WHY ARE YOU CRYING BUDDY??!!!” and then more crying. On the plus side, I was able to get him to transfer Buds to one of my carriers instead of his beloved Baby Bjorn (aka. The Testicle Crusher). Todd just appeared in the door a few minutes ago and declared it “fine” which means he’s having a hard time coming up with a valid reason to hate it. Score one point for the home team!

Signing off.

Everything is quiet again and I need a nap…

Asleep at the wheel

I read this article about co sleeping this week,

http://www.jsonline.com/news/waukesha/76792482.html

and started composing a scathing retort in my head, thinking that it would be a great way to start this blog.

I was getting all up on my high horse, pulling out the speech about how our society is insistent on separating mothers and babies from the moment of birth and sharing sleep is the most natural act on earth and that Dr. Sears (my personal superhero) did his own sleep studies that showed that babies who slept alone had more erratic breathing patterns and  decreased oxygen levels compared to babies that shared sleep with their parents. I mean, it was going to be good, and all my readers would look back to that first post and say:

“Wow! What an amazingly passionate Zen mama that Stacey is!”

And then Buds fell out of bed.

Our really high bed.

At two in the morning.

I always make sure that he sleeps between me and Todd and I keep my arm under his head and around his body. But he’s gotten so squirmy lately and Todd has this pillow that he likes to hold onto while he’s sleeping  (I’m not jealous, really…) and he’ll be snoring in our ears. I must have rolled us over while I was sleeping, because I don’t remember doing it. All I remember was that I was dreaming about visiting our neighbors and they were telling me how they can fly through their walls. And then

BAM!

It woke me right up, and I wasn’t sure at first what it was, but I knew that it was very, very bad.

I was able to nurse Buds right back to sleep. Todd had woken up briefly and asked if the baby was okay. I said I thought that he was. I waited until Todd sounded like he had drifted back to sleep. Then, I very slowly lifted my left arm and reached over to Buds’ head, holding my breath, scared of what I might find. There was something warm and bumpy…his daddy’s  hand – doing the same thing that I was.

I went out and bought a bed rail the next morning.