Evilness all ablaze with sweet berry flavor

Last night in my car, I switched on NPR. They were running a story about an Iranian blogger who got arrested a year ago in Iran for being a blogger or something.

I'm not really sure. You know why? I switched stations to listen to music.

There was a time in my life when I would have gotten all irate and
when I got home I would have gotten online and read more about it, then sent off a message to some of friends about it, then signed a petition to have him freed.

Not anymore. My head is way too filled with other things like schooling and healthy meals for toddlers and autism and vaccines and avoiding the swine flu and potty training and playdates.......

Are you tired yet?

So, after I switched stations, I thought, "WTF. I used to DO this for a living." Report the news I mean. Not be an Iranian blogger.

So I switched back, determined to get my panties in a wad over the injustice in the world. By then they were talking about some wine being ablaze with the flavor of blackberry currant.

I clicked off.

A year ago, I was still an avid newshound. Even when Annika was latched onto my breast 24/7, I still couldn't wait to get my news fix first thing in the morning along with my coffee.

Two and a half years ago I worked for a newspaper. I was so on top of what was going on in the world I could have told you how often W took a shit.

And now that we have a president in office whom I voted for and whom I like, (not to digress, but I was actually a Hillary supporter initially).

I don't follow the news.

Can someone please tell me what it is about becoming a parent that makes you stop caring what is going in the world? Can someone please tell me why I have absolutely no interest in the news anymore? I mean, okay I do have an interest. But I have lost touch. I don't even know where to begin anymore. I miss it. And I miss the old me.

But I like the new stuff too. And I also like the new me.

Ironically, the new me is a lot like that NPR broadcast. First there is the old me who gets all fired up about politics and war and evil oppressive dictators. Toyin used to have to monitor the television so that Fox news didn't stay on too long. He was afraid my blood pressure would shoot up so high that I might have to be hospitalized.

Then there's the new me. All saturated and drippy sweet with mommy life.

Somehow I've got to find a way to fuse the evilness of the world with blackberry currant. I think this post is a good start. Now for the news.....

Unfooding myself

A couple of posts ago I wrote about choices. I've been thinking a lot about my choices lately. And with choices comes letting go of limits I've put on myself.

For years I've wanted to lose 10 pounds. I'm not counting pregnancy and post pregnancy weight here, just the basic weight that I am.

I hover around 140. I'm 5 foot 6 inches. I think that I would look and feel better if I could hover around 130. 125 would be even better, but I'd be happy if I could get that damn 10 pounds off as it seems like they are all right in the middle of body.

Overall I'm pretty happy with my body shape. I'm probably rare in that my goals are actually attainable, but for some reason, I simply can't get there. It's so close and yet, for the past 10-ish years, I've never managed to get down there.

I've gotten close. Sometimes I'm really good about eating right and exercising for a couple of weeks and I get down to 135. I'm not going to sit here and say that I've tried really really hard, counted calories, jogged, lifted weights, yoga-ed, spinned, boxed, tai chi-ed, you-name-it-ed. No, the truth is, I haven't tried that hard. The truth is, if I had tried that hard, I could probably lose that little bit of weight.

So why haven't I?

I really and truly don't know, but my brain keeps coming to this. Maybe I simply don't want to.

Maybe I'm happy with myself the way I am, gut and all.

Wait, I better check my birth certificate. Am I really an American woman?

It simply can't be! What? I'm not supermodel skinny! Can I be happy with my body even though it isn't perfect? Yes. I can. Because I choose to.

So, yeah.

The headline. Unfooding myself. Let me get to that before I start telling you how wonderful I think the rest of my imperfections are. (Tongue firmly planted in cheek.)

I'm a member on Sandra Dodd's Yahoo group called Always Learning. It's an unschooling listserv. I joined it a while back when I had heard about unschooling and was curious.

I wrote to the group last week and asked them about unfooding. I got some killer advice. One woman said she likes to keep a bowl of Dove chocolates in her kitchen so she can have it any time she wants it. I'm totally going to start doing that.

Another woman said she doesn't think of desserts as separate. They go on the plate along with the rest of the meal. I made brownies over the weekend and when I served Annika dinner the other night, I gave her the brownie along with her meal. She ate that first, but she ate the rest of her dinner too.

The point is, I have choices. And I'm going to stop putting ridiculous limits on myself. It's stupid to constantly tell yourself that that you can't have chocolate because you want to lose 10 pounds. But then after you have limited yourself for several weeks you buy a box of chocolate cookies and eat the whole box on the way home from the store and blame it on PMS.

Yeah, I've done that.

More than once.

Last week when I went shopping. I bought a box of cookies. I didn't eat it on the way home. But over the course of the next three days, Annika and I (mostly I) ate them all. I didn't feel guilty about it. I ate them whenever I wanted to. I did not save any for Toyin and I'm not even sure he knew they were in the pantry. (Sorry Toyin).

Then when they were gone. I made brownies. We ate them all over the weekend. And you know what? I don't want any more chocolate.

I can have it whenever I want it. I can. And I will.

Oh, and I weighed myself this morning.

135.

Parenting the Chris Rock way

One of mine and Toyin's favorite inside jokes is a line from Chris Rock's bit, "How to Maintain a Relationship." (Warning, this video is not for people who are easily offended. It's pretty typical Chris Rock stuff).

Our joke stems from the part where he is talking about how men don't actually need to talk back when women are talking.

"You gotta just act like you're talking. 'Get out of here. Go on! l don't believe it. You don't say! Really? Get out of here! Go on. l don't believe it. I told you that bitch crazy.

"You gotta throw in, I told you that bitch crazy, you know why? 'Cause every woman's got another woman at her job that she can't stand."

When Toyin and I watched that bit, we cracked up because we had a pretty typical couple issue in that when I was venting, he wanted to fix fix fix. Toyin is the master solution maker. But when I was upset, that's not what I wanted. I just wanted someone to listen. More importantly, I wanted someone to understand.

Shortly after we saw that Chris Rock bit, Toyin and I were walking into a Lowes one afternoon. Walking in front of us was a couple in their mid-forties. She was talking and talking, clearly irate about something, although not at him. She was venting. They walked closely, indicating an intimate relationship. He held his hand on her shoulder in a loving manner. As she talked and waved her arms about, he nodded and said in a nurturing way, "mmmm, hmmm."

Toyin and I laughed and looked at each other and he said, "I told you that bitch was crazy."

What we saw that day was a man who was simply listening to and understanding his woman. He wasn't trying to fix anything.

Well, kids need that too.

I recently wrote a post about how I started reading Tears and Tantrums by Aletha Solter.

I'm just about done and it is eye-opening!

Solter points that when children cry or tantrum, parents are in one of two camps. They either punish, or they soothe/attempt to find a fix.

I have been in the soothing/fixing camp.

But Solter says that neither one of these is a good idea and soothing away the tears is just as detrimental to the child as punishment.

Why? Because they don't feel understood.

Additionally, if you try to fix it, or you ignore, or punish, you are not letting your child release her/his stress.

And just like adults, they need to release stress.

Since reading T&T, I am actually encouraging Annika to cry when it seems like she needs it. Solter gives some recommendations to parents in the book, which I'm not going to write down because this is one of those books that you should read yourself as this is one of those ideas that really doesn't translate well through retelling.

But if you don't read it, a simple solution here is: next time your kid is having a tantrum, just remember, "I told you that bitch crazy."

Choosing to parent with the end in mind

I have choices.

That has been my mantra all week.

I have choices about what I eat, what I wear, when I sleep, where I go, what I spend my money on, who I hang out with, what I read, how I live my life.

The first several are no big deal, but that last one, well, that's the doozy.

Since becoming a parent I have realized sooooo sooooo much about why I think the way I do and why I live the way I do has so very much to do with the way I was parented.

This is not a parent-bashing post. My parents did lots of things wrong but they did lots of stuff right too.

They are not/were not perfect. My siblings and I have spent a lot of years being mad at them for all the stuff they did wrong. I think that is pretty common, although, we always thought we were the weird ones.

One thing my parents did wrong was not give enough choices. I think that is also very common. I don't blame them for it. My mom and I have had lots of talks about our childhood and her early days of parenting. As she puts it, "By the time you (me) came along, I was just trying to get through the day."

I have one kid and I feel that way a lot. There were/are four of us.

Mainstream parenting says that children should do what their parents say. I know plenty of people who think their children should just obey them. I know people who teach their kids not to touch their stuff, to eat what is put in front of them, to go to bed because "I say so," to hurry up, get to school, do your homework, eat your dinner, go to sleep. They punish, give rewards, spank, yell, blame, time-out, control, force, and just generally reckon with. And the next day it starts all over again.

It's how most people think parenting is supposed to go.

I was telling Toyin the other day that I hoped by the time Annika is a teenager I hope and pray (and I ain't a religious woman) that we do enough stuff right so that we are close. I hope she doesn't hate us and rebel in ways that would do long-term damage.

I don't think that's "normal."

Imagine a world where you start it out as an infant, and your cries go unanswered a lot of the time. Then you begin to explore the world and you are constantly told no. Don't do this. Don't do that. Don't touch this. Don't touch that.

Then the punishments start.

Your life is structured for you. You have very few choices about what you do on a day-to-day basis.

Then you finally hit an age where you begin to have a little independence.

No wonder teens are rebellious and angry!

I think it's a sad state of affairs in this world where "normal" means that teenagers spend all their time with their friends, feel alienated from their parents and avoid talking to them.

The teen years are a time when kids should be looking to their parents for guidance on a lot of things that are going to affect the beginnings of their adult life. That's a time when I hope and pray that Annika will feel close enough to me to discuss with me and Toyin things like sex and drugs and college and career.

So, anyway, I have choices. Yeah, I digressed the hell out of this post. But that kind of stuff has been on my mind lately and it all ties together. Watch me now.

I have choices.

I spent the first part of my life being told what to do all the time. Then I spent the first part of my adulthood parroting back what I thought I was supposed to do.

It would have worked if I had liked it.

I got married. I got a job. I bought a house.

I have none of those things anymore.

I hated it. It sucked. I remember thinking, "Is this it? Is this what life is supposed to be?"

I got rid of all that stuff and now I am not married. I have a kid. I don't have a job (that pays). I don't own a house.

I like my life so much better.

But I am still working on making choices to make my life better. I still struggle daily with the idea that I *should* be doing things a certain way. I struggle with the idea that I should eat a certain way, dress a certain way and behave a certain way. My inner voices fight all the time. It's fucking exhausting.

My point, and I do have one, or do I? Is this.

Giving a child choices teaches them how to live and how to ensure they are living the way they want to. I recently saw this quote somewhere online. It's from Stephen Covey's book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: "Start with the end in mind." I haven't read this book, but now I'm thinking about reading it.

I like the idea of parenting with the end in mind. When I was pregnant I used to imagine Annika as an adult. I imagined her to be tall and beautiful. I imagined her to be strong, independent, happy, courageous, curious, friendly, intelligent, and loving.

I imagine her this way because this is the way I hope she turns out. I am curious about the semantics. What will her humor be like? What will her fashion (or lack of) sense be? What kind of work will she want to do? What kind of music will she like? Will she travel? What hobbies will she take up?

These are the kind of things I will leave up to her. But I think the other stuff is up to me and Toyin.

So, I parent with the end in mind. I want Annika to know that her choices will define her life.

Somehow, I got through a lot of life before I figured that out. I thought my life was being controlled by some outside force. Then one day I woke up and realized that my life had turned out exactly the way it had because of all the choices I made. I made a lot of good choices. But I made a lot of bad choices too.

So, I have choices.

I have choices.

As the mother of a bi-racial child, this makes me furious and scared

I am white. My daughter is half black. And when I read this story this morning my heart raced with rage and fear.

Wait... what year is this?

A judge in Louisiana denied a mixed race couple the opportunity to get married in his court because of fear for any children they might have.

"He came to the conclusion that most of black society does not readily accept offspring of such relationships, and neither does white society, he said.

"'There is a problem with both groups accepting a child from such a marriage," Bardwell said. "I think those children suffer and I won't help put them through it.'"

That is utter BULLSHIT!

My family and Toyin's family love Annika dearly and neither one of them has ever once expressed concern for her race.

What really gets me is that another part of justice of the peace in Tangipahoa Parish Keith Bardwell's, reasoning is that interracial marriages don't last long.

Uh, last time I checked lots of marriage's don't last long, whether they be white, black or whatever else.

What really gets me is that this asshole thinks he has the right to deny the Civil Rights movement and flout the law against discrimination.

Why is this jackass still an employee of the UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT?!

Oh wait, it's ok. He's really not a racist. He still lets Black folks use his bathroom.

HOW NICE OF HIM!

Babies on drugs flinging poop

This was my Facebook status tonight:

today Annika kicked @Lorien's baby gate several times. Hugged Rafi. Didn't want to hug Rafi when parents were looking. Came home, ran around saying nononononono. Wanted to nurse. Wanted to read. Nursereadnursereadnurseread. Now's she asleep. Toddler life.

After I read this, I thought, "Man, it's like being on drugs."

This is why I believe wholeheartedly in Attachment Parenting. That right there.

Can you imagine being that confused and disoriented all the time, only to be yelled at, spanked, shamed, and then be put to bed and left crying yourself to sleep?

I think that most parents look at their kids like little adults. But they aren't.

Yes, they are little tiny human beings. But they don't have the cognitive skills that (hopefully most) adults have.

It's like those science monkeys who can practically have a conversation with people using sign language, but after you finish playing backgammon with them, they get pissed off and throw poop at your face.

I mean, if I let her, Annika would probably throw poop at me and laugh. It's not because she's mean. It's because she doesn't understand that poop is filled with bacteria that could make you sick. And it's gross.

Annika likes to say poop. She thinks its funny. She also likes to say shoes. She also likes to say food, then when I give it to her she says nonono and throws it on the floor.

It just seems like it must be sort of wacky in their heads. That's all I'm sayin'.

Rant over.

Enter Tantrum

Annika's has been such a sweet and happy-go-lucky kid for the most part that there was this little part of my brain that has been continuously whispering soothing thoughts in the back of my head when I see other children throw tantrums.

"Nooo, not our Annika," a Gollum-like voice hisses into my brain when our playgroup friends demand toys and yell at other children.

"Annika is a gooood gurl. She will never act like thaaaat."

Well Gollum voice, go to hell, because damnit, my kid is normal and today the fit hit the shan, so to speak....

Annika threw a full-on tantrum on the living room floor that lasted a good three hours.

Ok, ok, it was really only about two or three minutes, but geez, did it feel like a long time.

I just started reading Tears and Tantrums: What to Do When Babies and Children Cryby Aletha Solter, because, quite frankly, I did see this coming. I just hoped I was wrong, or that the little mini-fits she was having were the worst it was going to get.

Before I started reading T & T, I thought that allowing tantrums was a bad thing. And honestly, I think that sometimes there are fits that are really and truly manipulative. I know that makes me sound very non-AP, but I'm starting to realize that there are no hard and fast rules for anything and when it comes to children there are subtleties that only the parents will pick up on.

But this book defies all laws of nature and everything our parents told us (and we all know that they are right about everything) that tantrums are actually a good thing.

Whaaaaaa??

Yeah, it's like a sneeze, says Solter. Because see, toddlers are still learning how to control their emotions and when they are upset, confused, frustrated, angry, in pain, tired, cranky, irritated with you, bored, anxious, impatient, you-name-it, they don't have the words or the power to fix the situation.

So what do they do?

They lie on the floor and flail their arms about and roll around and cry and scream and look at you like you're the devil. Then rush into your arms for a hug. Then push you away.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

So yeah, the above is pretty much the scene today when Annika awoke from her nap and I abruptly got up to answer the phone while she was still lounging at the breast.

Normally, I would do one of two things. I would either hold her close and say, "There there, it's okay. What's wrong? How can I help you? What do you need?"

OR, I might, depending on the situation or my mood say something like, "Oh no. There's no need for that behavior."

But today, since I started this book and I was curious about the advice, which is to simply let it happen and stay with your child while it happens.

I did just that.

For one, she raged longer than normal.

And two, when she was done. She hopped up off the floor happily. Patted Baltar, while cooing at him. Then she came over to me and gave me a really long hug and kissed me.

It really seemed to make her feel better.

In addition to letting the child clear out her feelings, the theory behind this methodology is that if you punish or soothe the tantrum away, you are not validating your child's feelings. This could potentially be the beginning of a life of unexpressed emotions. Distrust is another problem too. If you don't validate or allow expression of the feelings, the child will not trust you to really hear her/him.

I'm not totally sure how I feel about this idea. I like it. I hope it's correct. But I'm not completely convinced yet. I'll have to wait and see if this method continues to work so well.

I also plan on reading more about this subject. I'd love to hear suggestions for more material.

And now, for the best part.


Because I'd rather leave you with an image of Annika dancing, not throwing a tantrum. Plus, it's cute as hell.

Monkeying around with food

Today I was visiting with my friend Sonya and, as women do, we got around to discussing our eating habits and weight loss. Naturally, since we are also parents, this discussion morphed into our theories on how to teach our kids about food.

We both have a fondness for starchy and cheese laden foods, as well as sugar. Knowing that too much of these kinds of foods are not good for us, we have already begun to come up with ideas on how to thwart bad eating habits in our children.

It seems like with food, everyone knows what they don't want. For instance, Sonya and I agree that we don't want our children to attach emotional rewards to certain foods, as we do.

We know that we don't want our children to overeat or to eat things that will give them long-lasting health problems like high blood pressure or heart disease.

But the conversation got me to thinking.

What do I WANT for Annika. Not just what do I not want, but how to I want her to view food?

And just what is the best way to go about helping her learn the best way to view food?

Personally, I seesaw between being puritanical about food and binging. I don't like cooking and I lack the creative sense for making it look good. Therefore, I will eat whatever is put in front of me as long as I can stomach it and I am hungry.

My ex-husband, who was in the Air Force, used to tease me about my laziness in the kitchen. He once told some friends that if I was stranded and I had all the makings for a three-course meal, but I had to cook it, and my other option was an MRE (acronym stands for meal-ready-to-eat, those freeze dried camping thingies, also used for military) that I would choose the MRE. He was right. At the time anyway. I think now I'd take a stab at the cooking.

BUT, I also have certain go-to foods when I am depressed, anxious, bored, lazy, lethargic.... You get the point.

Food can be emotional for me. It seems that it is for a lot of people. Maybe everyone? I don't know about that. But I'd like to think that food doesn't have to be overly emotional. I guess that is what I want for Annika.

Sure, I'd like her to enjoy her food. I want her to be able to find enjoyment in all areas of life. But I don't want her to attach certain emotions to certain foods, like for me, when I get depressed I need chips and salsa. (When I went through my divorce, I practically lived on them. I am NOT kidding.)

But, back to my conversation with Sonya. I found that our goal is essentially the same -- to have children who make healthy choices and don't have weight problems or other health issues caused by eating habits -- our approach differs somewhat.

I tend toward the idea that with food, less is more. And more is less. In other words, little to no regulation of food is a good idea. This idea is otherwise known as unfooding.

Sonya's approach is to make healthy food attractive to her son.

I've realized that these are both good ideas and I want to find ways of making healthy food more attractive to Annika so that she doesn't struggle with making choices based simply on what tastes good, but what is the best choice for her health and how it makes her feel physically.

In order to learn how to make choices, one must HAVE choices. And food should be something to enjoy just like anything else.

This is what I struggle with. How to balance the enjoyment of food without overeating?

Annika doesn't seem all that interested in real food. She'll still nurse any day over eating regular food.

Lately I've been thinking about ways to give variety and make food attractive, like making monkey platters (the name is from unschooling/unfooding mama, Sandra Dodd) and using Bento boxes. From what I've heard, variety is key with little kids and also it helps give them extra choices.

So for now, I'm looking for ideas on how to put some variety into Annika's diet while also giving her healthy food choices.




A sad and pathetic first attempt at a monkey platter. She seemed to like it anyway.

Putting the human pacifier to rest and oh, I'M the mom

It's been about five weeks since the start of weaning Annika from the human pacifier (me) and I figured I should make a final update and then let the topic go about it's merry business.

In the past two weeks or so, it's come to my attention that Annika is finally getting used to the idea that I am no longer going to accommodate her wishes that I lie in bed with her for every sleep session allowing the suckling to continue indefinitely.

Tonight, she actually popped herself off after falling asleep, within a minute or two. I was very happy about that.

She's still waking up after about an hour or two once I put her to sleep, but she's sleeping longer and longer during the night. I was discussing this with a friend today, that I might not really need to night wean her.

So sure, the process took longer than it could have. And I won't lie. There were a couple of rough nights where she cried much longer than I was comfortable with. However, I am sure that nothing I've done has damaged our attachment and I don't think she ever felt scared or unsure that I wasn't going to be there for her. She was angry, sure, maybe a bit uneasy with the new situation, but not scared.

In addition to me finally getting some evening time back, I've noticed some other positive results. She's sleeping more deeply and her vocabulary has increased like crazy in the last few weeks.

That could be a coincidence, but I don't think so.

She's now saying lots of words: cat, hat, Mama, water, shoes, up, food (well, she says foof, but we know what she means).

Yeah, Mama. She says it, but she doesn't seem to be referring to me. Until today. She looked up at me and said, "mom?" It was surreal. I went, like, "Oh, shit, I'm the MOM!"

Yeah, 9 months of pregnancy, 19 1/2 hours of labor and 16 months later, and I still can't get over it. I'm the mom. Wow.

Funny baby video of the week

Toyin loves Beyonce, and now, he loves babies. Here's his funny baby video of the week.

Backflash, pre-parenthood days and picking a natural labor doc

I'm writing a brief story, for another publication, on how to find a doctor who is pro natural childbirth. I thought I should share my story of switching doctors mid-pregnancy, since that is what spurred me on to write this list for my readers.

I wrote this sometime after Annika was born in 2008.

It was January when I began giving some thought to a natural childbirth. I was due in May and it took me about a month to fully commit to the idea.

By the time I decided to discuss it with my doctor, I had already taken many steps toward embracing natural childbirth.

While at work, I had spent more time reading on-line about natural childbirth than I spent working.

I borrowed a copy of Hypnobirthing: The Mongan Method, read it, and had called to request a chance to audit a local class.

I had written my birth plan.

I had begun convincing Toyin that this was a good idea. (He needed lots of convincing.)

And then, I decided to discuss it with my doctor.

It had never occurred to me that she would not be supportive.

How naïve I was.

She laughed at me!

She didn’t even try to hide her amusement.

“Well, okay, you can do that,” she said gleefully smirking. “But you wouldn’t get a root canal without any pain medication would you?”

She clearly thought I was insane.

After she read my birth plan she told me that she thought I would be more comfortable at the birthing center.

I got no respect from this woman. She practically kicked me out of her office after insisting that a copy of my birth plan be put in my chart.

As I slunk out of her office, I imagined that while I had waited in the examination room, she had passed my birth plan around to her staff and they were all laughing at me.

Even so, on my walk of shame out of her office, I felt good about my decision to have a natural birth. This was not the doctor for me, but I knew that there had to be a doctor out there who would be supportive.

Maybe I was being foolish, but I wanted the best of both worlds. I wanted to do it my way, but with an emergency crew waiting in the wings just in case anything went wrong.

I did not want a midwife, I wanted a doctor, who had an MD behind her name.

I am a firm believer in modern technology and medicine.

I had already considered the birthing center and had decided that I would be more comfortable in a hospital.

I have nothing against the birthing center or midwives. In fact, I’ve heard great things about them and think it sounds wonderful, as long as everything goes right.

But even if I had wanted to use the birthing center, I couldn’t.

I had high blood pressure while I was pregnant and considered high risk, which made me an ineligible candidate for the birthing center.

Even without that consideration, I wanted to be surrounded by every possible machine that could make a difference just in case my baby had any problems. It was simply my own preference.

I was definitely birthing in a hospital.

Before I decided to completely cut myself loose from that doctor I just so happened to make a visit to Round Rock Medical Center, the hospital where I would birth if I stayed with her.

One morning at work, I had one of those new mommy panics where I thought the baby wasn’t moving enough and called my doctor’s office who told me I should get to a hospital immediately.

Once there she was fine, jumping around like a firecracker, but since I was there anyway I asked for a quick tour.

After a few minutes with the nurse, I knew that this was definitely not where I wanted to birth.

As she showed me the labor room, we began chatting. She had read my birth plan and told me that “quite frankly,” she thought it was a bit “wacky.”

She also told me that while many women who came through their hospital did natural birth, that for the most part, the doctors there were strictly “by the book” and followed the policy of “cya.”

“Cover your ass,” she explained in response to my confused look.

Did I want a doctor who was going to force me into a rigid “by the book” labor, forcing interventions on me at the first hint of inconvenience or potential problems? Or did I want a doctor who was going to do what was best for me and my child?

On my way back to work, I called up Rhonda, my soon-to-be hypnobirthing instructor and left her a message asking her if she knew any doctors who would be supportive.

She recommended Dr. Christina Sebestyen, who I did use and I loved her, although she did not actually attend Annika's birth. During my labor she checked on me numerous times, but told me she'd been at the hospital for three days and she was exhausted. I labored for several more hours after she had gone home. It didn't matter. I had a fantastic nurse who I will always be grateful to for being so supportive.

The fact is, if I knew then what I know now, things would be MUCH different. Since Annika's birth I have met a large and supportive community of women who are pro natural labor. Hearing stories about home births and the birth center have made me wish I knew them all along.

Overall, Annika's birth went very well, considering it was my first time and I was actually pretty uneducated, even though I thought I had done lots of research. I got lucky. More to come later.

Fate took a big crap on my head last week

I haven't been able to write this week because my head has not been in a good space for writing about parenting, which is, I guess, essentially what this is supposed to be about.

I'm about to go off on several tangents, but stay with me because it all ends up in the same head space.

I met up with parenting coach Sandra Blackard for an interview a couple of weeks ago. What I wrote about her in that story was the basics. But what she talked to me about was so much more.

Blackard's technique of "Say what you see" for kids works great.

To boil it down, you literally always just say what you see.

For instance, you want your kid to eat his vegetables. "But I don't LIKE vegetables. I don't want to eat them!" he says. So instead of engaging in a power struggle over the vegetables you go, "You really don't like vegetables. You don't want to eat them."

Then, using SWYS, hopefully, the kid will go something like, "Well, maybe I like green beans. I'll eat green beans, but I won't eat cauliflower!" So, there. Problem solved.

Blackard says with SWYS if you allow the child to be heard, they will always come up with a solution to the problem.

(I totally just made up that example, so Sandy, if you are reading this and you want to comment further, please do so. I should say at this point that I do not profess to be an expert on SWYS.)

Moving on.

Okay, interesting enough for the kids, although her idea isn't really new to AP literature. Haim Ginott's ideas have been around for a while and are ingrained in AP readings by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, (the "How to talk..." ladies).

What intrigued me most about Blackard is that she encourages you to use SWYS on yourself too.

Ever since I met with Blackard, I have found myself really listening to MYself. And actually saying what I see, or really, HEARing what I am SAYing inside my head.

For instance, when Toyin says he is going to be home by 5 p.m. and then he doesn't show up until 5:30, in the past I would have found myself going, "YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO BE HOME BY 5!" Then storming angrily around the house muttering and/or shouting about how he NEVER shows up on time and how pissed off I am and now my evening is RUINED!

Instead, now, I say to myself, "I don't like that. I really don't like it when Toyin doesn't do what he says he's going to."

Then I can say calmly to him, "I don't like that you didn't show up when you said you were going to. I really don't like it when you don't show up on time."

This confronts the problem without being accusatory or judgmental and states the OH-SO-OBVIOUS, well, at least it was to me. Right ladies?

As I write this I realize that using Toyin is a bad example because if he reads this then he's going to be like, "Yeah, you still yell at me all the time."

But anyway, the point is, I have been hearing myself. I'm finally listening to myself. And it's helping me solve problems for myself better than I have in the past.

This leads me to my next tangent.

Last week I got an e-mail from a woman I've seen only a handful of times. She came to my house once for a playgroup and we've seen each other at a couple of AP functions.

She responded to a post I made on our online forum when I posted a link to a story I had written about Austin Attachment Parenting.

I swear to the gods, I have always toyed with the idea that I believe in fate, but I was never sure. I am now cuz Fate bitch-slapped me and said, "Hey, WTF Martha! How can you not believe in me? I'm right fucking here!"

Ok, a little over the top I know. But that's how I felt.

Like, ok, back to SWYS for a minute, Blackard uses the metaphor of talking to kids like you're on a map. Like, you can't tell them to turn left at the Stop sign if they are on the playground and there's no Stop sign. So, you have to be where they are when you are guiding them and that's how they will know where to go next. That's how SWYS works. If you can't see it, then don't say it. Right? Right. Get on the map. Then you can move forward. If you're not on the map, then how can you find direction? Metaphorically speaking of course.

So, like, I'm on the fucking map and this chick Michelle e-mails me with an idea that she wants me to write about: UNjobbing.

That's not a typo, dudes. I am not making this up. There's unschooling and now, I have finally heard it all. Unjobbing. It's basically being self employed. But it's being self employed because you really don't want to have a J.O.B.

That's totally what I'm trying to do.

Do you see how there I was on the map and then out of the blue someone came along to inspire me? How can I ignore that? I mean, it's like a fucking Lifetime movie of the week starring Melissa Gilbert.

See, I don't want to work away from my home for several hours a day and have to stick Annika in daycare. The reasons why are many, but Annika is the supremo number one reason.

Michelle's idea for an article was to talk about how she and her husband, Joel, are able to work from home and stay with their daughter, Siena. She loves it so much that she wants to inspire other people to do the same thing.

So I went over to Michelle's house and we talked about self employment and unjobbing and unschooling. She's really cool. And when I left her house I felt so motivated and positive about my life that I realized something. And for the first time I heard myself say it. Out loud. In my own head.

I don't like having a job. I want to work for myself. I want to be self employed. I want to be my own boss. It's scary. But there it is. Right there in my brain. And it's been there all of my adult life.

So this morning as Annika and I were lying in bed performing our mandatory, morning nursing session, I was thinking about how I haven't written a post in almost a week. And I was thinking about Sandy Blackard. Then I was thinking about all the random and various ways I plan to go about making money. Then I thought about Michelle e-mailing me and our visit at her house and I realized it all tied together. And voila! I knew I had to write about it.

As our morning wore on, I boiled and churned this blog post in my head, I came up with the headline because I knew that this all stuff -- Say what you see, listening to myself, unjobbing, being a mom -- all of this stuff is part of my journey of being mindful.

Then in my head popped my headline, "Wherever you go, that's where you are." I know it's nothing new, but it totally fits with the mindfulness and the map analogy.

And now for the best part, I know, I know you thought I was done being all zen and shit. But here goes.

This morning, on a total whim I decided to take Annika to Ruta Maya for the morning kid's show. The act was Sarah Dinan, a Celtic singer, who also does kids songs. She's a mom too.

And she's singing kids music and we're clapping hands and singing and having a grand old time. Then she says she's going to do one, just ONE mind you, of her Gaelic tunes. She tells us, "Okay, you probably won't understand the words because it's in another language, but the name of the song is -- get this shit -- "Wherever you go, that's where you are."

I shit you not. Okay Fate, c'mon over here and give me a big hug.

Another update on weaning of the human pacifier

I am late in making this update, but it is because we had some crazy nights last week.

During week three of weaning the human pacifier, (Can you believe it's only been three weeks? It seems soooo much longer.) we went from going to sleep really easily, to four nights of flat out, unmitigated refusal to sleep until I was ready to go to bed and essentially forced her to get in bed with me.

Last Tuesday, I found some really awesome YouTube videos by searching "lullaby." Annika loved them and she watched them until she was really sleepy, then passed out after nursing for only about three minutes. She slept for two and a half hours before waking up and crying out for me.

These are my two favorites videos.





Then Wednesday came along and she was like a wild woman. She would watch the videos, then nurse and just as her eyes would be fluttering closed, she'd pop off, roll over, stick her tiny little head up and grin while she rolled over me to hop off the bed and look at books.

This happened every night until Saturday. Then Sunday she nursed to sleep pretty easily. Last night was weird, she watched videos, then I was able to easily nurse her to sleep.

The weird part was not how she went to sleep, but how she slept. First of all, she slept for about three hours before waking up at all.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to find that she'd crawled off of the bed and fallen asleep on the floor. I debated bringing her back to bed because I didn't want to wake her. Ultimately, I decided in all good conscience I could not leave my baby sleeping on the floor. So after a few minutes of debate, I pulled her back into the bed. And she didn't wake up!

Then later in night/early morning, I awoke to find her sleeping half on the bed and half off. I did leave her there since she was technically still on the bed. When I got up at 7 a.m. I put her back on the bed where she stayed asleep for a few more minutes.

The only thing that's changed is her getting used to sleeping without a boob in her mouth. In a previous post I wrote that I heard somewhere that it takes six weeks to change a habit. But last week I heard from another source that it only takes three weeks. So, it's been three weeks. Is the habit changed?

THAT is still the million dollar question.... To be continued.

A single stay-at-home mom's story about healthcare

I am one of the 40 million people in this country who does not have health insurance.

The recent debating about Obama's health plan has made me quite uneasy about the state of my future health.

While I would like very much to see a public health insurance option enacted, my biggest fear about the new plan not being enacted is the loss of the clause that says insurance companies can no longer deny coverage because of pre-existing conditions and they can no longer drop people for expensive-to-treat diseases.

See, I'm healthy now. But I have committed the cardinal sin of going without health insurance, not just in the past year, but a couple of years ago for approximately seven months after a layoff. I worry that one day I will contract a hideous disease and even if I have insurance, I will be denied care because of my lapse in coverage.

I don't think it's fair that people can be denied coverage because they lost a job and couldn't afford to shell out $400 a month for COBRA while unemployed. And it's equally unfair to discriminate against someone because they made a life choice that doesn't line up with typical American lifestyle.

The thing is, for the most part, I have always played by the rules.

As an adult, I have been a contributing member of society and I have had health coverage.

I went without insurance during my college years, not an uncommon occurrence amongst the young. When I was 22 I married a military man, which meant the government covered me. It was, if not the best, certainly the cheapest health coverage I have ever had. (It was all free, even prescriptions.)

By the time my ex was discharged from government service I had gotten myself a job with a lovely benefits plan. For seven years I worked that job and enjoyed plenty of doctor's visits, and a low co-pay.

Then I decided to go back to college and get a degree. When I graduated I moved jobs, but I still had health insurance. It wasn't quite as good, but it did the job.

Then, a layoff. Boom. I was told I'd have coverage for two months, but when I went to refill a prescription a month after my layoff, I was denied unless I paid full price because my coverage had been canceled. I couldn't afford the COBRA So I went without.

Sixteen months ago when I left my job to stay at home with Annika, I knew that once again I'd go without coverage for some time. My employer covered me for six months after her birth. But when that lapsed, I was, once again, vulnerable.

And again, I couldn't afford COBRA.

I've heard people say things about uninsured folks, as if they are lazy or just losers who don't have a good enough job to have insurance. Maybe they just don't care enough. Maybe they want to get sick and have to go to the hospital and then skip out on payment because they are deadbeats.

I'm so sick of that attitude.

People don't have health insurance because of circumstances that leave them with any sort of safety net.

When I left my job to stay at home with Annika, I had two choices when it came to health care.

Go without or get a job and take my daughter to day care. But I believe that babies need to be near by their mothers (or fathers) during the first years of life. The reason I chose this route wasn't because I wanted to sit around at home, but because I wanted to give my daughter a healthy start in life.

Staying at home with Annika meant I could nurse her full-time. It meant she could slowly integrate into this world with the person who cares for her the most. Being a stay-at-home mom meant I had time to bond with her. It meant the world to me. Honestly, the insurance thing wasn't much of a quandary at all. I just knew that I'd go without.

So, there's my story. I hope that if anyone is reading this who thinks Obama's plan is a bad thing, all I ask of you is this. Please try to assume that most folks who don't have insurance aren't lazy losers, but honest folk just like you who are just trying to get by in the world. Shouldn't everyone who lives in the richest nation in the world have access to affordable health care?

My mom met a woman at the doctor's office yesterday who told her that she had brain cancer, and is currently using COBRA because she is laid off. But when her COBRA expires, she'll be left without health insurance and will, in all likelihood die.

It makes me sick to think that people are being swayed by the arguments against this bill. Who cares if illegal immigrants are allowed to purchase a public option? I bet nobody is checking the records of the big insurance companies to see if they are allowing illegals to purchase their policies.

So here it is, time for health care reform. Will it happen? Will we finally get some change in this country or are we going to let health industry lobbyists and bi-partisan bickering continue to kill people?

Co-parenting as an alternative lifestyle

In a recent e-mail from a reader our family life was referred to as an alternative lifestyle choice.

For those of you who are not aware of our situation, Toyin and I are exes who chose to live together during the first year/s of Annika's life so that I could stay at home with her. We made the choice for financial reasons.

When my reader made that comment, it got me thinking. Could this situation that Toyin and I have created become an option that might become more common in the future?

Current trends indicate that it could. At least, in my opinion. I've not seen any research to support my theory, just in case anyone is wondering.

But if you think about it, look at the way youngsters today behave in and view relationships.

When I was in my 20s, sex was way more casual than for instance, my parent's generation. One might sleep around with random partners, but it was for fun, or the result of too much partying. But casual sex aside, a relationship remained the goal.

To our parents, casual sex was typically out of the question, or so they said.

Now that casual sex seems to have become even more normalized, it begs the question, will this generation be more careful about birth control, therefore having less unplanned children?

Or will unplanned children just become used to a different standard of family. I think this generation is savvy enough to figure out that there are more choices than: A.) Getting married, B.) Being a single mom with a deadbeat dad C.) Having a weekend-only dad.

Our family works. Like I said in a previous post, some days it works really well, and some days it is a living hell. But it works as well as any marriage. Maybe better than some, not as well as others. Some people find it odd, and most people question how we do it. The most common question I get is, will it continue indefinitely?

Our current situation will not continue indefinitely. The current plan is that during the next year some time, we will not live together anymore. But we will always parent together. We haven't discussed the semantics of visitation or custody. I hope that we never have the need to talk about that stuff. When I was pregnant Toyin once started talking about going to court and drawing up custody papers.

I almost fell apart. Here my kid wasn't even born yet and battle lines were already being drawn.
I didn't blame him or get angry at him (although, it is possible I yelled, which I have a tendency to do...), I understood that those seemed like the natural options.

So I said to him, "Hey, lets see if we can work together on this and make our own decisions." I told him that I never wanted some judge to make parenting decisions for us.

He agreed pretty wholeheartedly if I remember correctly. I think he might have even been relieved.

We agreed to live together for the first year and see how things went. Annika is almost 16 months now and we are still living together. We are talking about moving into separate places, which will probably happen over the course of the next six months or maybe sooner.

Toyin has said he plans to see Annika every day. That is about all we have talked about. I plan to see her every day as well, unless she and Toyin are on a trip together.

We plan on living as close by each other as possible so that Annika can have the best of both worlds.

Ironically, I was thinking about how the religious right has been making such a fuss over gay marriage, saying that gay marriage is going to ruin marriage as an institution, then quietly, here we heteros have come along and snuck up on them with a scenario that nobody ever even thought of.

You can have kids WITHOUT getting married. HA! Take that bitches!

Week two of weaning the human pacifier

In the past two weeks I've seen some very moderate changes in Annika's sleeping habits. She will now, for the most part, accept being popped off the breast so that I can get up once she's asleep. She is still only sleeping an hour to an hour and a half without waking up and crying out for me, but it is an improvement. This has given me some much needed time to myself. Because of this, my head is becoming uncluttered and I am feeling like a much nicer person.

In addition to the benefits to myself, Annika also seems to be benefiting from the extra rest.

She also seems to be sleeping a little harder and deeper than she was before. In the past, I was a bit concerned that because of the suckling, she wasn't actually falling into a deep sleep and therefore, not getting the rest she truly needed.

She has been saying and doing things in the past couple of weeks that she hasn't before. Naturally, because of her age, it could be simply a coincidence, but I have my doubts about that.

She is now saying a whole list of new words, mama, cat, car, truck, seriously. Seriously, she said, seriously. She was repeating what Toyin said while he was joking around with her. Only it sounded more like, "seessly?"

After months of calling all animals woof woof, or go-go, her word for dog, she is now saying cat, and pointing at pictures of them and saying meow. In the past two weeks she has started pointing out her head, belly and feet. She can distinguish between her toes and feet. She is starting to shake her head "no" when she doesn't want something. She has started using a fork. She is very interested in how cups work, although, she still mostly just pours water onto the floor and herself, she can drink from a regular cup.

This morning, I watched her as she took a cup, filled it with water, drank some and then pulled it away from herself and poured the water down her front. It was no accident. She was examining how the liquid drained from the cup.

Also, she has been saying up, for a while now, but now it seems more definite. Like she really understands what the word means. She puts her arms up and says firmly, "UP."

There have also been a couple of times she has woken up and gone back to sleep without nursing. She just snuggled up next to me and fell back asleep. For the most part, she is still nursing when she wakes at night, which is still at least three or four times a night. I'm not really sure how much she is waking up at night since I am starting to sleep through a lot of it, or at least, I'm not being fully awakened, as I was before.

The progress is slow-going, but it's nice. And other than the first couple of nights, there has not been any major drama. Earlier this week I went to the library to get some work done and Toyin put her to sleep. He was able to get her to sleep and put her down in bed, something he has not been able to do since she was very tiny.

So, folks, we have progress. I read somewhere that it takes six weeks to change a habit and get a new routine started. I will update along the way. Happy trails.

Does this mean that bottle feeding is possibly linked to postpartum depression?

Just another good reason to breastfeed. I have no idea if bottle feeding is linked to postpartum depression. But it seems like a logical argument.

This one is for you Ted and Renee: Top ten reasons why having a kid is great

In one of my recent posts I apparently spooked some of my non-parent readers with my description of bedtime woes so lest anyone should decide against becoming a parent because of this, I want to name off a few awesome reasons why having kids is well worth it.

Now, I could name a bunch of mushy reasons, like how great it makes you feel when your baby smiles at you or what a sense of accomplishment you feel when your child pees in her potty all by herself. But I won't. Because that stuff will only make sense to people who already have children.

So here's my list to all you folks who think parenting is a real drag. It's not. I promise. It has it's sucky moments, but those moments are outweighed in vast numbers by the awesome stuff that comes with parenting.

Reason number 10:
You get to read Dr. Seuss books. Remember the classic Green Eggs and Ham? Sam I am! I do not like green eggs and ham! I do not like them in a boat, I do not like them in a moat.... We just started reading Dr. Seuss to Annika and she loves it. She's totally obsessed with The Foot Book, but I'm sure that we'll graduate to Green Eggs and Ham eventually.

Reason number 9:
You get to talk like Pootie Tang. And when you do, nobody calls you a dork and stupid for liking that movie. Cole me down on the panny sty. Sepatown.

And the best thing? When you talk like that, you get an answer that makes equally as much sense. Matter of fact, it makes tons of sense to both of you. Kappa Chow mofos.

Reason number 8:
Kids crying in public is no longer a bother. You know how when you go out to eat and at the next table there's a bunch of fucking booger pickers running around flinging french fries at you and their parents are just staring out the window as if they didn't notice? Well, that's because they didn't.

When you go out without your kid, those kids won't even register on your radar because you are just glad to be at a restaurant drinking a margarita with your friends and not having to wipe someone else's face or pick up french fries off the floor when you're done eating.

Reason number 7:
Naps. When you're a parent, nobody thinks you are a lazy schmo for taking naps. You actually get congratulated for taking a nap. People pat you on the back and say, "Good for you for sleeping in the middle of the day. I'm sure you really needed that."

Reason number 6:
Swings. Maybe it's just me. But before I had Annika I used to walk by the swings at parks and look dreamily at them, wishing I had a reason to swing and pump my legs as high as I could, like when I was a kid. When you're a single person with no kids, people look at you funny if you go to the park by yourself and play on the toys. If you're a jungle gym person, by all means, feel free to go hang upside down until you turn red in the face.

Reason number 5:
Cartoons. Need I say more? Seriously.

Reason number 4:
Laughing. When you have a kid, you laugh all the freakin' time. You laugh when you wake up in the morning, just because. You laugh when the dog drools on you. You laugh while you're eating breakfast because your toddler thinks it's funny to feed you. You laugh at the park and on a train. You laugh in the car and on the plane. You laugh at a cat, at a hat, at a bat and after a nap. You laugh at the park, in an ark, and at some guy named Mark. You laugh on the potty and while drinking hot toddies. You laugh at night and with a kite. You laugh here, you laugh there, you laugh and laugh everywhere.

Reason number 3:
Snacks. Did you know that with kids comes a requirement that you carry food with you at all times? Yeah. It's true. If you are a well-prepared parent, you will always have snacks with you. Granted, it's usually fruit, or cheese crackers or some form of cereal, but it's food.

And it's not just for the kids. You can eat it too. You can even pack separate snacks for yourself. So instead of heading to the closest vending machine, whenever you get hungry, you can just reach into that giant bag you're carrying and pull out some food. It's awesome. Now I'm hungry.

Reason number 2:
Cuddling. Ok, now you're all like, "Dude, you said you weren't going to get mushy on me!" But seriously, this isn't mushy. Cuddling with a baby and toddler is so much fun. When they're sleeping they are really warm and their skin is really soft. Lately, Annika's new thing is that she is really into sitting on stuff, me included (and Toyin), so she backs up to us and plops her little booty on a lap and then waits for us to read to her, or play drums.

Reason number 1:
Baby hugs and kisses. Yeah, still not mushy. Ok, maybe a little. But baby hugs and kisses are the best ones you will ever get. When that tiny little arm wraps around your neck, you can't help but totally melt all over the ground.

And the kiss, well, it's fucking priceless. Because little babies and toddlers don't know how to purse their lips. They just place their mouths on you and drool. And for those of you who think of your dogs and cats as your kiddos, well, let me tell you, baby drool is a million times better.

Another sappy rendition of how much I love my child, that, and some commentary

A recent post on doubleX has got me thinking about my initial days as a mother.

When I first read the essay, which parallels Katie Roiphe's first days as a new mother to an opium den, I marveled at the the beauty of her description of newborn/mother love. I remember feeling this way.

Apparently there was some backlash about the essay, saying that it wasn't an accurate description of the newborn days and that the narcotic effect of the pregnancy hormones doesn't last for long, then drudgery sets in.

I thought Roiphe's essay was a beautiful description of the newborn days, even if it isn't completely accurate.

Annika's birth commenced an epoch when my arms became a cradle of motherly love, depth and warmth. My breasts ceased to be sexual objects and became a form of nourishment, comfort and consolation. Gone were/are the days when the public cries of children are an annoyance.

During Annika's newborn days I remember thinking that somehow the presence of my eyes upon her face, even while she slept, was a necessity to her development. And even if I hadn't thought that, I couldn't look away. The magnetic draw to stare at her was instilled so powerfully in me that I often wondered how I would ever be able to tear myself from her side when the time came. The image of Annika's minuscule newborn fingers and toes are etched in my memory for life. I can still feel the smooth glass-like quality of her soft skin under the soft touch of my stroke.

Truthfully, I also remember having a crick in my neck so bad that only a chiropractor could alleviate my pain. Pregnancy left me with plantar fasciitis, not to mention that the newborn days are filled with worries about weight loss, and a number of other standard physical ailments left from pregnancy and labor.

I also remember crying and telling Toyin how desperately I needed to be able to leave for an hour to go the gym.

I agree with Allison Gopnik where she writes In Defense of Katie Roiphe that the essay is akin to a love poem. While Roiphe's essay may not be exact, what is significant to me is the depth of love and bonding she experienced. It is the beginning of their attachment relationship. And remembering her son's newborn days with the honeyed glow of intense craving is more important than remembering with factual accuracy how tired she was or her body's aches and pains.

I am in the throes of missing the newborn days because I see the baby days slipping away day by day as my baby morphs into a little girl.

But the feelings I felt then, the keen craving to be close by my infant, are still intense for me.

Even now, 15 months later, I ache when I am away from Annika for a few hours. This morning when I left the house, she was gone with Toyin on a shopping mission. It is the first time I have ever left while she is gone and won't be home when she gets returns.

It looks like this is going to be harder than I thought

Day eight of weaning from the human pacifier.

I made a major boo boo last night. I was the one who backslid this time. Consistency is key when trying to institute a new standard, especially when one is dealing with an almost-16-month-old who is not at all happy about the new rule. And I was not consistent last night. I pulled a fast one on Annika, which was not cool at all.

Last night Annika fell asleep on my chest nursing while I watched TV. I managed to pull her off my breast without waking her. Toyin had gone out for a rare evening to meet some friends in from out of town and I was feeling very put upon, even though he totally deserved to go out and have some fun. So I decided to keep her on my chest and continue to watch a Reba marathon. Seriously, I know, it's Reba McEntire as a divorced mom, whose adult children still live with her, and her ex-husband his ditzy wife live nearby and are always popping in and out. Sometimes I think I must have a short in my brain, but when I am tired and cranky really stupid TV shows are like crack to me.

So anyway, Annika woke up an hour later and stayed up for another hour and a half. Apparently, she wanted to watch Reba too.

When I finally took her to bed, I fell asleep and slept through the suckling. And so, two hours later, I awoke to find her on my breast still.

"Uh oh," as Annika says now.

I tried to unlatch her and she demanded more nursing. So I let her nurse.

Then, I fell asleep, again!

Two more hours later I awoke and unlatched again.

There were some tears, and I nursed her back to sleep, finally managing to stay awake so I could unlatch her.

Well, at least I'm sleeping again.

Adventures in backsliding and tearing up Band aids for fun

Here it is Friday afternoon, one week since I started weaning Annika from using me as a human pacifier. We've had a couple of not-so-good nights. But right now she is napping, alone, without a breast or a warm body to snuggle up to. She also ate a proper lunch, which she doesn't always do. So I am considering this nap a success, even if she only sleeps for an hour.

Up until Tuesday, Annika did really well with sleeping on her own at night for a few hours before I came to bed. Then hump day came along and she was no longer interested in accommodating our new arrangement. To be fair though, it was due to some congestion in her throat. So, Wednesday night, as she tried to fall asleep nursing, she kept coughing and gagging from the milk as she tried to nurse. She was very frustrated, so we got up and suctioned out her nose, blew it, and then nursed to sleep. I stayed with her.

Last night, all bets were off. She flat out refused to even try to nurse to sleep. She'd lie down with me, look at books, start to nurse and then as soon as her little eyes fluttered close, she'd roll over, hop up on all fours and smile in the most beguiling way possible and go get some books to look at. Even though it was dark and we could barely see them.

Finally we got up and went in the living room and put on Planet Earth. This was a recommendation from a friend of mine who uses the DVD to calm her own son, who is the same age as Annika. It works with Annika sometimes, but it didn't last night. She kept running around like a mad woman. We finally went to bed together at 10:30 p.m.

No big deal. See, if I've learned anything since becoming a parent, it's not that being a good parent means you have a perfect kid. It just means that you know your child. I wasn't surprised that Annika had a rough couple of nights. I've learned that sometimes I just have to give her space to do her thing. Trying to force her into what I want doesn't work. So I give in. I let her have her way sometimes and tonight, we'll go back to trying to do things my way.



Annika's new favorite thing to do is tear up Band aids. She is fascinated with pulling them out of the wrappers and then pulling the tabs off of the sticky part. But if she gets the sticky part on her, she freaks out. If anyone knows of a good toy that would simulate something like this. Please let me know.

How we got from there to here

Annika's sleep habits have been the hardest part of the first year of her life. Other than sleep issues, Annika has been a super easy baby. She's a happy-go-lucky kiddo. She smiles all the time. She gives hugs and kisses. She's curious about the world around her. She loves to laugh.

But sleep has been an issue. For the most part of her first year, I have been pretty sleep deprived. Well, after the first four months anyway.

So here goes.

I am embarrassed to admit that during my pregnancy I didn't do much reading up on sleep habits of infants. I had no idea that infants can't just fall asleep on their own. And I had no idea that they wake up a lot. I mean, A LOT. You know that saying, "sleeping like a baby?" Whoever said that was a moron... or didn't have kids... I mean.

When we brought Annika home from the hospital, the first night I nursed her to sleep, put her in her crib and went to bed. She awoke around 2 a.m. And I sat up in the rocking chair nursing her until she went back to sleep. I remember moving to the couch staring at her for awhile while she slept. I was able to carry her around and she'd stay asleep. I thought this was how it would be.

Little did I know that newborns are very sleepy during the first week or so. It makes sense if you think about it. They've just had a major move. They went through some major trauma, essentially being evicted out of the womb.

But after a couple of weeks, all of a sudden, sleep doesn't come so easily. And I quickly learned that the easiest way to put her to sleep was to nurse her all the way down.

I never planned on co-sleeping. I'd heard all of the negative things about it.

“You'll never get them out of your bed if you co-sleep.”

“They won't learn how to sleep on their own.”

Yada yada yada.

I was going to have none of that.

Well, after waking up every night around 2 a.m. to nurse and then again around 6 a.m. again, to nurse. I realized one night that I could just take her to bed with me when she awoke at 2. I decided to ignore those stupid voices in my head that said she'd never want to leave my bed. Plus, I'd been reading Dr. Sears and he promotes the hell out of co-sleeping.

I decided Dr. Sears and myself were right. It would be easier to bring her to bed with me. So I did. And we were happy. I was getting plenty of sleep. I'd wake up easily when she woke me at 2ish. She'd nurse and I'd watch her dreamily and stroke her hair while she nursed; then when she was done, I might get up to go to the bathroom; then I'd go back to sleep for another nice four-hour chunk of sleep.

It wasn't long before I was skipping the crib altogether and just nursing her to sleep in my own bed. Often, I stayed in bed with her. I was tired, she wanted to nurse. It made life easier.

I wondered why people said newborns didn't sleep well. When people asked me how Annika was sleeping, or commented on how I must be tired. I'd say, “No, I'm not tired. I get plenty of sleep. It's not good quality sleep. But I get plenty of sleep.”

I realize now just how lucky I was in those first few months. Sometimes I wish I had realized it then. But how could I have?

When I told other parents how well Annika slept, they said, “Oh you are so lucky to have a good sleeper.” In some way I knew it. But I didn't really get it. I couldn't have. I had no idea that I was resting up for what were to be some of the hardest, most tiring days of my life. Nineteen and a half hours of back labor had been a cake walk compared to this.

At this point I was just about to write that it's probably a good thing I didn't know what I was in for. But then I revisited that thought. No. It is not a good thing I didn't know. It is a very bad thing I didn't know. If I had known. I think, I hope, that I would have prepared myself better for it. I would have asked for more help. I would have done more research. I would have been better prepared and maybe it would have gone more smoothly. Maybe it wouldn't have lasted so long. Maybe she would be sleeping better now and I wouldn't have to wean her from using me as a human pacifier.

But, as they say, kids don't come with manuals.

Becoming a parent is like getting an Ikea bed off of Craigslist with no directions and no picture of the final product. You've got all these crazy parts. Everything looks the same. All the holes fit together, so you're not really sure if you've got the right parts attached to each other and just when you think you've got it put together right, you look down at the floor and see this tiny little bolt and you figure, oh, it's no big deal, the thing is put together. It seems fine.

Then you go to sleep that night and in the middle of the night the bed comes crashing down around you. You are running through the house crying because your nipples are sore and you are tired of nursing, and your neck hurts and your back aches, and you are tired of getting woken up just as you drift off to sleep, so you are trying to get the bed some water thinking that might pacify it, or maybe you just want to go to the bathroom, meanwhile the bed is screaming from the other room as if its going to die and then this random thought floats through your mind that if only you'd found where that bolt went, maybe you would be sleeping happily in a safe and secure bed right now. But you have no idea where the bolt even is anymore and even if you knew where it was WHERE THE FUCK IS THE SCREW IT FITS ON?! I DON'T KNOW!

That paragraph is a horrifying metaphor of several nights I had around the six month to eight month mark of Annika's life. And maybe a few between eight and 10 months, although I don't think they were quite as dramatic the second time around. Maybe it was because it wasn't as bad. Or maybe it was because I was used to getting woken up for the seventeenth time to nurse for five minutes or an hour, or three seconds and then two minutes later, again for 20 minutes. And then 30 minutes later just as I was about to drift off again for the seventeenth time that night OH MY GOD SHE WANTS TO NURSE AGAIN I AM IN A LIVING HELL!

Ok, so, yeah, that basically describes the sixth month, most of the seventh month and some of the eighth month.

I didn't dream at all during that time and most of the time I felt like I was living under water. The world was right in front of me, but I was detached from most of it. I lost words mid-sentence. I couldn't quite see what was right in front of me because often it was blurry, or there were dark swirly waters and waves drifting in front of my face.

I think for the most part I had just gotten used to it and started sleeping through some of the night wakings because I know that during eight months to a year, Annika still woke up a lot. I mean, a lot. But it wasn't every night. We'd have a bad night or two, then she'd sleep ok for a night or two, or sometimes a week, then we'd have a bad night again. But these nights weren't so bad because I knew what to expect. I knew that if I got up, it would just get worse. So I'd lie there and stare and think.

I found ways to enjoy the time while Annika nursed and slept. I spent a lot of time staring at her dreamily and reminding myself that she would not be this little for very long. I cuddled with her. I stroked her hair and kissed her face. I kept the light on and read parenting books. Toyin bought me an iPod Touch for Mother's Day, which was one of the best presents he's ever bought me. And he gives good presents.

So, we got through it. Now we are in a new phase. I know she might backslide and I'm okay with that. The cool thing is I've realized that these days were a good thing because I've learned a lot. I am much cooler under pressure. And I've realized that the infant days are prep work for the future. I feel like we've prepared a good solid foundation.

Update on weaning from the human pacifer

So far, so good.

I can't believe it's going so well this time. See, I actually tried this before, when Annika was eight months old. At that time, it was two months into the human pacifier habit, and I was feeling really frustrated. We went through some really rough nights around that time. So at eight months old, I tried the No Cry Sleep Solution, by Elizabeth Pantley. This is not a judgment on Pantley's advice, I've heard lots of mamas sing her praises, but it didn't work for us. Not one bit.

Annika is a lot like me in the respect that she knows what she wants and she is going to get it come hell or high water. I admire her strong spirit, but when our bullheadedness clashes, it is not pretty. I am already thinking ahead to her teen years when I will likely be going through menopause. Lord help us all when that time rolls around. In about 15 years if Texas starts having earthquakes, you'll know why. That will be me and Annika duking it out over who gets the car that night.

So, yeah, it didn't work well at eight months. But now, it is working like a dream.

I was able to get up during her nap yesterday. I did have to go in and nurse her back to sleep once, but I was able to get up again. And SHE STAYED ASLEEP. That never happens.

Then last night, I was able to watch almost an entire movie after she went to bed.

It is truly a miraculous thing.

Balance is good. My brain is feeling clearer and the days are looking brighter. I no longer get that sense of dread when it is 7 p.m. and I have to get myself ready for bed because there is no telling if I'll be able to slip away in order to brush my teeth.

Weaning the human pacifier, night two

Tonight went much easier than last night, so far.

At 7 p.m. I took Annika into the bedroom. We read three books and then she was ready to nurse. By 7:30 p.m. she was sound asleep. She even unlatched on her own. Her mouth had fallen open in a rare deep sleep where she is no longer nursing.

I waited a few minutes, then tried to get up. She started awake and immediately began to root around for my breast. I decided to let her have it. I figured I should have waited longer to try and get up. I let her nurse for five minutes. She was sleeping, but still nursing. I unlatched her.

Knowing that she was not fully asleep, I felt more emotionally prepared for what was about to happen, than I did last night.

As soon as I stood up, I could tell that she remembered last night. Even so, I attempted to sing and sway. She was having none of it. This time she fought me harder. She arched her back and wailed. She pushed away from me in a mean tantrum.

As I swung her around, trying to sing, I felt a nervous laugh well up, I tend to laugh when I am nervous.

Standing there, grimacing, with my 15-month old thrashing around upside down, kicking and screaming, I had a moment of clarity. One of those moments where you can see yourself and you are in full and total control of your actions and emotions.

I took a moment to wonder why I was nervous.

Was I nervous because I wonder if I am doing the right thing? All along this sleep process I have been listening to the advice of other attached parents. The basic idea is that most kids who need to sleep with a breast in the mouth or right up next to you with full body contact, is that they will eventually outgrow it and begin to sleep longer and easier.

Other parents have told me this and they tell you all kinds of ways to deal with it. Watch TV with close captioning on, use an iPod Touch (which I have), bring your laptop to bed with you, take turns with your partner, keep the light on and read, keep your kid up until you are ready to go to bed, get an Amby bed (it's a cradle-type contraption that sways).

All of these are good ideas, and I have used some of them over the past 15 months.

But as I stood there swaying and holding my thrashing child, I knew that continuing this way of life was not an option for me. I feel resentful and impatient when I am lying in bed with her when I am not tired, when I have other things to do. I know I will be a better mom to her during the day if I can get some things accomplished while she sleeping. I will be more attentive and happier. Therefore, she will be happier.

And I knew that Annika would be okay if I did this now, even though it would not have been okay before. She might be angry, but she will not feel scared or lonely. She knows that I will come to her when she cries out. I have told her what the plan is. She understands me. I am not always sure on what level, but she understands. So, she might be unhappy about it, but she is not confused, or losing trust, or feeling unheard. She's just pissed. I can deal with that.

Even though I listened to all these other parents and their advice for the past 15 months there was always this little voice inside my head that said, "They are wrong. You know what's best for you and Annika."

So maybe, I wondered, am I nervous because I am finally listening to myself? It's something I've always struggled with.

Despite myself, I have often ignored my inner voice. That has gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.

So, nervously, I did what I knew was right for our family.

After a few minutes of struggling, I took her out into the kitchen, wiped her face and offered her a drink of water, which she angrily turned down.

We went back into the bedroom. As I approached the bed, she laid her head on my chest asking for comfort. I put my hand on the back of head and kissed her. Then we laid down, and I nursed her to sleep.

She has now been sleeping for almost an hour. Alone. Without a breast in her mouth.

Weaning the human pacifier, night one

Toyin and I had a long talk tonight and we have decided, or rather, I decided and he agreed to go along with it, that enough is enough. It is time for me to reclaim some consistent me time.

I have read plenty about regular weaning and night weaning, but I haven't ever read much about what to do when your toddler is addicted to suckling your breast while she sleeps.

I have no inclination to night wean yet. But for some reason, that seemed to be the only option, until I realized what it was that I wanted the most was not so much to not get woken up in the middle of the night, but to be able to sleep next to my child WITHOUT my boob in her mouth. And most of all, what I want is to be able to put Annika to sleep and then get up and be an adult for a few hours.

When this all started around six months of age, I thought it was a phase. That's what everyone told me. "Oh, it will only last while she's teething. She'll hit her developmental milestone and she'll go back to sleeping the way she used to."

Well, here it is nine months later and she's teethed and not teethed, milestones have come and gone, and she's still doing it.

It is a habit now, a habit I need to break.

Over the past few months in particular I have spent a lot of time thinking about this. When she was coming up on a year, I figured I could wait it out. Everyone said that babies start sleeping better after they start to walk and after they turn a year old.

Maybe some babies do, but mine hasn't.

We decided to start the process tomorrow night, which is a Friday. But tonight, as I laid down with her, she fell asleep and I was able to get up. Five minutes later she was crying. I knew what I was in for. She was going to take my breast in her mouth, latch on, wrap her hand around my breast, sling her leg over mine and settle in for the night.

NOOOO, my brain screamed. NOT AGAIN! I MUST BE FREE!

So I went in, nursed her and sang for a few minutes and then pulled her off my breast. She protested with a screech and stiff body, then settled back to my breast waiting for what she usually happens. Me offering the breast.

This time I said no.

I picked her up and began to sway and sing.

Oh no, no mother. She wanted none of that. For a few minutes she screamed, arching her back, pushing away from me all at the same time leaning her head in toward my breast. This went on for a few minutes. Then we left the room to clean her snotty nose and give her a drink of water.

I did this four times before she finally gave in and nursed all the way to sleep. The last round of it, she threw herself around the bed, stiffening up and screaming and running for the door several times before she finally allowed me to take her in my arms once more and give her the comfort she was looking for.

The whole process took about and hour and half. I'm hoping it's less tomorrow.

Slowing down to smell the stillness, re-energizes

I just used up a bag of flour that I've had in my pantry for the past couple of years.

I only had it for the occasional sauce thickening agent, or... uh... why did I have that bag of flour? I guess it's just one those things that is expected. One must have flour, or you cannot consider yourself a member of polite society, or something like that.

The point is, I used almost all of it in the last month.

I actually used the flour -- to bake.

Since becoming a mother, I have gone through a metamorphosis. Recently, I have emerged with a fresh desire to actually experience such ordinary activities as eating and dressing.

I want to avoid flat, lifeless experiences like shopping in a grocery store with tinny muzak playing in the background, dead air circulating, and food rotting in piles with Sale signs flashing in front of my face.
I want to roll my own flour tortillas from scratch, and make fresh pasta.

I want to grow a fall garden and sew my own clothes. I want to keep chickens in the back yard, (yes, we can do that in Austin, Tx, I think...) so I can eat fresh eggs every morning. I want to avoid buying things that come in packages.

I realized that somehow, this all ties in to my last post here.

In my last post I wrote about how I am feeling free-er than I have in months because I am finally able to get up when Annika falls asleep.

But the truth is, it has only been recently that I have even wanted to get up again.

For the first months of Annika's life I sat with her during most naps and held her, breathed in her sweet newborn-ness. I loved snuggling with her and most nights, I couldn't wait until bedtime when I could snuggle with her tinyness. I loved the moment she fell asleep when her solid little legs would stretch out on top of my legs, her soft breath slowing, and her little eyes would shut and I could see her dreaming and happy because she was in the crook of my arms.

Something about becoming a mother has made me stop, take a look around, and really be here, right now, something I have been attempting, and failing miserably at, for several years.

Having a child has breathed new life into this world, into my world.

When I first thought about having a child, I thought I would stay at home with her, for her. Not for me. I looked at it as a sacrifice.

There is a common expression, "gift of life." I always assumed that meant the parent giving life to the child. And now? I see it the other way around.


My first attempt at homemade tortillas.