Category: Parenting

November 30, 2010 Bellies and Babies, General Post a Comment

Nesting

Guess it’s been awhile since I’ve blogged. As this post title would indicate, I’ve been quite busy nesting.

I actually feel like I’ve been nesting this entire pregnancy. I’ve rearranged and organized the entire house. I’ve put little systems in place that make it possible for me to get my housework done – at least to my satisfaction. I’ve created routines for myself and the kids that make our days run more smoothly. I’m filling the freezer with food so I won’t have to cook or worry about what people are going to eat while I’m snuggling a newborn. I’ve gotten most of my Christmas planning and shopping done. And I am feeling really good about the home we’ve created to bring this little baby into.

I know I wasn’t nearly this prepared to bring home my other two babes. With Helen, I had grand plans to cook ahead, but I never got around to it. I think I somehow expected life to be easier after my second was born – like I knew what I was doing. I didn’t. I was a mess.

This time, I’m trying to be more realistic. And more prepared. Which is easier, because this time, I have a little bit better idea of what needs to be done. And I have more realistic standards. I now that my older children will need to eat and that I will need to be prepared to feed them. I also know that it is perfectly okay for them to live for awhile on a diet made up solely of PBJ, canned fruit, apples, mac & cheese, cheese sticks and gold fish crackers. They’ll be thrilled, it’ll be easy for me, and we can worry about variety and nutrition when I’m no longer nursing a newborn around the clock.

On the other hand, I know that my hubby and I are not usually content with such monotonous fare. Especially me. Especially when I’m nursing a newborn around the clock. I must eat. I must eat copious amounts of food. I must eat meat at every meal. And so I have a freezer full of food that I like and that can be quickly nuked to feed a starving new mama.

My vision for this time is a bit different too. I’m learning to live with a bit of mess. I no longer harbor delusions that I’ll be able to get through baby’s first year with a shiny sink. I’ve built into my daily routines times that are just for sitting with my kids. I no longer rely quite as much on television to babysit my kids, and at the same time, I have no guilt about using it when I need it.

All of these are practical, pragmatic changes I’ve made that I hope will help me get through the addition of this new bundle of joy without a third bout with post partum depression. I know I still have some personal demons to face. I need to trust in myself as a mother. I need to trust that I can parent my older children and my newborn in a way that won’t mess them up for life – even if that doesn’t look like what Dr. Sears or Alfie Kohn or the wonderful, gentle mothers in my mother’s group would consider ideal. I need to know that children are resilient and what they most need from me is my sanity. I need to know, deep in my soul and not just intellectually, that life is not perfect, that I am not perfect, that my imperfection is not the end of the world and that we will all survive it.

September 26, 2010 Parenting, The Joys of Boys 3 Comments

Flash Back: Stomping Turtles

Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I had driven past a guy selling baby turtles out of the back of a truck. A couple of old friends warned me to keep my son away from the turtles. The story that prompted this admonition is now 4 years old. But it’s pretty funny and I thought I’d share it here for those who didn’t know Henry and I then.

When Henry was just a week past his 1st birthday, and had been walking for just a few days, I took him to the zoo. We went into the children’s petting zoo where they had a very large turtle wandering around. Henry was fascinated by this turtle. He kept following it around while I spotted him to keep him steady on his new land legs. Except at one point, he lunged forward and stepped on a, ahem, rather delicate part of the turtle. The next day I was still so upset by the incident I posted about it on my parenting forum.

Kind of sill maybe, but bugging me 

Yesterday at the zoo, I think Henry stepped on a turtle’s peni$. The turtle had extended it for whatever reason and as it started to walk away it became visible. Henry took a step toward it and stepped on it. The thing that’s troubling me is that the peni$ looked a lot different after Henry stepped on it.

I feel really, really horrible about this. The petting zoo attendant saw it happen and didn’t say anything. I was really close and trying to keep Henry from hurting the animals.

Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it, but I feel sick about it.

Not sure what I want to hear, I guess this is just a confession. =P

I was genuinely concerned about this poor turtle and my conscience was really troubling me.  The initial responses to my confession took me off guard.

— LOL! Don’t know what to say??? ETA Can you call the zoo and ask about it, to help you feel better and see if anything really happened?

— Is it bad that I’m laughing so hard I can hardly type?

And so I responded.

I know it sounds funny, but if you’d seen that poor turtle’s peni$. . . 

What if they tell me the turtle is irreperably damaged and in terrible pain? How do you know if a turtle is in pain? I mean, he didn’t scream or anything when Henry stepped on him. . .

Maybe it would make me feel better to call.

But, oh my, do you think person answering the phone would think I was just a complete freak?

“Um, hi, yeah, I was there yesterday, and my toddler stepped on the petting zoo turtle’s peni$. And the peni$ looked, ummmm, different after he stepped on it. And I, uh, googled “turtle genitalia” to get pictures of what a turtle peni$ should look like, and, uh, it did not look like that after my son stepped on it. So, um, I was wondering if the turtle is okay.”

This, apparently, did not help my fellow forum goers stop laughing.

— Stop! I think it’s the mental image of a turtle walking around with his peni$ sticking out…

— You just gave me my morning laugh! If it’s bugging you, call. It’s nice that you care so much:) 

— LOL OMG I am laughing so hard. If the zoo attendant saw it occur and wasn’t concerned then I would just let the zoo deal with the turtles peni$. I think they WOULD laugh at you if you called with your concerns about the turtle.LOL

— I am finally home from work and can let myself ROFLOL. I have tears in my eyes. I do feel a little guilty for laughing at your predicament. And now a picture ! I just couldn’t figure out in my mind how this happened. This is definately a memorable board moment. I am sure he has received treatment and good care from his vets.  

There were some who tried to console me through their laughter. 

— Turtles (that I have been around) are capable of making sounds. I would expect if Henry had hurt his parts that you would have heard something. 

— I don’t think they would think you were a freak. They would think you were a caring person.

— Zoos are very quick to give animals the veterinary care they need. If the turtle is injured, it’s being cared for. And obviously Henry isn’t aware of what he did, so even if you found out that he HAD hurt the animal, what good would that do? Would it make you feel better?

–I just can’t help myself Jessica…ROFLOL

I do hope the turtle wasn’t harmed, but if it’s that easy for a toddler to inadvertently injure a turtle’s pen*s, then the zoo should know better than to put them in the petting zoo!!





— I’m really sorry. I know you feel bad, and I think your concern is very sweet. But you are responsible for a near miss with my bladder 🙂  


And then my personal favorite:

–– Are you sure the turtle just didn’t have a bowel movement?

Um, yeah. I was very, very sure. I know what squished poo looks like.

And then, of course, there was the person with intimate knowledge of turtles who made the statement which caused the thread to take a fateful turn.

Turtles do not have penises. Both the male and female have a cloaca (opening in the tail); the male’s is shaped differently and during ejaculation something does protrude a bit, but it’s not something he’d be walking around with hanging out. 

Now, this woman is typically very knowledgeable on such topics. But I had to beg to differ with her on this one. I didn’t want to have to go there, but I had to defend myself.





I beg to differ. I sent this to Kate via email, but here it is for anyone who may be interested.

[unfortunately the link is no longer active]

Scroll down to the pic of the turtle in his water dish. May not be a peni$ per se (sure doesn’t look like one I”ve ever seen) but this is what I saw and what Henry stepped on. And he was definitely walking around with it hanging out.

Now, the bulbous things hanging out of the turtle in that one pic – that’s what Henry stepped on. And they were flat and weird looking after he stepped on them. . .

ETA: I can’t belive I am now responsible for bringing turtle p * r n to the board. — hangs head in shame — 

Our resident turtle expert graciously conceded the point. 

— Yikes! My aquatic turtle is, alas, not well-endowed . . . LOL.

You want to see a picture too, don’t you? I know you do. If you don’t, scroll quickly because here it comes.

Yes, the reactions on the board were similar to yours.

— AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 

— I would have completely mistaken that thingie for a tail, if it were me!

— that is absolutely unbelievable! The things that I never knew about turtles…

— From that picture, things look very… loose inside. If that makes sense? I would guess that maybe things just… shifted and made it look different.

And the woman who suggested it was poo apologized for thinking I was that dense

— My goodness, that definitely doesn’t look like poo. –snort– I’m not laughing at you, honest, I was just wondering.

And then someone did what we like to do in our culture. She blamed the victim.

— Weird. That picture clarifies what happened, but I still believe that if the turtle is injured, keepers will notice and call in the zoo vets. At least when I volunteered at a zoo, that’s how it worked. They are _very_ strict about the health of animals.





You know, he shouldn’t be walking around with it hanging out, should he?* It almost makes me wonder if there was something wrong with the turtle to begin with.

* By “shouldn’t” I mean in a physiological/behavioral sense, not a moral sense, of course. We all know that walking around with a penis hanging out violates modesty norms in North American human culture. The question is, what about turtle culture?


At this point the entire thread was a huge joke with ROFLOLing, –snort–ing, etc. My nickname on the board became “Mother of the Turtle Penis Stomper,” and to this day, four years later, people still bring it up.

For those readers who are still concerned about the turtle, as far as I know he’s fine. At the time, I decided just to trust in the excellent care I know the zoo staff provides for all of its animals. (Translation, I was a big chicken and decided not to call.) But I did return to the zoo about a week after the accident. The turtle was still in the petting zoo and apparently fine. At least I didn’t notice any bandages or anything.

September 25, 2010 Parenting, Preschoolers, Toddlers Post a Comment

How to Traumatize a 2-Year-Old: Our Trip to the Post Office

Periodically Helen and I get to have a “girl’s day” while Ryan takes Henry fishing. Girl’s day typically involves running errands, which may not seem as exciting as going fishing with daddy, but Helen seems to enjoy it. She likes to help me carry things and pay for things, and, I suppose it’s just nice to have mommy’s undivided attention.

I enjoy running errands with just one child, of course, because it is so much easier to get one child in and out (and in and out) of a car seat than to wrangle two children. At least theoretically. See, Helen has her own babies. Lots of them. We have a two baby limit for car trips and so her entourage varies from trip to trip. Today we took Bear and Seeping Baby. And since there were two empty car seats in the car (yes, I’ve already installed the baby’s car seat), Bear and Seeping Baby each had to be strapped in to a car seat. And unstrapped when we arrived at the library. And restrapped (“Do the yeg straps too!!!!!”) when we left the library. And unstrapped and restrapped and, well, you get the picture. I had plenty of time, and so I indulged her. I’m sure anyone watching me was either amused or bewildered by my behavior. I’m equally sure at least one childless twenty-something thought I was a complete lunatic.

Helen often “wears” her babies while we’re out.
Here she is quite literally wearing Baby Joona, one of her favorite babies.

When we arrived at the post office I convinced her to leave the babies in the car because it would just be a quick stop. I struggled with this because, of course, I don’t want to teach my daughter that it’s okay to leave babies unattended in cars. I decided not to over think it.

To satisfy her need to be a big girl I handed her a small package containing a little dress I’m sending to a friend’s baby girl. I told her that we were at the Post Office and that we would be sending the dress to Baby Emmie.

When we walked inside Helen asked, “What this place, mama?” I again explained this was the Post Office where we would send the dress to Baby Emmie. She said, “I no see Emmie.” I realized that this whole concept of sending packages through the mail was completely foreign to her. So I explained, as simply as I could, that the Post Office is where the mailman works and that we would give the package to the man at the counter and that he would give it to the mailman who would put it on a truck and drive it to Baby Emmie’s house. She seemed skeptical but became distracted by the display of cards and stamps.

When it was our turn to hand over our packages, I gave the clerk my other two packages and told Helen to turn over the dress. She clutched it tightly and glared at me. I assured her that the nice man would make sure the dress gets to Baby Emmie. She clung tighter and glared at him. He offered her a Beauty and the Beast post card in exchange for the package. (Little did he know that as the second child with a big brother he might have had better luck with a dinosaur post card or something.) She curtly said, “no,” and turned her back on him.

At this point I realized that our cajoling was going to be fruitless, and  that we were going to have to do this “the hard way.” I pried the package from her tiny fingers and handed it over. She sobbed pathetically while the man weighed and marked the package, and I paid the shipping while trying to console her. I assured her that Emmie would get the dress and promised that her mommy will take a picture of her and the dress when it gets there. I whisked her out to the car and distracted her with caring for Bear and Seeping Baby.

Who knew that learning about the U.S. Postal Service would be so traumatic?

September 21, 2010 Parenting Post a Comment

Comfort Nursing

Elizabeth Pantley shared the following quote today on her Facebook page.

 “No one could give her such soothing and sensible consolation as this little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she felt the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his tiny nose.” ~Leo Tolstoy

It resonated with me because it took me back to a time when holding and nursing my little one was the greatest comfort I could find in a devastatingly difficult time.

My little Helen was 10 months old when my 16 year old brother died by suicide. Needless to say this turned my entire world upside down. And through that first, most difficult week between Jared’s death and his funeral, I was so blessed to have the constant warmth and snuggles of such a sweet little girl. I clung to her and nursed her through those first hours as we met with the detectives. I held her close that night as I cried rather than slept and she nursed sweetly through the night. I wore her close in the sling, my back aching, through the viewing. Her presence provided comfort not only for me, but for many others. But for me, she was my life line.

Her constant presence and constant need for my milk, far from being a burden in that difficult time, gave me a reason to get through it. When all of the activity died down and everyone went home, and I left my parents home to return to “normal life,” it was my children that helped me get out of bed each day. Both of my children needed me, but for my little Helen I was irreplaceable. No one else could give her the milk she wanted and needed. And it was such an easy need to fill. I just had to sit or lay down and snuggle a bundle of joy.

August 10, 2010 Our Faith, The Joys of Boys Post a Comment

Whatever is pure . . .

We’ve recently had some run-ins with superheroes at our house. It seemed harmless enough at first, but it has started to cause problems with behavior. Spiderman recently swung from his web (i.e. the shower curtain) and ended up in the ER with 4 staples in his head. That was clearly a problem, but the greater problem, really, has been the physical aggression and the level of disrespect and the mood swings that seem to have escalated since we’ve invited these wonder men into our home. But it was the ER visit that made me start really thinking about it.

Yesterday, at H1’s request, we got a copy of some Batman cartoons from the library. I watched one with him, and truly it was horrible. Very dark, very violent. But H1 loves the excitement. I spent a lot of time yesterday pondering the role of this sort of entertainment in the life our family. I asked God to speak to me about it. It came to me that this is just the beginning of our job as parents in determining what forms of entertainment are appropriate for our children, and we have to learn how to discern what is good and right for our family. Would we let our son surf porn online just because “everyone’s doing it?”

Still, taking something a child loves away from him is never easy as a parent. At least it’s not for me. I dread conflict. I dread tantrums. It’s a weakness of mine as a parent and an area I know God is asking me to grow in.

As nap time approached today (when H1 watches TV while H2 naps), I was dreading the meltdown that would come when I informed H1 that there would be no Batman today. I thought. I prayed. I fretted. Then I remembered the following passage:

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. (Philippians 4:8)

I decided to read it to H1. I asked God to guide me. I prayed to H1’s guardian angel. When he asked me to put on Batman, I asked him to first sit on the couch with me and read something from the Bible. I told them that they were words written by Paul, who used to be Saul. (Saul’s conversion story made a huge impact on him and he’s always remembered it.)

I read it to him and then I summarized it again for him, telling him that God wants us to spend our time with things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely and excellent. I told him that I’d been thinking about the TV shows we’ve been watching and I don’t think that Batman fits into this category. I waited for the protest. He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “It’s not true, but it is honorable.” I said, “Well, beating people up isn’t honorable and Batman does a lot of beating people up.” He was quiet again for a second and then he picked up a copy of Popular Mechanics for Kids and said, “How about we watch this instead?”

I wanted to weep! I told him I was very proud of him for choosing a more suitable program and he is now happily watching something I feel very good about.

I never cease to be amazed by these miracles. I wish I could remember that when we seek to do the Lord’s will and ask for His help, He will make the seemingly impossible not only possible, but easy.

Thanks be to God.

June 4, 2010 Our Faith, The Joys of Boys 6 Comments

A Mass-ive Headache

I have always felt called to attend daily Mass with my children. Not everyday, but at least once a week. I’ve never done it. Well, I may have taken #1 once or twice before #2 was born, but it’s certainly never been part of my routine.

Recently, daily Mass attendance was a topic of conversation on a Catholic homeschooling board I am a part of, and I heard once again that this is something I need to do. “If today you hear God’s voice, harden not your heart.” I’ve been working on instituting more discipline into my life, and I have somewhat of a fledgling weekly routine, so I decided Thursday would be my day for taking the kids to Mass. Today is Thursday.

I have to tell you, I was not looking forward to this. My kids are not the sweet little angels that fold their hands neatly in their lap and sit, stand and kneel with the congregation. My 5yo boy likes to alternate giving me kisses and an angelic “aren’t I being good?” smile with flopping his body around in the pew pretending he’s just been shot. My 2yo girl likes to alternate “singing” loudly from the hymnal with digging through my purse to find my lipstick to smear all over her face while I’m attempting to pray.

They’re cute. They’re hilarious. So long as it’s not your job to keep them “still and quiet” for the duration of Mass.

Now I don’t have unreasonable expectations. I don’t expect them to actually sit still and be quiet for the entire Mass. I expect to have to remind them of appropriate behavior. But I do expect my 5yo to respond to my reminders without “sassing” me. When I ask him to sit up, I expect him to sit up, not to let his tongue hang out of his mouth and kick the pews.

By the time the final blessing rolled around I was exhausted and discouraged. A kind older woman who had been sitting behind us came and told me I have beautiful children and that she “had to chuckle” because she’s been there. She told me I was doing a good job. I appreciated her kindness, but I didn’t believe her. I felt like a miserable failure.

We went home and I put the 2yo down for a nap, and, after some quiet time, my son and I had a snack together.

Suddenly he raised his cracker, broke it in half and said, “Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body.” He turned to me and handed me half of the cracker. Then he asked, “Can the water be the blood?” Uh, sure. “Take this all of you and drink it. This is my blood.” He handed me the cup.

Then he said something I don’t quite remember about how Jesus makes him happy.

“How does Jesus make you happy?” I asked.

“He shares. He shares his body and his blood.”

Well okay then, I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time taking him to Mass.

May 28, 2010 Bellies and Babies Post a Comment

Belly is in the Eye of the Beholder

I’m in that stage of pregnancy where I can pretty much choose to look pregnant or not. It depends a lot on what I’m wearing, how I’m standing and how well you know what I look like when I’m not pregnant. There’s no way I could hide it from close friends and family members, but I’m not “showing” enough for a stranger (at least a smart one) to risk asking when I’m “due.”

Yesterday I was enjoying a beautiful morning sitting under a tree with a neighbor while our kids ran around. She commented that I “look great,” that I’m still “so thin,” and that you can’t tell I’m pregnant at all. I appreciated the flattery, of course. Not 10 minutes later, I met another neighbor in her backyard where she asked me, “Did you pop this soon with #2 or is it because this is your third?”

Ah, well. As the saying goes, “flattery is the food of fools!”

May 28, 2010 Bellies and Babies 3 Comments

Home Birth Elitism

I want to begin this post by saying that I am 100% supportive of and in favor of home birth. I think home birth midwives provide fabulous prenatal care, unbelievable labor support and amazing postpartum services. I believe home birth is safe and I absolutely think it should be legal everywhere.

BUT (you knew there was a “but”), I do not think that having a home birth makes you a superior human being. I also do not think that choosing to birth in a hospital means that you are fearful of the birth process, or that you have been duped by modern society into believing that pregnancy and birth are risky medical conditions, or that you are ignorantly (or willfully) putting your life and the life of your baby at risk by entering into a place where you will be drugged and cut against your will and will likely contract a MRSA infection in the process.

I recently had the privilege of hearing Ina May Gaskin speak to a group of parents and birth professionals about her work at The Farm and the history of obstetrics. She is an amazing speaker, midwife and woman, and it was a fascinating presentation. But what she failed to acknowledge in her talk, and what the audience seemed to fail to grasp, is that there are hospitals where women can receive the care and respect that they deserve through pregnancy and delivery.

We are incredibly fortunate in the Denver Metro area to have several woman- and baby-friendly hospitals. The Center for Midwifery at the University of Colorado Hospital offers skilled midwives who love natural child birth and know how to support women toward that end. You can also have a water birth in the hospital if you want! Also the Boulder Nurse Midwives, who have privileges at Boulder Community Hospital provide supportive, holistic, naturally minded care to women wishing to receive top quality care while birthing in a hospital.                                                                                    

In addition to the hospitals, women in the metro area can choose to birth at a free standing birth center. Mountain Midwifery Center strives to be a “maxi home” not a “mini hospital.” Started by a former home birth midwife, the center provides yet another wonderful option for women birthing in Denver.

And, of course, Denver is blessed with a number of highly skilled home birth midwives with decades of experience in providing women with high quality prenatal care and amazing and safe home birth experiences.

The point is, in Denver, women have a lot of really good choices about where to go for prenatal care and  the labor and delivery experience. And women have all kinds of reasons for making the choices they do about where to birth. We should celebrate a woman’s right to choose the care that is best for her and her family, not subtly undermine or belittle women who choose differently than we do.

I am so happy, giddy even, for my friends who have had the amazing home birth of their dreams. When I got pregnant for the third time, I once again considered home birth as an option for myself. After a lot of soul searching I realized that I don’t want to birth at home.

Before hearing Ina May speak I wondered if I would be thrown back into a crisis about the choice that I’ve made. But I wasn’t. I’m excited about giving birth again. I can’t wait for the experience! I was just a touch saddened by the tsk- tsk-ing, the sad head shaking, the judgement I perceived from the home birth advocates when I was one of 2 women who admitted to planning to birth in the hospital.

All women are different. And different women want different things. And as women, we should support and even celebrate each other in the positive choices we make. Even if we wouldn’t make the same choice ourselves.

Photo from my first hospital birth
May 27, 2010 Parenting, Preschoolers, The Joys of Boys, Toddlers Post a Comment

Potty Learning

From Free ClipArt by Phillip Martin

So, my sweet 2-year-old daughter is starting down the potty learning path. It’s going fairly smoothly as I’m pretty laid back about it – and we have hardwood floors. Going through this again though made me think of when my son learned to use the potty a few years ago. We did not have hardwood floors then. So for your amusement, a post I made to my “mommy’s board” on June 24, 2008:

Carpet Cleaning and Potty Training
 
Here are a few tips for those of you who haven’t ventured down the potty training road yet.
  1. Think real hard about whether you really want to go down this road. Changing poopy diapers really isn’t nearly as bad as cleaning poopy carpet. Really.
  2. If you’re thinking of having your carpets cleaned, you might want to consider waiting until potty training is finished. Unless you want to pay to have them cleaned twice.
  3.  Try to drill it into your kid’s head that s/he cannot hide poop on the carpet by standing on it.
  4. If you don’t already have one, you may want to invest in a wet/dry vac. Having a hubby who used to clean carpets professionally is a huge help too.
  5. Now would be a good time to consider putting in hardwood floors.
And now a few of Murphy’s Laws of Potty Training
  1. The first really major poop accident will happen approximately 2 days after you spend hundreds of dollars to have your carpet cleaned.
  2. If you have a baby that won’t nap on her own, the afternoon she decides to take a nice long nap will be the same afternoon your toddler decides to poop on the carpet, stand in it, and walk through the house to find you. So instead of sipping lemonade on the back porch, you will spend baby’s nap time scrubbing poop out of your son’s toenails and cleaning the carpet. Better than cleaning up poop while listening to a baby scream I suppose. . .
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