It has been...so long since I've sat down to see this space. I've felt contemplative and we've been busy, and this writing space got forgotten. Tonight I'm up listening to music while the two I love best and brightest slumber deeply and moonlight haunts my eyes.
Earlier, I sat just to watch the sun settle down in the sky from my seat at the window and felt awed with how beautiful and captivating the sun is as there is less and less of it visible to our eyes. This evening, this weather, both remind me of days spent walking along sandy beaches with our dog panting hard and trying to get at the seagulls, tugging his leash and giving us doggy grins as the sand flies in our eyes before Little Berry was even a dream. We were young and fresh and crazy in love, wild for one another and begging for more stories of the lifetime spent before the other came along.
Those days seemed to go on forever, holding hands and making jokes about old couples sitting in the sand while the world went on without them. It reminds me of the first day we spent in Paris and how long the day was because we'd flown in with the sun, how bright the sky, how fresh the world. The sun set so late there, we stayed up staring out our window over the rooftops hearing people whistle and musicians singing songs from their patios, us practically foraging for food, uncertain what the menus said and too hungry from walking, walking, walking- to care what we were served.
I have memories of watching airplanes go by as a child and wondering if I would ever fly in one. Wondering what it would feel like to sit in one, what exhilaration would overcome my heart, what mystery spoiled at the glee of flight? Wanting to see the world in a different way and believing strongly that it was never going to change. I know now that the world can change in an instant. That our lives are mere puffs of smoke- or fragile, finite frames of glass made to look at but not to alter. We might be transparent and fragile, easily turned to slivers and shards, but I do believe we are ever-changing, growing stronger, and by nature weaker, all at once.
Motherhood brings out the whispery side of me, the side that plans tea parties and sees magic in rainbows again. I make bubbles from scratch and play dough with home made dyes because I want the best for my little one, while what she will remember is not that I made it by hand, but that I played with her, making orange ducks and squishy blue clouds. And it is indefinite, because I never know how long it will last, when she will wake up and no longer want my snuggles or kisses, no longer need to fall asleep in my arms. The magic of childhood is rarely in the recipe you
use, its instead in the giggles while you share over a dish made together with miniature spoons and served on tiny plates that are painted with strawberries in a makeshift fairy garden with a dog by your side.
Showing posts with label Little Berry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Berry. Show all posts
2/8/13
3/15/11
Easy Peasy Kid-Friendly Marbling
One of my favorite things to do with little berry is get creative. From day-to-day this takes on different meanings, but today it was a simple water and coconut oil marbling craft.
I've done this before with baby oil but I don't own that anymore so coconut oil is what I used. You will need:
Paint (we used watercolors, which were very light and food coloring which gave darker colors but less variations)
*Oil (again, we used coconut oil which I melted to a liquid)
*a pan you don't mind getting oily (filled a third full of cool water)
*Paper scraps or pretty paper for making cards and tags
*a place to put your finished papers on to dry
*and of course, an energetic and joyful toddler.
To make pretty paper like ours, fill your pan a third full of cool water. Add a few drops of your oil and allow it to spread out and ball up across the water.
Then add about a teaspoon of different paints and shake the pan slightly so the oil separates and begins to roll through the paint across the pan.
Next, dip a piece of paper in the mixture and let it settle beneath the oil so the paint sticks around the spaces where the oil didn't hit, like this:
Then, lift, allow to drip a little, and place on a plate to dry.
Vóila! You've made marbled paper.
Enjoy, and please make sure your whirlychild is wearing art project friendly clothes :)
I've done this before with baby oil but I don't own that anymore so coconut oil is what I used. You will need:
Paint (we used watercolors, which were very light and food coloring which gave darker colors but less variations)
*Oil (again, we used coconut oil which I melted to a liquid)
*a pan you don't mind getting oily (filled a third full of cool water)
*Paper scraps or pretty paper for making cards and tags
*a place to put your finished papers on to dry
*and of course, an energetic and joyful toddler.
To make pretty paper like ours, fill your pan a third full of cool water. Add a few drops of your oil and allow it to spread out and ball up across the water.
Then add about a teaspoon of different paints and shake the pan slightly so the oil separates and begins to roll through the paint across the pan.
Next, dip a piece of paper in the mixture and let it settle beneath the oil so the paint sticks around the spaces where the oil didn't hit, like this:
Then, lift, allow to drip a little, and place on a plate to dry.
Vóila! You've made marbled paper.
Enjoy, and please make sure your whirlychild is wearing art project friendly clothes :)
3/14/11
Nature home
Around the time of the winter solstice this year, I began a small nature space inside for little berry to enjoy. It was very small at first, a few pebbles, a leaf. Now that spring has slipped around to our part of the world, we are outside more and therefore when we are inside, we tend to bring the outdoors with us.
Besides the nearly constant open doors that allow the outside and inside to merge, we have a beautiful little collection of touch-and-feel nature items where little berry can stop&touch, pat, smell, admire, be creative and even sometimes, sing.
I was hesitant at first because I assumed it would be pretty messy, but I've enjoyed it. It tend to calm her down when she's acting wired or anxious and has her looking at her world closet when we're out and about, thinking about things that she can bring to the little space.
I also love that it tends to present an opportunity to learn about seasons, animals, plants, insects and weather all at once. We're also not a religious family so our table conversation is always science-based, but nature is a very important part of our life and lifestyle.
Does your family do a nature table? What items generally find their way inside in your little one's scrunched up fist or pockets?
2/25/11
Tales of a superhero kitty (raccoon) rescuer
Yesterday as Little Berry and I were heading out the door with the dog to take an early afternoon run, I saw a small shadow move under the door of our neighbor’s apartment. I *felt* something-someone? There, and at the same time I hadn’t seen our neighbor come home nor did I hear footsteps as I was listening. I made a big noisy show of locking the apartment (alright Little berry! I’ve got the keys here and let me lock the deadbolt so we can go!!) up tightly in case it was an intruder and then I took off, because I’m chicken brave like that.
As soon as I started jogging though, I realized it was just their cat. I’ve noticed kitty litter boxes stacked outside their door with their recycling a few weeks now and it made purrfect sense. I think she adopted a cat around Christmas. So in the end my fear of the axe bearing intruder was pretty far off.
But the whole thing reminded me of this time when I was a kid, probably about ten, when I thought I saw a cat in a tree on our property one early evening and set out to ‘rescue’ the thing. I grabbed a length of nylon rope and my pet hero rescuer face, and started up the tree. I was a great tree climber, but, come on, it was a big tree, and I wasn’t really as brave as I looked; so by about the time I realized It was a BLOODY RACCOON not a cat, I also realized I was BLOODY STUCK.
Of course, I was not only freaking out about it being a RACCOON I was also now panicking because I was stuck, and too proud to call for help because, let’s face it, that would be quite embarrassing. So I tried to tie the rope off on a branch so I could lower myself down, fashionably at least, but mostly I just used the rope to wave violently at the poor, shivering raccoon and warn it that I was not only ten, but I had fierce extendable wavy rope! So don’t jump on my please, BLOODY RACCOON.
Mostly I just fell out of the tree. There was very little lowering of myself down and pretty much zero fashionable about it, but at the end of the day there was no BLOODY RACCOON attacking me and so I was pretty pleased with my determination to live dangerously and bonus, I got to wear my pet hero rescuer face for an hour. Of course another bonus was a dozen bruises and not being able to ride my bike for a week.
My mom (hi mom!) asked for months why there was rope tied in that tree, but everyone denied having anything to do with it. We never did figure that mystery out :)
As soon as I started jogging though, I realized it was just their cat. I’ve noticed kitty litter boxes stacked outside their door with their recycling a few weeks now and it made purrfect sense. I think she adopted a cat around Christmas. So in the end my fear of the axe bearing intruder was pretty far off.
But the whole thing reminded me of this time when I was a kid, probably about ten, when I thought I saw a cat in a tree on our property one early evening and set out to ‘rescue’ the thing. I grabbed a length of nylon rope and my pet hero rescuer face, and started up the tree. I was a great tree climber, but, come on, it was a big tree, and I wasn’t really as brave as I looked; so by about the time I realized It was a BLOODY RACCOON not a cat, I also realized I was BLOODY STUCK.
Of course, I was not only freaking out about it being a RACCOON I was also now panicking because I was stuck, and too proud to call for help because, let’s face it, that would be quite embarrassing. So I tried to tie the rope off on a branch so I could lower myself down, fashionably at least, but mostly I just used the rope to wave violently at the poor, shivering raccoon and warn it that I was not only ten, but I had fierce extendable wavy rope! So don’t jump on my please, BLOODY RACCOON.
Mostly I just fell out of the tree. There was very little lowering of myself down and pretty much zero fashionable about it, but at the end of the day there was no BLOODY RACCOON attacking me and so I was pretty pleased with my determination to live dangerously and bonus, I got to wear my pet hero rescuer face for an hour. Of course another bonus was a dozen bruises and not being able to ride my bike for a week.
My mom (hi mom!) asked for months why there was rope tied in that tree, but everyone denied having anything to do with it. We never did figure that mystery out :)
9/2/10
Late night musings of an eternal mamma
I give her little face a kiss and she tucks her head into the crook of my neck. I smell like a mama, she smells strongly of bubbles and strawberries, a result of her affinity to sneaking the soap bar when she's fully clean and my hastiness to pull the tub stopper as the water gets chilly.
I knelt by the tub tonight, watching her soap her own toes and firmly refusing to brush her teeth. I swept a washcloth behind her ears, under her curvy chin, and wondered: how long she will need me yet? As I scooped water into the palm of my hand to rinse the day away, I glimpsed a bigger girl with memories and stories to spill out, with an eagerness and lightness of her father's and a the voice of a dreamer like me. Her hair swirled down around the top of her neck in a way I had never seen it do before, tracing rivulets down her spine and joining the bath again. My heart whispered: will I always know her this well?
The night is long at times, spent shuffling (those ever growing) little feet back under the blankets and getting up for water, worrying over my two dearest loves as they sleep, as if they were both my children, and I suppose in a very primal way they are. Both are sound in my nest all night, tucked around one another and oblivious to this mama's dually committed heart thrumming away, wanting to hold them both at once.
I fear her growing because I'm terrified I haven't got it down. I want longer to get it right before she will know that I am misguided, before she sees my faults. Eventually I'm sure she will recognize me as a pawn. I don't know the rules. I don't know the steps, I can't dance this fast and in these shoes.
As I scooped her from the tub and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, we went in search of pajamas for the night. Pulling from the basket nearest me, I found my fingers wrapped around a tiny set of pajamas too small for any girl of mine. These were hers nearly two winters ago, just as we were seated deep in worry about our future, cold and jobless with no hope or vision for that to change, when there were too many hours each day spent sitting in classrooms waiting to graduate so I could hold my daughter whenever I pleased; hoping that my classmates didn't see my breasts leaking, at times wondering that they did not smell my fear that this route they celebrated with joy I counted as hell and yearned for it to end.
Darker hours in the shivering winter spent fighting with Pappa because my heart was never in school again, I could spare it all just to be a mamma. These were the pajamas she wore the morning we drove to the polls to vote for idealistic "Change," and the morning my sweet friend Jessy came to visit after her weekly Chemo battering. She smiled and yet looked faint, she sang to my wee babe about teething gums while I worried about my girl, who had immediately fixed herself on this splendid friend to investigate her thoroughly- I hope that my own girl will be as open-minded, loving and generous each step of the way as this beautiful young woman I am blessed to know.
This instinct to protect is not exclusive to the faces we see and love each day. It is not limited to the hands we hold or gently scold, and the tiny feet that pitter-patter and sometimes "THRUMP!" around, making tangible progress and marking the traits that will be theirs for life right before our eyes. It is for the children we don't get to hold, the ones we were ourselves, the ones we see on the television while their mother's wail. These children, these little sparks that flash for only a moment, that always have to face the cold with empty tummies, they are why my heart is breaking for my own. I stood in front of my mother when I was seven and told her I wanted to save all of the orphans, and asked her why we didn't try to help. Her reasoning was complicated and altogether simple at the same moment, yet her theory fell deaf to my ears and I am sure that day I stopped believing in universal love.
This is the joy called motherhood, I share it with many strong and willing women now, and before me. Surely more will come after me as well. Some bear a multitude of souls into the world and some never kiss a single tear frosted cheek, but all have willing, loving, open hearts. We swap tips and laughs and fears. We all dream big, and none of us wants our children to resist our open arms. This is the joy called motherhood. It is the voice of universal love.
Do something kind for another person today. Do it for your heart, and mine, which needs reminding that humanity is always embraced by mothers.
I knelt by the tub tonight, watching her soap her own toes and firmly refusing to brush her teeth. I swept a washcloth behind her ears, under her curvy chin, and wondered: how long she will need me yet? As I scooped water into the palm of my hand to rinse the day away, I glimpsed a bigger girl with memories and stories to spill out, with an eagerness and lightness of her father's and a the voice of a dreamer like me. Her hair swirled down around the top of her neck in a way I had never seen it do before, tracing rivulets down her spine and joining the bath again. My heart whispered: will I always know her this well?
The night is long at times, spent shuffling (those ever growing) little feet back under the blankets and getting up for water, worrying over my two dearest loves as they sleep, as if they were both my children, and I suppose in a very primal way they are. Both are sound in my nest all night, tucked around one another and oblivious to this mama's dually committed heart thrumming away, wanting to hold them both at once.
I fear her growing because I'm terrified I haven't got it down. I want longer to get it right before she will know that I am misguided, before she sees my faults. Eventually I'm sure she will recognize me as a pawn. I don't know the rules. I don't know the steps, I can't dance this fast and in these shoes.
As I scooped her from the tub and she pressed her face into the crook of my neck, we went in search of pajamas for the night. Pulling from the basket nearest me, I found my fingers wrapped around a tiny set of pajamas too small for any girl of mine. These were hers nearly two winters ago, just as we were seated deep in worry about our future, cold and jobless with no hope or vision for that to change, when there were too many hours each day spent sitting in classrooms waiting to graduate so I could hold my daughter whenever I pleased; hoping that my classmates didn't see my breasts leaking, at times wondering that they did not smell my fear that this route they celebrated with joy I counted as hell and yearned for it to end.
Darker hours in the shivering winter spent fighting with Pappa because my heart was never in school again, I could spare it all just to be a mamma. These were the pajamas she wore the morning we drove to the polls to vote for idealistic "Change," and the morning my sweet friend Jessy came to visit after her weekly Chemo battering. She smiled and yet looked faint, she sang to my wee babe about teething gums while I worried about my girl, who had immediately fixed herself on this splendid friend to investigate her thoroughly- I hope that my own girl will be as open-minded, loving and generous each step of the way as this beautiful young woman I am blessed to know.
This instinct to protect is not exclusive to the faces we see and love each day. It is not limited to the hands we hold or gently scold, and the tiny feet that pitter-patter and sometimes "THRUMP!" around, making tangible progress and marking the traits that will be theirs for life right before our eyes. It is for the children we don't get to hold, the ones we were ourselves, the ones we see on the television while their mother's wail. These children, these little sparks that flash for only a moment, that always have to face the cold with empty tummies, they are why my heart is breaking for my own. I stood in front of my mother when I was seven and told her I wanted to save all of the orphans, and asked her why we didn't try to help. Her reasoning was complicated and altogether simple at the same moment, yet her theory fell deaf to my ears and I am sure that day I stopped believing in universal love.
This is the joy called motherhood, I share it with many strong and willing women now, and before me. Surely more will come after me as well. Some bear a multitude of souls into the world and some never kiss a single tear frosted cheek, but all have willing, loving, open hearts. We swap tips and laughs and fears. We all dream big, and none of us wants our children to resist our open arms. This is the joy called motherhood. It is the voice of universal love.
Do something kind for another person today. Do it for your heart, and mine, which needs reminding that humanity is always embraced by mothers.
6/25/10
Waste not....
I wouldn't really call us frugal. We make lots of careful choices with our money but we also spend a lot on things we value. But we're not wasteful.
Last night at dinner I piled a plate full of lettuce and baby tomatoes, carrot slivers and broccoli for Little Berry and myself. She enjoys dipping her veggies in cream cheese and so I reached for the container to give her a separate dish of it for dipping.
I turned around to find her shaking the rest of the bag of lettuce into the garbage. She looked so proud of herself, like she was helping me. I think in her mind she was being genuinely useful. But it got me wondering:
How do we teach children about not being wasteful?
-Give them age-appropriate tasks they can complete. When we're leaving rooms or the apartment I will pull a chair up to the light switch and ask Little Berry to turn the lights off for me. She enjoys it and it gets her practicing the habit of noticing such things. Make it fun or a game and they will remember it.
In the case of food, I will start involving her more. Perhaps from now on she can be in charge of putting the lettuce into a Tupperware container or picking just as much as we need to eat at a time from our container garden of lettuce.
- Volunteer with them doing something like picking up trash in the park or cleaning out their toy box to take items to a local thrift store. This way they get to see their efforts pay off and see an alternative to simply throwing things away.
-Use less myself and model appropriate behavior. I am guilty of some times pouring a glass of water down the sink if I am finished. We can use that water on our plants or start leaving a bowl of water outside our apartment building for smaller creatures in this summer heat. The fact is- everything we do means something to our children.
-Be wary of what I am modeling as "trash" to my daughter. Recycling is something kids can get involved in and teaching about waste isn't just for the environment. It's ideal for the health of your family as well because your choices will lead to a healthier childhood for your little ones and a better parenthood for you.
-Talk about it, read about it, make up your own stories about it. This one is a given and probably easiest of them all. But just talking about it means nothing if you don't also model the behavior.
-Relax. Sometimes kids are wasteful. They don't comprehend that splashing in the sink is wasteful- to them it's pure bliss to have chilly streams of water everywhere. Sometimes you need to let go of the rules and just enjoy the moment.
What are your tips? How would you approach wastefulness with your child/ren?
Last night at dinner I piled a plate full of lettuce and baby tomatoes, carrot slivers and broccoli for Little Berry and myself. She enjoys dipping her veggies in cream cheese and so I reached for the container to give her a separate dish of it for dipping.
I turned around to find her shaking the rest of the bag of lettuce into the garbage. She looked so proud of herself, like she was helping me. I think in her mind she was being genuinely useful. But it got me wondering:
How do we teach children about not being wasteful?
-Give them age-appropriate tasks they can complete. When we're leaving rooms or the apartment I will pull a chair up to the light switch and ask Little Berry to turn the lights off for me. She enjoys it and it gets her practicing the habit of noticing such things. Make it fun or a game and they will remember it.
In the case of food, I will start involving her more. Perhaps from now on she can be in charge of putting the lettuce into a Tupperware container or picking just as much as we need to eat at a time from our container garden of lettuce.
- Volunteer with them doing something like picking up trash in the park or cleaning out their toy box to take items to a local thrift store. This way they get to see their efforts pay off and see an alternative to simply throwing things away.
-Use less myself and model appropriate behavior. I am guilty of some times pouring a glass of water down the sink if I am finished. We can use that water on our plants or start leaving a bowl of water outside our apartment building for smaller creatures in this summer heat. The fact is- everything we do means something to our children.
-Be wary of what I am modeling as "trash" to my daughter. Recycling is something kids can get involved in and teaching about waste isn't just for the environment. It's ideal for the health of your family as well because your choices will lead to a healthier childhood for your little ones and a better parenthood for you.
-Talk about it, read about it, make up your own stories about it. This one is a given and probably easiest of them all. But just talking about it means nothing if you don't also model the behavior.
-Relax. Sometimes kids are wasteful. They don't comprehend that splashing in the sink is wasteful- to them it's pure bliss to have chilly streams of water everywhere. Sometimes you need to let go of the rules and just enjoy the moment.
What are your tips? How would you approach wastefulness with your child/ren?
6/8/10
Summer is....
The pool.
Is there really anything better than dipping your feet or plunging yourself into the pool in the summer? I think not. Little Berry thinks not too. Where's your favorite place to go swimming?
Sunshine.
Just make sure you put on sunscreen. Pappa Starbucks never wears sunscreen and so I finally showed him research stating that African Americans can also get skin cancer. Little Berry is always needing a re-coating because she sweats it off so much. What's your favorite sunscreen?
Fresh Foods.
Tomatoes. Zucchini, eggplant, cucumbers! Cherries, watermelon, pineapple, mangoes, raw garlic, basil! I love summer foods and we go through them so so quickly. What's your favorite summer food?
The smell of summer.
Grass growing, freshly cut grass, the smell of water. The neighbor's grill, even sunscreen has a distinct smell that I can't really get enough of in the summertime.
What are your favorite summertime smells?
Is there really anything better than dipping your feet or plunging yourself into the pool in the summer? I think not. Little Berry thinks not too. Where's your favorite place to go swimming?
Sunshine.
Just make sure you put on sunscreen. Pappa Starbucks never wears sunscreen and so I finally showed him research stating that African Americans can also get skin cancer. Little Berry is always needing a re-coating because she sweats it off so much. What's your favorite sunscreen?
Fresh Foods.
Tomatoes. Zucchini, eggplant, cucumbers! Cherries, watermelon, pineapple, mangoes, raw garlic, basil! I love summer foods and we go through them so so quickly. What's your favorite summer food?
The smell of summer.
Grass growing, freshly cut grass, the smell of water. The neighbor's grill, even sunscreen has a distinct smell that I can't really get enough of in the summertime.
What are your favorite summertime smells?
4/29/10
She's the sneeziest
Little berry has allergies. She's a red eyed, stuffy nosed, dark under eye circle-mouth-breathing mess. It's been this way on and off for most of the past three months. At first I though she had a ridiculous and persistent sinus infection, but now I'm more than certain. She's not sick but allergic. I'm frustrated by the lack of choices to help her. She still will not breathe through her nose while she nurses, something that has persisted over the past two months. TWO MONTHS of "latch on, suckle, unlatch, gasp for air, relatch..."
I've tried everything in the world. I've had help now from over fifty different people, I even requested a lovely lady to do Reiki to help her relax. But she's doing it out of self preservation. She just can't hardly breathe. I am disinclined to use a prescription for it not only because we've tried that with no relief (although I do recognize that we may have to try a new RX if I can't relieve her symptoms any other way). I don't want to medicate her if I don't know what's going on in her body. I am interested to know: what do you do to relieve a very young child's allergies naturally?
Anyone?
I've tried everything in the world. I've had help now from over fifty different people, I even requested a lovely lady to do Reiki to help her relax. But she's doing it out of self preservation. She just can't hardly breathe. I am disinclined to use a prescription for it not only because we've tried that with no relief (although I do recognize that we may have to try a new RX if I can't relieve her symptoms any other way). I don't want to medicate her if I don't know what's going on in her body. I am interested to know: what do you do to relieve a very young child's allergies naturally?
Anyone?
4/23/10
Revisiting those baby days
I was just browsing some of my old videos and found this one of Little berry on her first Christmas morning. She was 4months old (and we were not using cloth diapers yet) and so stinkin' CUTE.
(this makes me want another baby soooo badly!)
(this makes me want another baby soooo badly!)
4/21/10
The "Little Tyke" Moving Co.
In a few weeks, Pappa Starbucks and I will be moving again. We'll be packing up most of our possessions and putting them in storage for several months while I spend the summer with Little berry and some wonderful family, and he spends the summer working his butt off for Teach For America.
We've done this before. We've moved some four times since we've been together- first from college into an apartment together, then into a bigger apartment where we lived when Little berry was born, and then we stored all of our things for last summer and went to Europe. Then we moved into this apartment and have been here for not quite a year. Moving is hard, especially when you have a little one underfoot. I'm not sure it will ever be easy, but I've found that there are a few things that can make it not as rough.
(little berry shows her displeasure with our new digs on moving day)
1) Plan ahead- with lists of things that need to be sold/given away, things that need special care or to be returned to friends who've loaned them to you.
2) Try to use up all of the food you can several weeks prior to your move. We make a point to only buy fresh produce for about two weeks before we're moving, so we can use up all the other food.
3) If you can afford it, hire a cleaning crew to come behind you. This can save your deposit and a lot of frustration and energy. Tell them you will tip well if they earn you your deposit back and it will be worth it for both you and them.
4) Check Craigslist and local stores for free boxes. We were out a few weeks ago and saw a local chain restaurant unpacking new chairs and throwing the boxes away- all perfectly sized and identical. No one wants to pack into 40 different sized boxes.
5) Keep boxes handy for items you want to freecycle or take to the thrift store. No one wants to have to dig through already packed boxes for that thing that was going to be given away, nor are you going to want to keep everything.
6) Stock up on tape and markers ahead of time. You're never going to have enough!
7) Leave some boxes empty for the kid to play with while you pack. Maybe throw in a roll of tape. That's what they are going to want most and you don't want to have to keep pulling them out of yours!
8) Enlist friends to help for a few hours or to bring over food and drinks on the day of the move, because you're going to have tossed all that food and moving makes you hungry!
What are your tips for moving with a little one (or more)? I'd love to hear what you do to make moving with kids easier.
We've done this before. We've moved some four times since we've been together- first from college into an apartment together, then into a bigger apartment where we lived when Little berry was born, and then we stored all of our things for last summer and went to Europe. Then we moved into this apartment and have been here for not quite a year. Moving is hard, especially when you have a little one underfoot. I'm not sure it will ever be easy, but I've found that there are a few things that can make it not as rough.
(little berry shows her displeasure with our new digs on moving day)
1) Plan ahead- with lists of things that need to be sold/given away, things that need special care or to be returned to friends who've loaned them to you.
2) Try to use up all of the food you can several weeks prior to your move. We make a point to only buy fresh produce for about two weeks before we're moving, so we can use up all the other food.
3) If you can afford it, hire a cleaning crew to come behind you. This can save your deposit and a lot of frustration and energy. Tell them you will tip well if they earn you your deposit back and it will be worth it for both you and them.
4) Check Craigslist and local stores for free boxes. We were out a few weeks ago and saw a local chain restaurant unpacking new chairs and throwing the boxes away- all perfectly sized and identical. No one wants to pack into 40 different sized boxes.
5) Keep boxes handy for items you want to freecycle or take to the thrift store. No one wants to have to dig through already packed boxes for that thing that was going to be given away, nor are you going to want to keep everything.
6) Stock up on tape and markers ahead of time. You're never going to have enough!
7) Leave some boxes empty for the kid to play with while you pack. Maybe throw in a roll of tape. That's what they are going to want most and you don't want to have to keep pulling them out of yours!
8) Enlist friends to help for a few hours or to bring over food and drinks on the day of the move, because you're going to have tossed all that food and moving makes you hungry!
What are your tips for moving with a little one (or more)? I'd love to hear what you do to make moving with kids easier.
4/18/10
My city garden
We live in the city. In a cramped two-bedroom apartment with no yard. I wish it were bigger, but it's not, and that's not stopping me. I have- garlic, two tomatoes, a yellow squash, a spearmint, four strawberry plants and a cantelope, rhubarb, a pot of wildflowers, ten basil plants started from seed) and a few soapnut sprouts. I don't have fancy pots and I may have *pilfered* my soil- but I've got what I can.
I also have a clothesline for my clothdiapers and a kiddie pool for little berry all in the same space. Because some things, I cannot compromise for. As a side note- if I'd planned better, I would have completely planted all of these in a deeper kiddie pool. They're $15 (the biggest ones, which is twice as deep as ours) and perfect for the plants I have.
Things I'd like to have but don't, and can make do without- cucumber, bell peppers, and watermelon.
What do you just have to have no matter what? What are you willing to be cramped to hold on to, or to give up other things for?
I also have a clothesline for my clothdiapers and a kiddie pool for little berry all in the same space. Because some things, I cannot compromise for. As a side note- if I'd planned better, I would have completely planted all of these in a deeper kiddie pool. They're $15 (the biggest ones, which is twice as deep as ours) and perfect for the plants I have.
Things I'd like to have but don't, and can make do without- cucumber, bell peppers, and watermelon.
What do you just have to have no matter what? What are you willing to be cramped to hold on to, or to give up other things for?
4/12/10
Solo Parenting
Welcome to the April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice!
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month we're writing letters to ask our readers for help with a current parenting issue. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.
***
This summer I will be a single parent for 6weeks. Little berry's pappa will be training to be the next Teach For America teacher in a "gruelling six week crash course called institute" that will put him in rural Mississippi, some 12hours away from baby and me. I'm a fairly confident mamma, normally, and I do so love the job, but this...these six weeks?
They have me wrapped up on nerves studded on porcupine quills of terror.
I will need to work because he won't be, which I haven't officially done since my Little berry was born. If you've been here a while, you know I was a full time university student for three semesters after she arrived (and I was back to school full-time just 12 days post partum).
So I need advice. How do single parents handle all the responsibilities of doing things alone? What's the hardest part? What kind of job should I look for where I can be with Little berry (because child care would just eat up the money I made) and still earn rent? How do I honor my parenting philosophies without support?
Any tips or tricks? Also I would love to hear advice on how to I deal with her missing her pappa (she will be 2) for six weeks (and work and live by myself) in the city all at once? Maybe you're a single Mom or were raised by just your dad, maybe you're an army wife or your husband travels a lot...I bet you've got something brilliant to say. Please share with me your advice.
Mammapie
***
Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:
(This list will be updated by the end of the day April 13 with all the carnival links.)
- Replace hitting with…? — Acacia at Be Present Mama is at a loss on how to handle her three year old's hitting.
- Two Questions — Alexandra at Breastfeeding Momma would like some ideas on how to strengthen her bond with her 8-month-old daughter; she's also looking for input on an emotional topic: vaccines.
- Balancing Needs When Baby Trumps Mama — Alison at BluebirdMama wonders how her child's need for noise and energy balances out against her need for quiet and space. (@childbearing )
- The McDilemma — Annie at PhD in Parenting is on the arches of a McDilemma. (@phdinparenting)
- Where is the mutually agreeable solution? When parenting calls for blood draws — Arwyn at Raising My Boychick has a child who needs regular blood tests that are torment for him. How does a parent honor a child when his health is on the line? (@RaisingBoychick)
- When To Wait To Nurse — Cave Mother wonders what age toddlers can be asked to wait to nurse.
- I don't love you Mama! — CurlyMonkey wonders what to do with her daughter's intense feelings. (@curlymonkey_)
- Help a Mama Out — Danielle at Born.in.Japan isn't getting much sleep with her cosleeping, night nursing, cranky little guy and hopes you can help with some suggestions for shuteye. (@borninjp)
- Dear Abby: My daughter really misses her Daddy — Darcel at The Mahogany Way needs to know how to help her daddy's girl get the connection with her father she needs — and not feel left out in the process. (@MahoganyWayMama)
- What's Going on at School? — Deb at Science@home is in a quandary: how can she find out what really goes on at school without stepping on the teacher's toes? (@ScienceMum)
- April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting Advice — Dionna at Code Name: Mama wants to find volunteer work that includes her toddler. (@CodeNameMama)
- How do you deal? — Erin at Beatnik Momma does not want to engage in "mommy wars." She'd like your input on how (and how much) to discuss her natural parenting choices with curious friends and family who parent differently. (@babybeatnik)
- Dear Abby — The Grumbles at Grumbles and Grunts gave her son a banana...and no solid food since. What's the next step in baby-led weaning? (@thegrumbles)
- Excuse me, I have a poop question — Jessica at This is Worthwhile has a question for you about toddler tinkling. (@tisworthwhile)
- The Half Empty Nest Syndrome: What to do when Momma gets replaced by a cow? — Joni Rae at Kitchen Witch Momma is suffering from "half-empty nest syndrome": what do you do when your babies start growing up? (@kitchenwitch)
- Peer Pressure — Kate at Momopoly worries what message her daughter's new friend is sending — but how to break up such an infatuation? (@Momopoly)
- When I Fall Down — Katherine at Momioso.com needs your wisdom on how to be more gentle and at peace with herself. (@naturalparent)
- A question of sleep and sanity — KeepingMumSane needs your toddler cosleeping advice in order to, well, keep mum sane! (@keepingmumsane)
- April Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting advice — Lauren at Hobo Mama needs a chiropractor … or help getting her 36 lb toddler to walk up the stairs. (@Hobo_Mama)
- Driver's Ed for Mommies — Maman A Droit is a self-confessed terrible driver and is scared to drive with her baby in the car.
- Solo Parenting — Mammapie at Downside Up and Outside In needs tips for being a single working mother while her partner's away. (@mammapie)
- Itsy Bitsy Biter — Mamapoekie at Authentic Parenting needs your advice about her daughter, otherwise known as the pitbull.
- How Can I Avoid Beauty Obsession? — Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! is at a loss ever since her tomboys turned into wannabe princesses. (@bfmom)
- Seeking Stability in Chaos — Michelle at Seeking Mother is in a heart-wrenching position. She needs your input on how to make a toddler feel secure during a time of transition, the illness of a parent, and multiple (new) caregivers. (@Seekingmother)
- Mama, That's Too, Too Boring! — Michelle at The Parent Vortex started out asking how to encourage her preschooler to get dressed — and four days later, she began to without prompting! (@TheParentVortex)
- Dear Lovey Hart, I am Desperate. — Mommy Soup from Cream of Mommy Soup has several questions for you, from how you play favorites when no one's your favorite to how to tell off strangers curious about the ample size of your family. (@mommysoup)
- Diaper Duty Dilemma — Paige at Baby Dust Diaries has a simple request: talk to her about cloth! (@babydust)
- What Do You Need My Son — pchanner at A Mom's Fresh Start wishes her calm four-month-old hadn't turned into an inquisitive and dramatic six-month-old. How do you handle changes in baby's personality? (@pchanner)
- Dear Natural Parenting Community — Sarah at OneStarryNight wants to know how to respond to criticism from family and friends over breastfeeding. (@starrymom)
- Natural Parenting Carnival — Help — Sarah at Consider Eden feels like either her to-do list or her parenting is suffering, because she can't do both! (@considereden)
- To potty learn or not to potty learn — that is the question — Sheryl at Little Snowflakes wants to know whether it's time to start potty training. (@sheryljesin)
- Seeking Patience — Starr at Earth Mama looks to the collective tribal wisdom of this community to learn how to teach patience to children.
- A Dirty Girl Comes Clean — Tashmica at Mother Flippin' is struggling. How do parents deal with their inability to keep their children protected from danger? (@Mother_Flippin)
- Uli and the Pussy Cats — Thomasin at Propson Palingenesis has a toddler who likes to put kitties in headlocks and ride them like horsies. How best to separate the little beasties?
- Perceptions of Discipline — Zoey at Good Goog doesn't use conventional discipline with her child — and doesn't know how to respond around people who do. (@zoeyspeak)
4/9/10
raising a wild child
We love the outdoors. We don't have a lot of wild place to explore, but I want my Little berry to see that the world is beautiful. She notices the littlest things, a tiny bug, a bee on a leaf, a golden flower smashed underfoot. This week we played under the blossoming trees and built tiny houses for imaginary fairies, butterflies, snails.
I know she doesn't understand the concept of "imaginary," but she concentrates so hard helping. She fetches grasses and sticks with precision, plucks tiny violets and pebbles out of the way, waits for an ant to cross before stepping.
Here is where we started:
And when we finished, we had this tiny teepee of twigs:
capped with a lovely golden flower and a million brilliant rays of sun
Waiting to spin a little mystery into the everyday of some unsuspecting soul.
What have you taken the time to build with your child lately? Next time you're in the park, I challenge you to pause, find a small space, and make a fairy home (take pictures and share them with me if you do!)
I know she doesn't understand the concept of "imaginary," but she concentrates so hard helping. She fetches grasses and sticks with precision, plucks tiny violets and pebbles out of the way, waits for an ant to cross before stepping.
Here is where we started:
And when we finished, we had this tiny teepee of twigs:
capped with a lovely golden flower and a million brilliant rays of sun
Waiting to spin a little mystery into the everyday of some unsuspecting soul.
What have you taken the time to build with your child lately? Next time you're in the park, I challenge you to pause, find a small space, and make a fairy home (take pictures and share them with me if you do!)
3/6/10
My birth story with little berry, part 2
This is the final part of my birth story with Little Berry. For the first installment, see here .
Around noon on August 4th, I was still laboring hard. My water had still not broken, but I was having strong contractions every three minutes that I could not talk through. I was using the shower for 10-20 minutes at a time and it really helped. At one point, I began to feel guilty about the water usage and came out of the shower. My midwife suggested I use the birthing tub, and filled it for me. It was bad timing.
Pappa Starbucks was at home (remember, it was just around the corner) to walk our dog. I was exhausted so she filled the tub for me and I got in, leaving me alone. I felt suddenly and intensely overwhelmed by how alone I was and I started feeling tense, upset, perhaps even scared. I felt hot and painful and angry and loathed the birthing tub, although I think if I had tried it again with Pappa Starbucks there to would have been able to relax and enjoy it. I got out and put my headphones back on, listening to the same song over and over. It was "Crazy" by Seal and I had been using it throughout the morning. Something about it helped me relax and I kept it on repeat. I bounced on the birthing ball, tried the birthing chair, and when Pappa Starbucks returned, I was exhausted and realized I needed sleep. I had thought there was no way I could sleep in labor but I did-for almost an hour I was in a heavy hard sleep that was lucid and also very deep. When I woke up, I felt like I was coming out of a trance and I began laboring hard again.
I know my midwife checked me and I was almost fully dilated. I tried the shower again and I remember standing under the sharp splattering of hot water, the sound of running water filling the room, when I entered the third stage of labor. I wanted to push, I needed to push, but I was in the shower alone and there was no one else there to keep me from falling. I had a vision of responding to the urge to push and then slipping and hitting my head, or of the baby falling down the drain, a bizarre frantic airless panic sank in. Looking back on moments like this I wish wish wish I had sought out a doula. I could have used someone throughout my labor to just "be" with me. I was alone a lot. My midwives were busy with another mamma to be who had arrived (they complained about her while I was pushing!) "only two centimeters dilated and already screaming."
I crawled out of the shower on my knees, found a towel, and went back to the pretty yellow room that was around the corner. I think if I had not been alone in the shower I would have probably given birth rather quickly standing up there, it felt natural, compulsive.
When I went from the rushing water to the quiet yellow room I also felt tense again and instead of still needing to push, I began walking. I spent about 15minutes walking, my contractions very strong and consistent. I was on my knees breathing in and out to Seal when my midwives started insisting I try different positions. They were tired I'm sure. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon and I had been there since about 8am. It occurred to me that this is going to happen soon and I'm almost there!
I know I was anxious. I felt very unsupported. I'm okay saying this now, I've worked through most of the feelings I have about her birth. Writing these things down for me is the last step in moving past the sorrow I have over what I expected versus what I experienced. Not all births with midwives and "natural birth centers" are peaceful or beautiful. Not all women who choose unmedicated births have support teams and I was one of those women.
My midwives were fairly aggressive during the last stage of labor and the 45minutes I spent pushing. They held my legs, they told me when to push, they moved the lip of my cervix back forcefully without asking if I wanted them to. They massaged me forcefully with olive oil and never once asked if I wanted them to. And I didn't have the energy, knowledge, stamina- to tell them they were hurting me. I wish I could have that hour back, I would do it differently, I believe firmly that these are all interventions, that left on my own I could have found a natural position (rather than flat on my back, really, the most unproductive position) and I would be sharing different words.
But I lay, and I pushed and I cried, and I yelled words about how "I DIDNT WANT TO BE PREGNANT ANYMORE!!!!" And after this feeling of immense anger and solitude passed,
I breathed in and pushed down down down through the end of the world and out into the spinning light of a yellow room I birthed my beautiful daughter whose cord was tucked in spirals around her neck, where Midwives clamped it and cut it even though her pappa had asked to do it himself, and lay her on my chest to learn how to breathe.
We went home that same evening around 9:00, 4 hours after she became my daughter, little berry was safe at home, in a small apartment on a pretty street that will always be a little special, it was where I began to feel like a mama.
Around noon on August 4th, I was still laboring hard. My water had still not broken, but I was having strong contractions every three minutes that I could not talk through. I was using the shower for 10-20 minutes at a time and it really helped. At one point, I began to feel guilty about the water usage and came out of the shower. My midwife suggested I use the birthing tub, and filled it for me. It was bad timing.
Pappa Starbucks was at home (remember, it was just around the corner) to walk our dog. I was exhausted so she filled the tub for me and I got in, leaving me alone. I felt suddenly and intensely overwhelmed by how alone I was and I started feeling tense, upset, perhaps even scared. I felt hot and painful and angry and loathed the birthing tub, although I think if I had tried it again with Pappa Starbucks there to would have been able to relax and enjoy it. I got out and put my headphones back on, listening to the same song over and over. It was "Crazy" by Seal and I had been using it throughout the morning. Something about it helped me relax and I kept it on repeat. I bounced on the birthing ball, tried the birthing chair, and when Pappa Starbucks returned, I was exhausted and realized I needed sleep. I had thought there was no way I could sleep in labor but I did-for almost an hour I was in a heavy hard sleep that was lucid and also very deep. When I woke up, I felt like I was coming out of a trance and I began laboring hard again.
I know my midwife checked me and I was almost fully dilated. I tried the shower again and I remember standing under the sharp splattering of hot water, the sound of running water filling the room, when I entered the third stage of labor. I wanted to push, I needed to push, but I was in the shower alone and there was no one else there to keep me from falling. I had a vision of responding to the urge to push and then slipping and hitting my head, or of the baby falling down the drain, a bizarre frantic airless panic sank in. Looking back on moments like this I wish wish wish I had sought out a doula. I could have used someone throughout my labor to just "be" with me. I was alone a lot. My midwives were busy with another mamma to be who had arrived (they complained about her while I was pushing!) "only two centimeters dilated and already screaming."
I crawled out of the shower on my knees, found a towel, and went back to the pretty yellow room that was around the corner. I think if I had not been alone in the shower I would have probably given birth rather quickly standing up there, it felt natural, compulsive.
When I went from the rushing water to the quiet yellow room I also felt tense again and instead of still needing to push, I began walking. I spent about 15minutes walking, my contractions very strong and consistent. I was on my knees breathing in and out to Seal when my midwives started insisting I try different positions. They were tired I'm sure. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon and I had been there since about 8am. It occurred to me that this is going to happen soon and I'm almost there!
I know I was anxious. I felt very unsupported. I'm okay saying this now, I've worked through most of the feelings I have about her birth. Writing these things down for me is the last step in moving past the sorrow I have over what I expected versus what I experienced. Not all births with midwives and "natural birth centers" are peaceful or beautiful. Not all women who choose unmedicated births have support teams and I was one of those women.
My midwives were fairly aggressive during the last stage of labor and the 45minutes I spent pushing. They held my legs, they told me when to push, they moved the lip of my cervix back forcefully without asking if I wanted them to. They massaged me forcefully with olive oil and never once asked if I wanted them to. And I didn't have the energy, knowledge, stamina- to tell them they were hurting me. I wish I could have that hour back, I would do it differently, I believe firmly that these are all interventions, that left on my own I could have found a natural position (rather than flat on my back, really, the most unproductive position) and I would be sharing different words.
But I lay, and I pushed and I cried, and I yelled words about how "I DIDNT WANT TO BE PREGNANT ANYMORE!!!!" And after this feeling of immense anger and solitude passed,
I breathed in and pushed down down down through the end of the world and out into the spinning light of a yellow room I birthed my beautiful daughter whose cord was tucked in spirals around her neck, where Midwives clamped it and cut it even though her pappa had asked to do it himself, and lay her on my chest to learn how to breathe.
We went home that same evening around 9:00, 4 hours after she became my daughter, little berry was safe at home, in a small apartment on a pretty street that will always be a little special, it was where I began to feel like a mama.
3/4/10
My birth story with little berry, part 1
On August 3rd 2008, I was a week past my due date with my little berry. I was finishing up my Junior year at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. At 30weeks, Pappa Starbucks and I toured the labor and delivery wing of the Womens Hospital there. As we walked through the doors, the staff member was telling us about ankle bracelets used to prevent babynappings, that would shut down the entire hospital wing if the infant cane within five feet if the doors with this device on. It is standard procedure. I was already having concerns about my desired birth being compromised, and felt very unsupported in my delivery wishes. Pappa Starbucks is very pro interventions (he says that doctors have been to medical school and therefore are better prepared to make decisions regarding our health care needs, from cesarean deliveries to vaccines) and while that is good and right for him, it isn't right for me.
My philosophy was that if a baby was left with their mother to be weighed, to room in, etc, at least in most cases, this would be unnecessary. I was also upset about the way birth was being presented. Instead of telling me about the support staff that would be available, the tour guide was pulling stirrups out and showing the women in my group the fold down panel of lights and medical equipment and television setups that were in the ceiling "just in case," and that "the OR was right around the corner in case they needed to do a c-section." I asked about waterbirthing, and they answered, candidly, that that was considered unsafe and I needed to consider the monitors.
At this point I told pappa starbucks I was ready to leave, and we went home.
I was hormonal and irrational and pretty mad because I thought I had no other choice; but I knew this was not the right place for me to give birth to my daughter.
We discussed our options (I wanted to have a home birth at this point) and as luck would have it, there was a birthing center within walking distance of our apartment at that time, the only one in North Carolina. I was so excited that it was that close.
I would like to say I was reading up on natural birthing and attending birthing classes, but I wasn't. I was busy with a work-study job, taking several summer courses, and crashing in the early evenings, exhausted and also a little depressed. Pappa Starbucks was also working and going to school, as well as nannying part-time. To say we were busy and trying to do too much is an understatement. I think this is partly why our relationship has been so strained since her birth.
Making the Switch:
We didn't get a first appointment at the birthing center until I was 37weeks along. But because I was healthy and didn't have diabetes or any other conditions, they took me on. Their policy is that all patients take a birthing class before delivery, something I think hosipitals don't often require, but in the end they actually waived this requirement for me since there was no way I could get into and finish a birthing class in time.
After I got into the birthing center I only had 3weeks until my due date. We saw the facilities, met the midwives, and I began to read a lot of their books on breastfeeding, which was my biggest concern. I was more fixated on being able to nurse than on my impending unmedicated childbirth! August 3rd rolled around and I was huge. I was hot, tired, beginning to feel aneimic, and a week "overdue." I was craving vegetarian summer rolls and peanut butter and peaches like no one's business- eating those three things almost constantly.
I felt ready to deliver and had been 50%effaced for days, dilated to a 2for a week. I was using EPO and feeling... ready. I had the "nursery" set up, a huge room devoted to our little babe, diapers all lined up, clothes sitting waiting to be worn. I would sit and fold and refold her things, excited, eager, I had her coming home outfit picked out and the camera batteries charged.
On August 3rd, I felt two big contractions somewhere around noon but then nothing after that. Pappa Starbucks and I took to the mall, walking and walking and walking, finally ending the evening with dinner of Vegetarian Summer Rolls, and at about ten o clock that night I knew I was about to go into labour. I wish I had taken that chance to sleep, but I was suddenly feeling bursting with things I needed to do. I stripped all the sheets off of our bed and replaced them with bright white ones (I get the biggest laugh out of this now) and removed all the bedding from Little Berry's crib, thinking it needed to be cleaned again. I scrubbed the stairs one by one because they just looked SO dirty all of a sudden!! and I woke up Pappa Starbucks to tell him I wanted him to install the carseat. I was scrubbing the refrigerator, folding towels. I was nesting.
We spent the rest of the night "resting," (not sleeping, unfortunately) though my contractions got very close together quickly. They were 5 minutes apart andstrong by 3am. We hung out, walked the dog, and at 5am we called the midwives and drove to Starbucks. I wanted to stay home but he was adamantly against this, and yet he had HAD to get his coffee fix, a true coffee lover. I was very nauseaus and just wanted to be MOVING. Walking. We went into Starbucks a few minutes after they opened (he has once worked at this starbucks and knew everyone) and while he got his free coffee I tried to eat a croissant. When Pappa Starbucks is nervous, he
makes lots of jokes, talks a lot. Getting coffee took forever. We left at about 6, even though I wanted nothing less than to get in the car again and would have been happy staying there for the rest of the day.
When we got to the birthing center, the midwives unlocked the doors and let us in. We were both excited but knew I would probably spend the rest of the day in labor.
I was in back labor, so the midwife wrapped a sheet around my tummy to help Little Berry turn. This caused the contractions to feel extremely intense and she did turn later but not until I was enjoying a hot, hot shower.
.....to be continued!
My philosophy was that if a baby was left with their mother to be weighed, to room in, etc, at least in most cases, this would be unnecessary. I was also upset about the way birth was being presented. Instead of telling me about the support staff that would be available, the tour guide was pulling stirrups out and showing the women in my group the fold down panel of lights and medical equipment and television setups that were in the ceiling "just in case," and that "the OR was right around the corner in case they needed to do a c-section." I asked about waterbirthing, and they answered, candidly, that that was considered unsafe and I needed to consider the monitors.
At this point I told pappa starbucks I was ready to leave, and we went home.
I was hormonal and irrational and pretty mad because I thought I had no other choice; but I knew this was not the right place for me to give birth to my daughter.
We discussed our options (I wanted to have a home birth at this point) and as luck would have it, there was a birthing center within walking distance of our apartment at that time, the only one in North Carolina. I was so excited that it was that close.
I would like to say I was reading up on natural birthing and attending birthing classes, but I wasn't. I was busy with a work-study job, taking several summer courses, and crashing in the early evenings, exhausted and also a little depressed. Pappa Starbucks was also working and going to school, as well as nannying part-time. To say we were busy and trying to do too much is an understatement. I think this is partly why our relationship has been so strained since her birth.
Making the Switch:
We didn't get a first appointment at the birthing center until I was 37weeks along. But because I was healthy and didn't have diabetes or any other conditions, they took me on. Their policy is that all patients take a birthing class before delivery, something I think hosipitals don't often require, but in the end they actually waived this requirement for me since there was no way I could get into and finish a birthing class in time.
After I got into the birthing center I only had 3weeks until my due date. We saw the facilities, met the midwives, and I began to read a lot of their books on breastfeeding, which was my biggest concern. I was more fixated on being able to nurse than on my impending unmedicated childbirth! August 3rd rolled around and I was huge. I was hot, tired, beginning to feel aneimic, and a week "overdue." I was craving vegetarian summer rolls and peanut butter and peaches like no one's business- eating those three things almost constantly.
I felt ready to deliver and had been 50%effaced for days, dilated to a 2for a week. I was using EPO and feeling... ready. I had the "nursery" set up, a huge room devoted to our little babe, diapers all lined up, clothes sitting waiting to be worn. I would sit and fold and refold her things, excited, eager, I had her coming home outfit picked out and the camera batteries charged.
On August 3rd, I felt two big contractions somewhere around noon but then nothing after that. Pappa Starbucks and I took to the mall, walking and walking and walking, finally ending the evening with dinner of Vegetarian Summer Rolls, and at about ten o clock that night I knew I was about to go into labour. I wish I had taken that chance to sleep, but I was suddenly feeling bursting with things I needed to do. I stripped all the sheets off of our bed and replaced them with bright white ones (I get the biggest laugh out of this now) and removed all the bedding from Little Berry's crib, thinking it needed to be cleaned again. I scrubbed the stairs one by one because they just looked SO dirty all of a sudden!! and I woke up Pappa Starbucks to tell him I wanted him to install the carseat. I was scrubbing the refrigerator, folding towels. I was nesting.
We spent the rest of the night "resting," (not sleeping, unfortunately) though my contractions got very close together quickly. They were 5 minutes apart andstrong by 3am. We hung out, walked the dog, and at 5am we called the midwives and drove to Starbucks. I wanted to stay home but he was adamantly against this, and yet he had HAD to get his coffee fix, a true coffee lover. I was very nauseaus and just wanted to be MOVING. Walking. We went into Starbucks a few minutes after they opened (he has once worked at this starbucks and knew everyone) and while he got his free coffee I tried to eat a croissant. When Pappa Starbucks is nervous, he
makes lots of jokes, talks a lot. Getting coffee took forever. We left at about 6, even though I wanted nothing less than to get in the car again and would have been happy staying there for the rest of the day.
When we got to the birthing center, the midwives unlocked the doors and let us in. We were both excited but knew I would probably spend the rest of the day in labor.
I was in back labor, so the midwife wrapped a sheet around my tummy to help Little Berry turn. This caused the contractions to feel extremely intense and she did turn later but not until I was enjoying a hot, hot shower.
.....to be continued!
1/20/10
Uh-oh...
And down she falls.
Yesterday Little Berry was playing on her toy car that my mom (hi mom!) bought her. She stood up in the seat as I was stirring some boiling spaghetti...and fell. She chipped her front top tooth and now it seems to be causing her some sensitivity issues. I'm more than a little scared about taking her to the dentist. I don't want my daughter to be sedated...or drilled on...or scared either. I feel pretty awful. Hopefully (and I've been told) it's not that big of a deal. They should just be able to put a little cap on it/or file it down a little bit. I hope it is that easy.
(when this photo was taken, I had my foot on the car. I feel pretty stupid now for letting her do it at all. yes. I'm stupid)
Yesterday Little Berry was playing on her toy car that my mom (hi mom!) bought her. She stood up in the seat as I was stirring some boiling spaghetti...and fell. She chipped her front top tooth and now it seems to be causing her some sensitivity issues. I'm more than a little scared about taking her to the dentist. I don't want my daughter to be sedated...or drilled on...or scared either. I feel pretty awful. Hopefully (and I've been told) it's not that big of a deal. They should just be able to put a little cap on it/or file it down a little bit. I hope it is that easy.
(when this photo was taken, I had my foot on the car. I feel pretty stupid now for letting her do it at all. yes. I'm stupid)
1/14/10
101
My last post was my 100th post. I didn't even notice it. I guess that goes to show how fast things are moving these days. It's been feeling almost balmy here and this is such a wonderful thing because I was feeling so blue to be cooped up indoors all day every day. I'm sure it will not last, though when we were further East it certainly felt Springlike much sooner in the winter and I can't tell you how much I loved the way the city would fill our apartment in the winter. It made being inside seem like being just behind the curtain on stage to hear the rattling of the trucks on the freeway echoiing into our little space, filling the walls with the humming noises of someone else's adventure.
Little Berry loves being out of doors with me, brings me her shoes and my own, her jacket, the keys, just to get my attention that she wants to go walk. When it's bitter cold though she doesn't want anything to do with it, and squalls to be picked up so she can tuck her face into my neck and poke the freckles on the side of my face. She calls them each a "ball" though, or somedays, "murse?" which is Little Berry for nurse and I have no idea why she thinks my freckles are going to yield milk.
I'm in desperate want of a bicycle, I want a lovely vintage style one that's on display at Target and a sweet baby carrier that goes behind the seat. I've been spying on them at the Thrift stores and have found a few contenders but they all need work and they're not that much less than a new one here. So I'm saving my dollars and waiting, and when Spring comes and I have a summer to look forward to on flat roads of rural Mississippi (or Arkansas, who knows?) I will buy my bike and buckle in my Little Berry who by then will be quite a BIG Little Berry, and we will ride.
We're having that language explosion age, I've been warned about it before but it just slipped away from me that this is what's happening, until this morning I was putting laundry on the clothesline and she was standing a few feet away pointing at the sky and saying skyyyyeeeee? followed by burrrrd? 'reeeee? (tree)and turtle? In the past week or so, she's learned mouse, and keys, and socks (shocksh?) and cow as well as that cow's go Mooooo?! and points to their udders and says "Murse?". She can say Pig (pigsh!), which sounds a lot like her enthusiastic "fish!" and snort when she sees their picture. She spots airplanes in the sky that look like mere pinpricks in the clouds and shrieks about them until they've again faded into the mystery that is a cloud. This morning I was telling her something and I said the word "one"- I think I said "oops! That's only one shoe." And she said: "Two?" but she usually gets pretty lost after four.
I have two pieces to her little kitchen set painted a pretty white, and am waiting to paint the last, the stove. It is somewhat tedious because my minutes to do it are spare but the reward is great. She loves it immensely and has been pilfering from my silverware drawer every few minutes to play whatever games it is that gets her so wrapped up and immersed in taking things out and putting things back in again. I've decided to try my hand at making toy food for her. I have plenty of felt wool but I don't like the feel of wool toys enough to do that, so I've decided to use pre-knitted fabrics, like organic cotton sweaters I picked up at the thrift stores in heavy weight yarns and cut them apart to make them from. I will post photos of this when I'm done as well as a tutorial if I succeed.
Here's something to think about until I post again:
Which is cutest?
Little Berry, last January
OR: Little Berry this week
Little Berry loves being out of doors with me, brings me her shoes and my own, her jacket, the keys, just to get my attention that she wants to go walk. When it's bitter cold though she doesn't want anything to do with it, and squalls to be picked up so she can tuck her face into my neck and poke the freckles on the side of my face. She calls them each a "ball" though, or somedays, "murse?" which is Little Berry for nurse and I have no idea why she thinks my freckles are going to yield milk.
I'm in desperate want of a bicycle, I want a lovely vintage style one that's on display at Target and a sweet baby carrier that goes behind the seat. I've been spying on them at the Thrift stores and have found a few contenders but they all need work and they're not that much less than a new one here. So I'm saving my dollars and waiting, and when Spring comes and I have a summer to look forward to on flat roads of rural Mississippi (or Arkansas, who knows?) I will buy my bike and buckle in my Little Berry who by then will be quite a BIG Little Berry, and we will ride.
We're having that language explosion age, I've been warned about it before but it just slipped away from me that this is what's happening, until this morning I was putting laundry on the clothesline and she was standing a few feet away pointing at the sky and saying skyyyyeeeee? followed by burrrrd? 'reeeee? (tree)and turtle? In the past week or so, she's learned mouse, and keys, and socks (shocksh?) and cow as well as that cow's go Mooooo?! and points to their udders and says "Murse?". She can say Pig (pigsh!), which sounds a lot like her enthusiastic "fish!" and snort when she sees their picture. She spots airplanes in the sky that look like mere pinpricks in the clouds and shrieks about them until they've again faded into the mystery that is a cloud. This morning I was telling her something and I said the word "one"- I think I said "oops! That's only one shoe." And she said: "Two?" but she usually gets pretty lost after four.
I have two pieces to her little kitchen set painted a pretty white, and am waiting to paint the last, the stove. It is somewhat tedious because my minutes to do it are spare but the reward is great. She loves it immensely and has been pilfering from my silverware drawer every few minutes to play whatever games it is that gets her so wrapped up and immersed in taking things out and putting things back in again. I've decided to try my hand at making toy food for her. I have plenty of felt wool but I don't like the feel of wool toys enough to do that, so I've decided to use pre-knitted fabrics, like organic cotton sweaters I picked up at the thrift stores in heavy weight yarns and cut them apart to make them from. I will post photos of this when I'm done as well as a tutorial if I succeed.
Here's something to think about until I post again:
Which is cutest?
Little Berry, last January
OR: Little Berry this week
12/9/09
Sewing Table
Since we moved into this apartment we have lived in a seeming hodge podge of disorganization or non functional spaces. Finally I have created my own corner where I can actually point out as my own sewing space, (with my own sewing table!) or to write or just doodle. When we were students, I simply made my school desk work, even though it didn't. But when we moved here, and I became a full-time at home mamma, well, I begged for my own crafting space.
And I got it! I haven't included photos here of my fabric stash...or of my bookshelf loaded up with sweet vintage children's books, but I wanted to share my sewing table space and my sweet little wall behind it.
Strung up you see my vintage-style French children's "manners cards" we picked up in Paris. I wish I could remember the name of the shop...I can tell you we were accosted by a gentleman outside of the shop who was angry that A0 we didn't speak French and B) that Little Berry wasn't wearing socks and C) that the sun was shining. The sun! Shining on our daughter. How dare we let that happen!
You know, because we should have stayed in if the sun was shining, it makes perfect sense.
Anyway, back to my space.
I also put up some handmade mustache's. Because I can't seem to get enough of them lately and I can't decide what to do with these at the same time.
I have so many ideas though.
I have a little bit of room on the wall for things I don't want Little Berry to get hergrimy paws sweet little baby hands all over- that's to say it isn't big enough to hold EVERYTHING I'd like to keep her from of course, but that would just be called a SEPARATE HOUSE.
And I got it! I haven't included photos here of my fabric stash...or of my bookshelf loaded up with sweet vintage children's books, but I wanted to share my sewing table space and my sweet little wall behind it.
Strung up you see my vintage-style French children's "manners cards" we picked up in Paris. I wish I could remember the name of the shop...I can tell you we were accosted by a gentleman outside of the shop who was angry that A0 we didn't speak French and B) that Little Berry wasn't wearing socks and C) that the sun was shining. The sun! Shining on our daughter. How dare we let that happen!
You know, because we should have stayed in if the sun was shining, it makes perfect sense.
Anyway, back to my space.
I also put up some handmade mustache's. Because I can't seem to get enough of them lately and I can't decide what to do with these at the same time.
I have so many ideas though.
I have a little bit of room on the wall for things I don't want Little Berry to get her
The wrong way
Have you ever noticed that going through things together with your significant other either strengthens you as a couple or shows you a side you didn't know existed, or maybe ignored? Pappa Starbucks and I have been through a lot over the past year, good things and unforgettable experiences (like our trip to Europe for two months) and bad things (like graduating from college with no job prospects and coming back from Europe to not have a "home" anymore). Little Berry is a dream, but sometimes I get worn out being with her all day and let's face it, baby's don't measure out what they want from you in little request throughout the day. They want everything, they want it all the time, and they want it right away.
Sometimes I feel like I am failing to teach her patience, and just focusing on teaching her love, how to be happy, that I love her being sweet.
I know there is a balance. And from any outside view, we're doing a great job. But we disagree so intensely on the small issues that the big issues become pushed to the back of our minds. I know this is a recipe for disaster. I know that parenting is hard. Loving her is just the reward, the special reason that being a parent is worth it and the reason we all keep going daily. I have so much that I want for my life, and so much that I want for her life, and so much that I want for Pappa Starbucks' life that I don't know what to do first, where to put my passion. I want to do it all, and all well, but I'm not capable of that.
I take responsibility for other people's dreams and projects and desires, people not in my immediate three- and I do the best I can for them, but at the same time I am afraid I might be letting down the people who DO count on me. I can't be in charge of everyone's happiness and yet I want for us to all be happy. There is perhaps an easier way to say this, but it feels like I am being an underachiever because the only other option is to do everything, for everyone, so I please the people I know I can please, and I let the rest fall by.
I want to please, I have always been eager to make people happy. There are reasons for this, reasons I am just now beginning to understand but not willing to admit. There are consequences to treating myself and my partner and my daughter like we are last on our on list, but I don't know how to begin stripping away all of the problems and commitments that don't make me a better person, who I want to be, who I am, and focus on the ones that do. I am going the wrong way to get to my dreams but I am going to fast to notice it.
Sometimes I feel like I am failing to teach her patience, and just focusing on teaching her love, how to be happy, that I love her being sweet.
I know there is a balance. And from any outside view, we're doing a great job. But we disagree so intensely on the small issues that the big issues become pushed to the back of our minds. I know this is a recipe for disaster. I know that parenting is hard. Loving her is just the reward, the special reason that being a parent is worth it and the reason we all keep going daily. I have so much that I want for my life, and so much that I want for her life, and so much that I want for Pappa Starbucks' life that I don't know what to do first, where to put my passion. I want to do it all, and all well, but I'm not capable of that.
I take responsibility for other people's dreams and projects and desires, people not in my immediate three- and I do the best I can for them, but at the same time I am afraid I might be letting down the people who DO count on me. I can't be in charge of everyone's happiness and yet I want for us to all be happy. There is perhaps an easier way to say this, but it feels like I am being an underachiever because the only other option is to do everything, for everyone, so I please the people I know I can please, and I let the rest fall by.
I want to please, I have always been eager to make people happy. There are reasons for this, reasons I am just now beginning to understand but not willing to admit. There are consequences to treating myself and my partner and my daughter like we are last on our on list, but I don't know how to begin stripping away all of the problems and commitments that don't make me a better person, who I want to be, who I am, and focus on the ones that do. I am going the wrong way to get to my dreams but I am going to fast to notice it.
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