Wordless Wednesday: "Pappa wear me!"

ERGObaby Carrier Review (and a chance to win!)

The first time I put on an ERGObaby Carrier, I was surprised at how weighty it felt on my shoulders. My girl was only about six months old and she fit snugly in it, her chin rested on the soft shoulder straps. We borrowed that ERGObaby Carrier for our trip to Europe when she was nine months old, and it was the single best thing we took along. I used it first in the airports when my hands were full of bags and our passports even zipped neatly into the front pocket.

Throughout the trip it continued to serve us more purpose than anything else we took for our daughter. On the blustery streets of London and to the churning Underground, I wore her, up stairwells seven stories deep and through street festivals in Dublin, on to the Tour de Eifel; we wore and wore and wore her. But the best part was that I quickly learned how to breastfeed her in it, saving me countless hours of awkwardly perching in minuscule European restrooms or trying to lull a tired babe to sleep with no bed to lay her on. I happily Nurse in Public whenever she asks to, and the ERGObaby Carrier has become synonymous with breastfeeding for her and I. I simply drop the length of the straps down, lift up my shirt (I like wearing tank tops underneath my blouses for breastfeeding) and she leans to one side and rests her head on my elbow to bliss out on mama milk. One of my absolute favorite breastfeeding moments with her was in a small French garden outside of Paris where I laid the ERGObaby Carrier on the ground as a small blanket and snuggled down beside her to rest and nurse her to sleep. An elderly French lady who didn’t speak a word of English came and sat right next to me, patting her leg and crooning as my girl nursed away.

(our little one has a ride in the ERGObaby Carrier in the Wicklow mountains of Ireland)

Ease of Use: The ERGObaby Carrier isn’t just for adventures though, and it’s truly the one and only carrier you will ever need for your baby. It goes from newborn weight (with an insert) through 40pounds, but they’ve been tested to hold much more than that. I personally can’t imagine my girl being too big for it as she’s almost two and I still wear her. I’m currently a single mama while my partner is away for six weeks this summer and it has liberated me to do things I didn’t know I would struggle doing. Grocery shopping, for example, is difficult when there’s a wee one trying to snack on everything in the cart, and hard enough if there are two adults along. But if I go right during nap time, and put her on my back in the ERGObaby Carrier, she will snooze the trip away. I put her in it again to unload the car and free up both of my hands to grocery bags. And, if she wants a nurse while we’re out, I simply snuggle her into the ERGObaby carrier and pull my blouse aside. She doesn’t need much more encouragement than that to “murse.”

Comfort: At work (I‘m a part-time Nanny), I put her in it when she needs a break or a cuddle) and I’ve had the pleasure of wearing other sweet babes in it too, though my girl does get a bit jealous at seeing other wee ones in “My ERGO!” It is brilliantly comfortable and actually reminds me of a well-fitted backpack. Even my partner enjoys wearing her for snuggles or out at the farmer’s market (to free up his hands for watermelons and fresh strawberries!) as it’s so comfortable and easily adjusted. Another great point is that you can easily wear your child in different positions. My favorite is the front carry, but my partner prefers the back carry. You can also wear it on your hip or wear two at a time (front carry and back carry) if you have more than one little one.

Value: The ERGObaby Carrier is on the pricier side of all carriers I have ever owned, ranging from $120-$148. With that being said, it is truly worth the price, and is also going to last through as many babies as you may be blessed with. I truly love my ERGObaby carrier. It is blissfully soft, sturdy and has allowed me to nurture my babe any and everywhere I go. She asks for it “the ERGO!” by name when she wants a snuggle or a “mursie” and I have loved every minute of having it. It's also probably our most used baby item besides our stash of cloth diapers.

You can visit the ERGObaby website at http://www.ergobabycarriers.com/
ERGObaby has graciously offered one of our Carnival of Nursing in Public participants an ERGObaby carrier (valued between $120 and $148). *Preferred color cannot be guaranteed and is dependent upon stock available.
To enter to win an ERGObaby Carrier, submit an original post to the Carnival of Nursing in Public by June 30th.
Rules for entry – There are 3 ways to be entered in the drawing. You will get one entry for each submission up to 2 drawing entries in each category (you can submit more than 2 items but you will only be entered into the drawing 2 times per category for a maximum total of 6 entries per person). Here’s how to enter:
1. Submit an original post – This should be a well-written, unpublished piece submitted by June 30th using the original post submission webform.
2. Submit a NIP photo – Please submit your picture via email to CodeNameMama {at} gmail {dot} com and BabyDustDiaries {at} gmail {dot} com. You must own rights to share your pictures.
3. Submit a Tweet – Submit your Tweet that shares a NIP tip or bit of encouragement in 140 characters or less using the Tweet submission webform. Be sure to include the #CarNIP hashtag and your Twitter ID in that 140 character count.
Also: please comment to let me know which ERGObaby Carrier you will chose if you win!

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?

Blog Hugs, or "Blugs!"

Mama Christina from Diary of a Mom gave me a bloggy award! I am so flattered as it's my first!
The rules are:
One: Tell us about a memorable hug you’ve had. It can be a person, pet, whatever…
Two: “Hug” at least one other blogger or as many as you like.


Part One:

Wow, this is very hard for me. As many people know, I'm not a hugger. I'm not touchy-feely or lovey-dovey, and I have to remind myself to give physical affection, even to Pappa Starbucks. He, however, is very very much a hugger and is always asking for them and so is Little Berry. I think this will be a good exercise for me to write about hugging though since I've been trying to work giving them more....eagerly?
On my 20th birthday, Pappa Starbucks and I were meeting for breakfast. We were in college, we knew each other fairly well but were not involved. He was gushy-mushy-lovey-dovey-always-grinning around me and I knew he liked me a lot. One of the reasons I was at that point hesitating to date him was actually because of how exuberantly affectionate he was.
I got up that morning, showered and dressed in my favorite button down plaid shirt that my best friend always picked on me for wearing (good naturedly of course) and fixed a bowl of very crunchy granola to take to breakfast even though we were meeting in front of chic-fil-a (he's vegetarian and I didn't eat meat in front of him for a very long time) so I wouldn't be chowing down on a chicken biscuit while he ate his frosted flakes or oatmeal.
It was a chilly and frosty-aired morning, and I walked from my dorm to the cafeteria to meet this silly guy- trying to make sure my hair wasn't all frizzy from the sweater I was wearing, and generally wanting to look good but not have anyone know I was TRYING. It was, after all, my BIRTHDAY.
He met me inside the cafeteria with a cheerful grin and leaned in to hug me- "Happy Birthday!" he said. He smelled like Tide and toothpaste and I realized I had flutters- genuine nervous butterfly flutters in my stomach at that moment, and I knew we'd be together for a long long time.
And we've been together ever since!
Part Two:
I hug Ittybits and Pieces, The Milk Maid, Erin, Milk Donor Mama, and last but never least, my Friend Monica!

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.

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!

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

Old pics

I'm raiding Pappa Starbuck's hard drive this morning for photos I took in Europe. Most of these are from Dublin, specifically from Trinity College and the Trinity College area and are from May and June this year.

Another day older...

Whew. Another year gone in just a day it seems. I'm always relieved when birthdays pass and my day returns to being just another box on a calendar, marked by slow, forgettable minutes, hours, days of the same routine that is life. In some ways it is sad to know that I will not pinpoint this day in time, remembering the lively sparkle of sunshine on Little Berry's hair as we take our afternoon walk, the smile my daughter flashed at a stranger in a wheel chair, or the kisses she planted on my mouth after I gave her a sip of my cocoa this morning. It is not a memorable day, not a spectacular day, it is only another moment in time lasting as briefly as the last.
But as I watch Pappa Starbucks taking out the trash and little berry fuss over a toy wedged between the cushions, needing a nap for her and a hair-tie to tidy up myself, I do wish that I could steal these moments away and never lose them, never have to wish I could remember that faint dimple on her face or that I could reach out and take her teeny hands inside my own because I would be there, breathing them, living them, smelling over and over again the crest of her perfect tiny head and sweet baby ears, holding her in my lap trying or grabbing me and trying to nurse in the store will be faint memories, but I also know my love for her will stay just as all encompassing as it is today, just as intense, just as perfect, tangible, and frighteningly bright.
That much, I know for sure.

From the "archives"

Here are some pictures from this time last year. The first is of Inauguration night at the Governors party. We had just heard that Obama won.

It was so, so loud in that room. Perdue won as well and everyone was laughing, whooping, some crying. It was exciting for us as a family.
This second photo was taken at UNC as Pappa Starbucks picked me up on a friday afternoon. Have you been there in the fall before? It is so beautiful. Springtime, too.

Do you see this precious purple face?
We were struggling so hard with thrush and a cranky baby those days. Today she's well and instead of purple gentian violet stain...


Toothies.

Missing

We all know what it's like to be busy, to be overwhelmed, to have more on our plate than we'd like. And sometimes it's not that we're busy, or too busy to do what needs to be done, it's just that we don't want to do what we need to. Oh, procrastination. The truth is, if I applied myself, I could accomplish a lot. A whole lot. I'm not what I would call a lazy person, but I am creatively motivated. By that, I mean I am highly motivated when it comes to things creative. Organizing the bookshelf thoroughly? Oh, I can do that. Baking bread? Absolutely! Folding the towels and patching Little Berry's pants where she wiped out too many times wore them out? Yes, yes! Sign me up. But when it comes to seeing that the bedroom isn't exactly in tip top shape or that the scum in our tub has began turning pink, well. I'm not the best at this. I look at it like this:
How long ago did I get on my hands and knees and scrub the bathroom/kitchen floor/ etc? And if the answer is more than a week ago I think
"well...I will clean it tomorrow."
And then the next day I actually DO follow through on those tasks and usually also end up doing way more than I *realized* needed doing. Of course. And then I get all huffy when Pappa Starbucks doesn't comment on how great everything looks, but that's another post.


What about you? How do you maintain a clean home?
(I'm talking to you, Nichole, Sharla, and Lynette!)
***And anyone else who might be following along here :)

Sunny day

Today it is a quiet day, Little Berry wanting much more attention from me than I have energy to give. We walked a while earlier and are both so tired that soon she will crawl up on my lap and pat me, wanting milk. I love the smell of her hair and her the way she grins at me while nursing like she knows how great she is. And she is, all the time. I know these tiny sweet moments will be sparce as she gets bigger, but seeing her become independent already has its rewards. She knows that when we are going to the car she needs to get into her seat, or that when I get my shoes she needs to get hers. When she needs a diaper change she will often bring me a diaper and when she's hungry she sees me cooking. She is already pretty able to content herself while other things are being done.
We had a lot of fun with my nieces and made a lot of noise, it was exciting, energetic. They took off this morning loaded down with new things and stories to tell at home about their stay in the city. We took them up and down the city hitting all their favorite types of places. I don't know or sure if they loved it but they kept forgetting they had parents, so I think that means yes.
I can see now how having multiple kids could make things both harder to manage and sweeter to enjoy. We've pretty much decided around here that we will be the house of three for a long time though, just because we enjoy one quite a bit and don't exactly want to have to juggle our attention around. This doesn't mean never though, and I have so many boxes of girl clothes stored away that she's already outgrown that I don't know what I will do if I don't end up with another girl someday.
The holidays are encroaching again and it seems like they are always sneaking up, perhaps not even sneaking but running in eagerly and announcing themselves "HI!! HELLO! IT'S ME! CHRISTMAS!" so I've decided that this year I'm not going to let them get the best of me. I will not get the holiday blues, greens, or reds this year. I will take it easy and be direct about my very minimum interest, and they will come...and they will go.
Today, however, I am going to continue kissing this sweet baby's head,
washing, drying and folding the mundane that is laundry,
baking bread,
and enjoying my new sewing space.

Plowing ahead

Yesterday was a day of pins and needles. I was nervous all day and kept waiting to hear from Pappa Starbucks. We've been weighed down, dragged down, we've felt insufficient and inadequate. We've felt like failures. True, we have eachother and a beautiful sweet daughter. But graduating from college left us in a limbo, a place where we knew not what was ahead. We fought for job after job just to see it crumble away until we were thrilled to find out he had been offered a position. A position nannying for someone elses kids, something he is so overqualified for but grateful to have nonetheless. Our biggest disappointment came last year when he was accepted into Teach For America but placed on a wait-list. This was a job he wanted so badly and was really ideal for, a job that meant more opportunities to learn and opportunities to go to grad-school afterwords, things that are virtually unattainable to us without such an opportunity because of financial reasons.
Last night at 7:00 we found out he has been accepted into Teach For America this year. We are thrilled, excited, nervous, but mostly happy. It will of course be lots of hard work and long hours, but I know he is intelligent and will do swimmingly.
Congratulations to us!

Thoughts on this scholarship-

My first plane flight (and Little Berry's too!) ever was yesterday. We were in bed super late last night and up at the wee hours of morning heading to Atlanta on a two something hour drive in the dark, cool dewy summer light.
We flew from Atlanta to DC, and from DC to NYC. Little Berry and I struggled to keep up much of the time, but overall this was onelarge rush of adrenaline. From NYC, we flew nonstop to London. I stayed awake the entire flight, holding my daughter and watching Pappa Starbucks sleep in front of me. We were blessed with a light plane and plenty of room, and as I watched the light change across the world and the sky became unfamiliar, I realized I was on the cusp of a huge moment for myself.
The babe and I were both quite overwhelmed and I am clearly under-packed (not one single long-sleeve shirt in my bag!!) but right now, I am finally no longer STARVING, I've had a nice shower, Little Berry and Pappa Starbucks both are sleeping and I am fighting a losing battle with a new routine, as well as jetlag.
The trains (right outside our window) are loud, everything seems to be covered in graffiti, but so far everyone has been extremely helpful- twice yesterday I was helped with the stroller up a flight of (huge) stairs (what's with all the stairs here, anyway?) by a complete stranger, and our hotel clerk let us in our room 3 hours early because of just how dagum tired we were.
AND fed us breakfast for free.

Tomorrow begins our first day of exploring and we will see just how lost we manage to get exploring Europe with a baby in tow. For now I will be happy if we manage to not hurt ourselves or stick out like crazy tourists.

Frustrated

Pappa Starbucks and I have been fixing
up my convertible Sebring for the past month
-it's one of those articles remaining from my oh- so
bygone days of:
watching other people's kids
until the wee hours without minding it,
cute handbags to carry MY things in,
and truly belongs underneath the couch alongside all my
other 'personal effects' -move over, broken sunglass frames!
Our move,
the trip to Europe-
it necessitates finding somewhere else
for the car because well,
we can't take it with us.
We've put probably about $700
into the repairs: brand new tires,
oil change, cosmetic repairs.
Today he is selling it to the first
looker who is planning on driving
it to Florida and selling it for twice
what he is paying us. Pappa Starbucks
came down
$300 on the price
and the guy wants us to meet him with
it at the Sears repair shop,
'cause he wants us
to put a new battery in,
and for us to pay for it.
It was listed as AS IS.
And we are due to be
out of our apartment by 8am tomorrow.
Not a single box is ready to go
because all we have done
is carcarcarcarcarcarcarcar.
Pappa Starbucks has been running
around since yesterday
(he took it to Car Max to try to sell it
...his name wasn't on the title
so it was a wasted afternoon)
dealing with these things and
I am frustrated because we
have put so much energy
and money into it.
It would have been better
to have just listed it before without
doing all the work and made the same
amount of money off of it.
And we would have had our time
back.
And then maybe we wouldn't have to stay
up until FREEKIN 2 AM
tonight loading a UHAUL.
And believe it or not, it's not that I
am upset about the car being gone
(not comfortable with putting a baby in it)
it's just that I want my
two days back.
and
I am just so damn tired
of the way he does things at the last minute.

Pappa Starbucks on Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"

He was summarizing her poem, and said this:
"It seems as if the reader herein almost has snuck into her mind knowing exactly where to go, what to interpret, and how to feel."

This is why he is a poli sci major...and I the English.

Sigh. He's missing such literary magic!
On the other hand, look how sweet my baby is:

One lucky girl...

A conversation with Pappa Starbucks last night-
Me: Hey could you come in here for a minute?
PS: Mrmhmm
Me: *waiting....*
PS: Whatcha want?
Me: Can you sit with her (the baby) so's I can brush my teeth tonight? I've been too busy to brush them most nights this week....
PS: Sure. *sits down with her*
You know, I've been trying to do more things for you. It's like making foreplay part of everyday life.
Me: *Blink* What?
PS: You know, like letting you brush your teeth!

And I didn’t even DO a bracket

There are 50 port-a potties lining the street of our small town. Traffic police, the fire marshal, all local fire-fighters and trucks, as well as many visible paramedics are available, on call, and many are actively trying to prevent fights, and respond to emergencies, injuries. Some will be poised later tonight to put out fires that will be lit in the streets, and police will stand by to arrest anyone seen lighting fires in an attempt to control the riotous crowd, the volume of which is rising already. Thousands of people are raising their voices tonight, flooding this small town with a volume of united energy.

No, it's not a Take Back the Night event on astronomical proportions. Instead, our school is in the last game of the basketball season tonight. I've heard the loud, loud neighbors for weeks now, listening to the games, I've waded through traffic on Franklin Street during game days, or pushed through traffic to get to Baby's R Us to buy some more diapers while everyone scrambles around in their lovely, very clean and pressed Carolina Blue. And yes, I capitalized those on purpose. Mornings after big games, my professors offer a range of excuses for us in the classroom. Our transgressions against the text are forgiven because our team won. In one class I was in, students led presentations on some aspect of the literature we covered. One student group interviewed a leading basketball player who just happened to be sitting in the pit- they were the only team to receive an A. The noise level here is astounding. And though I am usually annoyed by the enthusiasm that my fellow peers have for the home team, I also understand that this sport allows many things and provides much business to this small town. However, as Pappa Starbucks pointed out, we're holding down our small fort with a babe who received a super does of vaccines today in anticipation for our trip to Europe.
And though I anticipate no emergency requiring us to plow through Franklin Street during the last minutes of the game when intoxicated students jump through rubbish fires and attempt to catch themselves on fire, and fortunately Little Berry's fever seems to be under control, but I will certainly enjoy the blanket excuse from doing my required readings, thank you very much. Especially since the volume of my neighbors? It's not even at its' maximum yet.

Today, dear

I have been bitter, angry. I am impatient and I feel like a spoiled child. My temper has grown increasingly shorter, like a roll of bubble tape that's being chomped on very quickly. At first I understood my feelings as being a part of new motherhood. I am trying to come into my own, I don't want to leave my children feeling they are a devastating creation, and yet I also want them to have independence. Freedom.
But I haven't even started being OK with leaving Little Berry. I wonder if I am imagining it, but all around me I see women whose grip is looser than my own. And yet they seem happy. Happy. A feeling that eludes me even in the sweetest moments. I feel like I'm hyped up on a drug, addicted. To spending time with my daughter.
I wouldn't even feel like it was negative though if my husband didn't resent it. I feel like you don't want any "us time" anymore he says. People said all of the romance would go out of the relationship but I didn't think it would be like this. I blame part of it on my return to school so quickly. Leaving the two week old babe was just so fricking hard. I worked very hard to have the birth I wanted, quiet, unmedicated, at a center that lets you go home three hours after the baby is born.
And when I got home, company. He had decided to invite people over, just four hours after I had the baby, oh.
This has created tension between us as well. I had wanted the first night to be just us. A new family, before the hubbub of visitors. And though it sounds like a small insignificant thing, it is one of the largest reasons I chose to go natural. I wanted to come home the same day. To be a mamma in my own home.
I am still extraordinarily hormonal. I saw a young lady my own age last night at The Chlidren's Place. My baby just turned one she said. I hardly ever get to spend time with her because I'm a manager here. It was late, too. It was 10:00pm on a Friday night. I turned into a puddle of tears, pity really, for this woman, whose baby was merely 4 months older than my own. But she wasn't sorry. She was happy, it was her choice. She was doing it because it was what worked for her, and I pitied because I would have wanted something else.
The judgmental nature of women against other women seems to be a perpetual cycle. We know better than to say critical, snarky things to each other. We have nothing to fear, no true reason to compete. I have become guarded against the words of my own mother you're looking good, dear. Loosing some of that tummy finally now huh? And bitter at the words of others, too. Last week a dear friend told me she did hope I wasn't planning on breastfeeding until she was three! I was shocked at her, surprised. I wanted to snap back first it's none of your business how long I breastfeed my baby, but the global average is 7! I had a complete reserve of angry things to say, but she was my friend. I hadn't prepared to use my weapons on a friend, I felt like I needed to dull them first.
So I told her the truth. I'm planning on breastfeeding until she's three, yes. I was breastfed until I was 4. And though my mother made me feel guilty about it throughout my childhood, I think she did it in my best interest.
This battle: how other women feed their babies? It needs to stop. How long your wife decides to nurse your daughter/ son? That battle needs to stop too. Especially when it's founded on words like
shameful
indecent
weird
creepy
nasty
etc
Because really, really, it's just feeding a baby.
The other thing is this- I don't know how long it takes a body to heal from childbirth normally, but I'd expected to be done by now. And the endless litany of complaints I've taken to my midwives is exhausting in itself. Granted, we've not had the easiest time. Little Berry has had Thrush since she was born, and I cannot get her pediatrician to treat it. They keep giving me ridiculous answers, like that yeast doesn't live in your gut...that if there are no signs of it, then she doesn't have it. Their only way of evaluating her is by the white patches in her mouth, and since I have had a running diagnosis of it myself, I know she has it as well. And yes, I have tried everything...
And Europe, we're going to Europe. I've never even flown, but we're going. For goodness knows how long. Maybe six, eight, twelve weeks. Three months. Pappa Starbuck's job search is getting frantic, but surely it will work out. Surely.

We went to the beach

 

 

We took a day-trip to the ocean. It was Little Berry's first time seeing the big waves, and as you can see from the photos,

She wasn't that crazy about it.

As long as she was facing away, she was fine- but I think the wind was a little too much.
It was nice for us though. I always find a trip to the ocean soothing, even if it's only for a

grand total of about fifteen minutes. Seriously, it was too chilly by the time we got there to stay any longer.

    

This last photo is my favorite. I just love how sweet she is. When her gums don't hurt and she isn't stuck in a car-seat, that is.

What relaxes you when you're stressed out?