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 :)

My audacious nursling

Welcome to the July 2010 Carnival of Nursing in Public


This post was written for inclusion in the Carnival of Nursing in Public hosted by Dionna and Paige at NursingFreedom.org. All week, July 5-9, we will be featuring articles and posts about nursing in public ("NIP"). See the bottom of this post for more information.


***It was in my third trimester that I fell in love with my daughter. Her tiny self nestled inside my womb, she would roil and tumble, acrobatics in the safest place we can ever be. I began feeling connected to her, the realization that she would soon be my girl as I sat in an English class in sweltering summer heat at a rectangular table with my sweet (and radiantly beautiful) friend Jessy, who was sometimes there and sometimes not. I began finally talking to her, singing to her and dreaming of her. I would imagine her at two, at three, at ten. I imagined her smiles and her kisses, her little knees and her sweet curls, fluttering eyelids and precious baby kisses. I read about breastfeeding and mama blogs about natural birth in beat up dog eared copies of Mothering while munching on fiber bars as the other students in my classes read the newest Cosmo articles and IM’d their girlfriends and sipped on latte’s. She would twist and turn and at times I had to leave the class simply because the tumbling was so funny to me that I couldn’t keep from laughing in the middle of our section on grizzly Vietnam poetry.

In my 37th week I made a switch from the University’s Women’s hospital to a midwifery practice five minute’s walk from our then apartment. They loaned me books and encouraged me to attend La Leche League meetings held in their tiny spare room. Meanwhile, my partner stared at me in awe and signed us up for cases of free formula samples and bought huge bottles of ready-made Enfamil for “just in case," and loaded our cabinets with plastic bottles, nipples, and sterilizing microwave bags to clean them all with.

When she was born he held her first. She gnawed on his shoulders searching for sustenance while I received stitches for tearing and cried that I wasn’t pregnant anymore. I was terrified of latching her on that first time and did it while no one else was in the room to hide what I anticipated to be inevitable failure. The midwives had mentioned that they would be there in a few minutes to help us nurse, and so I asked my partner to find me some food. When he left, I curled her against my chest and let her feed as she would. In the coming days, breastfeeding was hard.

We found out later that we had thrush and together we fought that nasty yeast and spun me through phases of depression. The second night of her life, my partner fed her a bottle of formula because when I started feeding her, blood gushed from her umbilical cord. It was old blood from it beginning to dry up, but he convinced me somehow that I must have hurt her while breastfeeding, that I was squishing her stomach, and gave her a bottle. After we realized she was fine, I contacted a La Leche League member who was in our area and she gave me the emotional support via emails that I needed to continue feeding on demand. I began to nurse at the University when she was two weeks old, for my last semester in college. I would feed her in the hallways between classes while young ladies streamed around me and young men gawked, and surely I was awkward still but in my mind those moments were full of elegance. I nursed in the car while he drummed his fingers impatiently at my anxiety about feeding her, because she had a bottle of expressed milk at home and if that wasn’t enough, he could always just give her formula.



I took her with me to a job fair one evening at the University and sat feeding her in a corner when I was approached by the organizer of the event. She told me “this was inappropriate and I needed to leave.” It happened again when I tried to feed her at the gym before heading to a class: “you’re not allowed to do that here.” Both of those times I simply left. It is hard to nurse a squirming baby who wants to know why a stranger is leaning over their mama and making angry faces, so I would leave, hungry babe in arms and try to find a place that wouldn’t disturb anyone, embarrassed. But then one day I finally realized how ridiculous that was. Restrooms are nothing if not filthy and loud, stairwells are terribly uncomfortable and sitting here in this comfortable chair where I was before I started nursing is actually pretty great!

I was literally shocked to learn that I had breastfeeding rights. In most states (my own included) it is legal to breastfeed when and wherever you are as long as you the mother have the legal right to occupy that space. And so I began feeding her wherever I needed to. I nursed her in Target and at the restaurant, at Starbucks and on benches at the park and eventually I found the blessed ERGObaby Carrier that allowed me to breastfeed while walking, while shopping at Old Navy, while traveling abroad on trains and planes and many, many times, sitting in the parked car in the middle of a trip somewhere. It made me feel more justified somehow, to not have to sit down to feed her, to be able to nurse AND pick out tomatoes or breastfeed and walk the dog. She will be two in August and we have nursed across many states and several countries, with obvious results: I have a healthy, thriving, happy, easily comforted, blissful toddler.

I support the rights of breastfeeding mamas because I know how hard it can be to be alone in a room of people who are horrified and offended at your audacity to feed a baby. I have come a long way since I started breastfeeding, but the best sights I’ve seen were not those moments I spent huddled on lidless toilets in uncomfortable and dirty restrooms trying to feed my girl before someone disturbed us with the roar of a toilet in the next stall over-but were the peaceful perfect moments I was able to relax and enjoy her beautiful face as she filled up with breast milk and fell asleep to mama smiling sweetly at her, knowing I had given her everything I possibly could.




Welcome to the Carnival of Nursing in Public


Please join us all week, July 5-9, as we celebrate and support breastfeeding mothers. And visit NursingFreedom.org any time to connect with other breastfeeding supporters, learn more about your legal right to nurse in public, and read (and contribute!) articles about breastfeeding and N.I.P.


Do you support breastfeeding in public? Grab this badge for your blog or website to show your support and encourage others to educate themselves about the benefits of breastfeeding and the rights of breastfeeding mothers and children.

<center> <a href="http://www.nursingfreedom.org/p/carnival-of-nursing-in-public.html" title="Carnival of Nursing in Public"><img src="http://www.babydustdiaries.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/inip1.png" alt="Art by Erika Hastings at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/" border="0"></a></center>

This post is just one of many being featured as part of the Carnival of Nursing in Public. Please visit our other writers each day of the Carnival. Click on the links below to see each day’s posts - new articles will be posted on the following days:

July 5 - Making Breastfeeding the Norm: Creating a Culture of Breastfeeding in a Hyper-Sexualized World

July 6 – Supporting Breastfeeding Mothers: the New, the Experienced, and the Mothers of More Than One Nursing Child

July 7 – Creating a Supportive Network: Your Stories and Celebrations of N.I.P.

July 8 – Breastfeeding: International and Religious Perspectives

July 9 – Your Legal Right to Nurse in Public, and How to Respond to Anyone Who Questions It

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?

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!)

A little heads up

My fantastic SIL the MilkMaid has been blogging on and off (mostly off :) for the past few years but has recently started again.
She is living the farm-life, homeschooling my two beautiful nieces and SHE MAKES HER OWN CHEESE.
And right now she has a very sweet giveaway up on her blog "12hats and a sombrero" for reusable cloth feminine products by an etsy shop Cre8tive Mama. Please go give her blog a peek and be sure to enter the wonderful giveaway. But not too many times because I want to win for myself.