Alive?

Yes, I am alive, just busy after the holidays. We're having our probably last New Year's party with another couple (Jenn and Jeremy) tomorrow night, and I am sad about that. I think we started our tradition in 1998-99, back in the Fall Riviera. Or was it 99-2000? I forget. Things have been very different since the advent of Charlotte, (nursing mamas, crying babes, certainly not as much of the bubbly) but still good. Jenn and Jeremy helped us move two years in a row. You can't find better friends than that and we are going to miss them. Sigh. Tonight, we need to come up with some things to cook!

I just finished a huge web site update and I'm exhausted!

Enjoy.....

Seussian lactivism

(click on title for link to funny nursing poem)

Hehehehe!

That's all I have for today. Have a happy one. I'm off to the mall. *cries*

The howling wilderness, or not

Charlotte skipped her nap again yesterday. Actually, the cat woke her up. You wouldn't believe how. I opened the baby gate for him to let him in, and stupidly swung it out into the hallway where he was. He walked into it and bumped it closed. Yowled. I opened it again. He closed it again. Yowled. I was on the point of turning him into a matching hat and mittens. (and the grad board friends say, "Again??")

Boy, does your relationship with your pets ever change when you have a baby. The cat and I were adversaries for months. He just wanted my warm lap back, and he wondered why in hell he wasn't allowed to meow in his own house anymore. And I wanted him out of my way. I felt overwhelmed by one baby, let alone two.

So, it was noontime, Charlotte was awake and very cranky, my whole day lay in ruins. As any parent of a toddler can tell you, naptime is not for them, it is for you. Usually I would just stay home and get crabby myself, but yesterday I did the sensible thing and went for a walk. I had some fearfully overdue library books (yes, I've been reading chick lit) to return, and a few last minute gifts to pick up. I didn't realize it was 10 degrees outside, or I might not have. But hey -- we're tough! (and properly dressed)

Charlotte loved the snow. She was laughing at it. By the time we were on the way home, it had snowed about an inch and a half and covered our footprints. I did come back with more holiday spirit, and with my shopping -almost- finished. Charlotte fell asleep in the last shop I visited, and I sneaked across the street (sneaking being difficult when trying to push a stroller across a snowy street!) to get a coffee before she woke up. Definitely a good idea.

Charlotte is looking for a refill on her breakfast (Cheerios, milk, and raisins) so I will sign off... I'll try not to make any threats of bodily harm toward the cat today!

Soapbox time

Thank you all for reading. It means a lot to me that I am not hollering out an open window into the void. (but a little gratuitous self-promotion never hurts....) Do feel free to leave comments below, all you need is a Blogger username, which is free. If I really hate what you have to say, all I have to do is erase it. Heh!

As I've been talking with friends about journal entries here, I've been thinking a lot about the nature of attachment parenting, and how forbidding the term can be. The ideals are intimidating on paper, and I'm sure they make a lot of parents feel inadequate. Myself included. But they are only a set of tools, or reminders really.

Before I had Charlotte, I thought that AP was a little bit nuts. I had every intention of doing everything "conventionally," (sleeping arrangements, going back to work, etc) because I thought it was the only way to save my own sanity. To protect myself from being submerged in motherhood. It didn't turn out that way at all. And nothing could have protected me from that, it was pretty much a given. I believe it's better to run with it than fight it.

For me, attachment parenting can be boiled down to two points: 1) Raising the child you were blessed with, by birth or adoption, in a way that respects his or her needs as a person and not trying to jam them into a mold that doesn't fit. Doesn't matter where the mold comes from -- your parents, your friends, (even crunchy mamas like myself) TV, or a book. Do what works for you and junk the rest. 2) Accepting the idea that a baby is a baby, and not a miniature adult. Don't rush them into growing up before they're ready. Of course, babies want to be held close. Of course, they want to nurse whenever they're hungry. Even if the last time they ate was fifteen minutes ago. ;)

I lost a few friends last year over differences in parenting styles. It was not that I disapproved of what they were doing with their own babies, their kids were all well-loved and happy. In my own insecurity, I couldn't sit and listen to their well-meaning advice. Sure, maybe if we'd let Charlotte "cry it out," we would all be sleeping all night, in our own beds right now. But -- I'm happy that we're not. When she's ready, she's ready.

This weekend, we had some funny developments. I found myself yelling "GENTLE!" at the baby in a very un-gentle tone of voice. (reminds me of a favorite column in Catherine Newman's Bringing Up Ben & Birdy - scroll down to the end, "Birdy's First Word")

Dexter (our long-suffering cat) and Charlotte are finally coming to some sort of understanding. He comes up and rubs his head on her tummy, or her back, and purrs quite happily when she pats him, or gives him smoochy, cat-fur-inhaling kisses. He is less happy about the "hard pats" (or smacks). Tail pulling, also not good. We're getting there -- she used to go directly for his eyes!

Nap, skip and jump

The kid has officially skipped her nap. It's 3:00, and baby C is running riot through the living room. I am barely alive.

As I'm trying to resume some form of daily writing, I'm quickly realizing that a mom being creative involves a mostly unsupervised child. I am keeping an eye on her but it is a distracted eye. It would have been a lot easier to do this last year, when all she did was nurse and sleep in her sling. If I could keep my eyes open to read, I at least knew she was content and wouldn't be climbing on the furniture, etc. (newborn nostalgia alert!)

I'm sure I let C watch too much TV. My former ideal was to not let her watch any on a regular basis, until she was at least two. Good old by the book mama me, who doesn't live here anymore. If she so much as spies a DVD box that belongs to her, she shrieks and reaches for it. She daily tries to elbow her way past me and into the DVD cabinet. God, what have I done? I draw the line at commercials; I won't let her watch Nickelodeon or Cartoon Network because of the creepy way she zones out during toy and cereal commercials. I just know that if she had the verbal skills, it would be "Mama, can I have one of those, those, those?" Not until you're old enough to explain the concept of 'marketing' to, my dear. So it's PBS and videos for us.

Oddly, Charlotte never liked Baby Einstein. She was bored by them right from the start, at about 4 months old, when I checked Baby Bach out of the library. I gotta have more plot than this, Mama, she seemed to be saying.

Oh-oh! A crash. More later.

Our elf -- merry merry!

Ringing in the ear

I've been rereading books again. Can't seem to get to the library for anything new, though an overdue book is simmering in the diaper bag. (luckily, not simmering the way laundry and / or sippy cups full of two-week-old orange juice do -- ha) It's not that there are no books in the house I've never read. I even have a few that I've borrowed and haven't read yet. (sorry!)

I still read as if I'm correcting a vitamin deficiency. Always have. I reread to put myself back into a previous state of mind, whether better or worse depends on my mood. I read Margaret Atwood when I feel hollow and need to be rung, a clapper in a dull brass bell. Ellen Gilchrist when I need to respond more vividly to my problems, whatever they are. Her characters don't take things lying down. Fantasy and scifi when I positively, absolutely must get out of my head. Historical fiction when nothing else is working and fantasy is getting on my nerves. I ought to start some new grooves in my head. The old ones work, and that's something.

Charlotte is asleep with her head under my elbow as I write this. (longhand, take that, backdating one day to type it) I'm not putting any weight on her and my hand is cramping up badly. Doing that annoying routine where my thumb & forefingers try to stick closed. humph.

I feel like an unwatered plant (mine) in a home (mine) where nobody opens the windows. (well, it's December, what do you want?) Physically, anyway. Having a baby has been good for me healthwise (I've lost 25 pounds off my pre-pregnancy weight -- not bad) but terrible grooming-wise. All the little things that grown-up women do to get ready for work, to keep from looking like the generic copy room weirdo with ladder-tracked pantyhose and a unibrow -- well, stay at home moms generally don't bother with a lot of that. Mentally, I'm doing better than normal at this time of year. I love snow but I definitely feel the lack of sunshine. Two years ago this winter, I was newly pregnant and too overwhelmed by that to notice the lack of light, and last year, I was toting a 3-month-old around, even more overwhelmed. This year, I am pretty much myself.

We'd like another baby, and right now I'm wondering, what for?? Heh. I got so annoyed with baby C just now, as she stirred and wanted a nurse back to sleep. Now I know why I've hardly written a word since she was born, or even beforehand. The thought I had was nearly gone by the time she finally dropped back to sleep. She is a sweet seashell, curled against my side. A warm blob of muffin in a pink striped sleeper.

It has been funny to track my changing attitude toward childbirth as the year has gone on. This time last year, I wasn't sure I ever wanted to do it again. I haven't forgotten it -- the old wives' tales say you do, but I don't think I could possibly. Maybe I've photocopied the experience a few shades lighter, bleached out the finer details. I want to get back in there and face it again, try to handle it differently, avoid clenching down and trying to get away from the pain. Makes sense that it feels like your whole body is being torn apart, considering that the womb goes approximately from your ribcage to your knees, when you're that pregnant. Supposedly, if you can train yourself to accept what you're feeling and work with it, instead of trying to make a break for it, (I would have been running away, if I could have gotten up) it goes better. I wonder how well it would go next time if I took a hypnobirthing class and got an epidural. I'd be golden. Hehe.

When Charlotte was still in there, I couldn't imagine her outside. I felt like I already knew her, from the mysterious shoves, kicks, and flops. I remember that one night I turned over to get comfortable, for the fourteenth time, and she immediately flopped the other way, so she was facing in the same direction (I assume) in her dark, warm little pool. We'll just show you whether you can tell me what to do or not, no ma'am. Things have not noticeably changed since she could play the inside of my ribcage like a harp, each tiny toe plucking away. Except now, she sticks her fingers up your nose and pulls.

It's getting to be time to night-wean Charlotte. I'm not looking forward to the inevitable tears, from me and her both. It's nearing ridiculous, how many times she nurses at night. I don't count, or keep a clock on my side of the bed, because I'm not a total masochist. I know she's old enough and then some, but I still feel like she should be untouched, like a wild animal that doesn't yet know it's in the zoo. I wish she didn't have to live in the zoo, but heck, we all do. In wildness is strength. I'm pleased and proud to be breastfeeding her at 14 months, even if we have had some kinks lately. (in one word, thrush) She is getting more demonstrative about her nursings, which I like, because it shows more appreciation for my "cooking." Not like a newborn, who assumes she will be fed just because the earth goes around the sun, and woe betide thee if the sun doesn't come up on schedule. Toddlers can understand and express love, which is probably why they survive to become preschoolers. ;) I'm getting big hugs and smoochy kisses now. It is the best.

I go through spells of thinking I've done everything wrong, that I've ruined her and certainly my own next several years, and spells of congratulating myself on what a great job I've done. My husband and I believe in attachment parenting -- an unfortunately forbidding shorthand for what I feel is the way most people actually do raise their kids, "crunchy" accessories like slings and bedrails aside. There is nobody more secure than Charlotte. As soon as she gets her bearings, she's off to play with the big kids, and only occasionally checks on me. Or, when I have to rescue her from kids who are much too old and too big to be in the toddler area at the local play cafe. Charlotte didn't particularly care about being pushed down and trodden upon, but I went into mama lioness mode. It's going to be hard to let go. I guess it always is, no matter how old they are.

I think I'll feel a lot better just knowing this door is open. Raspberry pink (at the time of this writing) and inviting. Don't expect coherent parenting essays -- but come along for the ride, it ought to be entertaining.

Welcome & introduction...

I've had it in my mind to start this journal for quite a while. Writing on the wall with indelible crayon, (I buy washable for the baby, I'm not totally cracked) because everyone knows that nothing you write online ever goes away, even if you burn your computer, cancel all your accounts and move to a cabin in the woods....... now, why am I starting out with the apocalypse, we haven't even had the injury of the day yet! Anyway, I'm hoping this will be an outlet for me, and a way to prod some dormant nerve pathways back to life, as well as a (hopefully) fun record for my daughter to read when she's older. Maybe a whole lot older.

My presence is being requested by the person in the bunny suit. (we have a bit of a laundry backlog) more later!