Slowing down

At my mother-in-laws now and enjoying watching Lily eat apples from the tree out back, feed the horses carrots, swing on the plank hanging from the oak, romp with the dogs and giggle in her grandma’s arms. We four slept in a narrow bed last night, piled on top of each like puppies in a pack, Lily’s arms and legs akimbo, Anya snuggled in the crook of my arm, Mark and I touching feet in the middle of the night like secret lovers. We didn’t get much sleep with all those body parts strewn about, but that’s not really the part I’ll remember anyway. I’m recovering from what turned out to be food poisoning and while Anya is still making snot like it’s going out of style both Mark and Lily are enjoying perfect health.

The mist is creeping across the pasture and dinner is about to make its way to the table. I’m on dial up. DIAL UP. So alas, I must post and run. Hope you are all enjoying this beautiful fall night. We’ll be carving pumpkins later. How about you?

Quickly, now!

I just have a moment to write while we travel around with insane kids (both of which are sick) and stop having to run to the bathroom because OMG what did I eat and why is it trying to KILL me? We've been able to meet a couple of kick ass blogging mamas and the common theme is that we are really tall. Just ask Allison and Jenny. Traveling with kids is so not smart. BUT we're getting to see some really awesome people and do some really spiffy stuff. I'll share more later when my body is less evil and I don't have others hovering over me wanting to get on their own damn computer. Weeeeeeeee!

Gender confusion

Lily: Anya a girl?
Me: That’s right.
Lily: Ily a girl?
Me: Yep, I have two girls.
Lily: Mommy a girl?
Me: Mommy’s a girl.
Lily: Daddy a girl?
Me: Nope, Daddy’s a boy.
Lily: Daddy a boy. Mommy a boy?
Me: Nope, Mommy’s a girl.
Lily: Daddy?
Me: A boy.
Lily: Yeah, and Mommy’s a girl!
Me: That’s right! One more time, what’s Daddy?
Lily: Daddy’s a MONKEY!
Me: You got that right, kid.

Leaving on a jet plane

This afternoon Anya and I are taking off to Colorado see Allison and meet a bunch of mamas from one of my favorite message boards. Mark and Lily are going camping on Saturday and then meeting us in the Bay Area for a whirl wind tour of friends and family all the way up to Northern California. We get to spend Halloween with Mark’s mom, step-dad and sister and I can’t wait to take the girls trick-or-treating in a small town. Both our girls are going dressed as pumpkins and Mark and I are going as cooks. That’s right, yo; we’re making the suggestion that once the fun is over we’re gonna cook up our babies and EAT THEM. We’re damn good parents. I’m excited and already tired by the schedule we’re going to have to keep if we want to see everyone. I have no idea if I’ll be able to write, but I’ll be thinking of you all!

Crazy soup

Today Lily learned how to open the fridge all by herself.
Maybe tomorrow I can teach her how to CLOSE IT!

In the meantime, anyone looking to score some free cold air, come on over. We’re apparently sharing with the neighborhood.

We also have copious amounts of whine, a plethora of fuss and a whole load of “hey, where’d the house go? All I see is MESS!”

On second thought, don’t come over here. Score your free cold air elsewhere. It’s in your best interest to steer clear. ‘Cause all this? It’s a recipe for crazy and my kid is one hell of a cook.

Day two

Yesterday Lily spent the whole day without a single diaper. AND we went out to brunch with my family. While there she asked to pee about four times and only actually peed twice. But hey, she can ask to live in the toilet at this stage, I’m game. THEN Mark put her to bed diaperless in the fold out bed (low to the ground) and let the dog sleep with her. And you know what? She slept for 11.5 hours and woke up…

Drum roll please...




...wet. BUT thrilled to have the dog right there with her.

Hell, you can’t win them all. Today was another diaper free day and once again, she is sleeping in the big bed with the dog and without a diaper in site. At least this time Mark was smart enough to put a waterproof pad under her (yeah, we had some cleaning to do this morning).

I’m not ready for this. SO not ready for this.

Water Birth

This weeks theme at Mama Says Om is water. You can find my entry here. Enjoy!

Day by day by day by day...

In classic fashion, things have been whooowho crazy around here. Let me explain. No, it’ll take too long, let me sum up. Here’s what’s been going on:

Our buddy Milton was visiting from Mexico for a few days and has been dubbed “Mountain” by Lily. The man is rather tall and so, he’s adopted this name happily. He also drove off with one of our cars and a promise to try to come visit with his wife and daughter in December. Our fingers are crossed!

Anya has discovered her tongue and is happily blowing raspberries everywhere. She blows raspberries with a grin on her face, while crying, while nursing, while sleeping, while riding in the car, at people at the grocery, well… you get the idea. While I have been absolutely enchanted by this behavior, I have yet to catch it on camera. Hey, you can only ask so much.

My eyes are trying to escape my head. I’m thinking allergies or the current wildfires in my county. Whatever it is, I am exhausted by the end of the day and my eyes are so bloodshot that I just keep praying I don’t get pulled over or the officer is going to get the wrong impression. And won’t THAT be a fun way to spend and evening. Especially because if they give me the munchie test (hey, you want some Doritos?) I’m gonna have a hard time resisting because MAN, I’m hungry.

On Thursday I had about a dozen small children at my house along with a bunch of moms. Despite the fact that it was officially “craft day” for my playgroup not a single kid left with a craft. Instead we should call it, “kids running around while the dog tries to lick everyone and everyone narrowly avoids disaster, meanwhile every toy we have ever accumulated gets dragged out and dumped on the floor and if there is a toy too small for little hands it WILL end up in someone’s mouth and OH MY GODDESS what was I thinking Day.” It was really fun and then I wanted to sleep for three days (but alas, didn’t get to).

We took Lily to a cheap ass version of a city pumpkin patch in the parking lot of Target. There were rides and pumpkins and farm animals. It was a practice in futility. “I want the choo-choo!” Lily would happily announce. Then we’d try putting her on the train and she would cling to Mark like a howler monkey, screaming like it was the train to death. “I want the big slide!” AHHHHHH! SLIDE OF DEATH! “I want the swings!” Say it with me now, NOOOOOOO! SWINGS THAT OPERATE MECHANICALLY ARE DEVICES FOR TORTURE AND EVIL. AHHHHHHHHHHH! And each one of these devices of evil cost $2.50 to ride and while I was able to sweet talk our ride ticket back from the train dude, the inflatable jump guy wasn’t having any of my smiles. The lady who sold us the tickets at least let me run off with a tiny pumpkin and some “looking corn,” so dubbed by Lily because we told her it wasn’t for eating. I swear, we could have just brought her the pumpkin and corn and she would have thought we were the best parents ever. Would have cost less too.

The girls went to the doctor yesterday and have both been appropriately declared “perfect in every way.” We finally found a doctor that we really like and supports our parenting choices. He totally reminds me of the country doctor type and was actually able to get Lily to stop screaming long enough to look in her ears. He was even kind enough to tell me that situational anxiety was perfectly normal for this age, so if she wasn’t freaking out at the doctor’s he’d worry about her. Probably shades of a lie, but I clung to it anyway while soothing my curly girl. They’re so laid back though, when she refused to be measured or weighed they let me hold her for the weighing (then took my weight and did math to arrive at her weight) and decided that since she didn’t look disproportionate, they wouldn’t worry about her height. He also took one look at Anya’s cubby thighs and said, “YAY Breastmilk!” I seriously think I love that man.

And finally, today we took a trip to a local mountain town called Julian (Cara, I thought of your little guy the whole time). I don’t know why I think these kinds of things are a good idea. Anya will tolerate the car, but not for more than an hour or so; thus there was screaming. We brought the dog and Mark forgot the poop bags. A local merchant provided us with one of their little bags for her monster poop. It was gold. The bag, not the poop. But then it was gold clad poop, which for some reason delighted me to no end. Moving on. Lily fell down and scrapped up her arm pretty badly. It was way too crowded. Nobody napped. BUT there was pie. Really good pie. So I guess it was OK.

I’m working on uploading photos from the week now and will hopefully have some nice ones for you all over on my Flickr account. Go take a look when you have a moment. Then I need to work on a post for Mama Says Om. And there’s a road trip to get ready for coming up. And sleep. Gotta get me some of that.

Mwah!

Assume the crash position

Anya has decided that night time is for Wiggling (yes, with a capital "W"). Night time is also apparently for nursing. LOTS AND LOTS OF NURSING. I should be grateful that she isn’t taking this time to scream and fuss; she is pretty quiet about her milkie demands and wiggly self. But alas, I am not so grateful. I am too tired to be grateful. Just before sunrise I am whimpering and pleading with the child to just settle and sleep. But she is extraordinarily cruel and will not bend to my selfish requests. When I do manage to sleep it is only lightly, my arms reaching out blindly, holding her tiny hand or stroking her fuzzy head; trying desperately to soothe her restless self. Mark sleeps through this all because, well, he’s a man and men are oblivious. This morning I shoved Anya across the space between us and stammered, “you, you, you do. I can’t. Sleep, so tired. Please!” and he tucked her into his arms, wisely positioning his body between me and the little beastie.

Then I screwed it up. I was dreaming that I could hear Lily’s little feet pattering around on the deck, running in the circles she is so fond of these days. I dreamed she was getting her own breakfast and that is never a good thing.
“Lily?” I asked Mark, “Lily is up?”
“What?” he mumbled.
It was then I realized I was dreaming her movement and so replied with, “never mind!” But it was already too late. I woke Anya up with my questions and Mark had to try to soothe her back into la la land, scowling at my guilty back as I turned away to put a pillow over my head.

She is chewing on everything, drooling like a river, has a lovely rash on her butt. All this usually points to the same culprit: she is starting to teethe and this my friends, this is when all established patterns usually fly out the window of this 747 we are strapped into. If only her mother would come and take her home. Hell, I’d settle for a kindly stewardess flight attendant with great gams nurturing arms. And if no one will come take her, could I get a dozen of those little bottles full of liquor? This huddled posture of mine is really the only thing to do when the 747 is going down in flames. Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna take this here cocktail and assume the crash position.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Mama Says Om

Parenting is hard. The world moves around us in a spastic rhythm, a swirling chaos of day to day activity: work, school, meals, rest, noise, play, comfort, nurture. Finding the breath to everyday life is an art and often we find ourselves hyperventilating. At Mama Says Om, we look at parenting as a spiritual and often humorous endeavor. We write from the heart about those things that give us breath. Ignore the chaos in your own life and visit with us; it'll all still be there when you get back.

Come on, Mama. Just say Om.

A brand new car!!!!

OK, so it’s new to us, not new as in “just rolled off the line.” But we finally got the minivan I eluded to eons ago. My cousin is a car dealer, so he found us something we normally couldn’t have afforded had we gone through a regular dealership, plucking it straight out of an auction and cleaning it up purdy like so we’d squeal with joy. And squeal I did. It’s really too nice for a girl like me. All leather interior, power everything, DVD player built right in; Lily thought the world had collided with heaven in a symphony of lights and music and utter brilliance. AND it comes with magic. We’re teaching Lily to clap and say abracadabra while I press the little remote button to make the doors slide open. She’s in love. Mark keeps calling it “Lily’s car” because let’s face it, this car was made for kids. We haven’t named her yet, but I’m leaning towards something wildly inappropriate. Any thoughts?




Our buddy Milton bought one of our other cars so we could make the van happen. He’s here visiting with us for a few days before he heads back home to La Paz. Whenever Milton’s here, mud becomes part of the picture. Last time it was a rain storm that tried to take out our water heater and the two men had to slosh around in the mud to solve the problem. This time the marsh land with the cat tails finally revealed its source. Mark has been digging all over that section of the yard trying to uncover the leak that was changing the ecology of the area. He had given up, written it off to a random upwelling of an ancient artesian spring when low and behold, the leak became very obvious. Off to Home Depot Mark went and then into the mud to replace parts. He told me the water would have to be off for about two hours and Milton, in his infinite wisdom, told Mark that he could just turn the water back on; the new joints would hold. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut in these situations, knowing that as long as the result isn’t potentially fatal, I need to let them figure out how wrong they are on their own. I shook my head as they went running out to turn the water on and laughed openly when Milton came back very very wet. Ah men! They are so eager and misguided.

Us

Having a self-righteous day

I spend a lot of time with parents who believe in rearing children like we do. Therefore, it’s always a little bit of a shock to me when I mingle with mainstream parents and hear how most of society parents these days. I just don’t understand it. I can’t wrap my brain around why anyone would choose to treat pregnancy like a disease that you need to be cured of, actually scheduling to have your child cut out of you. I can’t imagine why anyone would choose to feed their child an inferior food because they believe breastfeeding is icky; especially when breastmilk has been proven to be a wonder drug: decreasing the chance of obesity, illness, cancer, etc. I don’t understand why, after all that has been shown about that gel in disposable diapers increasing the risk of certain cancers, a person would choose to put their child in those things 100% of the time; especially when you consider the huge financial cost of a product that can only be used once and then must be discarded, never to biodegrade in our landfills. I can’t get why so many people distance their children from them physically, struggling with oversized strollers when baby wearing is not only easy parenting, but has been shown to produce more confident, assured children. And why must their tiny babies be left alone in a room to cry it out at night rather than safely nestled in mama’s arms or within arms reach in a bassinet at the side of the bed? Why would you chose to further your sleep deprivation in the early months by having to get up, walk down a hallway, pick up screaming baby and feed them a bottle of something you must prepare when you could just reach over, latch them up and go back to sleep, baby happily nursing at the breast? In what world is it really a good idea to inject your child with 64 different doses of disease before the age of two? And why, after all that is known about the ineffectiveness of antibiotics for viruses, do parents accept a dose from a doctor when nothing has been done to actually discover the root of the illness? Fever is a body’s natural response to illness and yet, most parents administer Tylenol for even the mildest heat, eliminating the body’s ability to kill off the bad bugs naturally. They smear antibacterial soap all over themselves and their children, seemingly unaware that some bacteria actually HELPS the body.

I don’t claim to be the authority on parenting. I don’t even claim to be “good” at this gig. But I’ve followed my instincts and I’ve done my homework and I just don’t understand why other parents don’t see the stuff I do. When I talk to mainstream parents about this, I often find they just don’t know. I hear phrases like, “well, I had to have another cesarean; the doctor told me I couldn’t have a natural birth.” or “I simply couldn’t have given birth without the epidural.” or my personal favorite, “they have her on…” as though the doctors are in charge of the child’s well being. Why do they allow themselves to be robbed of their power as a woman, a parent, a customer of the medical system? I know people have their hearts in the right place and I know that people do what they think is right. I know that stuff happens to thwart good intentions and sabotage breastfeeding or birth plans. I know that people get very defensive about how they parent and I am sure I’ve pissed someone off with my long list of wonders. But so often these choices seem to come about from a place of misinformation or from a lack of information. And me? I’m all for informed consent. Something needs to be done. Our kids are too important for parents to just take the word of their doctor (a medical expert, not a parenting expert), mother-in-law, friend or any single book. If you cannot be your child’s most informed advocate, who will?

One minute with Anya

Don’t bother to turn up your volume, there isn’t any sound to this clip. Just sit and stare at my spastic little freak as she waves around, sucks on her hand and is generally the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

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Waldorf, yo

We started Lily in the Morning Glory parent and tot program at the local Waldorf school today. It was… interesting. Class is during her normal nap time, so I didn’t know if she would start spinning wildly, channel Satan and then set the building on fire OR if she’d just cry and throw things. She surprised me and actually seemed to really dig it, playing with the other kids and chasing the bunny all over the yard. She loved snack time and just seemed to really gel. But it was hard for me. They have a lot of rules: slipper or socks worn inside, hats must be worn outside, parents must remain quiet and not talk to the other parents during class, no TV allowed at home, etc. I really don’t handle rules well and always want to break ‘em. It’s an illness, I tell you.

I gotta get the teacher to speak up when she’s talking to me. I don’t actually hear all that well and with her high pitched tone, I’m toast if she’s asking me a question. It’s not always enough to just smile and nod… I actually have to RESPOND and when I cannot hear the question, I get a little annoyed. No wonder I end up being rebellious… I can’t always hear the rules!

Luckily I hit it off with another mom and we chatted quietly (when the teacher wasn’t looking) and I didn’t rat her out when her kid ran up to the teacher and told her she was in love with Shrek. We talked in the parking lot about the airy fairy-ness of the class and I actually felt a little better about it when she told me that it had a really positive, calming effect on her child. She confided that she was convinced Rudolf Steiner must have been a psychedelics drug user: look at all the mushroom shapes, the repetitive motion and high pitched singing, just to name a few. They’re also not really in line with some of my more passionate beliefs, such as extending breastfeeding. Steiner – a MAN in a time when very little was known about the amazing benefits of breastfeeding – seemed to think six months was perfectly sufficient. Why the school hasn’t updated the recommendation is beyond me. So I don’t know that we’d choose to continue with the Waldorf education past the Morning Glory program into grade school. But, since Satan didn't posses my child, I think we’ll stick it out for a full session.

Thinking

Allowing a toddler to consume large amounts of sugar at a party is like sending the stage manager out for pizza five minutes before curtain. It just should not be done.

Nose Monkeys

Said with all seriousness and a slightly concerned expression on her face:

Lily: Mama, there’s a monkey in my nose.
Me: A monkey in your nose? Would you like me to get him out?
Lily: Yes, please.
Me: [I stick my big finger in there and fish around the best I can in a tiny toddler nose] Did I get him?
Lily: Yes?
Me: Not so sure, hmm? Why don’t we go get a tissue and see if we can’t blow that monkey out.
Lily: Kay.

And you know, who am I to say that it wasn’t a very small monkey in her nose?