A Savvy Mom

Some of Our Favorites: 14 Month Edition

Posted by camilla on November 16, 2011 in Uncategorized with 1 Comment

When I’m talking about our favorites, I mean Sam’s and Mom and Dad’s favorites.

1. Favorite skin remedy: CJ’s BUTTer. This has been a staple of ours since Sam’s birth. I got the recommendation for this as a diaper cream, since we started out with cloth diapers. Yes, this is sold as a diaper rash cream. Yes, it is marketed as a natural cream safe for cloth diapers. It meets those qualifications — nothing is better for healing a burn rash after it’s started drying up. This handy cream is also the only thing that works for Sam’s eczema in the winter. Sam’s scaly skin has started to reappear this month, and CJ’s is the only thing that works. I put it on him at night, and in the morning he’s baby smooth again. Like magic! This miracle cream is made only of natural organic oils: shea butter, cocoa butter, lanolin, beeswax, olive oil, coconut oil and vitamin E oil.

2. Favorite book: Busy Doggies! This is a very simple book, with great pictures of real dogs. The words rhyme: “Doggies greeting, doggy eating.” And so forth. I thought it was kind of silly when my mom got it for us, but she said she couldn’t resist, and it’s been in Sam’s pile of books in his play area ever since. About a month or so ago, he started carrying the book around, “reading” it to himself, and bringing it to me and his dad to read from. Sometimes he also barks or howls at the book. He points out the dogs to me, and squeals at the pictures. Completely worth it.

3. Sam’s Favorite Toy/Seat: Radio Flyer Wagon. (Thanks to Nancy, a dear family friend). Sam likes to get in and out of his wagon. He likes to sit in it to watch Sesame Street. He likes to push it around and ride in it in the yard. It’s one of the best gifts we received and will certainly be in use for years to come.

Since it’s my bed time, I’m going to end my post here. I’ll post a few favorites each month, with links and hopefully some more pictures. When I asked my husband to weigh in on Sam’s favorite he said: his wagon, and running around in the yard (he sure does love those leaves).

Meditations of a Working Mother

Posted by camilla on November 13, 2011 in motherhood, musings, working mom with 2 Comments

I’m sitting here in the quiet of our basement, watching old episodes of Law and Order SVU while Eric is working. In general, this is what I do when Sam is napping on Saturdays and Sundays. It gives me a bit of quiet space. Later, we will probably all go to lunch. When Sam is taking his second nap, I will attempt to fold laundry and write a to-do list for my job for this week. After that, we’ll make dinner together and begin the process of putting Sam to bed. Somewhere in there, we’ll go for a walk, or to the park, or just run around in the backyard.

Our weekends are mundane, but they are the best weekends of my life. The weekends are also easy on Sam. He sleeps well, gets to come and sit in a lap whenever he needs to, and has the attention of both of his parents.

Tomorrow morning, we will start his week again. He will wake up, hopefully, after 5AM. It’s Eric’s day tomorrow, so he will get up with Sam right away, feed him a bottle and change his diaper. I will sleep in until 6AM, and then get myself ready while watching Sam go in and out of my closet and open and close the door, over and over, while trying to get me to look at him. I will not have time to fix my hair, put on make-up or eat breakfast. I have a timeline of getting Sam to day care right at 7:30AM, and he needs my attention for that hour and a half. I will hurriedly put on clothes, put in contacts, wash my face and brush my teeth. For a few minutes tomorrow morning, I will get to read a book with Sam, or watch an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba, or just watch him get in and out of his wagon. I will feel rushed and anxious, but will try to enjoy my little daily time with my son. He will not get his morning nap, and may not nap at day care. I’ll come home to a very cranky little man instead of the burbling cuddle bug I get on weekends.

I often feel like I am not doing a good job as a mom, even though intellectually, I know I am. On the other end of that, I often don’t feel like I am doing a good job at work either. I get into work at 8:30, usually tired, and I eat breakfast. I leave by 4:30, often with work still left to do at home, so that I can see my child before he goes to bed between 6 and 7PM.

While I’m at work though, I might find out that one of the program’s graduates has gotten a scholarship to college, or a job that pays well and has room for growth. I might get assigned to an incredible project or have the opportunity to have a meaningful conversation with one of my advisees. In bits and pieces, I see that I work at a place that makes a difference in the lives of many young men and women who pass through our doors. I often leave work with a sense of accomplishment and come in the morning with a strong sense of purpose. When I was away on maternity leave, I missed my job, and I missed that part of who I am.

I cannot imagine being a working mom at a job I don’t love, or with coworkers I dislike. To do that would be agonizing — and I feel lucky that I am not one of many, many women who have to go in day after day, missing their little one and not being rewarded by the work that they do. I am also a woman who needs meaningful work — if I were at home, I would be writing, sewing, or cooking in the pockets of time that Sam would allow. My job fills that part of me, keeps my brain working at a different level, and allows me space to collaborate with other adults on work that I enjoy.

To be a mother and work at a wonderful job — it sounds like I am quite lucky in both ways. I remain thankful for these things. Everyday I say thanks for a healthy, thriving child and a good job. However, I feel pulled in both directions, a constant tug. On days I stay home with a sick baby, I know I’m doing the right thing as a mother, but know that I will be scrambling at work the next day. When I return to work, I usually keep thinking to myself that I should be home. That Sam will not be sleeping like he should at day care, and that he’ll be missing me, and he won’t feel well when he gets home. I know I shouldn’t be thinking this last one, but I do — that someone else is raising him for me. (Eric points out that this is partially true, and okay, since we have the very best day care provider in the area. Very few kids these days — or kids in any lifetime — have been raised solely by their parents.)

I am able to talk myself down from a lot of these thoughts. It takes practice to refocus, but I can nowadays, and it is necessary for my well-being at home and at work. It’s still a daily occurrence — that draw towards home and child — and it’s something I know I am not alone in experiencing. I think some of this feeling will always weigh on me, particularly when my child, or children, are young. I have to recognize that there is always a pull in life, and the best I can do is respond rationally, mete out my time and give myself credit for doing the things that I feel are right for my family and for my work.

One Year

Posted by camilla on September 14, 2011 in Uncategorized with 2 Comments

Dear Sam,

Today you are one year old. That means that exactly one year ago, I was holding you for the first time, watching you sleep for the first time, nursing you for the first time, and kissing your sweet baby hair on the top of your sweet head for the very first time. Your daddy held you for the first time, and stayed up with you for the very first time. And we changed your tiny diaper together, for the very first time. You were very big, and very healthy, and absolutely perfect in every way. I never had to worry about you being too small, or too frail, or having any condition that caused us worry. Just about every day, I thank my lucky stars that you are here, and you are real, and you are healthy and beautiful.

Ever since I had you, I think a lot about all of the women and men out there in the world who have lost children — before birth or after. I know that it’s a little bit morbid to think this way, but I can’t help it. I think about how dark my world would be without you, now that you have entered it, and I wonder how so many parents who have lost so much can survive. I suppose it is the nature of the human spirit to push forward, but still, I say a prayer for all the children lost, and I try to remember how special and miraculous you are in every moment that I spend with you.

This has been a special year for me and your father. I can say for myself that I now feel like a woman instead of a girl now — marriage, home ownership and a really amazing full time job were important steps along the way — but you make me feel grown. I don’t know how to explain that in concrete terms. After all, I don’t do a lot of adult things — like clean my house or get regular car washes. I certainly struggle with organization day to day, and I sometimes pay bills too late. Those are things my parents never struggled with, and therefore, they are the things that I associate with adulthood. I also still want to play and travel, and watch ridiculous television — my maturity level in those ways has not changed. I guess it is that you make me feel like there is something greater in my life than just me. There is a person that needs me for food and clothing and warmth and love. There is a person who will need me for homework and music lessons and going to the playground. Because of that, I feel more important and meaningful in this world than I ever did before I met you.

People find meaning in life in many different places. For some it is their job. For others, it is their passion for music or art (or accounting? perhaps?). For me, it is you. You inspire me to be more patient with myself, to love myself more, and to be positive even when it feels that I cannot or I should not be. I want to be a role model for you, as you grow up and find out who you want to be.

Today was a sad day in some ways. I cried several times sitting at my desk at work, thinking about how you’re such a little man now. Where did my baby go? He’s walking now, and picking up the remote and talking into it like a phone. Here’s the secret I have to remember; you’ll always be my baby. Sam, even when you’re ten years old and it’s really not cool to have such a sappy mom, you’ll be my fat little baby. You’ll be my baby all the days of your life, my beautiful little baby.

Mom.

Eleven Months

Posted by camilla on August 6, 2011 in motherhood, musings with No Comments

Dear Sam,

Next week you will be eleven months old. That means that you are almost one year old. That also means that one year ago, I was gigantic and hot and uncomfortable because you were inside my body — pressing on my lungs, kicking my bladder and stretching against my hip joints. Now when I look at your belly button, I marvel at where we were once attached. I poked at you the other day and told you that that’s where you were joined to mama. And then I tickled you until you laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Sam, I can’t tell you how amazing you are right now. I know it’s been a few months since I’ve written to you, but it’s not because I haven’t been thinking about you — it’s likely because I’ve been chasing you up the stairs, watching your dad teach you new words, or trying to monitor exactly how much dog saliva is getting on your face, inside your mouth, and all over your clothes. If someone had tried to describe to me what having an almost-eleven-month old is like — well, they couldn’t have. That’s the thing about parenting an infant; it’s indescribable.

Someone could have told me … “Oh, my ten month old likes to smile at me when he sees me come into his bedroom in the morning” or “Wait til he says ‘Mama’ for the first time and looks right at you!” or “You’d better watch him — once he starts climbing stairs, he will be RIDICULOUSLY FAST.” I would have understood those statements and perhaps even made note of them. In fact, I remember my sister-in-law talking about our nephew around the same age — “He is just THE BEST!” — and I still didn’t get it. You don’t understand IT until it’s sitting in your lap, watching “Wind in the Willows” with you at 5AM, contentedly drinking a bottle and putting his tiny little hand right on your arm.

I know that’s all some mushy stuff that you won’t understand for a long time, but it means a lot to me to write it down at this very moment in your life and mine. Everything feels so magical right now to me — it’s this time of year that does it to me, because everything about this time of the year reminds me of waiting to bring you into this world. It’s a smell memory. A feeling memory. The Japanese separate the idea of the early summer from the late summer, because they are such different stages of a season. The late summer — the cicadas, the dragonflies, the first breath of fall in the hot, humid air, the brown grass and the drooping Crepe Myrtle by our basement door, heavy and sensuous with dark pink blossoms — all of these things will always remind me of waiting for you. For as long as I live, August and early September will be special, beautiful weeks when my senses are filled, and my body remembers what it is like to wait to meet someone that you will love forever.

This past two weeks or so, something pretty magical happened in your life — and perhaps this memory will take its place in late summer as well. You began talking. A lot, and more and more. “Aya!” was your first word (that means “Leela”), followed by “daw” (dog), mama, dada, “Up! Up! Up!” (mimicking daddy telling Leela to go upstairs) — and our daycare provider says you are also saying “A-ka-ka” for Annika (the name of another little girl who goes there). You’ve also begun “reading” books to yourself, flipping the pages and narrating like we do when we read to you. “A go go go go. Ga ga ga ga. Da da da. Ba!” You don’t have the words down right, but we get the point. You understand that pictures and words come from books. Totally. Brilliant.

I know that every other parent experiences this too. They laugh and clap at milestones, and they marvel at the rapid development of language. They think their kid is the BEST and the smartest and the most fantastic creation that’s ever existed.

And that’s what we think about you. And we always will.

Today, your daddy said to me, “I don’t care if he goes to college or makes a ton of money. I just want him to be happy. And not a total loser.”

We know you won’t be. Because you are just THE BEST.

I love you,

Mom.

What We’ve Learned about Sleep (10 months out)

Posted by camilla on July 18, 2011 in motherhood, musings, parenting, sleep with 2 Comments

I suppose it is true that one loses a lot of sleep during the first year of a child’s life (and for a few years to come in some cases). What people don’t tell you is that you might lose some hair, some sanity, and some patience in the process. But along the way, and after having read multiple books and websites on infant sleep, we have actually learned a thing or three. Here are the absolutely most helpful things that we’ve learned:

1. The most important thing — and I think I’ve mentioned this before — is to set an early bedtime. “Early” for some means 10PM, but what I mean is between 6PM and 8PM (at the very latest). We started this bedtime timing around when Sam started sleeping four to five hours at a time (around four months). Before then, Sam would just go to bed with us at 10PM or later. I noticed that he had started to take long late naps or have long periods of fussiness in the evening — and I had read in The No Cry Sleep Solution, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child and on the Baby Sleep Website that a bedtime between 6PM and 7PM was the thing to shoot for. Any later gets into over-tired territory, and an over-tired baby is likely to sleep less soundly and for less time than one who is appropriately tired. (This is TRUE.) Setting an earlier bedtime did lead to a more rested child — and it also helped us tremendously in transferring Sam from the co-sleeper in our room to the crib in his room. Added bonus — we get to have a few hours to ourselves before going to bed.

2. For naps, remember the 2-3-4 rule. If you have a bad napper, this MAY CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Around four to six months of age, your bambino may start transitioning to two naps. (Before that they take three naps, which for us was mayhem and a guessing game.) Once this transition starts to happen, the 2-3-4 rule is key to remember. When we started instituting this rule, it took some persistence, but now it works without fail. Every. Time. Here it is: baby wakes up, is awake for 2 hours, naps, is awake for 3 hours, naps, is awake for 4 hours, and then goes to bed for the night. You can start instituting this schedule when your kiddo is still at three naps a day — just budget for a brief evening nap before bedtime. I’ve learned that this rule WORKS, that consistency is key, and man, infants love a schedule. And this one is simple, flexible, and easy to remember. (I don’t know where I first read about this rule, but I do know the Baby Sleep Website is a big fan of this, and the author really knows her stuff.)

3. Crying it out is not evil — nor should it be used in every case. I’ve heard tales of mothers and fathers letting newborn infants cry it out until passing out. I would absolutely never agree that this is a good idea. Newborns need warmth, security, and feedings on demand. They need their parents to always hold them when they are crying. Why? They don’t know anything. They don’t know you’re just in the next room. They don’t know that you’ll come back. (This isn’t just my view.) Crying it out, if used, should be started after four months. We did not do much of this until after five or six months, and for us — we always set a time limit. I did let Sam just cry for an hour one time, and he was really screaming (yeah I know, I am mother of the year for that one). He finally fell asleep, but when he woke up, he was scared and needed to be held for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve never let him cry past twenty minutes, and if I hear that scared cry — not just a tired cry — I figure it’s not time for him to sleep. For us, Sam rarely cries at bedtime, but at naps, he can fuss and groan for up to twenty minutes. I now know his pattern — first he talks, then cries a little (a tired cry) and then he talks to himself quietly or groans a little (not a bad groan, but I don’t know how else to describe it other than a groan — a sleepy quiet groan), and then he’s asleep. This took practice for us — and it had to be in combination with the 2-3-4 nap schedule to really work. This really only started to work for us around eight months (I’ll explain more about that later). What I’d recommend with crying it out is taking a middle-of-the-road stance. Read a lot about it, use it if it works, and keep an open mind about it. It can be totally effective, but it’s not going to work at every age for every baby.

4. Your baby may well go through a whole lot of phases of napping or nighttime sleep. For nighttime sleep, Sam went through a I-have-to-be-glued-to-mama’s-boob phase from one to three months, he went through a had-to-be-swaddled phase for the first month, and a wake-up-at-4AM phase FOR THE DAY for the whole of month eight and some of month nine, and he went through several phases of waking up every hour or two to eat. (And now he sleeps 11-12 hours a night and wakes up around 5:30AM.) For naps, he went through a sleep-all-the-time phase until about two months of age, an only-sleep-in-the-swing-for-naps phase from two to four months, and an I-WON’T-NAP-AT-ALL, MAMA phase from around four to six months, and a delightful I-will-only-nap-ON-you phase from six to eight months. Phase after phase after phase. Always evolving.

5. On that note — be consistent as much as possible, and make sleep time and sleep place as secure and happy as possible. It took us eight months to get Sam to nap with regularity (on the 2-3-4 routine). What did I do? Besides going nuts? I started consistently putting him in his bedroom for naps from around five months on — in the swing or in the crib. Sometimes I’d just sit in there with him napping on me, or I’d sit in our glider while he whined in his crib, just so he’d know I was there. I read to him and played with him in the nursery, and after that one awful day I let him cry for an hour, I didn’t let him get scared in the nursery. Finally, it paid off. The man naps now, and it’s beautiful. (FYI, I don’t want to ship my baby off to sleep land all the time — but he was just a holy terror with the crying and the fussing constantly when he didn’t nap properly. Napping is key to a happy baby, and happy parents.)

6. Your baby will eventually sleep through the night! He or she will also go through sleep regressions (typically around four months and again around nine months) where he or she wakes up multiple times a night. It may be at two months that he or she sleeps through the night, or it might be at seventeen months. Either way, don’t lord it over other parents whose babies don’t sleep through the night yet! (That’s rule #1!) Your baby sleeping through the night doesn’t have that much to do with your parenting — it has about 90% of everything to do with the personality of your baby.

7. You may get more sleep in the newborn phase than you will when your kid is ten months old. For us, this has been largely true. Sounds weird right? Well, since we fully believe in putting Sam to bed around 7PM, his wake up time tends to come really early. And we still like to go to bed around 10PM. I know, it’s silly, but it’s how we’re rolling. In the newborn phase, I slept whenever Sam slept, and he often would sleep in with me until 11AM or noon if I felt like it! Nowadays, that doesn’t happen. I try to nap sometimes when he naps, but that doesn’t always happen. So be grateful for your little sleeping tiny angel — he or she will turn into a crawling, bouncing, babbling, stair-climbing, person climbing, refrigerator opening Energizer Bunny. Sleep goes out the window.

8. The first sign that your kid is SICK (or teething) is poor sleep. Since Sam started having a more predictable nighttime sleep pattern (sleeping more than five hours at a stretch), it has become easy to tell when something is “up.” If he’s awake when he’s not supposed to be, or if his naps suddenly become shorter, it’s a sure sign that he is getting a new tooth, is constipated, has gas, or has an illness. This was one of the first signs of his epic month long ear infection, and it was certainly the sign that his fifth and sixth tooth were coming in. This is an important sign to read! It means — be vigilant and keep a wary eye — make sure your kid is okay over the next hours and days. Something might be up!

9. Speaking of signs, know your child’s tired signs. For Sam, he rubs his eyes, tugs on his ear, or sort of collapses in an extremely dramatic, ridiculous way on the floor (one second sitting up, the next second, collapsed over his crossed legs, face plant on carpet, mewling surely involved). He has always rubbed his eyes and gotten fussy — and at the first view of any of these signs, we’re usually headed towards putting him down to sleep. It’s a good thing to remember, especially when you are trying to adapt to a particular routine. (Often, if you wait until a child is fifteen or thirty minutes past these first signs, he or she might hit a second wind and/or become overtired. Overtired is BAD — it means either more of a fight when going to sleep, or no sleep at all!)

10. Be patient. And be thankful. A lot of parents have babies with colic or reflux, which is a huge hindrance in getting sleep schedules figured out. Even with these issues, babies will eventually sort themselves out. With more minor issues — like Sam’s refusal to nap for a few months — keep in mind that someday, all of that will change and get better. Be consistent, patient, loving, and persistent. Babies need security, and they need sleep. Make sure they have as much of those things as possible — and then release it. Be patient with the baby, the routine, your partner. Be flexible. Above all, be patient with yourself. If you’re trying — you’re there. You’re the best parent, and you’re who your baby needs.

Good luck!

Google This

Posted by camilla on July 10, 2011 in attachment parenting, car seats, diapering, motherhood, pregnancy, Products, saving money with No Comments

I was just randomly playing around with my Google Analytics — a very cool tool for a blogger. Obviously, I don’t produce a whole lot of entries since I pour my heart and soul into a lot of entries, and I usually wait for a spark to write more emotional posts. However, what I can do, is check out some of the ways people have found this site on the internet — what did people search for to find my humble blog? And can I answer some of the things they were searching for? Yes, I can perhaps give some help on those queries. I’ll select a few each week and write a bit about those. I’ll go ahead and address some of the more popular queries.

1. “Best natural disposable diapers” has brought a lot of people to my site. I did address this before, but I’ll definitely address it again. The best for fit and absorbency are Earth’s Best, hands down. The best (in a reasonable price range) that are the best for the environment are Nature BabyCare diapers. They have great absorbency (same as Earth’s Best as far as I can tell), and they are better for the environment than EB. Since they less plastic, they do tear occasionally, but it’s not very often. They use biodegradable packaging, soy ink, and have a reduced amount of absorbent polymers compared to other disposables. The best thing about so-called “natural” disposables is that they don’t SMELL like regular disposables — which to me have an awful chemical smell and something in them makes pee smell even more rank when it enters the diaper. I wouldn’t bother with Huggies Naturals — there isn’t much natural at all about them. They’re just regular Huggies without fragrance, and some of the exterior is made with organic cotton. Earth’s Best, Seventh Generation and Nature BabyCare are chlorine bleach free, which is awesome. This keeps harmful dioxin away from baby’s sensitive bottom. (I don’t like Seventh Gen as well simply because the fit is less generous, and the tabs aren’t as nice as either EB or NBC.) I don’t bother with the GDiaper hybrid diapers, since they always leak and are just a pain to deal with in general! Hope this helps, searchers! (And buy everything on Amazon — get the Amazon mom and subscribe and save discounts, and the fancy natural diapers come down to the price — or lower than the price — of “regular diapers” in the grocery store.)

2. “Safe paint for pregnant women” brings folks around too. Of course, it directs them to my previous post, but I’ll just say it again. Go for no-VOC brands of paint like FreshAire (available at Home Despot). Lowe’s, Ace, McCormick, Sherwin Williams — all of those stores should have their own no-VOC brands. And at the specialty paint stores, they can usually mix up whatever color you want in no-VOC. (The no-VOC was important for me because I just didn’t want to breathe in the smell of the regular paint. It made me just super sick and headachy after using regular, cheaper paint. The no-VOC was worth it! And it’s supposed to be better for the bambinos — born and unborn!)

3. “Best extended rear-facing car seat” brought a few folks by as well. For that, with my lovely penchant for excessive research, I would highly recommend the Britax series. Most all of them rear face til 40 lbs, front face til 55-70 lbs, and they are really high quality and come in cute prints. I have the Boulevard in cowmooflouge and we love it. They are a little tougher to buckle than infant seats, but I can deal with that for safety. Of course, the Britax are ridiculously expensive. This Evenflo Triumph is almost just the same as the Boulevard and costs a hundred bucks less. (My parents have it for my son, and the only difference I can see is that it doesn’t have soft shoulder pads. Otherwise, it appears to be exactly the same. The weight limit for the seat is 65 lbs, and the Boulevard is 70. Only other difference.) Lots of other people love the Sunshine Radian XTSL — I considered it because it goes to 80 pounds and 45 rear facing, but it is very tall, and as the back seats of the Element are raised, I didn’t want it interfering with my driving vision. It is THINNER than other seats, which is an advantage for those with multiple kiddos. Overall, those are the three I considered — and we all love the Boulevard and Triumph. The XTSL will have to wait for our imaginary next kiddo. Happy shopping!

Other answers to brief random questions that sent more than one person to my site:

1. Q: “Does formula make babies feel fuller?” A: Yes, I believe it does. They can take more of it at a time, and it is also thicker than breast milk. This is a plus, because Sam sleeps longer now than he ever did when he was breastfeeding. This is a negative, because it sends little babies (0-3 months or so) into a deeper sleep than they need to be in, increasing the risk of SIDS. That’s my short answer!

2. Q: “What are the best bras during pregnancy?” A: Bras from A Pea in the Pod, like this one, and sports bras from Target (if you can find ones that go nicely under your clothes). Skip Victoria’s Secret. If you’re super rich, go to Intimacy. Don’t wear your old bras — they can compress your breasts and cause pain and possibly damage to your breast tissue.

3. Q: “Are Medela bras at Target the same as the bras at A Pea in the Pod?” A: NO. NO. NO! My Medela bra literally fell apart after a few months of wear. The used and abuse APIP bras are still going strong.

4. Q: “Attachment parenting mom with Babywise friend?” A: There is no true answer to this. I do believe that moms with opposing viewpoints can and SHOULD be friends. My friend did Babywise, and it has worked out beautifully for her and her daughter. She doesn’t let her little girl cry, but the schedule was an awesome fit for both her and her little one’s personalities. It didn’t resonate with me. But I don’t believe crying it out or scheduling are really harmful to babies — Sam is on somewhat of a schedule, and nowadays, we have to let him fuss it out in his crib when he’s tired once in a while. Then he falls beautifully asleep. Point is — short of actually beating on a kid, withholding food from them, feeding them Big Macs every day, or calling them “idiot” instead of their given name — I am trying to be cool with how other people parent. And that would be my absolutely honest recommendation to a lady with an opposing viewpoint from her other lady friend. Friendships are important, and they are worth more than getting upset over a trifling matter like scheduling naps.

That’s all for today! We’ll see what comes up in the next week on my Google Analytics!

Primal Parenting? Really?

Posted by camilla on July 6, 2011 in attachment parenting, motherhood, musings, nursing, parenting with 3 Comments

Dr. Momma recently posted this article by Patricia Törngren on something called primal parenting. I generally enjoy the articles on Dr. Momma’s site, but this one made me pretty angry. There are a lot of people all over the internet spreading crazy generalizations about parenting, but this one was pretty nut-tastic in my opinion.

I would urge you to read the article — it is really some interesting reading. The author’s overall point is that because her mother did not feed her on demand and let her cry (to be fair, the mother seemed to have gotten some gross misinformation from her pediatrician) that she was a damaged adult who hoarded food. She also makes noises about “being forced to sleep alone” from birth and not being picked up enough to suit her needs. This of course supports the attachment parenting practices of co-sleeping and babywearing. She refers to the style of parenting in which she believes as “primal parenting — the primal is related primal therapy. (I can’t see how her concepts differ from Sears’ attachment parenting, but I suppose that is beside the point.)

She talks a bit about a book her therapist gave her, which connects long-term breastfeeding with self-worth and autonomy in hunter-gatherer societies, and withholding colostrum and crying it out or sleep training practices with anger issues. In a meandering way, she links crying it out, sleeping in a crib and early weaning (before one year, I’m guessing) with — get ready for it — the development of clinical depression in adults. Just so you believe me, here’s some juicy quotes that show her line of thinking:

[Timothy Taylor] says that for early weaning to be forced onto the child, the child must be made to sleep alone, and its crying ignored…. The outcome of this is very serious. Taylor links it to classical conditioning and Martin Seligman’s theory of learned helplessness… The child has learned from the beginning that trying to get its needs met, or asserting itself in any way, is futile. Tragically, learned helplessness is often the forerunner of clinical depression.

See what she does here? If you wean your child early, he or she must be sleeping in his or her own bed (the horror!). If your child is sleeping independently in his or her own bed, his or her crying is ignored. If the crying is ignored, your child learns that he or she is helpless and no aid will come. Tragic, indeed. BAM! You end up with a depressed adult.

Wow. So that is why there are so many depressed men and women out there. They slept in CRIBS! And cried! My gosh. Finally, an explanation.

Of course she links all of this to her own depression, as I mentioned before. She does let us know that she is now in therapy, recovering from her childhood and her mother not holding her enough or letting her eat as she was crying. (Her experience as an infant does seem to be a uniquely bleak one, which certainly could have something to do with depression. Is it the singular cause? Likely not.)

Of course she ends up telling us how terrible our futures will all be if we do not parent in the way she has laid out:

Hopefully, this nurturing and loving style of caring for children will become the parenting of the future, as it was in our distant past. If it doesn’t, our future as humanity is bleak indeed.

Bleak. Indeed.

Certainly as someone who formula feeds, “forces” her child to sleep in a crib, and occasionally prefers the stroller to the Ergo carrier, I take issue with many of Törngren’s claims. It seems like she isn’t just putting it out there that primal parenting is one way of doing things that could provide good results — it seems that she believes it is the ONLY way to do things. As I said, I do dig Dr. Momma, but I feel like this is a harmful article. It reinforces, and may even create in some new mothers, the belief that there is only one right way of parenting.

As I write, I am reminded of an article I read by Erica Jong (the noted author of Fear of Flying). The article is called “On the Madness of Motherhood,” and it got me pretty angry at the time I read it — just as Törngren’s article did. (And just like Törngren, Jong comes out with some over generalization and more than her share of acrimony against the “other” way of parenting.) Jong comes roaring out against attachment parenting and the insanity of this new wave of parenting practices:

Attachment parenting, especially when combined with environmental correctness, has encouraged female victimization. Women feel not only that they must be ever-present for their children but also that they must breastfeed, make their own baby food and eschew disposable diapers. It’s a prison for mothers, and it represents as much of a backlash against women’s freedom as the right-to-life movement.

Whoa! Over generalization after over generalization after over generalization. Yikes! (She also talks about how her own daughter “hated” breastfeeding, without any back story. Totally bizarre.) But, after getting all riled up against Törngren, it did make me think back to reading Jong. There are so many people — especially women, and golly do I hate to stereotype — who really think, who really BELIEVE that parenting a certain way (the “attached” way) is the ONLY right way to raise a little person.

In the midst of her own ridiculosity, Jong makes some salient points. Says Jong, “So it seems we have devised a new torture for mothers—a set of expectations that makes them feel inadequate no matter how passionately they attend to their children.” Yes indeed. I see it over and over. I hear so many mothers ask, in different words and in different ways, “Am I doing it right?” I’m one of those mothers of course. And I ask myself this every day. Certainly, this isn’t an uncommon way of thinking — in fact, I would say it’s probably a way of thinking that dates back to when Homo Sapiens first stepped away from the primate world.

But in today’s world, worry is yet another addiction. The world expands rapidly before us, its threats and dangers brought to us over and over, on repeat, on our television and computer screens. “Toxins!” we hear. “Pesticides! Trans fats! Disease! Vaccines! Infected water!”

Despite her undeniable nuttiness “On the Madness of Motherhood,” I now strongly resonate with Jong’s final point:

What is so troubling about these theories of parenting—both pre- and postnatal—is that they seem like attempts to exert control in a world that is increasingly out of control. We can’t get rid of the carcinogens in the environment, but we can make sure that our kids arrive at school each day with a reusable lunch bag full of produce from the farmers’ market. We can’t do anything about loose nukes falling into the hands of terrorists, but we can make sure that our progeny’s every waking hour is tightly scheduled with edifying activities.

Our obsession with parenting is an avoidance strategy. It allows us to substitute our own small world for the world as a whole. But the entire planet is a child’s home, and other adults are also mothers and fathers. We cannot separate our children from the ills that affect everyone, however hard we try. Aspiring to be perfect parents seems like a pathetic attempt to control what we can while ignoring problems that seem beyond our reach.

I think a lot about babies these days. The more I get to know my own little person, I realize that that is exactly what he is — a little person. He’s not some mythical creature that will be damaged without the exact right kind of care — he’s a tiny human. Just as all human beings vary infinitely, so do babies, and so do parents for that matter.

The kind of parenting I support is parenting that responds to the needs of the baby and the needs of the parent, weighing each in kind. This takes into account that a parent must be well and happy with his or her decisions in order to provide the best care for his or her baby. Of course, I don’t support the decisions of doing truly harmful things to children like beating or verbally abusing them. Beyond that, I try to believe that each parent is doing the best for his or her child — as he or she sees fit. Most parenting decisions shouldn’t fall under attack as much as they do from a certain group of parents (particularly mothers) on the internet.

The internet ends up being an extension of that “small world” that we create for our perfectly reared children. And with the anonymity that the internet provides, we can criticize whatever parenting practice we like (cribs are cages! formula is poison!) and over generalize until our faces turn blue. We can extend our control by “informing” and “supporting” and “educating” other mothers about what we KNOW is right. And that way, we can crusade against what we see as a bleak and unloving way of parenting — just as Törngren would have us do.

“Do the best you can,” says Jong at the very end of her article. “There are no rules.”

On that point, Ms. Jong, I agree with you. I won’t be coming out in support of any one way of parenting. Because there isn’t any one way.

Our Breastfeeding Journey Comes to a Close

Posted by camilla on June 20, 2011 in love yourself, motherhood, musings, nursing, parenting with 2 Comments

I breastfed Sam for the last time just after he turned eight months old. It seems funny that I didn’t know it would be the last time. Now I replay that moment in my head — lying down next to my baby after a long trip to my parents well after his bed time, and nursing him until he fell asleep gently beside me. I knew he needed me then — not for nutrition but for comfort and warmth. He slept through the night until the next morning. He woke up happy.

Since then, he’s had exclusively Earth’s Best formula, which he seems to like. He hasn’t had any upset stomach, weight loss, or other adverse reactions — and it seems that he is thriving, growing, and meeting his milestones just as he should.

And yet. There isn’t a time that I feed him that I don’t think I’d rather be nursing him. He makes sweet little humming sounds when he eats — just like he did when he nursed. And it makes me feel deeply guilty and quite sad.

As I have said before, I wasn’t that enthused about breastfeeding from the get-go. And as natural-mama as I try to be (sometimes), I didn’t see myself breastfeeding too much beyond one year. (No hating for those who do … it just didn’t seem right for me.)

We have a healthy, thriving baby. I am a lady who knew she would make the switch sometime — to formula or cow’s milk. So why the feelings?

For one, I wasn’t ready. My body made the choice for me in a lot of ways. When I returned to work and started pumping, Sam was okay at first — and then, he started eating twice as much as I could pump in a day. I made up for that by pumping at night and on weekends. I took Lactation Support (which is primarily made of the herb Fenugreek), which worked but left me with some not-so-great side effects like intestinal cramping. When I was prescribed Wellbutrin, my supply shot down to the point where I had to start formula. (I don’t know why I responded to the medication that way — but apparently other women have had the same problem. And some don’t.) Once I started formula, Sam didn’t want to nurse as much, and when he did he was left hungry and fussing. He got so used to the bottle that he stopped nursing altogether — and now he doesn’t even remember that he ever did.

I look at my history with nursing — the complications and the inconvenience and the supply drop that made me quit. And I feel like that’s just what I did. I quit. I gave up on my baby when he still needed me, and still needed the perfect nutrition that is human milk. No formula compares. Handling formula makes me know that — it’s essentially sticky powdered cow’s milk mixed with corn syrup (or table sugar!) to make it sweet. Its fat content comes from added oils like palm and coconut. The fat in formula condenses in little yellow globules when it’s mixed with water. Just looking at breast milk, you can see the difference — the creamy milk fat rises to the top and separates (just like how cream separates from cow’s milk before it’s processed). Breast milk smells sweet, where formula smells strongly of iron and oil. Breast milk is living, full of nutrients and antibodies that no science lab could replicate into a powder.

I’ve gone through these punishing thoughts a fair number of times, letting them cycle over and over again in my brain. On better days, I respond to them by saying: “My husband and I were formula fed, and we’re fine, healthy and smart. Sam is thriving. I gave him eight months of my milk, and he will always have that. Formula is not unhealthy — it is designed for human babies, and it is researched and improved upon all the time. Plus,” I whisper, “It’s easier. You can drop Sam off with your parents and stay away for a night. You can let your husband feed him. You don’t have to worry that day care will run out of breast milk.” But still, I struggle, and I struggle to shut down the voice that says I didn’t do the right things, and I didn’t try hard enough.

I’ve talked a lot about judging in my two previous posts. If I’m to look back and take wisdom from my own words and thoughts, I would say that moms tend to judge themselves the most harshly. I know I do — I know I’ve always been my own worst critic, and when it comes to being a mother, I tend to make that critical voice ten times worse. There are certain things that I must let go. Even though I know that I could have bent over backwards to keep breastfeeding, with supplements and teas and endless pumping (and I applaud the ladies who do that — y’all are hardcore), for us, now was just as good a time as any to end. For other moms, maybe their journey is longer or shorter, or maybe it’s a formula feeding journey the whole way. What ends up being important is a healthy baby, who feels close to and trusting of his or her mother. Whatever way that is accomplished is, and will be, alright by me.

By writing this, I hope to release it and move on. My baby is beautiful, and every day, he shows me that he is strong and happy and loving.

Why must we try to raise other people’s kids … on the internet?

Posted by camilla on June 16, 2011 in Uncategorized with 7 Comments

Duty Calls (xkcd.com)

I may or may not have mentioned my mild internet addiction, which worsened when I had Sam glued to my boob for the first four months or so of his life. During that time, I was at home most all of the time. Also, it was winter. Also, the whatnot with the PPD. The internet, for better or probably for worse, was a big part of my life. I frequented (and still do) the oddly popular and gigantic Diaper Swappers parenting forum. I joined the Peaceful Parenting network on Facebook, and the Whole Network on Facebook as well. I also frequented sites about natural birthing, baby wearing, organic baby foods, and oh, lots of other things. The things these sites have in common? Judgment of others’ parenting decisions abound. This of course fueled my judgment phase of parenting. Why aren’t others using cloth diapers? Why don’t more women choose natural birth? I thought. Why does anyone circumcise? Why would you feed formula when you have plenty of breast milk?

Disclaimer: I will certainly try for a natural birth again. I still won’t circumcise if I have a second son. I may try cloth diapers again — I do believe there is much too much waste going into landfills. And yeah, I’ll probably try to breastfeed until one year next time … if I can.

In the statement above, folks, notice the use of “I” statements. Yep, those are my decisions. And beliefs. I now recognize that those things don’t apply to the general population a lot of the time. Newsflash, Camilla! Disposable diapers and formula ARE a LOT easier. (Yeah, taking out the trash and making bottles — those things are a pain, but they don’t add up to mountains of laundry or furiously pumping for an hour at work to get two ounces.) HA! Another newsflash — labor is incredibly freaking painful. Damn right women should have a right to pain relief! Lordy.

Since I’ve gotten off of my high horse, I’ve been increasingly amused at the comments I see floating around on forums or strings of Facebook comments. I’ll paraphrase here, since I am not keen on using exact quotes.

Peaceful Parenting asks (recently) — A mom wants to find a good forward facing carrier for her child. Her child doesn’t want to face towards her body, but prefers to look out. Can you help?

Multiple (more than 20) responses: You should never put your child in a forward facing carrier. This may cause hip issues. Please mama, reconsider before putting your child forward facing.

Me: I think she wanted actual suggestions, not a school lesson.

The, “Please, Mama,” is the especially condescending bit you see very often in these internet conversation. Another good one…

The Whole Network says, Mayim Bialik is having her son circumcised! Please leave thoughtful and loving comments on her blog about circumcision.

Responses: I cannot believe she is mutilating her son!

Responses: I left a comment that she should reconsider and not mutilate her son!

Me: Unfollow The Whole Network.

Um, mutilate? Come on. I’m not pro-circumcision, but calling out a Jewish mom and telling her she is mutilating her son is just … ugh. It’s just wrong and awful. (Miyam Bialik’s response was fairly trenchant, to say the least.)

And this is from just now…

Peaceful Parenting posts, “Does anyone know any good studies about children watching television under three?”

Multiple responses: We have never, and will never, let our children watch television. Never ever.

Other responses: I let my kids watch TV sometimes so I can make dinner or go to the bathroom alone.

Multiple responses: Just think how much more gifted your kid would be without television! Why are you letting the television raise your child? (Emphasis added.)

Other responses: Want to come raise my kids?

Other responses: Why isn’t anyone answering the question?

I haven’t unfollowed Peaceful Parenting, since Dr. Momma does post some very interesting articles. She’s also a good writer, and I gel with a lot of her beliefs. I also live for writing snarky responses to judgmental mothers. Stab stab. Poke poke.

I know it won’t cause them to reconsider the belittling remarks they leave. I know it won’t stop a lot of people from thinking they way they think or leaving unsolicited advice lying around the internet, like my dog leaves turds in my yard. But it’s fun to get a jab in here and there.

Maybe one of them will pause and say to herself, “What is it about the internet that makes me want to leave comments like that? Would I say this to my best friend? To my sister? Maybe, maybe not. Why do I want to reach across the country to say, Please Mama, don’t mutilate your child. Make sure to feed him breast milk, since formula is poison.” (I’ve seen that said more times than I can count. How does formula = poison? I’m flummoxed.)

Is it something about the anonymity? The grouping together of moms with a baby on boob, trolling the internet for mothers with whom they disagree? The automatic assumption that I AM DOING IT RIGHT, and no one else is, and therefore, they must want, nay NEED my advice?

I wish I could go back in time and change my website to Unsavvymom. I’m not any more savvy than anyone else — the name sometimes gets to me these days. And if I’m not any more savvy, there are probably a lot of other moms in my same boat.

My job has taught me many things that are important — but this one rings out in my head whenever I see posts like these — assume goodwill. When that mom is posting about her decision regarding [whatever], assume that she’s trying to do the best she can, assume that she knows a little bit about being a mom, and please, assume she’s not trying to abuse her child or put him or her in danger. Give her some credit — and think, hard, please. Maybe there are some decisions you’ve made that weren’t so perfect either.

Depression with an Adjective (and how it has changed me)

Posted by camilla on May 16, 2011 in love yourself, motherhood, musings, parenting, PPD with 7 Comments

Hello to the three or four people who read my blog! I know that you may have noticed that I have been absent recently. If you read my previous post, you may have guessed why I have been absent. That’s right — it’s because I’ve published a bestselling memoir of my life, and I’ve already sold the movie rights to Warner Brothers. I’ve been told they may cast Ellen Page to play me, but I’m still holding out hope for Scarlett Jo. I just don’t think Ellen would look right with blond hair. Either way, I’ve just been way too busy rolling around in piles of money to write on my little blog.

Ha ha. Opposite day. That didn’t really happen. As you may have actually guessed, or if you know me, you’ve likely become aware that I haven’t been myself in the past months. I have been coping with postpartum depression — not as majorly terrible as some folks experience, but still it’s pretty rough.

I was talking with a friend recently about how “depression” is such a dirty word. “Postpartum” certainly makes it sound better — “Oh, I don’t have depression, I have postpartum depression. It’s a special kind of depression that mommies get because their hormones are doing terrible things to their brains. It’s not like regular, run of the mill depression. The kind that doesn’t have a specific cause or a specific end date. I have the kind of mommy depression that Gwyneth Paltrow had with Apple. And now she’s a regular guest star on Glee!” Yes, it’s okay to have postpartum depression because it’s gotten a little bit of a notoriety, and it has this specific CAUSE that makes people feel a little more comfortable with it.

Well let me clue you in, it is EXACTLY the same as the regular, run of the mill, general depression. The same chemicals go haywire in your brain. Even though there may be a specific cause, no one can guess an end date. You have the same horrible thoughts, perhaps even obsessions and compulsions, and on many days, you just might not want to get out of bed. I feel exactly the same as when I have suffered major depressive episodes before — except this time, it doesn’t just affect me and my college roommate, or me and my boyfriend, or me and my experience living abroad in Japan. It affects me and my child, me and my husband, me and my family, me and my job that I love. It’s just the same ugly thing that it always has been; only now, the stakes are higher. It isn’t trendy, or fun, or “lighter” than regular depression. It doesn’t magically end when Sam turns one, and it didn’t have a discernible starting point either. It’s the same damn thing as depression without the adjective, and it really sucks.

Because PPD (at least, for me, I can’t speak for others) is like the regular old-hat depression, I’ve looked to treating it the same way. I take medication, I try to exercise when I have the time, and I go to talk therapy. I look up on days that are good and realize how lucky I am. I have insurance to pay for appointments and pills that make my brain work well enough so that I can begin to heal. I lucked out and found an amazing therapist who really gels with my personality — she laughs at my jokes and curses and has my same politics, and isn’t shy about saying so. I have colleagues who care about what’s going on with me, and I have a family who supports, encourages, and loves me. On not so good days, I sink in ways that I don’t want to describe here. For those of you who have experienced depression, you know what I am talking about. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

I look back on my blog over the past year, and I am proud that I came back to writing along with the creation of this beautiful new life. I also look back and wonder — and perhaps this is through the lens of depression — why anyone would want to read my pronouncements about how cloth diapers are better than disposables, or why you should breastfeed as long as you can, or why you should give birth without an epidural, or choose not to circumcise your son. These are things I still believe, but depression has humbled me and my strong opinions. I had to go to using disposable diapers 80% of the time when Sam entered day care, and the medication I am on dried my breast milk up almost as soon as I took the first pill. (And fenugreek, you can suck it. I hate you forever. More on that in another post.) I look at my birth and I am proud that I accomplished exactly what I wanted, but I am no better than any other mother who has ever had a child.

Moms, and dads, you are heroes. Whether or not you choose to have an epidural, or put a organic hemp diaper or a Pampers Swaddler on your baby’s butt, or choose to feed breast milk or Enfamil, whether to stay home or have a nanny or day care — those are NOT the important decisions I once thought they were. The important decisions, well, those are harder to define. I believe they are the decisions that relate to how you love yourself, and how you love your child. What example you choose to present, and what kind of person you raise your child to be. How you choose to express yourself to your child and how you choose to bring order into your child’s life. Those are the things — and they are really the only things right now — that I view as important.

As Natalie Portman said in Garden State, I’m “in it” right now. And being in it — and being much more concerned with trying to figure things out in my life — that’s made me not want to write posts about which organic baby food I feed to my kid, or why exactly I think FuzziBunz are great diapers. I know a lot of my previous posts verged on preachy, and while a lot of my friends have let me know that they enjoyed reading what I had to say, I’m pretty done with being preachy.

As parents, we’re doing the best we can (I mean — not every parent is — but the ones I know sure are). We’re surviving day to day, trying to teach these little amazing people how to be good and honest and conscious. We make great decisions and terrible mistakes. Who am I to say what is best?

Another friend said to me, right before the birth of her second child — a beautiful little girl — that she does not judge other parents. Or she tries not to. Her husband had remarked to her one day, upon seeing a four or five year old girl with a pacifier, that it was improper, or wrong, or something like that, and that the parents shouldn’t be allowing her to have a pacifier at that age. My friend responded — “You don’t know. That little girl could have autism, and the pacifier is the only way she can cope with being at the store. You don’t know. You NEVER know.” This has stuck with me big time. What wise words — we can’t ever know what is going on in another parent’s life, or what is happening in the life of their child. We can give advice, when solicited, but that’s really all. (I CAN judge that horrible woman who is making her child get Botox treatments, because I do know that is wrong for sure. Otherwise, I’m trying to be like my wise friend and just chill.)

You can never predict the choices you will make, or will have to make, with your child. You can never predict how you will feel on a day to day basis, or exactly how you will figure out how to be the best parent that you can be. Being a mom and dealing with depression has made me more aware of this than I ever was before.

So, on good days, hopefully I will come back to writing with a different tone in my voice. On not so good days, you can probably find me sitting on my porch and soaking in the sun, or in my bath with my baby who is squealing at the wonder it is to splash in the water. (Oh the sounds he makes!) In trying to find contentment, I am discovering myself to be a person who must release some of her firmly held opinions. I am slowly learning not to judge the decisions of others, and in this process, I am learning not to judge myself. At least, I am trying.

Welcome to the Savvy Mom Space

I’m a liberal feminist that believes that liberal, feminist ideals should gel with embracing your gender and motherhood (if that’s what you feel like doing). I support all kinds of moms and dads and parents. Oh and, although I totally love that natural vibe and not harming the environment, I supplement my organic milk and fresh fruits and veggies with the occasional Twix, the frequent Oreo, and the daily Coke Zero. I’m opinionated, not easily offended, and a loudmouth in person and on the internet. I am what I am. Welcome.