A Cup of Milk

Brothers!

Around the time my firstborn turned one, the whispers started.

Every mom who has chosen to breastfeed, especially if she’s succeeded in avoiding formula for any length of time, is familiar with those whispers. When are you going to wean? Why don’t you let me give him a bottle? You’re spoiling him. You’re going to be breastfeeding him to sleep in college.

Those reasons start much earlier than a year, of course, for many moms. Some start hearing them when baby is a few months or even weeks old. I, however, made it clear from the get-go that breastfeeding was the way for me, and I wasn’t interested in any encouragement to switch to formula.

That, and I chose my friends carefully. A good support network is a big part of breastfeeding success, after all.

Anyway, I pointedly ignored those whispers. I steadfastly remained on the course of self-weaning, and my son nursed until he was four. Shortly after that birthday, he finally stopped asking to nurse at bedtime. It was bittersweet, but the time was right for both of us.

A few months later, I got pregnant again.

It was planned. But still, I only got to enjoy a few months of having my body completely myself before a baby took up residence in my womb, and I only had about a year before the breastfeeding grind began anew.

My older son, of course, still remembered breastfeeding. And while he understood that my body wasn’t producing milk for him anymore, he was very curious about my plans to nurse our new baby. It wasn’t long before he asked if he would be able to start nursing again, too.

If I had milk again, he reasoned, why not? He loved mommy milk. He wanted his baby brother or sister to share!

The first time he asked, I smiled fondly and told him that my body would be making milk for baby, and that I wouldn’t have enough to share. (This was a lie; I knew I’d likely overproduce at first.) When he asked again in the future--and he asked frequently--I offered other excuses. Baby would need it all (also a lie). He’d gone for so long without nursing that he probably wouldn’t remember how (possibly true, but I was uninterested in testing the theory). He was “too old” for mommy milk (most people in the US would say truth, but other cultures might disagree).

I avoided the real reasons why I did not want my older boy to start nursing again. I was not interested in tandem nursing two children so far apart in age (truth). I did not want to maintain an oversupply (truth). Water was a perfectly healthy beverage for him (truth). And, after a year of not nursing him, I was admittedly a little uncomfortable at the idea of nursing a five-year-old (truth--but props to the full-term breastfeeding mamas out there who nurse to five or beyond!).

I managed to deflect my son well enough early on that the questions stopped coming for awhile. But once I received my breast pump--a month or so before the baby’s birth--the issue came back. My son was intrigued by the pump, fascinated that a machine could extract mommy milk so that baby could drink it when I wasn’t there to feed him directly. He understood bottles in theory, of course, but I never used bottles with him; he always drank straight from the source, as it were.

After a few more rounds of questions and deflections, I finally hit upon a new idea. I had a pump. I could pump milk. I could put pumped milk in a bottle… or a cup.

So I told my son that sometime after the baby was born, perhaps I would give him some of my pumped milk to drink in a cup. Deflection: successful.

My husband, when he heard this conversation, was mildly horrified I think, although he’s used to me and my crunchy ways and he did his best to go with it. He simply inserted himself into our discussion to make sure our son knew that first, this--the sharing of mommy milk--would not be a regular occurrence, and second, it’d likely only happen at home. Two points I wholeheartedly agreed with.

I may be a bit on the natural side, but as I mentioned before, I was not particularly keen on getting my older boy hooked on “the good stuff” again. That was a phase of his life that was over, and I really wanted it to stay over. One nursling at a time for me, thank you very much.

Liquid gold

And then baby came. I pumped almost exclusively at first, as baby had to stay in the hospital for awhile after birth. And it wasn’t long before the question came. He asked me if he could have some mommy milk.

I put him off at first. I told him I needed to save every drop for the baby, who was still in the NICU and needed milk to grow. But eventually, I gave in. After one pumping session, I emptied one of the bottles into a bag to freeze and later take to the hospital. And I emptied the other bottle into his blue cup, which I offered to my then-five-year-old.

He took a sip, grinned at me, and said “Mmmmm!” Then he put it down and scampered off to play with his grandma.

He never came back for the rest of the milk in that cup.

Look at that freezer stash!

It was with a sad smile that I eventually dumped those five or so ounces down the drain. After all the questions, all the haranguing, after the insistence that he still loved mommy milk and wanted to share in his little brother’s bounty, it turns out that my big boy just wasn’t that interested anymore. For a preschooler, mommy milk just couldn’t compare with the other adventures that life holds.

*****

I know a lot of women do genuinely worry that their babies will never want to wean. They worry that baby will be nursing forever. They believe that they’ll eventually have to force the issue. Sooner or later, we’ll just have to start saying no. Right? Our babies will surely never say no on their own.

I understand that self-weaning isn’t for everyone. Some women have to wean because of life circumstances. It might be because of a job, or because of an illness, or perhaps because of a custody situation. Others choose to wean at a certain age for reasons that may be more or less defined. They’re not enjoying breastfeeding. They’re ready to be done.

No one needs to define those reasons if they don’t want to. Breastfeeding is a relationship between mommy and baby, and it has to work for both parties. And if it’s not working, well, you don’t need to justify your decision.

That being said, don’t ever let anyone tell you that your child will never wean.

My new baby recently turned one, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the whispers start again. And when they do, I can pull out this story of my older son and our journey to self-weaning. I can’t speak for every baby, of course, but self-weaning turned out just fine for us the first time around. I have no doubt this baby will eventually wean on his own, too.

My older son never did ask what happened to his cup of mommy milk. He never missed it when it disappeared. And he never asked again about sharing.

I’m a Millennial and I Suck at Holiday Magic

I can still remember what I consider to be my first “real” Christmas out on my own.

Our own, I should say. My husband and I had been married several years at this point, but we always celebrated Christmas with the families of our childhoods. We would spend Christmas Eve at his parents’ house, then do the Christmas morning festivities with his parents and brother. Later in the day, we’d go to my mom’s house for brunch and gift exchanging, and at some point later in the afternoon we’d return to my husband’s parents’ house again for dinner.

We used to live only about an hour away from everyone. But then my husband enlisted in the Navy, and suddenly we were spending Christmas in Illinois, a long plane ride away from anyone. We had gone on a trip to visit family earlier in the fall, but decided to stay home—our own home, the one we were making together—for Christmas.

In some ways, it was a lonely holiday, but we also enjoyed the freedom of not being bound by anyone else’s schedules. We had a tree—a real tree, my first live one ever—and we had decorated it with our meager collection of ornaments. We strung Christmas lights up around our balcony and above our table. I carefully wrapped a blanket around the tree stand, lacking a proper tree skirt, but for many weeks we had no presents to pile underneath.

And then we got some presents. My husband’s aunt and uncle sent us a box with a few goodies for each of us. We placed them ceremoniously under the tree, a handful of beautifully wrapped gifts and two tiny enveloped cards.

It was only a few days later that we opened those tiny cards. We knew this aunt and uncle always send money, you see. I no longer remember what we spent that money on, but opening it a week or so before Christmas was, unbeknownst to us at the time, a slippery slope. It wasn’t long before we opened the wrapped presents. After all, where was the harm in celebrating early? Why wait? The presents from my in-laws didn’t even all make it under the tree; some were opened as soon as we received their package, the rest within days of that. I don’t think we even bothered wrapping the gifts we got for one another.

Hello, my name is Holly. I’m a Millennial and I suck at Christmas.

A lot of people have a lot of bad things to say about Millennials. We’re bleeding heart liberals, snowflakes who can’t handle hearing or reading anything that might be even the least bit offensive. We need trigger warnings and safe places. We expect to be rewarded simply for showing up; we grew up with participation trophies. We need our mommies to do our laundry for us and to talk to our teachers about our bad grades and to negotiate job contracts.

Most of that is nonsense, of course. We Millennials are hardworking and honest, for the most part. We’re smart; many of us have one or more college degrees. We’re persistent and determined. We’re goal-driven and action-oriented. We believe in freedom and equality.

I grew up in an era of what some would scathingly call “political correctness.” Thus, I have no problem referring to December as the “holiday season;” I’m not offended by Starbucks’ annual red winter cups; I default to saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” I recognize that Christmas isn’t the only holiday celebrated in December, and I value being inclusive of others. I recognize that others might label me a snowflake for that (how seasonally appropriate!), but I don’t care. Christmas isn’t a religious holiday for me anyway. It’s not about an imaginary war on Christmas in particular; I just have no attachment to the word specifically.

As a person, I feel like I’ve accomplished a lot. I’ve been married for nearly a decade. I’ve given birth to two healthy children. I’ve owned a house. I’ve lived in several states and moved more times than I care to think about. But there are definitely some places where I feel like I’m failing as an adult. I’m terrible at housework. It often takes me days to fold laundry. Both my husband and I avoid taking out the trash until it’s no longer ignorable. Despite my best intentions, we usually don’t even eat meals at the table together on a regular basis. And I’m pretty bad at creating holiday magic for my kids.

For my older son’s first Christmas, it was just the two of us (Daddy was deployed). I didn’t even put up a Christmas tree. In the years since, we do Christmas… a little bit. There’s a tree, but rarely any other decorations. There’s a fancy meal, which we usually eat in our pajamas. There are stocking stuffers, but often we don’t actually put them in the stockings. Our son usually has a pretty good idea ahead of time of what presents we’re getting him: homemade pajama pants (he helps me pick out the fabric), a book, a toy or two.

This year, the “big” family present was a new gaming console. We bought it online over Black Friday weekend, and we opened it as soon as it arrived. My husband opened his big present as soon as it arrived, too. In November. We’re getting me a new phone, and I highly doubt that it’ll get wrapped and put under the tree, either. See what I mean? No surprises, and we can’t even be bothered to wait until Christmas to receive our presents.

It’s like we use Christmas as an excuse to buy a few shiny new things, but we care less about the actual day than we do about just getting and enjoying the gift.

It’s not that I don’t want Christmas to be magical. Growing up, my own mother decorated extensively for Christmas every year. I’d love to do the same: tinsel lining the bannisters, wreaths on the doors, dish towels with poinsettias, maybe even a special set of holiday china. My mom threw a giant holiday party every year, inviting neighbors and friends from school, her and my dad’s jobs, Girl Scouts, karate. I’d love to do the same once we have a house of our own, assuming I can get past my introvert tendencies. I’d love to go ice skating and offer my kids the opportunity to take pictures with some guy dressed up as Santa.

But somehow, we seem to struggle with overcoming our baser (lazier?) tendencies.  It’s just too much work. It requires too much forethought.

And I don’t know what the solution is, aside from pulling myself up by my bootstraps one of these years, developing some willpower, and just doing it. Keeping those holiday presents a secret. Finding time to go shopping for stocking stuffers alone (or opening the Amazon boxes at night, after the kids are in bed). Maybe my husband and I can actually shop for presents for one another, rather than just picking out a nice gift for ourselves. Maybe I’ll actually buy some tinsel and some proper stocking hangers. Maybe I’ll host that holiday cookie swap like I’ve always wanted to.

This year, however, I’ve got the excuse of a new baby. I don’t have time to decorate. I don’t have time for surprises and magic. Call it an excuse, but the magic just isn’t going to happen this year. Maybe next year we’ll manage to do Christmas “right.”

Review: The Pediatrician's Guide to Feeding Babies & Toddlers

Many parents don’t realize just how complicated feeding young kids can be until they have a baby of their own. When should babies start solid foods? What are the best early foods? How do we minimize the risk of developing allergies?



These questions and many more are answered in The Pediatrician’s Guide to Feeding Babies & Toddlers, a compact guidebook written by a team headed by Anthony Porto and featuring pediatricians, dietitians, a lactation consultant, and a recipe developer.

This friendly, well-written book is divided into six main sections. The first five sections focus on particular time frames of child development—0-3 months, 4-6 months, 7-8 months, 9-12 months, and toddlers—while the sixth condenses many common medical concerns and questions into one concise chapter. Each developmental section talks about the basics of physical and cognitive development, answers some pointed questions, and gives guidelines for how much babies are generally eating. Each also offers a selection of recipes perfect for growing babies (or, in the case of the first section, perfect for lactating mamas and sleep-deprived new parents).

The first section, which focuses on the first three months, discusses both breastfeeding and formula-feeding relatively in-depth. While the authors make no secret of the fact that breastfeeding is the best option when possible, they also provide plenty of unbiased, non-judgmental information about using formula for families who need or choose to use it.

The second section is all about early solids, while the next few walk parents through the various stages of purees and finger foods that follow. While a number of readers will disagree with the book’s taciturn acceptance of starting solids as early as at four months old, this section and the ones following it are, overall, a well-balanced approach to the standard method of introducing a baby to solid foods. Parents will get advice on different stages of purees, including advice on making them at home, and every possible question is answered, including how to introduce them, what to look for when it comes to allergies, and even avoiding choking.

There is solid and standard nutritional information throughout, including nutrient guidelines and calories. Parents will love the recipes, which include simple single foods, intriguing blends, finger foods, and dishes for toddlers that the whole family will find themselves enjoying. These aren’t bland foods, either; the recipes are rich in complex flavors and spices that will get youngsters excited about “real” foods.

The final section really tackles the biggest medical concerns. While some of this information is discussed to varying degrees in other sections, parents who want to know more about constipation, eosinophilic esophagitis, reflux, celiac disease and gluten intolerance, allergies, and more will find their answers right here. There are also growth charts—both CDC and WHO—reference charts for avoiding allergies, and tables listing the RDAs of various nutrients for the different age groups.

There are some other elements of this book that some readers may disagree with, such as authors’ discomfort with baby-led weaning, their advice to seek a nutritionist before raising baby on “special” diets such as vegetarianism or paleo, and their stock-standard advice to start baby off with grains like oatmeal or rice, which many in natural parenting circles feel is harmful to the developing gut. Other readers may feel that a book like this only encourages the paranoia that for many surrounds baby feeding; introducing a baby to solids doesn’t need to be this complicated!

Still, the fact is that most parents do have a lot of questions about how to get their baby started with “real” foods, and The Pediatrician’s Guide to Feeding Babies & Toddlers does an admirable job of coming to the rescue. Readers will be reassured by the wide range of experience of the authors—all of whom are parents, too—and will enjoy the friendly tone and straightforward information. This is a practical book that many will learn a lot from.

*****

I received this book from Blogging for Books in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed within are completely my own.

Road Trip to Virginia: Days 2 & 3

Evening of Day Three. I think; we're now officially two hours ahead of California time, and my body is oh-so confused about what time it actually is (although I would still much rather handle the time changes gradually like this, rather than have jet lag from moving straight there).

We're approximately halfway there. Three days down, three more to go.

The last two days have been rather slow. To be honest, I had forgotten how boring and, well, desolate some of these long stretches of I-80 can be. Much of Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming are unaccountably dull, especially at this time of year. Everything is dry, the grass is all dead, and there's not really much to see. Maybe we're just driving through the boring parts? I don't know. There were some cool parts. The salt flats are interesting, for a little while. I enjoyed some of the rock formations in Utah. But it seemed like most of what we were passing was endless grassy plains, with occasional softly undulating hills.

It's not like we're interested in doing many tourist-y things anyway, or even stopping any more often than is strictly necessary for bathroom breaks and eating. We do have the cat with us, after all, and while I think he's getting to be a better traveler every time he's forced to make a long trip--he is quiet for long stretches now, and really only meows when we're stopping somewhere--we obviously can't leave him in the car by himself for more than a few minutes at a time. And we can only even do that when it's cool enough outside that we don't have to worry about the car rapidly heating up. (Hint: That was not today.) So the last two days have just been driving, driving, driving.

Here's the seating arrangement: D is driving, because he likes driving, while I'm in the back entertaining Bug, who is in his car seat, while the cat is in his travel carrier on the other backseat. We did our best to travel light this time around; with every move, I get better at figuring out what's actually essential for the drive and the first few days in a new place (since it'll likely be a few days before our pod with all our other belongings can be delivered to our new home, once we have a new home). So the trunk is full, but not so full that we're dependent on the mirrors to see what's going on around the car. There are blankets shoved under the cat carrier, and my leg room is severely impeded by my purse and the bag of books/coloring books/activities that I am using to entertain Gregory.

Not surprisingly, the front seat is also being used to hold stuff, mainly food-type stuff. Our current car is a 2014, and it's got all sorts of newfangled safety features, including some kind of weight sensor in the passenger seat that tells the car whether or not to turn on the passenger airbag while also causing the car to beep incessantly if the passenger seat belt is not buckled. We discovered yesterday that we are just shy of that weight limit. Every now and then, if we go over a bump wrong, the car starts beeping at us, and D has to rearrange the things on the seat to convince the car that there is not, in fact, an unbuckled passenger in that seat. And when I say we're almost at the weight limit, I'm not kidding; if D so much as puts his phone on the seat, it starts beeping. It's ridiculous. I'm sure there's some way to turn it off (or maybe we should just buckle the darn seat belt), but we don't have the time or energy to figure it out by the time we reach our hotel every night.

By the way, Bug seems to (hopefullycrossyourfingerspleaseplease) be over his stomach issues. His appetite still isn't 100%, but his energy is high, his mood is cheerful, and there's been no sign of vomit for the past two days. (In case you're wondering, though, we did buy a puke-catcher-bin after the last incident, just in case). All is progressing normally.

Food. We've been eating breakfasts at our hotels, although I've got to say that continental breakfasts are a little boring for me as a vegan... thank goodness plain oatmeal is usually an option! We've been eating PB&J in our hotel rooms in the evenings, to save a little money, so we're really only eating out for lunch. Today was fairly decent Mexican food at a little restaurant in Sidney, Nebraska (I had veggie enchiladas, packed with veggies and beans and sans cheese, of course), while D and Bug had burritos. Yesterday, though... yesterday, we stopped at a hole-in-the-wall sandwich joint in Salt Lake City called Buds, which we found through Happy Cow (in case you've never heard of it, it's a website--and app--that helps you locate vegetarian/vegan/veg-friendly restaurants wherever you are). And oh my goodness. I had a vegan "cheesesteak" sandwich, with some kind of sliced/seasoned faux meat (which, if you know me, isn't normally my thing, but I do make exceptions on occasion) and an amazing cheesy sauce on thick, crusty bread. SO GOOD.

And now we're in Nebraska. For some reason, one my last road trip to this area, I remember Nebraska as being the most boring state ever, but this time around it's actually refreshingly pretty compared to the last few states. There are trees--trees!--and bodies of water and interesting landscapes. And now we're halfway through! Today was an easier, shorter day, but tomorrow we'll be putting our noses back to the grindstone.

Road Trip to Virginia: Day 1

Day 1. ~490 miles.

For those of you not in the know, the family and I embarked today on a cross-country drive; D has new orders, and we're moving to Virginia.

So today was the first real day of our road trip. We left amidst a light drizzle, the first real rain I've seen so far this autumn. The morning was uneventful; a fair amount of real rain, not much traffic, a straightforward drive. Bug, who has been recovering from an inconvenient and unpleasant stomach ailment, started getting sleepy as the morning progressed. We got Starbucks, we stopped for gas. I played games and colored with Bug, I let him watch a few cartoons on D's phone (thank goodness for data), and he eventually drifted off into a nap.

When we stopped for lunch at Chipotle, Bug woke up. Since we have our poor fraidy cat with us, the plan was that D would go in and quickly eat first, then Bug and I would go in while D waited in the car with the cat; But and I both eat a lot slower, and that'd give D a nice, quiet break while we ate. Of course, D made it barely five steps from the car before Bug let out an alarming burp, and then proceeded to vomit into my hands (I have ninja reflexes, so I caught the bulk of it). Many paper towels and some clean clothes later (honestly, more ended up on me than on Bug, and thankfully only a little ended up on the car seat), we were finally able to eat. Fortunately, I don't think this was any kind of major setback in Bug's stomach thing, as he bounced back immediately: sparkly eyes, goofy sense of humor, and appetite were all restored pretty much instantaneously upon emptying his stomach.

After that, we bought a vomit-catching-bin (just in case), and D opted to drive the rest of the way so that I could stay back with Bug. But that one incident was pretty much the most exciting (not in a good way) part of our day. More rain, off and on. The discovery that we had left Bug's stuffed animal at Grandma & Grandpa's house, where we had slept the night before. Occasional unhappy moans from the cat. Bathroom breaks. Boring, dreary Nevada landscapes. More coloring, a little reading.

We saw a rainbow!

Ultimately, we made it to Elko, Nevada, for the night. Upon entering our hotel room, the cat promptly hid under the blankets of the closest bed while I made peanut butter sandwiches for dinner. It had been a long day, so it wasn't long after that that Bug had his bath (not optional tonight), listened to a few chapters of his current book (The Dragon Prophecy by Geronimo Stilton), and crawled into bed, where he fell asleep quickly.

Smart idea. Tomorrow is another long day...

Decisions and Character

Today, Bug and I went to the park, like we do on many days. We drove out to a park near one of the Sacramento libraries, because he absolutely loved this particular park the last time we were there (after Family Blanket Fort Story Time, so that's how he refers to the park) and has been asking to go back. He loves the tire swing, he loves the roller slide, and he loves the big, grassy areas to run around in.

So we were at the park. There were other kids and parents there off and on, and for awhile there was a small herd of ill-behaved teenagers (admittedly, it hasn't been so long since I was an ill-behaved teenager; it's amazing how having a child changes one's perspective). There was also a gathering of homeless people in the picnic area.

I try my hardest to not be outwardly uncomfortable around homeless people. I do, I really do. I really don't want Bug to be developing any prejudices here because of me, and I know that there are plenty of people who are on the streets for innocuous reasons. So while we kept our distance, I didn't say anything outright about them, and I doubt Bug even noticed their presence.

Toward the end of our time there, Bug was playing tag with a slightly older kid. I was keeping watch, occasionally talking a little with the other boy's grandmother. And so it was that until the grandmother pointed it out, I didn't even notice that the homeless people were building a fire. But once I looked, it was clear that was exactly what they were doing, primarily out of sticks and cardboard, although I saw the guy building it looking through the trash, too, so there's no telling what else was used.

The other woman looked at it disapprovingly, but didn't seem particularly inclined to do anything about it. "Do you think we should call the police?" I asked.

"I'm not sure who else we could call," she replied, but she still did nothing.

"I wish I had the non-emergency number for the police here," I commented. And there the conversation pretty much ended. The woman collected her grandson to head home, and Bug and I followed suit about ten minutes later.

But the fire thing still bothered me. I don't know what the intention of the homeless people was--Cooking? Warmth?--but I was worried about it getting out of control and/or spreading. After all, this was a very windy day, there was an awful lot of smoke, and the flames had, by this time, gotten high enough for me to see them from a decent distance away.

And so, after a lot of thought and waffling back and forth, I decided to call the police. Bug and I got in the car and I drove close enough to the library to connect to their wifi (I don't have a data plan on my phone). I looked up the non-emergency number and called the police, who connected me to the fire department. The fire dispatcher asked me a few questions (mostly about what they appeared to be burning; it hadn't occurred to me before, but I imagine those picnic BBQs aren't really meant to burn anything other than charcoal), got my contact information, and ultimately decided to send someone over to check the situation out.

And so, feeling much better about the whole thing, Bug and I headed home. I wondered off and on while I drove if I was blowing the incident out of proportion, but I also knew my conscience would have niggled at me if I hadn't called.

So what's the whole point of this story? Well, there are a couple of things that the incident has left me thinking about, especially in relation to my son.

First, it reminded me how amazing it is to watch a young child trying to wrap their mind around an idea. I told Bug what I was going to do as I was looking up the number, and he did a good job being quiet during my phone call. But after I hung up, he had a million questions. Were the police going to come? Why were the firefighters coming instead, when I had called the police? (How did they connect me to the fire department? Are they right next door to each other?) Was it possible that the fire might get out of the BBQ and cover the entire world? Could it burn down the library? Would the firefighters put it out? How long would it take them to get there? How would the firefighters stay safe? Do they wear gloves to keep their hands safe? Do they wear socks inside of their boots? And on and on. He'd ask some questions, then get quiet for awhile, and then ten minutes later he'd ask a few more. He asked about how other fires start around town, and whether cigarettes could start fires. When I said that they could, he asked how. He asked if I had ever seen that happen, and I told him about the time when I saw a small roadside grass fire, which could very possibly have been started by someone's discarded cigarette. He asked about what I did that time, and listened, riveted, to my story.

The questions continued for the rest of the afternoon. That night, as Bug was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, we talked for a bit, like we usually do. And while mommy-calling-the-firefighters wasn't the only thing he was thinking about bythat point (he also spent awhile talking about how we need to get a farm [it would have parrots, turkeys, and hens... he later added pigs and cows], becoming a mermaid, and how he could enter the book Flat Stanley and become flat himself so that he could go through the cracks under doors), it was still very much on his mind.

Kids, especially preschool-age kids, are a bundle of questions. And I love that! I love seeing the paths his mind takes as it tries to comprehend new ideas. I love trying to answer his questions in a way he can understand, and in a way that invites even more questions.

The other point here is the point of proactivity. I don't want to be the kind of person who sits back and waits for someone to act when I can do something myself. And I definitely don't want my son to be that way. So we also spent some time talking about why I made my phone call in the first place, how the fire they were building made me uncomfortable and how I was concerned that they might lose control of it, so I called the proper authorities to come check in and "keep everyone safe."

And then we talked about how if he sees something that is wrong or bad, it's up to him to do something; he should never assume that someone else will take care of it, so he needs to be the one who talks to an adult about what he sees. He didn't really have much to say to that, but he was quiet for awhile, and it seemed clear that he was thinking about it.

Kids really do learn so much from us by example. I like to hope that an incident like this will cement my words in his mind on some level."Do the right thing" is more than just a phrase, more than just words; it's something I try to live every day.

Parenting is a long, endless process. Here's hoping I can continue to instill good character in my son while inspiring his curiosity.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

During one recent week, we been spending a lot of time reading Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

I've been trying to get a bit more creative in our daily activities; I know my son loves craft projects and simple work sheets, so I'm trying to get a bit more of them into our weekly preschool-ish schedule. So here are some of the things we got up to this week:

First off, I couldn't find our copy of the book (naturally), so we watched a few different videos on YouTube of people reading it. Our favorite was this animated one, although I am also partial to the sign language version.

We talked about all kinds of different things this week. We talked about the life cycles of butterflies (including reading another book, Butterfly by Moira Butterfield), and did this cute cut-and-paste sequencing strip. We made footprint butterflies (me, too, because if we're painting our feet then I'm obviously going to get in on that) and Bug made an egg carton caterpillar. Bug did a number stamp activity, practicing counting while making caterpillars with his dot painting set.

We talked about the days of the week, which is still a relatively abstract concept for Bug. He had a lot of fun using days of the week sequencing cards, though!

We talked about different fruits, especially the kinds that the caterpillar eats in the book. Bug did a fruit color-by-number. We also did an activity from a new book that I'm really excited about: Art Lab for Little Kids. The activity was buttermilk chalk, and it basically involves dipping chalk in buttermilk to make it creamy and spreadable and mixable. It was actually quite fun, and in addition to drawing fruit, Bug and I drew rainbows and lovely snowy scenes.

So that's what we've been up to. What kinds of fun crafty things have you been doing recently?

Off-the-Wall ABCs

A recent conversation with Bug:

Bug:  Mama, what sound does the letter 'K' make?
Me:   Kah. 'K' makes the "kah" sound. Like 'kangaroo.'
Bug:  Kangaroo?
Me:   Or king, or koala, or kindness, or kudzu, or... kamikaze? Kefir? Kwanzaa?

As you can see, I have a problem. And with a four-year-old who is diligently practicing his alphabet skills every chance he gets, it's a problem I deal with on a near daily basis. It's not a big problem by most standards, but it's definitely a problem.

My problem is that when faced when the task of giving my son words that start with a given letter, my mind kind of blanks. And when it doesn't go blank altogether, it goes in weird directions instead.

Most people, when asked for 'G' words, would head for gorilla. Goat. Good. Giant. Nice, normal words. Me? My brain goes straight to Gorgonzola, gangrene, Geonosis, or Gollum. J is for jaguar, jungle, jack-in-the-box, jellyfish. Or jugular or juxtaposition, Judas or jinx, Jabberwocky or jackalope. (Or Jack Daniels. Definitely inappropriate.) C is for cat or cheese, cheetah or chimpanzee. C is also for cantrip, canasta, cancer, contrarian. F is for farm, family, friend. F is for flatulence, fandango, Fallopian tubes, flagellate, (the) Forsaken.

(Disclaimer: These words don't all make it from my brain to my lips. Obviously.)

A is for ant, alligator, amphibian, allopathic, agoraphobia, amnesia, androgynous, algorithm...

Honestly, I don't really know what's going on with my brain sometimes. Is this a side effect of reading too much? (Not that such a thing is truly possible!) Is this because I have strange interests and a rather morbid fascination with certain unpleasant subjects? Is this the result of four years of not quite enough sleep? (Because even when kids finally start sleeping better, parents don't... or maybe that's just me.)

Am I just plain weird?

Whatever it is, it really does come up all the time. Sometimes, Bug wants me to make up my own words to alphabet books. Normally, that task belongs to D, but since he's away for the foreseeable future, the task instead falls to me. As you can see, I have a strangely difficult time coming up with decent nouns for every letter.

Or sometimes he asks for more words when he's doing his workbooks (definitely not trying to push early academics in this household, but Bug LOVES workbooks! And I'm all for encouraging whatever he's interested in), or when he just sees random letters on the walls (thanks, DMV and military hospital pharmacy). Sometimes when we're in the car, he'll ask for letter sounds and words. Sometimes Bug just likes copying letters from books, and will ask me for sounds and words as he goes.

No matter the situation, I find that my mental lapses happen pretty much every time Bug asks for words beginning with a certain letter. And as of now, I have no solution, except to at least keep my filters intact and keep the inappropriate words to myself, along with the words that will spark questions I'm currently unwilling to answer and the words I just don't want Bug repeating.

At least my kid will have a good vocabulary. Right?

Mixed Observations From My 3.5-Year-Old

Welcome to the September 2015 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Kids Blogging
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have let their children take over writing and sharing.

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I know I've probably said this at every stage of my son's life, but this current stage has got to be my favorite.

Specifically, I love how verbal Bug is. I love how his use of language has evolved over the past few years, how's he's always gaining more vocabulary words and improving his ability to clearly pronounce the words he already knows. I love how he's forming opinions on various subjects. I love how he likes to tell little stories about things that have happened recently or describe the plotlines of books he's been reading.

And, as any parent knows (or will know soon enough, if they've only got pre-verbal kids so far), sometimes the things that come out of his little mouth are simply amazing. Sometimes he makes me laugh, and other times he offhandedly offers up comments that would be offensive in different circumstances and from a different speaker. Sometimes his astute grasp of matters just blows my mind.

Showing off his glitter tattoo from a library event. He wanted a spider that was yellow and orange and red and pink.

I know it's impossible to really accurately portray just how much I love the things my Bug says using written words, so I'll just pass the mic to him, so to speak. Below are a handful of quotes from my little guy, along with a smattering of pictures of recent creations and general cuteness. Enjoy!

He always loves coming to Penzey's, the spice store, with me, probably because he gets to color and then hang his artwork on their wall.

***

First, a brief interview:

How old are you?
     I'm three years old.
What's your favorite cartoon and what's it about? 
     The world one [Word World], how to make letters. How to make things.
What are you good at doing?
     Scootering!
What's your favorite color?
     Black. And green, blue, and red.
What's your favorite animal?
     Yucky snails right now, because I really love them. And kitties do love snails!
What's your favorite book?
      Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs
What's your favorite game to play with Daddy?
     Pathfinder. First, I need a little guy, then I find a path, then I go into the big Ender Portal,
     because the Ender Portal that I go in is very, very dangerous.
If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
     Mommy. Or Green.
What is your favorite food?
     Vegetables. Pasta and chickpeas.
What is your favorite toy?
     My rabbit. It's hiding somewhere.
What's your favorite thing to do outside?
     Make construction sites.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
     I really want to go to work. [He wouldn't specify what kind. And that was the end of that.]

In case you're wondering, this is how Bug plays Pathfinder. We'll make a (tabletop) gamer out of this boy yet!

***

When I fart in the water it makes bubbles! And now I'm gonna make a really big fart. And it'll make a really, really, really, really big bubble. And then I'll go inside it. But then you can pop it and I'll be free again.

***

Mommy, your butt is so squishy!

A self-portrait.

***

I love the rabbit song. But then a skeleton came along and died the bunny. And now it's gone forever.

A little creation.

***

Sometimes, Bug and I play this game where we go back and forth saying different parts of each other that we love. And sometimes, he picks rather obscure things about me to love.

Me: I love your... shoulders!
Bug: I love your elbows!
Me: I love your tummy!
Bug: I love your belly button!
Me: I love your ears!
Bug: I love your earwax!

***

I love you right up to the moon! And then over the moon, and into a forest, and through a field, and into a barn.

Playing with watercolors. His grandma says he's channeling a little Bob Ross here.

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Bug: I like Warrior 2. I also like Warrior 5.
Me (perplexed): Warrior 5? How do you do Warrior 5?
Bug: You put one leg up like this, and both hands down. No, Mama, you're doing it wrong.

You know how Trader Joe's gives stickers to kids at the register? Well, this is where most of Bug's usually end up.

Showing off the (somewhat creepy-looking, but don't tell him that!) mask he made.

***

Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:
(This list will be updated by afternoon September 8 with all the carnival links.)

• Life in Mexico—from the perspective of my 13 year old son — Survivor's teenage son at Surviving MexicoAdventures and Disasters shares his perspective on living in rural Mexico.
• Baby Boy Working & Blogging — Baby Boy takes over the blog, he has so much work to do. Then, Life Breath Present writes a letter from his perspective about her working and blogging.
• Videos of a family learning & having fun — Prompted by her kids, Lauren and the rest of the crew at Hobo Mama have started a YouTube channel of Pirate Family Fun & Learning.
• Mixed Observations From My 3.5-Year-Old — Holly at Leaves of Lavender shares some fun quotes from her 3.5-year-old son, along with some fun pictures.
• My 7 Year Old’s 5 Favorite Things About Homeschooling — Dionna at Code Name: Mama's son, Kieran, has always loved homeschooling. Today he is sharing 5 of his favorite reasons.
• A Four-Year-Old with A Lot to Say — After a summmer full of fun, Todd talks for the blog Parental Intelligence about all that he enjoyed such as time visiting with Grandma and Grandpa that included going to a play Grandpa wrote that his uncle acted in.

The S-Word

Bug and I took a trip to the Natural History Museum the other day.

He absolutely loved everything about it, but he was especially enamored of all the hands-on exhibits. Of course, hands-on activities can also cause problems when more than one kid wants to play.

The museum had this one computer in particular that my son thought was super neat. It featured a bunch of wildflowers native to California, and you could click on individual ones to see a lovely painting of the flower, a picture of a dried specimen, and a lovely photo of it growing in the wild.

Shortly after Bug sat down at this computer, another little boy sidled up. I have no idea how old he was, because I'm a terrible judge of that, but I could tell that he was definitely older than Bug. So this boy came over and said, "I want a turn!"

Bug just ignored him, completely enthralled as he was. So I turned to the boy and said "You can play with it once he's done."

The boy watched as Bug looked at a second flower, going back and forth between the different pictures, and then started to reach for the controls, saying "It's my turn now."

To which I replied, "It'll be your turn once he's all done." The boy gave me a confused look, watched for another minute, and then got bored and wandered off.

So I'm just going to put this out here. I absolutely hate the current standard of "sharing." Learn to share. Let him have a turn. You're all done now; someone else wants to play. Why is this what we're teaching our kids these days? I don't understand it. It seems like many parents are teaching their children that instant gratification is their due, that once they express interest in something, they deserve to have it right now.

And if you dare to challenge the status quo, if you're that parent that doesn't force your kid to give up something of theirs the moment another child asks for it, whether it's toys or food of anything else, you get dirty looks and under-the-breath comments disparaging your parenting skills.

I see it all the time. A parent forces their child off the swings within seconds of another child saying they want to use it. A mother glares at other parents when the line to go down the slide doesn't move fast enough. One child steals borrows a toy from a second child, and when the second child protests and tries to take it back, their parent tells them that they they've been playing with that toy all day so now they need to share.

He's having fun. So no, I'm not going to make him get off just yet.

It drives me crazy, and it comes from all directions. At the aforementioned museum, my son tried to take a toy dinosaur away from a younger girl, and I redirected him to a different toy (there were plenty of lonely, unattended toys in the area) as the girl's father stepped over and to tell her that she needed to give my son a turn. I pointed out that there were plenty of other toys, and my son could wait until she was done, and the father looked baffled. "She'll play with it all day if you let her," he told me. So? If there are other toys for other kids, why is it a problem to let her play with, even monopolize something she's interested in?

Later that day, we sat down at a table to have a snack. There were already people at the table, and when the woman saw Bug looking longingly at her child's pretzels, she immediately told the boy to give some to my son. Aside from the fact that she never even asked if I was okay with my son eating pretzels, I just can't stand the message this sends. We shouldn't be teaching our children to give their anything of theirs away simply because someone else wants it.

Kids tend to naturally covet things that others have; isn't it better that we teach them not to indulge in that impulse to take? Patience is a useful skill, and I'd rather my son learn to wait for things rather than that the world owes him everything he wants right now.

Don't get me completely wrong. I believe in sharing, but I don't want it to be forced. The desire to share should come from within, not be imposed by others. A child, especially a two- or three-year-old, shouldn't be punished because they don't want to share their toys (I see this all the time too--Since you can't share, we'll just have to go home now.). And I fully recognize that my three-and-a-half-year-old doesn't really understand the concept the way we do as adults.

If my son has brought a pile of toys to the sand pit at the park and another child is eyeing them hopefully, I might encourage Bug to see if the other child wants to play with something he's not currently using. If he's playing with the train table at Barnes & Noble and another child shows up, I point out that someone else would like to play, and maybe he would like to offer them one of the engines so that they can ride the rails with him. If someone else has a toy that he thinks is really cool, I suggest that he ask the other child if they'd be interested in trading it (temporarily, of course) for one of his toys. (And if they're not interested, it's a learning experience: other children are not required to share their toys if they don't want to, just like he's not required to share his. Sharing is a nice thing to do, but in most cases, it's not mandatory.)

Ultimately, I want my son to share for the right reasons. I have no problem with talking to him and helping him to recognize times when it'd be nice to share. Better yet, I talk him through things when possible, so that the idea to share comes from him, rather than from me. I want him to share because it's more fun when everyone can play, and it feels good to let others use your things (so long as they give them back, of course).

And taking turns? I definitely believe in that, as kids can get much more behind this idea. But I don't think someone else should necessarily get a turn the moment they express interest. There's nothing wrong with teaching our kids to wait for the things they want.

In the case of the wildflower computer at the Natural History Museum, the boy did come back awhile later, and while Bug was still pretty absorbed, he'd also had a fair amount of time to play. I told him he could look at three more flowers, and then we'd move on so that others could play too. And after those three flowers were done (we counted down), he got up with absolutely no complaints.

How the Hironimus Case Has Evolved My Views on Circumcision

I had no opinion on circumcision prior to becoming a mother.

When I was pregnant with my son, the topic naturally came up as one of the "decisions" new parents must make if they have a boy. It didn't take me long to decide against it. Why would I cut off a perfectly healthy, perfectly normal part of my son's body? We had no medical reason to circumcise, so we chose not to. End of story.

I learned a lot more about circumcision in the months and years after we made our choice. And everything I read--every fact I heard about the very useful function of the foreskin (it's so much more than a "flap of skin"), every video I watched (no, I was never able to actually watch a video of the procedure all the way through, but videos are available on YouTube if you'd like to give it a try), every horror story of hemorrhage and complications and repeat surgery and death--EVERYTHING made me more and more thankful that I had chosen to leave my son's perfect body intact.

My decision was not one that I really talked much about. My closest mom-friends knew, and some of my family knew (because they helped change diapers). But otherwise, the topic just never really came up in conversations. Circumcision can be such a controversial topic that it's often avoided. I didn't want anyone to think I was judging them if they chose differently from me. (And, for the record, I generally assumed that most of the parents I knew have circumcised their sons. Even though rates are steadily declining in the U.S., it is so culturally accepted that it seemed safest to assume that "everyone is doing it." I have a lot of friends with kids, and I didn't want to offend anyone.)

Here's where I will rattle off the tried-and-true list of reasons why NOT to circumcise. Like how one of the primary reasons why circumcision became so common in our country was to try to limit masturbation, which is, of course, a stupid reason to cut off useful bodily tissue. Or how studies of circumcision reducing HIV in Africa (in adult men, who consented to the procedure themselves) were flawed and should not be applied to routine infant circumcision in the U.S. (heck, even our military recognizes that circumcision does not prevent STIs). Or how circumcision does not actually reduce the rate of urinary tract infections in boys by any significant amount (lifetime risk goes down by about 0.02%). How about the fact that the New Testament in the Bible actually forbids routine circumcision? Or that babies do, in fact, feel pain the same way that adults do (a lot of people try to claim that the procedure hurts an infant less than it does an adult), and that less than 50% of doctors who perform circumcisions actually use any kind of anesthesia for pain relief? Circumcision can negatively impact breastfeeding. And the idea that a father and son (or brothers) should "match" is just downright ridiculous.

How about this reason? It's his body, and it should be his choice. If a man decides to become circumcised later, that's his decision, but perhaps it's not one we should be making for our kids in the absence of actual medical need. That idea is often referred to as genital integrity.

Yet despite all of these very solid reasons to not do what many deem unnecessary cosmetic surgery (rightfully, in my opinion), I still hardly ever talk about it. I can think of precisely two women who I have broached the subject with (and thankfully, both of them were already planning on going all natural with their sons, so I didn't have to try to convince them otherwise).

But the more I hear and read about the Hironimus case in Florida, the harder and harder it is to stay silent.

Since I imagine you haven't been reading all the same things that I've been reading, here's a quick rundown.

Heather Hironimus and Dennis Nebus have a baby whom they name Chase. They are not married. At some point, the two of them sign a parenting agreement, which includes a clause about circumcision: Hironimus will consent so long as Nebus arranges for the surgery and pays for it.

Now for two important facts. One: Hironimus didn't really know anything about circumcision at the time. Two: Nebus didn't bother to do anything about circumcising their son for more than two years; clearly, it wasn't a huge priority for him.

Meanwhile, Hironimus learns more about circumcision and becomes quietly opposed to it. Mysteriously, Nebus is suddenly eager to have their son circumcised. Hironimus refuses to honor the original agreement. It turns into a big messy court case that spans more than two years.

Flash forward to now. With the assistance of a judge that many feel has disregarded the best interests of the boy, Nebus ultimately wins the case. By now, Chase is nearly four and a half years old. He knows what circumcision means and has repeatedly expressed that he does not want it. Hironimus is threatened with jail time until she consents. She goes into hiding, with her son, at a domestic violence shelter, but is ultimately found and jailed. At first, she holds strong, but the threat of indefinite jail time eventually breaks her; handcuffed and sobbing, Hironimus signs the consent forms.

Coercion DOES NOT equal consent.

And now, rumor has it that Chase is on the brink of receiving this unnecessary surgery. There is no medical reason, he does not want it, and his mother has not truly consented. But all the same, it might still happen.

And this case has really made me rethink my rationale of why I am against routine circumcision. See, before, all of those medical and physical reasons were the top reasons why I was opposed. There's no real benefits! It's painful! It makes sex less pleasurable for adults! An intact boy is super easy to care for!

The more I think about this issue, the more I realize how important the concept of genital integrity really is. What right do we have to make a decision like this for our children? Chase's case is so controversial in part because he's old enough to have his own opinion, and to express that opinion; does that mean that circumcision is somehow more okay when the baby is too young to say no? Most people in our country are very vehemently against the act of female circumcision, but male circumcision is similar in many ways (less so physically and but more so culturally, for the cultures where it is more common); female circumcision is actually illegal in the U.S., but male circumcision is not. It's not my body, it's my son's body; what right do I have to decide that a completely necessary part should be cut off for no good reason?

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that this is an issue that we really do need to talk about more. For so many people, the issue of circumcision comes down to a vague paragraph or two in a pregnancy or baby care book, but it is so much more complex than that.

And at the same time, it is so much more simple.

Without an actual medical reason, and those are surprisingly few and far between, baby boys should not be circumcised. Period. The surgery can always be done later, but it can never truly be undone.

His body, his choice.

It's time that people start thinking, really thinking, about this decision before they make it. I've been big on informed decision making for a long time now, and that's a major issue here too. Parents deserve to truly know the facts about circumcision before deciding whether or not to do it. It's time to start talking more openly about circumcision.