The Birth of Little Bug

I originally wrote about the birth of Little Bug, my son, on my infrequently-updated blog, Plentiful Thoughts of Miscellany. I haven't gone back and looked it over in ages; it's amazing what the passage of three years can do to one's perception! There are details in that initial telling that I had actually forgotten. There are also some things that I know more about now, after having spent so much time reading and learning about birth.

This version of Bug's birth story is not precisely the same as it appeared on my original blog. Instead, this is an updated version, with some interesting tidbits thrown in as well as just a little bit of clarification on some things that I did not fully understand before.

I present: a birth story!

~*~*~*~

I spent at least half of my labor denying that I was in labor.

My baby decided the time had come when I was a few days shy of 38 weeks. I had spent much of my pregnancy firmly believing that my baby would be born late; after all, as my midwife pointed out, first babies are nine days late, on average. Friends and family had been gleefully telling me how their first babies had come days or weeks late, and I had read many positive birth stories where firstborns came after 41 or 42 weeks gestation. So you might understand why, when people asked me when the EDD was, I would tell them February 19, but then assure them that it would probably be late February, maybe even early March. [After awhile, I stopped even giving out the EDD. I was not looking forward to those daily phone calls and text messages asking if baby had come yet!] In fact, I was secretly hoping for a Leap Day baby, and wasn't shy about telling anyone who asked. [I still think that would have been neat. But my Little Bug chose his own birth date, and I had no say in the matter!]

So when my water broke around 2:30 in the afternoon of February 1, I assumed I had just had an embarrassing bout of urinary incontinence. [I know now that my water did not actually break this early. Instead, I'm pretty sure that I just sprung a leak, high up in the amniotic sac. Fluid leaked out, but my waters did not break completely!] Yep, I thought I had peed myself, and was quite thankful that only the cat was around to witness it. I still had the presence of mind to note the time (halfway through Fresh Air on NPR!) and to sniff it (I know, gross, but my birth class drilled that response into me). [Note that this is one of the few things I actually learned and remembered from that birth class. It was not a very useful class. Part of the reason why I later decided to become a childbirth educator myself!] It didn't smell like anything, which meant it could be amniotic fluid, but it could also just mean that I was really well-hydrated; after all, I had been drinking water like a boss. I should have contacted my midwife then, but I suppose I didn't want to sound a false alarm and be that pesky first-time mom who saw labor around every corner.

Sometime after that, the contractions started. [You would think I would remember when the first one hit, but I totally don't. Seriously. Not at all.] I assumed that I was finally starting to feel the Braxton-Hicks contractions that had apparently started at least a week earlier. At my last prenatal appointment, my midwife pointed out when one was happening; I couldn't feel anything, but she (and my husband) could clearly see that my uterus was contracting. These new contractions felt uncomfortable, but definitely were something I could handle.

In hindsight, I should have taken notice of the fact that these contractions made my back hurt. [Or maybe I should have taken notice of the fact that I noticed them at all?!] Aren't Braxton-Hicks supposed to hurt in front, while real contractions hurt in back? I didn't remember this, or didn't make the connection, and since the contractions were no real inconvenience, I kept going about my merry way.

I next decided that this was a good time to go get a haircut. [I think some part of me realized that I might not get another opportunity to do so anytime soon. Instinct? Belated nesting urge?] But as I was on my way to Great Clips, I got a call from a friend inviting me to come over to play board games. (No, I am certainly not too old for board games, thank you very much.) Clearly, the hair cut could wait until tomorrow.

Famous last words.

As we played a few games, the contractions kept getting progressively worse, but I continued to willfully ignore them. [Progressing contractions - longer, stronger, and closer together - and knowing what I know now, this was a glaringly obviously sign that I was in labor.] Even when they got to the point where I could no longer sit through them, I still refused to recognize that these contractions might be something worth taking note of. Never mind the fact that I was still leaking some kind of fluid; I suppose I thought I had lost my ability to hold in my pee properly. And never mind the other fact that I had lost at least part of my mucous plug a week or so earlier. [It was pretty gross. My midwife told me at the time that it simply meant that my cervix was starting to change, but that it didn't necessarily mean labor was imminent. She probably meant that I was starting to efface. In reality, there's a good chance I had already dilated a few centimeters by the time of that appointment.] I simply refused to entertain the idea that I might actually be in labor. There was no way; it was too soon! [Not true. Labor at not-quite-38 weeks might be on the early end of the spectrum, but it was still perfectly normal. The "average" length of gestation is anywhere from 37 to 42 weeks. Only about 5% of babies come on their EDD. Depending on what source you consult, 70-95% of babies are born within 10 days of their EDD. So, of course, I was part of that minority that was born more than 10 days before it!]

The ten-minute drive home was distinctly uncomfortable. [How I managed to stay sitting in the car during the few contractions that happened is beyond me. I think at least one happened at a stoplight, which I am thankful for. It was late at night by that point, so there weren't many other cars on the road anyway. I think I may have pulled over for one of the contractions, too.] I decided that a hot bath was in order; I think I recalled reading somewhere that a bath could make Braxton-Hicks contractions subside, and I definitely wanted them to subside at this point. [See, if I had acknowledged earlier that I was in labor, I would have tried to rest more and sleep! A good birth class emphasizes the importance of rest during early labor, but I don't think I got to that part in my birth classes. But I hadn't rested. And now it was late, and I desperately needed to sleep if I was going to finish this.] So I filled up the bathtub as much as I could, which unfortunately wasn't much, since the geniuses who designed my apartment complex decided to put in the smallest hot water heaters available. [Seriously. Stupid thing couldn't even fill my tub halfway. The apartment I moved to after that had in-line hot water for every building, which meant unlimited hot water! All apartments should be built that way! For the record, taking sitz baths during the early postpartum days was a pain with such a puny hot water tank, but at least then I had people around to heat additional water on the stove and bring it in to me!] So with bathtub half full (and that's after adding a few pots of water heated on the stove), I climbed in and tried to relax myself. My mama called, and I told her what was going on; I learned later that she suspected it might be real labor but didn't want to shatter my disillusionment, figuring I would come to the right conclusion eventually. [I did!]

Not surprisingly, in retrospect anyway, the bath didn't really help. As I rested on my side in the hot water, the contractions just got worse, more painful even. [Well, the bath didn't help in the sense that it didn't make the contractions subside, like I had been hoping it would. It did feel very soothing, and allowed me to relax somewhat. I think I initially stayed in the tub until the water started to cool, kind of dozing a little bit. Water is amazing for pain relief in labor!] Worse yet, when I got out to use the toilet, I found myself with a little bit of what could only be the bloody show. [One of those things I had completely forgotten about! Yes, I did in fact have bloody show. It really is amazing how the mind blurs out the less-pleasant parts with time.] Resigned to the fact that I might actually be in labor, I decided to call my midwife.

No answer.

I left a message. An hour later, I left a second message. I sent several text messages. No answer. All the while, the contractions were getting stronger and closer together, and I was slowly becoming more convinced that this might be the real deal. [Progressing contractions!] In a moment of frustration, I remembered that the midwife's apprentice had called me a few weeks back; I hadn't saved the number, but I hadn't cleared my recent call data either, so it should still be in my phone somewhere. Eventually, I pinpointed which one I thought was hers and called, hoping I was right since by now it was pretty late at night. Success! While she worked at getting in contact with my midwife (she had other phone numbers to try) [I probably had those other numbers somewhere in my paperwork from her, but I was in no state to remember that], I tried to lie down and sleep some.

Sleeping didn't work. The contractions were pretty close together now, and every time one hit I absolutely had to sit up. [Sleeping during labor did not happen for me. I really started to wish I had rested more earlier!] Eventually I resorted to pacing my house, while my worried cat tried to act as my doula. (He had good intentions, but just didn't know what to do when I was so clearly uncomfortable.) [He did keep me company though! He was quite a trooper through the whole thing.]

Soon enough, my midwife finally called me back. After getting my rough analysis of the situation, she advised me to get my husband home (he's in the Navy and was supposed to be staying on base that night). I had been texting him all afternoon and evening to let him know how uncomfortable I was, so he suspected something was up; he didn't seem entirely surprised when I woke him up around midnight and asked him to come home.

After that, things get kind of hazy, time-wise. I know I filled the bathtub again, and my husband continued to boil water on the stove to keep it warm for me. I know the two of us were in regular contact with my midwife, and it wasn't long before she (and her apprentice) were both on their way to my apartment. I had planned to give birth at their birth center, but an hour-long drive was clearly out of the question for me at this point. [I don't know what ever made me think that it was a viable option in the first place. If I could barely handle a 10 minute drive, how could I manage an hour?! And this was hours after that 10 minute drive, so labor was pretty intense at this point.]

I know I asked my husband to provide counter-pressure on my back during my contractions. I know I pooped a little in the tub during some of the contractions, but my husband showed his worth (not that there was ever any doubt) by putting on rubber gloves and scooping it out. [He's such a rock star!] He also brought me applesauce (the only food I was interested in eating) and kept me drinking water between contractions. [I have learned so much more since then about good comfort measures in labor. I managed just fine with my limited repertoire, but sometimes I wonder if having my hips squeezed might have helped...]

I know that after all of the books I had read, all of the stories and such I had read on the Internet, and the birth class (of which my final class was supposed to be in a week), I remembered only two things. First, I remembered to keep breathing deeply and evenly throughout the contractions; I also remembered to take a really deep breath at the beginning and end of each so that my husband would know a contraction was upon me without me having to tell him each time. [That worked very well for us. The breathing was my ritual to get through the intense contractions, and the deep breaths provided a beginning/end point to help keep me focused. And it helped my husband to be involved, to know exactly when the contractions came on.] I also remembered Ina May's concept that the uterus is a sphincter; as I breathed through the contractions (and squeezed first my husband's hand, then a rolled-up towel after he decided that he didn't want broken fingers), I actively kept my jaw loose, all the better to allow my uterus to open freely.

At some point, my husband became concerned about the water being contaminated [from my having pooped... going to emphasize that because, no lie, it's pretty common to poop during labor; I wasn't bothered by it at all though. I probably barely noticed it at the time.], so we emptied the tub and I decided to try laboring in a few different positions. Hands and knees didn't work for me. Standing with my arms around my husband's neck while he supported my weight didn't work either. I ended up doing most of the rest of my labor sitting on the toilet, of all places. [My own personal birthing stool! I also know now that many women find labor more manageable in an upright, somewhat forward-leaning position like on the toilet, and many women do, in fact, spend time there during labor. After awhile, I was just settled in there. I was focusing on my breathing, keeping my jaw loose, and just letting my body open. I lost any and all interest in trying other positions.]

I started feeling the urge to push. When I think about the pushing stage of my labor, I'm not sure I can understand the concept of coached pushing; when that urge came, I pushed, and there was no way I could stop myself even if I had wanted to. [I did try to hold back a little though, to not push quite as hard. I was hoping to not tear, or to not tear as much. But there was no way I could have stopped pushing entirely!] I assume I was fully dilated by this point, but since I never had any vaginal exams throughout, I can't say for certain.

My water had broken earlier [or, rather, started leaking],  but as I breathed through my contractions, it became apparent to me that the amniotic sac hadn't completely burst. Nope, when I felt down between my legs, there was what I can only describe as a bubble coming out of me. It was a very bizarre sensation. [For reals. I also am fairly confident now that my strong attention to the protein in my diet, and my continuous efforts to get at least the 80 grams per day that my midwife recommended was the main reason why my amniotic sac remained intact for so long!]

The haziness increased. The midwife's apprentice arrived first. [I feel like she was there during some of the position changes, but I can't be certain. It's all a blur in my head, especially this long after the fact.] She came to see how I was doing, then went to prepare supplies for the birth. [My husband says she checked my vitals and monitored the baby through a few contractions, but I honestly don't remember. I was so focused on what my body was doing that I just didn't notice unless she was speaking directly to me. Which she didn't do very often, since she was very aware that I was concentrating inwardly.] Eventually my midwife appeared. And, I was told later, my water broke for real about fifteen minutes later, and the baby came out in the same push.

I gave birth in my bathroom. [I feel like I should mention that the bathroom in our apartment was HUGE. As in, you could easily fit in me, my husband, and two midwives, and have plenty of extra room for equipment and towels and such. And as far as clean-up purposes go, that was definitely a good choice of birthplace!] The placenta followed soon after, and I sat in the re-filled tub for awhile while the midwife checked my son over. I hadn't received any medication of any kind during labor, but I gladly accepted a shot of Pitocin after to help stop the bleeding. [Note that I was not hemorrhaging, or even close, but just losing a bit more blood than my midwife wanted to see. If she had thought it at all necessary, we would have transferred to the hospital in an instant, but she was competent and well-trained and had everything under control.] Eventually I moved to my bed. [The best part about home birth: getting to have your immediate postpartum check in the comfort of your own bedroom! Well, maybe not the best part, but definitely something that I thought was fantastic.] While the midwives checked my bottom area, my wonderful husband held our beautiful baby against his chest; we had decided to wait to cut the cord [delayed cord clamping for the win!], so the placenta sat next to him in one of our mixing bowls. [I dearly wish I had a picture of that... it's one of my fondest memories of the birth, which probably sounds weird, but is totally true.] I had one tiny tear, which took two stitches to close up.

My son was born at 5:43 am on February 2, 2012, fifteen hours after my water broke started leaking initially. No medications, no interventions; a completely un-complicated home birth. I couldn't have asked for a better experience.

Vegan Spaghetti Squash Bread

When I had an office job, I used to delight in baking things to share with my coworkers.

It was win for everyone. I got to bake yummy food, which always made me happy. My husband got to sample said yummy foods (to make sure nothing was poisonous, of course), so he was happy. We didn't end up with an excess of yummy foods sitting in the fridge, making us hungry and tempting us to binge, which made both of us happy. My coworkers got to eat yummy food, which made them happy. And office morale improved, which made my bosses happy.

Many of my coworkers had religious restrictions against eggs on certain days, so I got into the habit of making nearly all of my treats vegan. It actually wasn't difficult to adjust to at all, and it made my life easier too; no eggs in the fridge = no problem! (And I hardly ever had eggs on hand; we just didn't eat them very often. So this was a good thing.)

Eventually, I kind of got into the habit of baking things that had fruits and veggies in them. It started with banana bread, no doubt; you can't go wrong with banana bread, since everyone loves it. Next came zucchini bread; everyone loved it, and I was hooked. Pumpkins, apples, carrots, pineapple, coconut, and even green tomatoes found their way into the things I baked. It got to the point where I'd bring food in, and people would ask me "So what's in it this time?"

It was fun. Really, really fun. And I still have not gotten tired of adding as many fruits and veggies as possible to things I bake.

And so last week, Bug and I baked up some spaghetti squash bread.

The best part of baking vegan? Absolutely no worries about eating the batter!

Hear me out here. I know it sounds weird. But pumpkin bread is a fall favorite. Butternut squash and other hard winter squashes can be made into muffins and pies and all kinds of yummy things. People don't even bat an eye at chocolate zucchini cake. (Or maybe that's just the people *I* know.) So why not turn spaghetti squash into a delicious baked treat? Don't leave spaghetti squash out in the cold just because it's got a weird texture.

I swear, the stuff just melts right into bread; it doesn't taste funny, and if you chop the cooked squash up before mixing it in, you can't find any little strands anywhere. This bread is delicious, and received full approval from my husband, my friends, and, perhaps most importantly, from Bug.

Bug wanted to get in on the picture taking action.

Spaghetti Squash Bread

1 cup whole wheat flour
½ cup all purpose flour
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
1 ripe banana
¼ cup applesauce (unsweetened)
¼ cup canola or coconut oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon ground flax seed
1 cup spaghetti squash

Note: Spaghetti squash needs to be cooked. You can microwave it whole for 10 minutes or until fork tender, or you can chop in half and bake at 350° F for 30-45 minutes. Remove seeds and use a fork to separate it into strands. You may want to chop it up some before using it to bake, if you think the long strands might weird you out. Or you could probably puree it.

Preheat oven to 350° F.

In a large bowl, mix together all dry ingredients (flours, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg).

In a smaller bowl, cream together banana, applesauce, oil, vanilla, sugar, and flax seed. (I used an immersion blender for this, although a fork should suffice, especially if the banana is good and ripe.) Dump into the dry ingredients, along with the spaghetti squash, and mix until just incorporated; some lumps are definitely okay, and as this is a quick bread, overmixing is bad. (Mine, however, did get a little overmixed, as Bug was the one doing the mixing. And it still came out just fine!) Fold in walnuts, if using.

Pour into prepared loaf pan and bake for 45-50 minutes, until golden on top and done all the way through (poke with a knife to make sure). Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Let cool for as long as you can stand to before slicing. Enjoy!

 This post is shared at the Healthy, Happy, Green, & Natural Party Hop on 1/27/2015 and Real Food Wednesday at Kelly the Kitchen Kop on 1/28/2015.

What Do You Call It When...?

Or: 8 Pregnancy/Birth Things You've Heard About But Don't Know the Name For

The birth world definitely has its own lexicon. Some words you may have heard before you got pregnant: placenta, trimester, contraction. Some words have been given new or expanded meanings: presentation, heartburn, induction. Other words may have become familiar friends as you worked your way through books or your childbirth class: doula, perineum, fundus.

And then there are those words you can't quite remember, or maybe you never really knew in the first place. Words for things that came up during your pregnancy or a friend's, things you've read about, things that you know about from somewhere but that you just don't know what they're called. Want to expand your vocabulary a bit? Read on for a few of those words.

1.  Amniotomy.  This is an easy one. An amniotomy is the technical term for artificial rupture of membranes, otherwise known as when your caregiver breaks your bag of waters for you (as opposed to letting it break on its own).

2.  Chloasma.  Some women develop darkened patches of skin on their face while they are pregnant, a result of the extra hormones circulating in their body. This is generally known as the "mask of pregnancy," and is a common enough occurence to merit a mention in most pregnancy books, although I do not know many women who have ever experienced it. The technical term for this is chloasma, or sometimes melasma. And thankfully, it almost always disappears once baby has been born.

3.  Supine Hypotension.  You know how your caregivers tell you not to lie on your back starting at some point around the end of your second trimester? That's because the weight of your growing uterus will put pressure on your inferior vena cava, the vein that carries blood from your legs to your heart. This could cause a drop in blood pressure, reduce the blood flow to your placenta, and ultimately restrict oxygen to your baby. This blood pressure drop is known as supine hypotension. It *could.* But you don't need to worry if you flip onto your back while sleeping; chances are good that you won't actually harm your baby.

4.  Nil Per Os.  Most hospitals in the US have a policy of not allowing women in labor to eat or drink. This dates back to the 1940s, when it was discovered that aspirating food particles while under general anesthesia was a very real risk, and when general anesthesia was more common during labor for various reasons. It was believed that by withholding food and liquids, a woman who unexpectedly had to go under was at less risk. Nowadays, general anesthesia is much less common, and most anesthesiologists are much more skilled and use better techniques that minimize that risk. In recent years, there has been much research done that proves that NPO, which stands for nil per os (which is Latin for "nothing by mouth"), is no longer an evidence-based practice. Regardless, it is still standard of care in most hospitals.

5.  Valsalva Maneuver.  When you see people giving birth on television or in the movies, the pushing stage usually involves the woman being told to hold her breath and push as hard as she can for as long as possible. Right? There are various terms for this, such as "directed pushing" or "purple pushing," but this is technically known as the Valsalva Maneuver or Valsalva pushing. Well, if you really want to get technical, the Valsalva Maneuver is actually attempting to exhale against a closed airway and it has a few medical applications, not to mention being useful for "clearing" one's ears. But in the birth field, this style of pushing, which usually inadvertently produces the Valsalva Maneuver, is described using the same name.

6.  Nuchal Cord.  This is another straight-forward one. A baby born with a nuchal cord simply means that the umbilical cord was wrapped one or more times around baby's neck at birth. About a third of all babies are born with a nuchal cord. Contrary to popular belief, however, nuchal cords generally do not cause problems.

7.  Placentophagy.  During one of the childbirth classes I took when I was pregnant, I remember one of the other mamas blurting out something about crazy women who eat their placentas. My husband quickly grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, silently warning me to keep my mouth shut. (There were a lot of instances in that class where I kept my mouth shut. That was definitely not the right class for me. But I digress.) Placentophagy is simply the act of consuming one's placenta after birth. The most common form in our society is encapsulation, where the placenta is dehydrated and turned into pills. (That's what I did. Yes, in case you were wondering, I totally ate my placenta.) Some people eat it raw, or cook it in some way. I'm not going to get too deeply into the why here, since there are plenty of perfectly good articles out there explaining it. (Try this one at Placenta Benefits.)  Nor am I going to go into whether or not it's effective. I just wanted to make sure you knew the practice has a name.

8.  Vascular Underfill.  One of the classic symptoms of early pregnancy is fatigue. Newly pregnant women want to sleep. All. The. Time. It makes sense though. You're growing a person, right? That's got to be taxing to the body! There's a little more to it than that, though. While a lot of things undoubtedly contribute to this tiredness, here's one cause that you have likely never thought of, or even heard of: vascular underfill. The gist of it is this: the hormone human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG; it's what a basic pregnancy test detects in your urine) causes your round muscles, including your blood vessels, to relax and dilate. Your blood vessels are actually bigger, but your body hasn't made the extra blood to fill them up all the way yet. Because your circulatory system is suddenly less efficient due to an underfill of blood, it has to work harder to get oxygen to different parts of your body. This results in you being more tired, feeling weaker, getting dizzy on occasion. This issue will resolve itself, sometime near the end of your first trimester or during the second, and then you'll feel much better. But isn't it nice to better understand part of the reason why you feel so fatigued all the time?

Of Toddlers & Housework

Welcome to the January 2015 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Household Chores
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have shared stories, tips, and tricks on tackling household chores. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.
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My Little Bug loves to help with everything. All toddlers do. I think it must be hardwired into their brains.
Sometimes it seems like I can't do anything without my son offering his assistance. Putting away clean dishes: "I can help!" Folding laundry: "I fold too!" Taking out garbage: "I can carry." Feeding the cat: "I want to do it all by myself!"

And it's great. Really, it is. Except when it's not. Because honestly, Bug's desire to help creates a serious conflict in my head sometimes.

On one side is the desire to let him help. To help him to learn life skills firsthand, so that he will be able to do things for himself as he gets older, and so that he is not functionally useless when he moves out on his own someday (taking the long view here, I guess). To make him happy (because helping makes him practically giddy sometimes). To encourage him to do his part around the house. And also because I know that in ten years, there's a good chance he'll resist helping every time I ask.

On the other side is the urge to tell him to just go play instead. To get him out from underfoot. Because everything takes two or three times as long with a toddler "helping," and sometimes I just want to get things done in a timely fashion.

While I freely admit that sometimes the "go play" side wins, most of the time I try to find ways to let Bug help. There's a lot of household things I do that I definitely don't want my son having any part in just yet (the cat box is kept in the second bathroom, which he doesn't even have access to), but there are also a lot of things that he can help with, if I let him.

Tidying Up.  When it comes to decluttering, I definitely try to get my toddler involved. For one thing, most of the clutter lying around is due to him: a pair of socks carelessly abandoned in the bathroom, a little shoe in the kitchen, an empty cup on the bookshelf, toys everywhere. One can't expect to just tell a toddler to "clean up" and have him actually do any productive cleaning (it's too overwhelming of a concept), but you can offer little tasks one at a time. Put this in the kitchen. Now take this to the laundry hamper. Put this shoe by the door. Throw this wrapper away. Put all of your books on the shelf. Do you remember where your jacket goes? Can you put all of your Lincoln logs back in the bin? Let's put all of your Hot Wheels into the big truck.

Done this way, tidying up definitely takes a lot longer, but it also breaks down a task that can seem insurmountable to a toddler into steps that are manageable. And I keep hoping that one day he'll start to internalize some of the steps and clean up occasionally on his own. I can dream, right?

Laundry.  My current apartment does not have in-unit washers & dryers, which kind of sucks. But we manage. Bug likes helping me gather any dirty clothes that did not make it quite into the laundry hamper. We walk to the laundry room together, and then he helps me put the clothes into the washer, and then push the button to start the machine. He also helps me to move the clothes into the dryer, and he pushes the start button there too.

He likes trying to help me fold, although this is, admittedly, a task I usually still do myself when he's distracted with something else. Eventually, though, I plan on working with him more in this area, walking him through the steps for folding clothes properly and showing him how to put his own clothes away. But that will probably wait for awhile longer; at not-quite-3, he still has a hard time actually, you know, folding the clothes (rather than just crumpling them into a ball).

Dishes.  I always let Bug help put away dishes when possible, even though he has to ask where every single thing goes because he can never seem to remember on his own. What's harder to let him help with is actual dish washing. I do most dish washing by hand, and he really wants to help, but so far I've resisted. That's going to change soon; I recently bought Bug his very own sponge (technically a set of sponges; he chose ones that are green and pink and purple), and I plan to let him help with dishes every once in awhile. I figure I will have to make the water not quite as hot as I use when I'm washing dishes by myself, and I will have to supervise him closely (and, of course, not give him sharp knives or easily breakable things like glasses) to make sure the things he washes actually get clean.

Taking Out Trash/Recyclables.  Since we live in an apartment, we have to walk our garbage and recyclables out to the big dumpsters scattered around the complex. This is a task that Bug loves to help with. Well, when the bag is light enough for him to carry, anyway. I let him help whenever possible!

Feeding the Cat.  As mentioned earlier, I keep the cat box in our second bathroom, which is not accessible to Bug. The cat's food and water dishes are kept back there too, so it's normally out of his reach. But sometimes I will bring him back there with me so that he can fill up the cat's food bowl. I keep the cat food in a closed container, with a scoop inside for easy serving. Bug knows how to open the container, fill the scoop, dump it in the cat's bowl, put the scoop back, and close the container again. Someday, when I can trust him not to eat cat food or to play in the water bowl if left unattended, I will move the cat's bowls back to the kitchen and put Bug in charge of keeping them full.

Vacuuming & Sweeping.  Bug has always loved to "help" me vacuum. Actually, I know several other toddlers  who think the vacuum cleaner is pretty neat. Some days, I do let my son help me vacuum the carpets, but only on days when I am feeling very patient; his arms aren't nearly as long as mine, so it takes a long time to cover an entire room. I would love to someday get him his own kid-sized vacuum cleaner, preferably one that actually works. (Because what's the point if it's just a toy?)

Bug also loves to help me sweep, and I have been known to sweep the kitchen, use the dustbin to collect everything, and then hand the broom over to him so that he can "finish" the job for me. Thankfully this usually satisfies him... for now. Someday he'll figure it out, and then I'll have to change tactics. I want to find a kid-sized broom, too, since the full-sized broom is just a bit unwieldy for an almost-3-year-old to handle.

Cleaning Surfaces.  To be clear, I don't let my son handle any kind of store-bought cleaning sprays. (I'm planning to transition away from those eventually anyway.) For now, I stick to cleaning the bathrooms and I certainly would never let Bug near the oven. But, when using a homemade cleaner that consists of safe ingredients, I have no problem with letting my son wield a microfiber cloth to actually wipe a surface down (I still do the spraying). The main surface I let him help me clean (for now) is the table, but we will eventually be branching out; maybe I'll eventually let him help clean the cabinets, or the outside of appliances, or the glass doors on our bookcase.

What am I missing? How do you let your little ones help around the house? I'm always open to suggestions!
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Visit Code Name: Mama and Hobo 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:

• Seven Tips for Decluttering with Your Clutterbug — Do you have a child with hoarder tendencies? Help them declutter before the Legos and stuffed animals take over your home. Charlie of Three Blind Wives, guest posting at Natural Parents Network, offers some expert advice.
• Chores, Chores, Chores — Life Breath Present talks about how her family divides chores, and how Baby Boy joins in to keep their home clean and running smoothly.
• Of Toddlers & Housework — Holly at Leaves of Lavender talks about some of the ways she lets her not-quite-3-year-old son help out around the house.
• Whistling While We Work: On Kids and Chores — Dionna at Code Name: Mama realized recently that she often feel resentful when she carries more than her share of the household load. And so several weeks ago, she brought a laundry basket upstairs and had the kids start folding. Thus began a regular series of household responsibilities for her kids.
• The 4-Day Laundry Plan — Becca at The Earthling's Handbook line-dries all of her laundry, including cloth diapers, and stays sane while also working full-time outside the home. She's sharing her tips!
• Chores Don't Have To Be Drudgery — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama discusses how she gets the whole family motivated in the daily care and maintenance of maintaining a home. After all, chores do not have to be drudgery.
• Morning Chores and Weekly Chores — Kellie at Our Mindful Life can get anything done, so long as she gets her morning chores - and her weekly chores - done!
• A place for everything and everything in its place — Make it easy to tidy up by having just enough stuff for the space you have. Lauren at Hobo Mama talks about this goal in her own home and gives tips on how to achieve it in yours.
• Cleaning With Essential Oils — What essential oils could add a boost to your cleaning routine? That Mama Gretchen has a round up of what you might like to consider!
• Montessori-Inspired Sweeping Activities — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now tells how her children helped keep their house clean and shares ideas for Montessori-inspired sweeping activities.
• 9 Natural Cleaning Recipes for New Mamas — Dionna of Code Name: Mama, guest posting at Mama & Baby Love, shares recipes for safer, natural homemade cleaners that parents can make with ingredients they trust. Leave a comment on the post for a chance to win a copy of Homemade Cleaners - a book packed with tons of natural cleaner recipes!