No sooner do I finish writing a post on how electronic media is ruining my child (not exactly) but he totally proves my point. He whines, "Please, Mommy, please can I watch Curious George while you make dinner?" And then to my no he melts. Not creamy and smooth like butter but gross and chunky like one of those soy-based milkshakes from a fast-food restaurant -- gloppy and disgusting. A puddle of tears, red face, limp or mad body.
At least he's not hitting or biting or anything, but he is chewing on his hands a lot and also on his shirt... I don't know if he's processing something from last week's craniosacral session -- he was already doing the mouth thing; that's part of why I took him in. Maybe it's going to get worse before it gets better as he moves through some funky energy. Did the new sitter somehow scar him? They seemed to be doing fine while I was in the basement. Maybe it's a reaction to some kind of food -- delayed from small amounts of trial gluten a while back, or from the additional goat, or the millet toast. Cashews? It's not like he's eating McDonald's or even pizza or anything.
The guilt is kicking in that if I could just nurse him, he'd be okay. And those LLL books about weaning say chewing on hands is a sign that a child weaned too soon. Plus when he came into our bed this morning at 5:40 (which is ouch early for us for him to be ready to be awake), he wanted to "warm" his hands in my shirt but then said he just wanted to see/touch my breastes. And twice today he stroked my nipples, once in front of another person. No more little camis for me.
I was solo tonight and could NOT get the kid to sleep. Too bright outside, neighbor kids making noise... I'd jogged us to the post office and was planning to shower after he went to bed, but we needed something to kill time and kick him over into ready to sleep. So I showered and he probably ate way too much Weleda kids (baby?) tooth gel. I can't trust him with anything. I'll have to write a whole separate post about what he dumped out on his bed today.
Anyway, I told him to leave the blinds down as I was getting out of the shower. After I lowered them, he raised them again and I got really mad and stern. I was worried that I was so upset I'd freak him out. But he reacted like he did earlier today when I started crying: he copped this Mr. Maturity persona complete with reassuring foice. He patted my belly and said, "You're a good mama." Earlier he told me, "Don't worry, Mommy. It's okay. You don't have to worry." All with very controlled, calm wording.
He also got super upset when he bit his tongue. I said I knew that hurt; it had happened me, too. Then he asked me to show him how I did it, and, eyes still moist, he reflected. "I just did it and it hurt so I cried. I got sad."
Out of control at some moments but frighteningly self-aware and practically serving as my therapist at others. Who is this kid?
When I first met my friend Lisa who had a baby about 48 hours after I had E, she said, "Oh, he's Mercury Retrograde." I was clueless but she said this is not a time people choose for big events. "Maybe he'll be calm when there's chaos around him," she offered. I don't know, but I'm freaked out by my three-year-old and don't know what he needs right now.
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breastfeeding. Show all posts
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
We used to nurse
Last week things finally started to settle a bit once we had a buyer for our house. This piece was started several days ago but never finished, so I guess they didn't settle down all that much! I'll let the rest flow as it was written (verb tense inconsistencies and all) and just finish the story where it stood last week.
---
Maybe now that my son sees that I'm not totally frantic all the time, he's able to stop being as whiny and just plain drop down to show he needs a close connection. And I think I've been more in touch with my own feelings than I'd been able to, living with half my life stuffed into closets or in my car or in storage and having to scrap dinner plans to get take-out or eat cold (organic) hot dogs and sauerkraut for dinner because some realtor wanted to bring over a client. We hope those days are behind us, and though there's still a lot to do, we are breathing easier...
---
Maybe now that my son sees that I'm not totally frantic all the time, he's able to stop being as whiny and just plain drop down to show he needs a close connection. And I think I've been more in touch with my own feelings than I'd been able to, living with half my life stuffed into closets or in my car or in storage and having to scrap dinner plans to get take-out or eat cold (organic) hot dogs and sauerkraut for dinner because some realtor wanted to bring over a client. We hope those days are behind us, and though there's still a lot to do, we are breathing easier...
R said that E was pretty restricted in his head and compressed in his thoracic area. He said his fall a month or so ago was something he was indeed working around, and he recommended probiotics. Of course, now that he's not getting nutrition from me, I've got to be more vigilant about the probiotics and cod liver oil. I can't just assume he'll get a share from me. He's all on his own now.
And I have to find ways to meaningfully connect with him even if things are still a little nutty and rhythms & rituals are not so established. He fell asleep after the appt (at 6:15) and then woke at 10:45 p.m. a little hungry. I was still out at a MNO dinner, so my husband fed him and then I returned, quietly changed clothes and planned to snuggle him down to sleep since he'd been asking for me when he woke. Part of me thought I should just let him come into our bed and be a big family, but I knew that none of us would sleep as well as we would if he were in his room. I walked into his room to get his jammies, and he followed me, clearly content to go back in his bed.
I snuggled him and remembered why I loved for so long cosleeping in a family bed. It really is beautiful to share sleep, to share closeness. And it's great to be able to do that now that he doesn't need it all the time and feel like it's a homecoming. I am glad he has his own space, and he says with high eyebrows and a gleeful sense of pride, "I slept all night in my bed!" when he does (typically first waking us with the sound of pouring his IKEA mini-potty pee into the big toilet).
I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me for not feeling nostalgic about nursing -- for just feeling such a clear-cut break after being so connected to nursing as part of my mothering identity for three years. It kind of felt humanizing to get the sense that we both felt something of a longing, even as we understood that chapter was over.
I snuggled him and remembered why I loved for so long cosleeping in a family bed. It really is beautiful to share sleep, to share closeness. And it's great to be able to do that now that he doesn't need it all the time and feel like it's a homecoming. I am glad he has his own space, and he says with high eyebrows and a gleeful sense of pride, "I slept all night in my bed!" when he does (typically first waking us with the sound of pouring his IKEA mini-potty pee into the big toilet).
I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me for not feeling nostalgic about nursing -- for just feeling such a clear-cut break after being so connected to nursing as part of my mothering identity for three years. It kind of felt humanizing to get the sense that we both felt something of a longing, even as we understood that chapter was over.
Friday, April 10, 2009
No More Milk
It's official. I'm all dried up. We've been weaned for almost three weeks. The other day I knew my son was totally okay with it when he gave me that twinkly smile as he tried to put his hand down my shirt and said, "Is there no more milk in your breast-es?"
"Nope!" I replied. "It's all gone. And you're a big boy."
But I didn't know for sure. After a shower later that day, I looked down to my now-mottled, no-longer-mouthed-and-red nipples. And I squeezed.
I was almost scared that I would still squirt, that my body would hint it wasn't done, even though I know we stopped at the right time. But nada. Just me. No leche.
This bar is officially closed.
"Nope!" I replied. "It's all gone. And you're a big boy."
But I didn't know for sure. After a shower later that day, I looked down to my now-mottled, no-longer-mouthed-and-red nipples. And I squeezed.
I was almost scared that I would still squirt, that my body would hint it wasn't done, even though I know we stopped at the right time. But nada. Just me. No leche.
This bar is officially closed.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Rocking and not nursing
Tonight was the first time I did bedtime duty since we've stopped nursing. Yes, he asked. Actually, he didn't ask and hasn't been asking, but he has said, "I want to nurse." My reply? "I know," and "I understand." And then try something else -- interlocking hands, sometimes asking for a hug, tonight singing ("You Are My Sunshine").
Tonight he was one tired kid who'd been kept up way too late but his parents who both tried to go jogging after 5 p.m. (me with him to the grocery store, his dad solo, starting about the time we were leaving the store). Even though someone from Craigslist with a loud voice came over just then to buy a old DVR from my husband, the boy's breathing started to get deep, and I just kept singing until the door had shut and the snoring was strong. In fact, he sort of squirmed in his new sleep as if to say, "Get me in bed where I can stretch out."
Tonight he was one tired kid who'd been kept up way too late but his parents who both tried to go jogging after 5 p.m. (me with him to the grocery store, his dad solo, starting about the time we were leaving the store). Even though someone from Craigslist with a loud voice came over just then to buy a old DVR from my husband, the boy's breathing started to get deep, and I just kept singing until the door had shut and the snoring was strong. In fact, he sort of squirmed in his new sleep as if to say, "Get me in bed where I can stretch out."
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Weaning Chronicles winding down
I can't believe it's already almost time to pick up my son from his new Spanish preschool and I'm still in my pajamas.
I need to get down before something changes that it is Tuesday at 11:30 and I haven't nursed him since Saturday at 7:30. I was rushing and he happily jumped down after a turn on each side because I said I needed to go do errands as a surprise for his birthday, which is TODAY! (I bought a Curious George balloon and ordered Helium ones to pick up Monday morning before his playdate party).
Then Sunday was a very busy day with lots of outside activity, and he fell asleep on the way home from another bday party. It was a little weird for me to not even offer to nurse him -- just washed him off and put him in his jammies. And then the next day was busy with friends. He asked once in the afternoon, and I said we could after dinner. But then he didn't pick up on on the hints that I was leaving to tutor, so my husband put him to bed again without having nursed at all.
---------
Fastforward over twelve hours (to Tuesday night). I didn't get to finish that post. I was going to try to capture all my feelings about weaning, but now I think I'm on the other side.
After two days of no nursing, it seemed clear that my son was ready to be done. He had a blast the last two days, and today too. So after we went to dinner, opened the last round of presents (just a few from us), we made motions to get ready for bed and he said, "I want you to put me to bed." I assured him I would.
In the rocking chair, I showed him the album of my pregnancy and the early days of his babyhood. I talked about how much he needed help back then and how much he can do on his own now. I said, "You didn't nurse all day yesterday or all day the day before, so I know you're ready."
I videotaped myself telling him, as he snuggled next to me, looking out at the camera:
"It has been an honor and a privilege to nurse you for these past three years. It's helped us to be close in a really special way. But now you're three, and we talked about you stopping nursing when you were three, right? It's your birthday, right?"
"Yeah."
"And now we can do other things that will help us feel close."
Yawn.
"Are you ready to go to bed now."
"Yeah. I want to see" and then tried to look at the video.
We watched the snippet I took of the violinist at the restaurant and then just looked at each other for a few moments, both smiling, me crying, too. I explained again that this would be our last time nursing, and he just said, "Last time." I asked him to give me a hug, and he did it with enthusiasm. Somehow he shifted from his head on my left side to my right, and he asked, "This side?" I said sure and turned off the light.
His latch already seemed different. I was distracted at first wondering if I shouldn't have taped that (I'm already glad I did for me) and feeling like watching the violin was out of character...
----
Fastforward now 24 hrs (to Wednesday night). He woke up last night crying as I was typing the above entry. He was asleep next to his dad in our bed by the time I went up. He did ask this morning, "Can we nurse downstairs?" I said no, we were all done. I can't remember if he whined a little or not b/c now I'm thinking about tonight. He was sad that I was going to leave to tutor and not nurse him. LJ said, "This is hard for Mommy too. Give her a hug. It's a change, but you're both ready to be done." I reiterated that he was grown up and I loved him so much and always would. He started getting sad after I did interlocking hands and sang "You Are My Sunshine." That's when he climbed into my arms and wanted to nurse. LJ's words helped me to focusl; I got E to calm down by telling him I understood. "Remember last night, how I videotaped that it was going to be our last time?" He nodded. I think I said something like I would miss it, too and asked for a BIG hug!
I said I'd see him in the morning and we'd go to school together. "Will we have rolls?" he asked. LJ and I explained that we'd have cake because it was his birthday this week and that he'd get to wear the special crown. A minute later, LJ said from the bedroom, "10 Minutes to Bed," the name of a book a friend got for us, and E started toddling down to the hall to hear the story. He smiled and said to me, "See you in the morning." We blew kisses and each told each other, "I love you very much!" I'm told he fell asleep pretty quickly, and certainly without fuss. I'm so glad he had his sad time with me while I was hear so that we could acknowledge that a transition was happening.
Then at 11, about 3+ hrs after he'd gone to bed, he woke crying. Not sure how long he'd been awake-- didn't have the monitor on and LJ was playing guitar downstairs. When I went up, he was sitting up in his bed. I asked if he needed to go potty. He replied, "I just want to nurse" in a way that said, no, you can't fix it because I can't have what I want and I know it. He wasn't asking; just telling me how he felt. I said sympathetically, "I understand" and laid him back down in his bed. I tucked him in and laid my arm over his body while I half-laid down next to him. He wanted to try to feel my skin on my belly but didn't get grabby, and he fell back asleep quickly. I wish I'd remembered to start Walnut flower essence for transition and Red Chestnut for connection to loved one before his birthday!
---
So back to last night -- the last night of nursing. After initially questioning my use of technology, I decided just to be in the moment -- to remember the experience I was having right then instead of worrying I'd documented its prelude wrong! Honestly, JC! Still, in the darkness, I also thought about all the time we'd spent with him in my arms at my breast. I wept but felt very much like this was just a poignant passageway. I knew it was the right time for us, and I know that not having this particular kind of connection will free us up to make new connections that are right for us right now. It had been such a lovely three days without nursing as part of our dynamic. It was clear to me he wanted permission to let it go, to not have that need anymore and to not be fulfilling a need of mine, either. I know I was invested in this relationship at so many levels.
When I came downstairs, LJ held me and I sobbed. Everything about the whole three years was right there, especially the exact three years earlier. At 8:50 we would have been prepping to go into the OR, and by 9:40 we were singing to our son, starting this journey that has been so intense and powerful. I keep telling him how lucky I am to have him in my life. LJ said E was lucky to have me. I really don't believe in luck; I have to trust that we all chose each other. I believe that about everything, but most things it's not immediately clear why things happen a certain way. With mothering my son, it feels so abundantly clear. Even the moments, days, weeks of frustration and doubt; there is such a strong sense for me that this is an inevitable unfolding that someone wiser than me or my more enlightened soul in the pre-life planned out. I know this is getting pretty woo-woo, but this has been a powerful time for me.
As I move to finally publish this post, I'm realizing that I have a new identity. I'm no longer a breastfeeding mom. Now I need to add the label "weaning" (I guess it should have been there before - maybe I'll go back and do that to help me see the progression). I need to find the rest of my real bras or, novel idea, actually buy some. After this birthday week of gorging on cake (gluten-free, dairy-free and low-sugar only goes so far if you keep adding chocolate chips with every bite), I'm going to get serious about a cleanse, and this time I can really do it up because no one else will be getting anything I might detox.
Wow. I nursed my son for three years. And now I'm done. And he's going to be just fine.
And so am I.
I need to get down before something changes that it is Tuesday at 11:30 and I haven't nursed him since Saturday at 7:30. I was rushing and he happily jumped down after a turn on each side because I said I needed to go do errands as a surprise for his birthday, which is TODAY! (I bought a Curious George balloon and ordered Helium ones to pick up Monday morning before his playdate party).
Then Sunday was a very busy day with lots of outside activity, and he fell asleep on the way home from another bday party. It was a little weird for me to not even offer to nurse him -- just washed him off and put him in his jammies. And then the next day was busy with friends. He asked once in the afternoon, and I said we could after dinner. But then he didn't pick up on on the hints that I was leaving to tutor, so my husband put him to bed again without having nursed at all.
---------
Fastforward over twelve hours (to Tuesday night). I didn't get to finish that post. I was going to try to capture all my feelings about weaning, but now I think I'm on the other side.
After two days of no nursing, it seemed clear that my son was ready to be done. He had a blast the last two days, and today too. So after we went to dinner, opened the last round of presents (just a few from us), we made motions to get ready for bed and he said, "I want you to put me to bed." I assured him I would.
In the rocking chair, I showed him the album of my pregnancy and the early days of his babyhood. I talked about how much he needed help back then and how much he can do on his own now. I said, "You didn't nurse all day yesterday or all day the day before, so I know you're ready."
I videotaped myself telling him, as he snuggled next to me, looking out at the camera:
"It has been an honor and a privilege to nurse you for these past three years. It's helped us to be close in a really special way. But now you're three, and we talked about you stopping nursing when you were three, right? It's your birthday, right?"
"Yeah."
"And now we can do other things that will help us feel close."
Yawn.
"Are you ready to go to bed now."
"Yeah. I want to see" and then tried to look at the video.
We watched the snippet I took of the violinist at the restaurant and then just looked at each other for a few moments, both smiling, me crying, too. I explained again that this would be our last time nursing, and he just said, "Last time." I asked him to give me a hug, and he did it with enthusiasm. Somehow he shifted from his head on my left side to my right, and he asked, "This side?" I said sure and turned off the light.
His latch already seemed different. I was distracted at first wondering if I shouldn't have taped that (I'm already glad I did for me) and feeling like watching the violin was out of character...
----
Fastforward now 24 hrs (to Wednesday night). He woke up last night crying as I was typing the above entry. He was asleep next to his dad in our bed by the time I went up. He did ask this morning, "Can we nurse downstairs?" I said no, we were all done. I can't remember if he whined a little or not b/c now I'm thinking about tonight. He was sad that I was going to leave to tutor and not nurse him. LJ said, "This is hard for Mommy too. Give her a hug. It's a change, but you're both ready to be done." I reiterated that he was grown up and I loved him so much and always would. He started getting sad after I did interlocking hands and sang "You Are My Sunshine." That's when he climbed into my arms and wanted to nurse. LJ's words helped me to focusl; I got E to calm down by telling him I understood. "Remember last night, how I videotaped that it was going to be our last time?" He nodded. I think I said something like I would miss it, too and asked for a BIG hug!
I said I'd see him in the morning and we'd go to school together. "Will we have rolls?" he asked. LJ and I explained that we'd have cake because it was his birthday this week and that he'd get to wear the special crown. A minute later, LJ said from the bedroom, "10 Minutes to Bed," the name of a book a friend got for us, and E started toddling down to the hall to hear the story. He smiled and said to me, "See you in the morning." We blew kisses and each told each other, "I love you very much!" I'm told he fell asleep pretty quickly, and certainly without fuss. I'm so glad he had his sad time with me while I was hear so that we could acknowledge that a transition was happening.
Then at 11, about 3+ hrs after he'd gone to bed, he woke crying. Not sure how long he'd been awake-- didn't have the monitor on and LJ was playing guitar downstairs. When I went up, he was sitting up in his bed. I asked if he needed to go potty. He replied, "I just want to nurse" in a way that said, no, you can't fix it because I can't have what I want and I know it. He wasn't asking; just telling me how he felt. I said sympathetically, "I understand" and laid him back down in his bed. I tucked him in and laid my arm over his body while I half-laid down next to him. He wanted to try to feel my skin on my belly but didn't get grabby, and he fell back asleep quickly. I wish I'd remembered to start Walnut flower essence for transition and Red Chestnut for connection to loved one before his birthday!
---
So back to last night -- the last night of nursing. After initially questioning my use of technology, I decided just to be in the moment -- to remember the experience I was having right then instead of worrying I'd documented its prelude wrong! Honestly, JC! Still, in the darkness, I also thought about all the time we'd spent with him in my arms at my breast. I wept but felt very much like this was just a poignant passageway. I knew it was the right time for us, and I know that not having this particular kind of connection will free us up to make new connections that are right for us right now. It had been such a lovely three days without nursing as part of our dynamic. It was clear to me he wanted permission to let it go, to not have that need anymore and to not be fulfilling a need of mine, either. I know I was invested in this relationship at so many levels.
When I came downstairs, LJ held me and I sobbed. Everything about the whole three years was right there, especially the exact three years earlier. At 8:50 we would have been prepping to go into the OR, and by 9:40 we were singing to our son, starting this journey that has been so intense and powerful. I keep telling him how lucky I am to have him in my life. LJ said E was lucky to have me. I really don't believe in luck; I have to trust that we all chose each other. I believe that about everything, but most things it's not immediately clear why things happen a certain way. With mothering my son, it feels so abundantly clear. Even the moments, days, weeks of frustration and doubt; there is such a strong sense for me that this is an inevitable unfolding that someone wiser than me or my more enlightened soul in the pre-life planned out. I know this is getting pretty woo-woo, but this has been a powerful time for me.
As I move to finally publish this post, I'm realizing that I have a new identity. I'm no longer a breastfeeding mom. Now I need to add the label "weaning" (I guess it should have been there before - maybe I'll go back and do that to help me see the progression). I need to find the rest of my real bras or, novel idea, actually buy some. After this birthday week of gorging on cake (gluten-free, dairy-free and low-sugar only goes so far if you keep adding chocolate chips with every bite), I'm going to get serious about a cleanse, and this time I can really do it up because no one else will be getting anything I might detox.
Wow. I nursed my son for three years. And now I'm done. And he's going to be just fine.
And so am I.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Toward weaning
I had a good talk today with the teacher of our parent-child class at the Waldorf school. The point was mostly to talk about my son's readiness for the extended day (12-3) next fall, which I'd like to have him in after the 8:30-12:00 three-day kindergarten. I explained how frustrating our afternoons can be when we leave the PC program or another thing on another day that ends before lunch. He always wants to go outside or to a park or something else when his body needs to just eat and rest. We have not had consistent naps for six months now, but lately he's even added, "I don't want to have rest time." Then later, after we've spent 90 minutes or more of just quiet down time -- some time reading books, sometimes a little nursing time (while I read or work on the computer), some time with him playing quietly on his own while I put away laundry or sit at the laptop -- he'll occasionally say, "Oh! We forgot to have rest time!" I think he'd benefit from a consistent ritual that had him separate from me, but I haven't had any luck creating that here in the house. About a half-dozen times over the past several months, I've taken him to a sitter's all day, and he's napped there, going to sleep on his own on her bed or couch. Not so with me!
It seemed adequate to have just some quiet lull in the day when I could get him in bed by 7:30 at the latest (sometimes even an hour earlier than that), but now with daylight savings and longer days, I feel like he's just going to get worn out if he doesn't rest. And so will I! Yesterday I tried to tell him we could go back out in the car to a further-away park later if he would spend some time in his room alone -- even just reading or playing. He resisted even the mention of it, so I didn't fight it.
Anyway, when I mentioned the issue of nursing and my conflicting thoughts on weaning, the teacher, though she was respectful and said it was up to us, of course, made the point that some of our push-pull issues might dissipate once we wean. When she said back in Sept. or Oct., "Well, he's outgrown his need for [nursing]," I firmly disagreed. But my husband and I are both feeling like she might be right now -- that this intense, intimate connection to me is interfering with his developing sense of self as an individual.
The way he talks about my body and nursing has lately gotten beyond just a little weird toward downright embarrassing and inappropriate (I'm saving some of those quotes for another day, maybe for a piece I'll try to send out). He's started to say at least once a day the past few days, "I'm going to stop nursing when it's my birthday," and yesterday he asked, "Is this the last day we're going to nurse?" Today and two days ago, we nursed only before bed. He asked to nurse in bed in the morning (he's coming into bed at some point in the morning and going back to sleep), but we never did nurse when we came downstairs and we didn't in the afternoon, either. (Yesterday I went to an attachment parenting meeting and actually nursed him there -- first time in public in a long while; I think he got the AP vibe!)
I'd suggested a month or so ago that we might stop nursing after he turns three, but I wasn't sure how hard and fast I wanted to be about it. The Waldorf teacher says, "He's looking to you to set boundaries. The decision needs to come from you, and you need to be comfortable to stand by it." I still don't know if I want to do a weaning party after his bday or to have his bday be the last day since he's saying that. Another friend and former LLL leader suggested that it's easier to wean when it's warm out, and of course it's gotten chilly again here, so that seems far off (even if the crocuses and daffodils are blooming, and the magnolias and pear trees are budding).
Someone at the API meeting suggested Becky Bailey's book I Love You Rituals. I think we need to figure out something that is special between us that is not related to my boobs or my body. I was thinking maybe a massage or a little song or prayer. I just read through the book description at Amazon and am purchasing a used copy in another window. We only have 10 days before he turns three!
It seemed adequate to have just some quiet lull in the day when I could get him in bed by 7:30 at the latest (sometimes even an hour earlier than that), but now with daylight savings and longer days, I feel like he's just going to get worn out if he doesn't rest. And so will I! Yesterday I tried to tell him we could go back out in the car to a further-away park later if he would spend some time in his room alone -- even just reading or playing. He resisted even the mention of it, so I didn't fight it.
Anyway, when I mentioned the issue of nursing and my conflicting thoughts on weaning, the teacher, though she was respectful and said it was up to us, of course, made the point that some of our push-pull issues might dissipate once we wean. When she said back in Sept. or Oct., "Well, he's outgrown his need for [nursing]," I firmly disagreed. But my husband and I are both feeling like she might be right now -- that this intense, intimate connection to me is interfering with his developing sense of self as an individual.
The way he talks about my body and nursing has lately gotten beyond just a little weird toward downright embarrassing and inappropriate (I'm saving some of those quotes for another day, maybe for a piece I'll try to send out). He's started to say at least once a day the past few days, "I'm going to stop nursing when it's my birthday," and yesterday he asked, "Is this the last day we're going to nurse?" Today and two days ago, we nursed only before bed. He asked to nurse in bed in the morning (he's coming into bed at some point in the morning and going back to sleep), but we never did nurse when we came downstairs and we didn't in the afternoon, either. (Yesterday I went to an attachment parenting meeting and actually nursed him there -- first time in public in a long while; I think he got the AP vibe!)
I'd suggested a month or so ago that we might stop nursing after he turns three, but I wasn't sure how hard and fast I wanted to be about it. The Waldorf teacher says, "He's looking to you to set boundaries. The decision needs to come from you, and you need to be comfortable to stand by it." I still don't know if I want to do a weaning party after his bday or to have his bday be the last day since he's saying that. Another friend and former LLL leader suggested that it's easier to wean when it's warm out, and of course it's gotten chilly again here, so that seems far off (even if the crocuses and daffodils are blooming, and the magnolias and pear trees are budding).
Someone at the API meeting suggested Becky Bailey's book I Love You Rituals. I think we need to figure out something that is special between us that is not related to my boobs or my body. I was thinking maybe a massage or a little song or prayer. I just read through the book description at Amazon and am purchasing a used copy in another window. We only have 10 days before he turns three!
Monday, March 2, 2009
Time flies when you're not nursing
I realized this week that I am more than complicit in the non-weaning campaign of my son. When he was sick, I did a ton of reading on the couch while we nursed, but since then I've started to use nurse time as type time. He brings me the little pillow, and I get through a few emails or maybe half a blog posting if I'm lucky.
This week was a busy week in my volunteer/work life, so all those spare seconds were quickly used up. But there weren't as many spare seconds! Today and yesterday -- days with Daddy home, I ought to point out -- were days of nursing only upon awaking and going to bed. Finally, back to where we were two months ago! Less groping, but less guilt-free computer time.
Truthfully, though, I have no idea where we'll be tomorrow or, more importantly, where I actually want to be. About two weeks ago I mentioned just a few times to my son that maybe after he turned three, he wouldn't need to nurse anymore. I didn't go into detail but did mention that some other kids didn't nurse anymore and that it just might be time to stop. Then, on a Friday, we went to a farm with another friend and saw brand-new piglets. I actually captured on video a conversation that started talking about the pigs nursing and then turned into my son saying, "I like nursing! And I'm going to stop nursing when it's my birthday!" Yee haw, I thought! He's going to give it up without a fight! I wondered if I'd even need to put together the weaning party I'd been thinking of.
But the next day and for the rest of the weekend and following week, he copped a whiny, "I want to nurse" whenever the slightest thing bothered him. I picked back up Mothering Your Nursing Toddler and How Weaning Happens, both of which made me feel like if I just accepted that he'd naturally want to nurse until four or five, everything would be fine. That's an exaggeration; they are great books, but I forgot how late a lot of the anecdotes take nursing. (The Natural Child Project reminds us that chimps and gorillas generally nurse five or six years! Oh, and the book I probably really need is The Nursing Mother's Guide to Weaning.)
As I wrote recently on DC Metro Moms, I don't think I have it in me to keep this up forever, especially if we want to have another child and I don't want to spiral into a health or depression crisis. But neither do I feel ready to say my child is weaned, or to lose the connection that I think makes my son so grounded and usually keeps him healthy or gets him through illness without much discomfort and without worry of dehydration.
I have lots of friends (and sisters) who've nursed beyond three, so it's not an issue of feeling judged or anything for still going. And I know lots of folks who've stopped short of three, so I don't expect to be judged for stopping before it's completely child-led, either. It's about my own role and my own investment in feeling needed in a way only I can meet. And yet, I fantasize about taking off for a weekend to go to a yoga retreat or a writing retreat and knowing my son will be just fine (if my husband can handle it!)
The day after tomorrow, on my 36th birthday, I'm seeing one of the practitioners who's previously helped a lot with emotional blockages and ambiguity (a chiropractor, but she is not your average chiropractor). I write a lot on the other blog about this kind of energy work, but I have to say here that I hope in the appointment I can cut through some of the fuzziness around my feelings about my son's dependence on me.
This week was a busy week in my volunteer/work life, so all those spare seconds were quickly used up. But there weren't as many spare seconds! Today and yesterday -- days with Daddy home, I ought to point out -- were days of nursing only upon awaking and going to bed. Finally, back to where we were two months ago! Less groping, but less guilt-free computer time.
Truthfully, though, I have no idea where we'll be tomorrow or, more importantly, where I actually want to be. About two weeks ago I mentioned just a few times to my son that maybe after he turned three, he wouldn't need to nurse anymore. I didn't go into detail but did mention that some other kids didn't nurse anymore and that it just might be time to stop. Then, on a Friday, we went to a farm with another friend and saw brand-new piglets. I actually captured on video a conversation that started talking about the pigs nursing and then turned into my son saying, "I like nursing! And I'm going to stop nursing when it's my birthday!" Yee haw, I thought! He's going to give it up without a fight! I wondered if I'd even need to put together the weaning party I'd been thinking of.
But the next day and for the rest of the weekend and following week, he copped a whiny, "I want to nurse" whenever the slightest thing bothered him. I picked back up Mothering Your Nursing Toddler and How Weaning Happens, both of which made me feel like if I just accepted that he'd naturally want to nurse until four or five, everything would be fine. That's an exaggeration; they are great books, but I forgot how late a lot of the anecdotes take nursing. (The Natural Child Project reminds us that chimps and gorillas generally nurse five or six years! Oh, and the book I probably really need is The Nursing Mother's Guide to Weaning.)
As I wrote recently on DC Metro Moms, I don't think I have it in me to keep this up forever, especially if we want to have another child and I don't want to spiral into a health or depression crisis. But neither do I feel ready to say my child is weaned, or to lose the connection that I think makes my son so grounded and usually keeps him healthy or gets him through illness without much discomfort and without worry of dehydration.
I have lots of friends (and sisters) who've nursed beyond three, so it's not an issue of feeling judged or anything for still going. And I know lots of folks who've stopped short of three, so I don't expect to be judged for stopping before it's completely child-led, either. It's about my own role and my own investment in feeling needed in a way only I can meet. And yet, I fantasize about taking off for a weekend to go to a yoga retreat or a writing retreat and knowing my son will be just fine (if my husband can handle it!)
The day after tomorrow, on my 36th birthday, I'm seeing one of the practitioners who's previously helped a lot with emotional blockages and ambiguity (a chiropractor, but she is not your average chiropractor). I write a lot on the other blog about this kind of energy work, but I have to say here that I hope in the appointment I can cut through some of the fuzziness around my feelings about my son's dependence on me.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The latest on our family bed
Sickness brings people together.
My son was sleeping through the night in his own bed until he had a one-night fever back in the fall, probably five months ago. Then he started toddling into our room late in the morning.
After this most recent (longer!) illness, he spent a lot of time in our bed throughout the night, but the past few nights has been happily going to bed in his own room. I like him having his own space where some toys and books are, and it's nice to have our bed to ourselves when we retire. This is especially true on nights when I tutor; changing clothes around a sleeping child is not my favorite thing to do.
But even as I enjoy him growing up and being more independent, and us having our own space, there's something that feels so good and close when he comes into our bedroom and just snuggles into me. (He's off the addictive nursing kick; he'll still ask at 7 a.m., and I think I'm going to keep that up as long as he asks until we wean. I'm thinking we're going to have a weaning party; I've floated the idea of stopping after his birthday and he's started to talk about it on his own.)
As long as I'm not being groped or whined at for holding out when I just can't give any more, it's quite lovely to know that your child gets such pleasure from just being close to you. We feel like a team, the three of us, and there is nothing more wonderful than waking up to a smiling child beaming at you and kissing you.
Tonight, though, E was somehow wired and not ready to go to bed. Eventually, after he'd been lying down on the couch in the living room, E was carried upstairs by my husband who decided to take him into our bed, explaining that he'd be staying on Daddy's side. They laid down, and my son took my husband's head in his hands and pulled it toward him. LJ said it just about broke his heart.
If the boy is sad about something, I hope we can figure that out. But I'm just glad he knows he can get the love he needs.
My husband went to bed over an hour ago, saying "I'm going to go lie down with my kid." Time for me to join them.
My son was sleeping through the night in his own bed until he had a one-night fever back in the fall, probably five months ago. Then he started toddling into our room late in the morning.
After this most recent (longer!) illness, he spent a lot of time in our bed throughout the night, but the past few nights has been happily going to bed in his own room. I like him having his own space where some toys and books are, and it's nice to have our bed to ourselves when we retire. This is especially true on nights when I tutor; changing clothes around a sleeping child is not my favorite thing to do.
But even as I enjoy him growing up and being more independent, and us having our own space, there's something that feels so good and close when he comes into our bedroom and just snuggles into me. (He's off the addictive nursing kick; he'll still ask at 7 a.m., and I think I'm going to keep that up as long as he asks until we wean. I'm thinking we're going to have a weaning party; I've floated the idea of stopping after his birthday and he's started to talk about it on his own.)
As long as I'm not being groped or whined at for holding out when I just can't give any more, it's quite lovely to know that your child gets such pleasure from just being close to you. We feel like a team, the three of us, and there is nothing more wonderful than waking up to a smiling child beaming at you and kissing you.
Tonight, though, E was somehow wired and not ready to go to bed. Eventually, after he'd been lying down on the couch in the living room, E was carried upstairs by my husband who decided to take him into our bed, explaining that he'd be staying on Daddy's side. They laid down, and my son took my husband's head in his hands and pulled it toward him. LJ said it just about broke his heart.
If the boy is sad about something, I hope we can figure that out. But I'm just glad he knows he can get the love he needs.
My husband went to bed over an hour ago, saying "I'm going to go lie down with my kid." Time for me to join them.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
And another one's down
Just call me Caretaker.
I was on the couch for a full week with a boy with a fever. That week has stretched into two of lots and lotsa nursing, even though the son is physically pretty much recovered.
But now the husband has a pesky ruptured eardrum that is taking its own sweet time to leave him alone. Of course we both want him to avoid antibiotics, which my son's doctor says is likely only to shorten the duration of the infection by a day or so. But it's been over 48 hours that my guy has had a tissue attached to his head.
And I had to take the boy to Spanish class this morning! That's supposed to be their thing, daddy and son, just for eight short weeks (and we already missed last week because of the little guy's illness). It was a fine outing, but I'm getting a tired of being in charge all the time without a break. Good thing the munchkin took a long nap this afternoon. Maybe it was the elderberry drops, but I think the quiet three hours with no one putting his hand up my shirt and asking me for anything actually made me feel less likely to get sick myself. It could still happen, sure, but I doubt I'll get anyone offering to nurse me back to health, metaphorically or not.
Actually, tonight my husband actually hugged me, which was supposed to feel nice, except that I'd just spent 45 minutes trying to get our son to bed, which was a very touchy affair. And then, an hour later, after both boys were supposed to be in bed, the tall one was panting so loudly in pain I could hear him downstairs. I brought him The Last Tylenol and some Rescue Remedy and arnica. I hope that will last him until after I've come to bed and fallen asleep, by which time the little redheaded boy will probably want to have a sip o' mama. At least now that I've been to the Vitamin Shoppe and bought my husband some ear drops, maybe he won't ask me to try to heal him with my milk anymore. It's great to feel like Super-magic-healer-woman except that it involves squeezing yourself.
I was on the couch for a full week with a boy with a fever. That week has stretched into two of lots and lotsa nursing, even though the son is physically pretty much recovered.
But now the husband has a pesky ruptured eardrum that is taking its own sweet time to leave him alone. Of course we both want him to avoid antibiotics, which my son's doctor says is likely only to shorten the duration of the infection by a day or so. But it's been over 48 hours that my guy has had a tissue attached to his head.
And I had to take the boy to Spanish class this morning! That's supposed to be their thing, daddy and son, just for eight short weeks (and we already missed last week because of the little guy's illness). It was a fine outing, but I'm getting a tired of being in charge all the time without a break. Good thing the munchkin took a long nap this afternoon. Maybe it was the elderberry drops, but I think the quiet three hours with no one putting his hand up my shirt and asking me for anything actually made me feel less likely to get sick myself. It could still happen, sure, but I doubt I'll get anyone offering to nurse me back to health, metaphorically or not.
Actually, tonight my husband actually hugged me, which was supposed to feel nice, except that I'd just spent 45 minutes trying to get our son to bed, which was a very touchy affair. And then, an hour later, after both boys were supposed to be in bed, the tall one was panting so loudly in pain I could hear him downstairs. I brought him The Last Tylenol and some Rescue Remedy and arnica. I hope that will last him until after I've come to bed and fallen asleep, by which time the little redheaded boy will probably want to have a sip o' mama. At least now that I've been to the Vitamin Shoppe and bought my husband some ear drops, maybe he won't ask me to try to heal him with my milk anymore. It's great to feel like Super-magic-healer-woman except that it involves squeezing yourself.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Just at home with my boy
You've got to be kidding.
My sitter had to cancel today because her son was sick.
I lost childcare two weeks ago because of the snow.
Last week I spent the entire week holding and nursing my sick son.
Today I was supposed to have four hours with the sitter and my son's friend here, a gentle re-entry back to the land of the living while I would be around and available.
But, like I said, she canceled. We went to plan B and got in with an earlier appointment for him to see an acupuncturist, who used some tools to work on his meridians. Then we stopped at the other sitter's house to get the spoon and fork we left there three weeks ago when she still had room for us. I helped out a little now that she has her 3-yr-old, her 4-month-old, a 3-month-old and a 14-month-old. Then we went home and had lunch after which my son nursed to sleep and took a 2+ hour nap. So I finally got some work done, got a crock pot stew made for dinner, had time to walk to a neighbor's and then make gluten-free sugar cookies for tomorrow's parent-child class at the Waldorf school.
The husband put the boy to bed and I even got two blog posts written. I need to stop complaining!
My sitter had to cancel today because her son was sick.
I lost childcare two weeks ago because of the snow.
Last week I spent the entire week holding and nursing my sick son.
Today I was supposed to have four hours with the sitter and my son's friend here, a gentle re-entry back to the land of the living while I would be around and available.
But, like I said, she canceled. We went to plan B and got in with an earlier appointment for him to see an acupuncturist, who used some tools to work on his meridians. Then we stopped at the other sitter's house to get the spoon and fork we left there three weeks ago when she still had room for us. I helped out a little now that she has her 3-yr-old, her 4-month-old, a 3-month-old and a 14-month-old. Then we went home and had lunch after which my son nursed to sleep and took a 2+ hour nap. So I finally got some work done, got a crock pot stew made for dinner, had time to walk to a neighbor's and then make gluten-free sugar cookies for tomorrow's parent-child class at the Waldorf school.
The husband put the boy to bed and I even got two blog posts written. I need to stop complaining!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
ISO Waldorf Education Rhythmic Boot Camp
I just started reading Beyond the Rainbow Bridge and quickly remembered why I put it down the first time I picked it up. The author is all warm and fuzzy recalling her wonderful mother's influence. Barbara Patterson notes how great her mom was at establishing rhythm and routine in the family's life; she turned her "everyday tasks into works of art. Even her laundry line looked like a painting: all the socks o the line matched, then came all the men's shirts hanging neatly side-by-side, then all the colorful kitchen towels flapping in the breeze." This is page one. I feel hopeless already.
Part of why I'm drawn to Waldorf education is in the hope of cultivating more of this intentionality into my life. Patterson says that she knew if it was Monday, it was wash day. When I was a kid, I knew it was Saturday night because Love Boat was on at 9:00. The rest of the summer went by in a blur; I usually went to bed and got up after 10. And I had a heck of a time sleeping (all that Pepsi in my system maybe, or just shot adrenals from early days of no breastfeeding and eating a crappy diet with an as-yet-unknown celiac body). There was not much sense of purpose or drive or quiet reverence for beauty unless it came from within me and in spite of my home life.
That's a little on the harsh side, but mostly true. So when I read this lovely description of Patterson's childhood, I feel like I need to sign up for immersion Waldorf parenting school: I want to experience what this feels like for myself. Patterson specifically says, "I did not have to learn to bring rhythm and good habits to my own children's lives and to the children of my classrooms. I already had them, inside. I had grown up with them." Yes, I've made it all the way to page two. Now can I take Bill and Ted's time machine back to Little House on the Prairie please, or will someone start a reality TV show that truly does advocate the simple life. (Of course all the cameras would need to be hidden -- the obvious presence of media would blow the whole experiment).
But seriously, what if you haven't grown up with these habits or well-tuned internal clocks? I guess you read the book, if you can stomach it, and you try to learn as much from your parent-child class if your Waldorf school has one. I probably would have made more progress if I'd done more reading now that we are almost halfway through the year. I did read the articles for parent meetings, even tracking one down online when I left the paper copy in the bathroom at school! I would benefit from more study, but I'm also trying not to force anything and just to trust that I will move at the pace I will move.
When my son stopped napping, I started thinking that next year I would have him do the afternoon program at the school, extending his day from something like 8:30-noon for three days a week in the three-day kindergarten preschool to 3:00 for two of those days (or maybe all three). At least then he'd have more of a model of calm and a group think nap/rest complete with lavender oil. And maybe if I had more time -- and more consistent count-on-able time -- to myself and for work, maybe I could better manage my household in a consistent way.
These past few days on holiday vacation have been nice, and I have found more time to stay in the moment, but I'm also waking annoyed because our son is waking early and wanting to nurse several times in the morning (Rudolph Steiner might not exactly approve of extended breastfeeding -- see this article from Waldorf Without Walls). I am impatient that my son is still so revved up and, well, impatient. But we were gone from home for a week in very different environments, so I should cut the boy some slack. He's not even three yet.
Anyway, I decided to log in to technology instead of read more. For now.
Part of why I'm drawn to Waldorf education is in the hope of cultivating more of this intentionality into my life. Patterson says that she knew if it was Monday, it was wash day. When I was a kid, I knew it was Saturday night because Love Boat was on at 9:00. The rest of the summer went by in a blur; I usually went to bed and got up after 10. And I had a heck of a time sleeping (all that Pepsi in my system maybe, or just shot adrenals from early days of no breastfeeding and eating a crappy diet with an as-yet-unknown celiac body). There was not much sense of purpose or drive or quiet reverence for beauty unless it came from within me and in spite of my home life.
That's a little on the harsh side, but mostly true. So when I read this lovely description of Patterson's childhood, I feel like I need to sign up for immersion Waldorf parenting school: I want to experience what this feels like for myself. Patterson specifically says, "I did not have to learn to bring rhythm and good habits to my own children's lives and to the children of my classrooms. I already had them, inside. I had grown up with them." Yes, I've made it all the way to page two. Now can I take Bill and Ted's time machine back to Little House on the Prairie please, or will someone start a reality TV show that truly does advocate the simple life. (Of course all the cameras would need to be hidden -- the obvious presence of media would blow the whole experiment).
But seriously, what if you haven't grown up with these habits or well-tuned internal clocks? I guess you read the book, if you can stomach it, and you try to learn as much from your parent-child class if your Waldorf school has one. I probably would have made more progress if I'd done more reading now that we are almost halfway through the year. I did read the articles for parent meetings, even tracking one down online when I left the paper copy in the bathroom at school! I would benefit from more study, but I'm also trying not to force anything and just to trust that I will move at the pace I will move.
When my son stopped napping, I started thinking that next year I would have him do the afternoon program at the school, extending his day from something like 8:30-noon for three days a week in the three-day kindergarten preschool to 3:00 for two of those days (or maybe all three). At least then he'd have more of a model of calm and a group think nap/rest complete with lavender oil. And maybe if I had more time -- and more consistent count-on-able time -- to myself and for work, maybe I could better manage my household in a consistent way.
These past few days on holiday vacation have been nice, and I have found more time to stay in the moment, but I'm also waking annoyed because our son is waking early and wanting to nurse several times in the morning (Rudolph Steiner might not exactly approve of extended breastfeeding -- see this article from Waldorf Without Walls). I am impatient that my son is still so revved up and, well, impatient. But we were gone from home for a week in very different environments, so I should cut the boy some slack. He's not even three yet.
Anyway, I decided to log in to technology instead of read more. For now.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Breastfeeding and the 2008 Election: Will they really end soon?
Well, that's a first.
My son got up and went out into the world today without nursing.
Is this the same kid I had yesterday?
Since he had a mild cold a few weeks ago, we've regressed with the night waking. When he asked to nurse in the night then, I indulged him but whispered the rule change even in the darkness of his room at 3 a.m.: "Okay, because you're sick and I want you to get healthy." Now, a few weeks later, he's still waking once or twice during the night instead of sleeping through as he was doing before. We help him get back to sleep without anyone lifting a shirt before 5:00 a.m. After that, if he wakes and asks to nurse, I typically go into his room, nurse him, and then fall back asleep for a bit longer.
This morning, he called out "Mama" at 6:30 and didn't whine or come charging down the hallway into the bathroom when I said I'd be there after I peed. I should have known something was up then. He was taking it in stride, standing up when I entered his room. He explained in the clearest prose you could imagine from a 31-month-old that he needed to get off his pajamas and put on new clothes because he'd peed. His jammies were dry, but the diaper was super wet (which I hope is a sign that we're ready to move to tackling #1 on the potty. For #2, he has mostly left the diapers behind, so to speak).
Still groggy and looking for a slower start to the day, I gestured toward the bed. "Well, do you want to snuggle? Or just get up?" "Just get up!" he declared and proceeded to tell me about how he had to get ready to go to his sometimes-babysitter and her grandson's house where he knew he was headed today.
Okay. But really?
The morning continued down the path of its smooth start. We read The Peace Book while his dad tried to drag himself out of bed. Then I made breakfast while my son played well, having nary a pre-food meltdown when I tell him to get out of the refrigerator. What is going on, I thought?
Should I point out that we'd forgotten part of our routine? "Don't offer, don't refuse," my La Leche League books say as one pre-weaning strategy. I've pushed off his requests before, sure. I've also refrained from offering other times even though I knew he might get upset when the easy window had gone by leaving him instead to beg for mama milk just as we needed to get out the door. My husband said the other night, after I left for a tutoring job without a just-before-dinner or just-before-bed final nursing (though a plenty long one at 4:00 p.m., thank you very much), my son realized his chance was gone. His eyes got big as the lightbulb went off with a poof and sad, with a sad frown, "I wanted to nurse!"
But today, on this Election Day where I'm already holding my breath, I didn't say a word about what my son was missing.
Neither did he.
My son got up and went out into the world today without nursing.
Is this the same kid I had yesterday?
Since he had a mild cold a few weeks ago, we've regressed with the night waking. When he asked to nurse in the night then, I indulged him but whispered the rule change even in the darkness of his room at 3 a.m.: "Okay, because you're sick and I want you to get healthy." Now, a few weeks later, he's still waking once or twice during the night instead of sleeping through as he was doing before. We help him get back to sleep without anyone lifting a shirt before 5:00 a.m. After that, if he wakes and asks to nurse, I typically go into his room, nurse him, and then fall back asleep for a bit longer.
This morning, he called out "Mama" at 6:30 and didn't whine or come charging down the hallway into the bathroom when I said I'd be there after I peed. I should have known something was up then. He was taking it in stride, standing up when I entered his room. He explained in the clearest prose you could imagine from a 31-month-old that he needed to get off his pajamas and put on new clothes because he'd peed. His jammies were dry, but the diaper was super wet (which I hope is a sign that we're ready to move to tackling #1 on the potty. For #2, he has mostly left the diapers behind, so to speak).
Still groggy and looking for a slower start to the day, I gestured toward the bed. "Well, do you want to snuggle? Or just get up?" "Just get up!" he declared and proceeded to tell me about how he had to get ready to go to his sometimes-babysitter and her grandson's house where he knew he was headed today.
Okay. But really?
The morning continued down the path of its smooth start. We read The Peace Book while his dad tried to drag himself out of bed. Then I made breakfast while my son played well, having nary a pre-food meltdown when I tell him to get out of the refrigerator. What is going on, I thought?
Should I point out that we'd forgotten part of our routine? "Don't offer, don't refuse," my La Leche League books say as one pre-weaning strategy. I've pushed off his requests before, sure. I've also refrained from offering other times even though I knew he might get upset when the easy window had gone by leaving him instead to beg for mama milk just as we needed to get out the door. My husband said the other night, after I left for a tutoring job without a just-before-dinner or just-before-bed final nursing (though a plenty long one at 4:00 p.m., thank you very much), my son realized his chance was gone. His eyes got big as the lightbulb went off with a poof and sad, with a sad frown, "I wanted to nurse!"
But today, on this Election Day where I'm already holding my breath, I didn't say a word about what my son was missing.
Neither did he.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Two in a Bed
I never read the book Three in a Bed, but I read plenty of other articles on co-sleeping and lots of the Sears library, and I've been to plenty of meetings of Attachment Parenting International and La Leche League, where we've talked about the family bed and night feedings. When my son was a baby, I could not fathom how anyone could want their child in a separate room.
But in the last few months, I forgot how much I initially loved sharing sleep. First I started sleeping in the spare bedroom on our old queen bed because our new latex mattress was making my back ache. Then I continued in part because my son seemed to sleep better and allow himself to be soothed by my husband if I wasn't there. I found myself saying the words I never thought I'd utter: Yeah, he sleeps through the night. This meant that he didn't wake to nurse and didn't wake to upset -- he just learned to go back to sleep.
And I learned to sleep well, too. It felt like I was living alone in a dorm room. For a while I would read poetry before shutting out the light and enjoying the expanse of the bed all to myself with no worries that I was going to wake up a boy -- my little one, or my sensitive sleeper husband. I think part of the reason my son got so used to nursing at every light waking was my desire to keep everything quiet so LJ wouldn't be too grumpy in the morning. That guy has a high sleep need, and it had better be quality sleep. So I stuffed E's little mouth with a breast before he had much of a chance to learn to self-soothe.
So it was heaven to be able to be apart from my son and yet know my husband could soothe him easily. Little E would toddle into the other room in the morning and snuggle with me, often falling back asleep after nursing. We all finally got solid sleep.
E slept alone most nights on vacation this summer, and I started to think about giving him his own room. Then the nap protesting started, and I figured he'd do better with space that was his own to quietly play/read/be rather than give him the whole upstairs to run around. The teacher at our Waldorf school agreed that he needed his own space.
At first, he seemed fine with it, talking about being a big boy in a big bed and in his own room -- and also about the "puppy" (huge stuffed dog) from my childhood that now takes up probably a full 10% of the room's surface area, a third of what is not covered by the full futon. But he does seem to be having some adjustment issues, and he's not the only one.
Last night I met my husband at a restaurant so that I could attend a meeting and he could bring the boy home. I said goodbye to them at 6:30 p.m. E fell asleep on the way home, as I'd predicted. When I finally came to bed at 12:30 a.m., I missed my boy a little. When I woke at 4:30 a.m. needing to pee, I missed him more. I knew he might wake soon since he'd gone to sleep early without a full last nursing, and it's no fun to try to get back to sleep worrying you're going to have to get up. (We are trying to keep him staying in his room as opposed to coming into our room, where he'll just wake LJ up. Eventually I'll probably still go in there but not nurse him in bed.)
I crawled into his bed, trying to give him some space. Within a few seconds, he gravitated toward me, his hands feeling around for my face. "Mommy..." he exhaled. "I want to nurse." I gave him a sip of almond milk and told him it was time to snuggle and sleep. This he accepted, but he nestled in close. We both slept for another two hours before he woke to nurse and start the day.
It's now 11:40 p.m. on another no-nap day. I don't know when I'll get to bed or what I'll do when I go upstairs. I'm behind on several projects having had almost zero solo weekday time in the past two weeks since he won't rest and I'm trying to be consistent that we stay quiet in his room. But I had log on (after over a week of no posting!) to make sure I documented how pulled I was by my son now that I know he's all alone in there. After so many frustrating afternoons with him not resting and in fact getting mad and aggressive with me, it's nice to feel how strong this desire for closeness and connection still is.
Man, I love him.
But in the last few months, I forgot how much I initially loved sharing sleep. First I started sleeping in the spare bedroom on our old queen bed because our new latex mattress was making my back ache. Then I continued in part because my son seemed to sleep better and allow himself to be soothed by my husband if I wasn't there. I found myself saying the words I never thought I'd utter: Yeah, he sleeps through the night. This meant that he didn't wake to nurse and didn't wake to upset -- he just learned to go back to sleep.
And I learned to sleep well, too. It felt like I was living alone in a dorm room. For a while I would read poetry before shutting out the light and enjoying the expanse of the bed all to myself with no worries that I was going to wake up a boy -- my little one, or my sensitive sleeper husband. I think part of the reason my son got so used to nursing at every light waking was my desire to keep everything quiet so LJ wouldn't be too grumpy in the morning. That guy has a high sleep need, and it had better be quality sleep. So I stuffed E's little mouth with a breast before he had much of a chance to learn to self-soothe.
So it was heaven to be able to be apart from my son and yet know my husband could soothe him easily. Little E would toddle into the other room in the morning and snuggle with me, often falling back asleep after nursing. We all finally got solid sleep.
E slept alone most nights on vacation this summer, and I started to think about giving him his own room. Then the nap protesting started, and I figured he'd do better with space that was his own to quietly play/read/be rather than give him the whole upstairs to run around. The teacher at our Waldorf school agreed that he needed his own space.
At first, he seemed fine with it, talking about being a big boy in a big bed and in his own room -- and also about the "puppy" (huge stuffed dog) from my childhood that now takes up probably a full 10% of the room's surface area, a third of what is not covered by the full futon. But he does seem to be having some adjustment issues, and he's not the only one.
Last night I met my husband at a restaurant so that I could attend a meeting and he could bring the boy home. I said goodbye to them at 6:30 p.m. E fell asleep on the way home, as I'd predicted. When I finally came to bed at 12:30 a.m., I missed my boy a little. When I woke at 4:30 a.m. needing to pee, I missed him more. I knew he might wake soon since he'd gone to sleep early without a full last nursing, and it's no fun to try to get back to sleep worrying you're going to have to get up. (We are trying to keep him staying in his room as opposed to coming into our room, where he'll just wake LJ up. Eventually I'll probably still go in there but not nurse him in bed.)
I crawled into his bed, trying to give him some space. Within a few seconds, he gravitated toward me, his hands feeling around for my face. "Mommy..." he exhaled. "I want to nurse." I gave him a sip of almond milk and told him it was time to snuggle and sleep. This he accepted, but he nestled in close. We both slept for another two hours before he woke to nurse and start the day.
It's now 11:40 p.m. on another no-nap day. I don't know when I'll get to bed or what I'll do when I go upstairs. I'm behind on several projects having had almost zero solo weekday time in the past two weeks since he won't rest and I'm trying to be consistent that we stay quiet in his room. But I had log on (after over a week of no posting!) to make sure I documented how pulled I was by my son now that I know he's all alone in there. After so many frustrating afternoons with him not resting and in fact getting mad and aggressive with me, it's nice to feel how strong this desire for closeness and connection still is.
Man, I love him.
Monday, April 28, 2008
"I said, 'Don't judge!'"
And I was just going to write about how my son has helped me learn to be less judgmental. Damn.
Still, the twins whose bottles were pictured on the front of the Home section – three with the initial E, three with M, all six filled to just a few ounces – were only seven weeks old. I scoured the more detailed photo on page H4 and found Medela among the brands, raising my hopes that this mother was at least giving the infant girls some breastmilk.
But whether she is or isn’t, the problem I would like to correct is the assumption of the media outlet (and whoever put together, approved and edited the story) that bottles are a normal part of infant care. If a mother has to go back to work and there is no on-site daycare or an inflexible schedule for her breaks, then certainly babies do have to get used to taking nutrition from a source other than the breast. However, there are plenty of moms who stay home with their kids and make the choice not to breastfeed in part, I think, because alternatives are so accepted and pictured as normal and just as good.
The focus of this article was on staying organized with multiples. It would have been interesting to hear an attachment parenting proponent talk about how cosleeping, babywearing and breastfeeding on cue could contribute to a more peaceful home. Maybe they make some things more difficult in a family of multiples; I don’t know, but I would have liked to see that question explored.
In the same Home section, there was a small feature, as there is every week, with a photo of a poorly used space and the owner’s description of how they’d like to transform it. Then a designer offers a sketch and explanations of how furniture and colors will shape the newly conceived room. This week, the background blurb explained that the couple was expecting a child, and they wanted to make their upstairs loft into a master bedroom and their current downstairs bedroom into a nursery. “You want your baby on another floor from you!?” I wanted to scream! I can’t even imagine my almost two-year-old son in another room, much less another floor. Another mom I know recently made that switch, but she also acts like she doesn’t like her son a whole lot, saying things like “what’s wrong with you?” I want to ask her the same thing, and ask the question of the editors of this paper who didn’t turn down the family’s loft-space inquiry on the basis of it being a really stupid idea.
And yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. I just wish all this detachment from one’s kids and disrespect of them seemed more ridiculous to parents.
So, yes, I still judge. I judge other parents when I feel like they are harming their children for their own convenience, and I judge news outlets for promoting what I see as bad choices that will only contribute to kids feeling bad physically and feeling bad about themselves emotionally. Bottle-feeding and berating may not cause kids to get sick, but they sure aren’t providing the best possible start. As a former high school teacher, I know what it looks like at sixteen when you’ve been denied good nutrition and a nurturing environment. It ain’t pretty, and it’s not the future I want to live in or have my son live in.
However, as I admitted upon opening, I can be proven wrong. I thought I was a changed woman, fully open-hearted and willing to accept that I could learn from things I didn’t agree with on the surface. Now I come to find out that I’m as stubborn, opinionated and judgmental as ever. If I can be wrong about myself, maybe I’m wrong about these supposed evils of parenting.
Except that I know I’m not.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Boy, Meet Your Penis
I thought it was cute when my 23-month-old son tugged on his male member and said, several times in a row, “Hi, Penis.”
I thought it was funny when he pointed to his father’s post shower noodle and labeled, like he does so many other objects, “Penis.”
I did not think it was as funny, after my shower a few hours later on the same day, when my son stuck his miniature index finger into my scruffy muff and said, “Penis.”
What’s a good feminist to do? I was never the biggest fan of the French feminists but still didn't want to play into that Freudian trap of being defined by the lack – “No honey, I don’t have one of those things you know and love so well.” But does he really need to learn “vagina” right now?
It’s winter, and I haven’t bathed with him for months. Our body part discussion of late has been focused north of the equator. He points to my sorry chapped nipples and says, “Nurse!” and that’s plenty literal enough for me right now. What good will it do to add the word "breast" to his vocabulary just now? It’s bad enough that he starts to feel me up in public shouting “Wanna nurse you!” I don’t think anyone needs to hear an anatomy lesson on top of that, and I worry where “vagina” would come out if we introduced it in this developmental stage, which seems to be a cross between a coked up Adam in
I expect that with my son's father and I both sporting dark brown triangles in the same spot, he is less likely to get the fact that mine doesn’t have a dangly than he would be if I were appropriately depiliated for the 21st century. If I'd sported a Brazilian wax like I'm told Katherine Heigl does in Knocked Up (I haven't been to a movie in two years so I can't be sure), would the boy notice my folds and say whatever connected up in his brain what he saw? My mind scans his past culinary experiences to recall whether or not he’s ever seen a taco. He might know the color pink; I'm not sure.
Maybe I should have taught him “genitals” instead of penis. The boy clearly identifies the space between legs as penis-territory. Maybe we could have just generalized with the G-word, like saying “firefighter” instead of “fireman,” though so far that has not worked with "snowman."
If he were a girl, I think I’d be more matter-of-fact from the get-go. I might expect that she could take in the knowledge and deal with the fact and she and her mom shared something that Daddy didn’t. But this little boy is so attached, I’m not sure he can handle the idea that he wasn’t made in my image -- or that I don't match his.
I am surprised to find that, for all my graduate work in women's studies, it wasn't until I became the stay-at-home mom of a boy that I seriously, practically considered the formation of gender identity. But the matter is not entirely in my hands, so to speak.
Tonight I overheard my son on the changing table as his father readied him for bed. "Penis?" the boy said in that half-question that expects a big affirmation complete with italics, "Yes that is a penis." Knowing I was in earshot but ignorant of the bathroom vocabulary session the other day and of this blog post I drafted last night, my husband replied to our son, "Yep. Does Mommy have a penis?"
This posting is cross-posted on my other blog, http://www.mamasmouth.com
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