My parents came for a short weekend visit (from Vermont--it nearly killed both of them I think). They got to be grandparents up close and personal--it made me feel so good to have them here, namely, because it meant that I got to take a little time off. This experience has really made me wish that more of these relative types lived closer--Mirabel, my sister, will be here in June, which will make a huge difference, but still! How do new families manage without grandparents??
So here is a toast to grandparents--we wish you were closer, because we need a break! Hip, hip, horray!
Speaking of breaks, my back is nearly broke. This baby-child of mine has hit the 20 pound mark, making him both adorably healthy and freaking heavy.
In other news, we may be moving to a new place--more room for this child to grow. He is like a goldfish.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
I'm starting to have fantasies of feeding Lev solid foods and him sleeping through the night... My patience really started wearing thin this past weekend. I think part of this is really due to the little known fact that mothers DO NOT GET A FUCKING BREAK. Alright, with that outbreak taken care of, I can address the real issue: baby mama is tired... Once again, the late humorist Erma Bombeck is starting to feel like my personal muse. She wrote a weekly column about the woes of being a housewife that eventually were turned into books. Titles like "The grass is always greener over the septic tank"... etc etc. She gave a voice to the housewife of the 1970s and 1980s that was a post-feminist/pre-new wave feminist--basically, she missed out on it all--but that really truly spoke to millions of American women who also, through generation gaps etc, totally were your definition of the "unliberated", "unenlightened" American woman. But also--even if you are a "liberated" modern gal, you still gotta load the laundry, wash the dishes, feed your kids and make happy with your husband. So where is our break?
Jared is starting to get it--that his job ends at 4pm everyday, and my day stops for a few hours in the night when Lev is asleep, between feedings. Oh, alright, so it doesn't stop. (Here is my disclaimer where I remind you all how much I really, truely love my baby and I'm grateful for everything I have.) Anyway, you get the picture: the modern gal, her non-stop baby, her tired and loving husband and the movies they watch at night to take the edge off.
All that said, I am thinking about trying to pump breastmilk again so that I can have a little time apart from the family... however, this thought also makes me kinda nausiated. I hate pumping. Hence, thinking about starting to feed Lev solid foods... which, I am pretty conflicted about. So it continues... in the mean time, come visit and hold the baby for a few minutes so I can make myself some eggs and toast.
Jared is starting to get it--that his job ends at 4pm everyday, and my day stops for a few hours in the night when Lev is asleep, between feedings. Oh, alright, so it doesn't stop. (Here is my disclaimer where I remind you all how much I really, truely love my baby and I'm grateful for everything I have.) Anyway, you get the picture: the modern gal, her non-stop baby, her tired and loving husband and the movies they watch at night to take the edge off.
All that said, I am thinking about trying to pump breastmilk again so that I can have a little time apart from the family... however, this thought also makes me kinda nausiated. I hate pumping. Hence, thinking about starting to feed Lev solid foods... which, I am pretty conflicted about. So it continues... in the mean time, come visit and hold the baby for a few minutes so I can make myself some eggs and toast.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Did I say that he cut one tooth? I meant to say he cut TWO teeth. Soon, he will look like the darling little Jack'o'Lantern that I've always dreamed of giving a name to.
In other news, I'm reading this book that every woman in this country must read. It is called Wild Feminine, written by Tami Lynn Kent. She is a Portland writer, she is a healer (Women's Health Physical Therapy) and is basically the shit. She has written a book that more or less details everything that needs to be said about the nature of the feminine in modern times. Feminine, not as a adjective, but as an energy force. Please, please, please--ladies.
Read it. Get into it. Right now.
--->check this out please!! http://www.wildfeminine.com
In other news, I'm reading this book that every woman in this country must read. It is called Wild Feminine, written by Tami Lynn Kent. She is a Portland writer, she is a healer (Women's Health Physical Therapy) and is basically the shit. She has written a book that more or less details everything that needs to be said about the nature of the feminine in modern times. Feminine, not as a adjective, but as an energy force. Please, please, please--ladies.
Read it. Get into it. Right now.
--->check this out please!! http://www.wildfeminine.com
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Enter the Hero
Lev cut his first tooth--it broke through the gum and he is *much* happier. Its kind of a funny phrase "to cut a tooth", but as I am gathering the mama rhetoric as I go, I've learned not to question.
This milestone, (here is another part of the rhetoric I have picked up) has not occurred alone--he is also taking this time to develop his vocal chords. Really, I think there is something about cutting teeth, screaming from the pain, and then, once the pain has subsided, understanding that "Holy shit! I can scream for fun too!". That's right, Lev sounds like a baby pterodactyl. His tooth is emerging like a bean sprout, and his voice is bursting forth like a cabin-fever crazed banshee.
Its pretty amazing--I love hearing him, and he loves being heard.
This milestone, (here is another part of the rhetoric I have picked up) has not occurred alone--he is also taking this time to develop his vocal chords. Really, I think there is something about cutting teeth, screaming from the pain, and then, once the pain has subsided, understanding that "Holy shit! I can scream for fun too!". That's right, Lev sounds like a baby pterodactyl. His tooth is emerging like a bean sprout, and his voice is bursting forth like a cabin-fever crazed banshee.
Its pretty amazing--I love hearing him, and he loves being heard.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Passover: the Exodus from Machoism
I could be wrong... but I think that Lev slept through the night last night... Its hard to tell really. During the night when he wakes up to feed, I'm usually half-awake and still dreaming. But what I really want to talk about is Passover. This is my favorite holiday--not because of the matzo, though of course that plays a huge part. I love revisiting this story--its full of drama, suspense, heartbreak and eventual (after 40 years of wandering in the desert) freedom. Each year I feel affected by different parts of the story--this year, naturally, I felt affected by the order of the Pharaoh that all Jewish sons be murdered. I found myself remembering this song that my mother wrote called Rachel--which I'll post what lyrics I can remember here.
Rachel, ooohh, Rachel
Rachel, ooohh, Rachel
She held him in her arms this morning, Rachel.
She nursed him at her breast this morning, Rachel.
This morning the sun came out to warm her,
There was no way to warn here.
She rose to greet the day and break her fast.
She could not know that day would be his last.
Pharaoh, the king, commands them,
Cut down all the boy children...
That is as much as I can remember--she wrote this song when I was in third grade. This was during her stint as a Bible-story playwright. She wrote a nativity play, and 2 Easter plays (one was an opera actually). This Rachel song is still so powerful to me, especially now that I have my own little boy.
Last Passover, I remember learning about the Egyptian midwives who would cunningly disobey the orders of the Pharaoh to steal male babies from their Jewish mothers by claiming that the Jewish women were like beasts in the fields--by the time the midwives were called upon and reached the laboring women, they had already given birth to their babies unaided.
I want to write a song about all of this...like my mother's song, but not as focused on the tale of one woman. I want to use this story as a metaphor: our sons, our future, being threatened by the mass concepts of what it is to be alive, healthy, and mindful--raising more children to become fearful, rigid and driven towards production, production... I know "the children are our future" type themes are overkill, but through my entire pregnancy and now postpartum life, I am really coming to understand how we are as parents and the kinds of environments that we present to our children are so powerful... that of course brings up the ol' nature vs nurture, but I say to hell with that. Bearing children into the world without focusing on fear is the first step towards eliminating the fear-based culture we find outselves in today. In a sense, this is what Passover is showing me this year: the Hebrew ladies of old feared bearing sons into the world because they would be taken from them and murdered. I shared that fear-- I literally think about my son being "taken" from me by the men in his life and shown what it is to "be a man"; there are such rigid and oppressive rules and expectations that are placed on men in this society. This fear is something that I deal with in my own marriage and family. It is something that I will continue to deal with: but I have faith that I will be able to resolve this for myself and, hopefully, in my family and marriage.
Next year in Jerusalem, Next year in Freedom--always looking towards the positive, always looking towards a brighter future. For me, that means trusting that the man my son becomes won't be afraid of his own emotions, that he will find ways to communicate without violence, and that he will learn and experience this world in a respectful and honest way. Its hard though--I see how defenive men can get when I talk about this--they immediately equate my feelings with: you want to raise a pansy son, a faggy son, a weakling. This is the issue: you're either a man, or a girl. Ahhh... anyway, passover has a lot of really powerful themes. These are some of the issues that are striking me most this morning.
Rachel, ooohh, Rachel
Rachel, ooohh, Rachel
She held him in her arms this morning, Rachel.
She nursed him at her breast this morning, Rachel.
This morning the sun came out to warm her,
There was no way to warn here.
She rose to greet the day and break her fast.
She could not know that day would be his last.
Pharaoh, the king, commands them,
Cut down all the boy children...
That is as much as I can remember--she wrote this song when I was in third grade. This was during her stint as a Bible-story playwright. She wrote a nativity play, and 2 Easter plays (one was an opera actually). This Rachel song is still so powerful to me, especially now that I have my own little boy.
Last Passover, I remember learning about the Egyptian midwives who would cunningly disobey the orders of the Pharaoh to steal male babies from their Jewish mothers by claiming that the Jewish women were like beasts in the fields--by the time the midwives were called upon and reached the laboring women, they had already given birth to their babies unaided.
I want to write a song about all of this...like my mother's song, but not as focused on the tale of one woman. I want to use this story as a metaphor: our sons, our future, being threatened by the mass concepts of what it is to be alive, healthy, and mindful--raising more children to become fearful, rigid and driven towards production, production... I know "the children are our future" type themes are overkill, but through my entire pregnancy and now postpartum life, I am really coming to understand how we are as parents and the kinds of environments that we present to our children are so powerful... that of course brings up the ol' nature vs nurture, but I say to hell with that. Bearing children into the world without focusing on fear is the first step towards eliminating the fear-based culture we find outselves in today. In a sense, this is what Passover is showing me this year: the Hebrew ladies of old feared bearing sons into the world because they would be taken from them and murdered. I shared that fear-- I literally think about my son being "taken" from me by the men in his life and shown what it is to "be a man"; there are such rigid and oppressive rules and expectations that are placed on men in this society. This fear is something that I deal with in my own marriage and family. It is something that I will continue to deal with: but I have faith that I will be able to resolve this for myself and, hopefully, in my family and marriage.
Next year in Jerusalem, Next year in Freedom--always looking towards the positive, always looking towards a brighter future. For me, that means trusting that the man my son becomes won't be afraid of his own emotions, that he will find ways to communicate without violence, and that he will learn and experience this world in a respectful and honest way. Its hard though--I see how defenive men can get when I talk about this--they immediately equate my feelings with: you want to raise a pansy son, a faggy son, a weakling. This is the issue: you're either a man, or a girl. Ahhh... anyway, passover has a lot of really powerful themes. These are some of the issues that are striking me most this morning.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Baby doctor don't know shit
During the early days (read: oh say, maybe two months ago), I read this wonderful book called Attachment Parenting. Its a so called "style" of parenting that is coined thus because of the tendency of these parents to wear their children in carriers instead of hauling them around in strollers or car seats. This book covered the "Seven B's" of attachment parenting which are:
1. Birth Bonding (this is where you don't let the doctors take your baby away to a nursery and instead let your baby nurse, sleep and feel you skin-to-skin. Hugely important.)
2. Breastfeeding (instead of bottle feeding)
3. Baby wearing (instead of transporting from one plastic bucket to another)
4. Bedding close to your baby (instead of putting them in a crib on the other side of the house far, far away from you)
5. Belief in the language value of your baby's cry (as opposed to letting them "cry it out")
6. Beware of baby trainers (people who want to encourage you to put you new infant on a schedule instead of letting them naturally come to their own schedule. For example: feeding your baby on a schedule instead of waiting for them to let you know they're hungry)
7. Balance (It is what it is...balancing your life and your needs with the high demands of a baby. Totally crucial, however, it can happen without totally reducing the value of your child in your life to a mere house plant)
One of the best things about this book is that for every area it covered, it quoted parents and their experiences. It also brought anthropological research and scientific evidence to support the validity of these parenting values. One section that was especially interesting to me was on breast feeding and the relationship with the pediatrician. A common misconception and support of putting your child on a schedule is that you can over breastfeed your baby. Furthermore, there have been claims that you could even give your child an eating disorder by feeding them "on demand" instead of every 2 to 3 or 4 hours. (On demand means: whenever the child is hungry.) I read these accounts from other mothers about their rough experiences with their doctors. They felt as though they were being talked down to, ostracized and their mothering instincts were not valued at all. I remember thinking "thank god that doesn't happen at my pediatrician's". How wrong I was!
The point of all this is that we are royally switching pediatricians. Our Dr seemed totally rad and wonderful--so good with Lev, so caring and helpful. However... over time, I've come to realize that I don't like being around him and I certainly don't like how he talks to us about parenting and making choices for our son. He is most blatantly an asshole when talking about vaccines, but that can be expected. However, when he asked me how often Lev was feeding I laughed and said "all the time". I tried to give him a rough estimate--once an hour? twice? Its really hard to even say because every day is different--how much Lev eats depends on a variety of things. He has started teething, so he eats more. He had a cold, so he eats more. Surprise! He had a growth spurt, so he eats more. Or, conversely, he had a growth spurt and so he was sleeping more often and for longer than he had been. Plus, I'm usually running around like a crazy woman with no schedule of my own which means he certainly has no schedule either...
So I mumble some of this, realizing that he is just listening and staring blank faced at me. ( This is, incidentally, some time after we've weighed Lev--he is a healthy and beautiful 18 pounds 6 oz. ) The Dr begins lecturing us about how we need to offer him other ways of dealing with his feelings other than nursing. He added, that in fact, we are interrupting an important process of coping skills by nursing him when he is upset. We should instead sing to him, bounce him, talk to him etc. He said with a laugh that if we weren't careful Lev would end up like him "eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's every time he gets upset"... I said, "But he is so little!" meaning that he is 4 months old and not eating his cares away. The Dr's response was "Look at him!" meaning, he isn't so little--take a look at that chunky boy.
He basically insinuated that I am emotionally stunting Lev, giving an eating disorder, that I am over feeding him and that I need to regulate his eating instead of feeding him when he is hungry. The entire exchange was totally ridiculous--I got really defensive about the whole thing. He shut up about it once I explained that I'm not force feeding him--we look at each situation and decide what is best for Lev, whether it be nursing, singing or whatever the hell else he might need. If there is anyone who knows when to feed their child and how to help them through their feelings its the goddamn mother! Not to mention its basically impossible to over breastfeed--I only produce enough for him and my milk production is based solely on his needs. That's the beauty of the relationship between a mother and her baby--nature figured it all out for us.
I was pretty riled up about all this--now I've calmed down and moved on. I do need a new pediatrician however...
1. Birth Bonding (this is where you don't let the doctors take your baby away to a nursery and instead let your baby nurse, sleep and feel you skin-to-skin. Hugely important.)
2. Breastfeeding (instead of bottle feeding)
3. Baby wearing (instead of transporting from one plastic bucket to another)
4. Bedding close to your baby (instead of putting them in a crib on the other side of the house far, far away from you)
5. Belief in the language value of your baby's cry (as opposed to letting them "cry it out")
6. Beware of baby trainers (people who want to encourage you to put you new infant on a schedule instead of letting them naturally come to their own schedule. For example: feeding your baby on a schedule instead of waiting for them to let you know they're hungry)
7. Balance (It is what it is...balancing your life and your needs with the high demands of a baby. Totally crucial, however, it can happen without totally reducing the value of your child in your life to a mere house plant)
One of the best things about this book is that for every area it covered, it quoted parents and their experiences. It also brought anthropological research and scientific evidence to support the validity of these parenting values. One section that was especially interesting to me was on breast feeding and the relationship with the pediatrician. A common misconception and support of putting your child on a schedule is that you can over breastfeed your baby. Furthermore, there have been claims that you could even give your child an eating disorder by feeding them "on demand" instead of every 2 to 3 or 4 hours. (On demand means: whenever the child is hungry.) I read these accounts from other mothers about their rough experiences with their doctors. They felt as though they were being talked down to, ostracized and their mothering instincts were not valued at all. I remember thinking "thank god that doesn't happen at my pediatrician's". How wrong I was!
The point of all this is that we are royally switching pediatricians. Our Dr seemed totally rad and wonderful--so good with Lev, so caring and helpful. However... over time, I've come to realize that I don't like being around him and I certainly don't like how he talks to us about parenting and making choices for our son. He is most blatantly an asshole when talking about vaccines, but that can be expected. However, when he asked me how often Lev was feeding I laughed and said "all the time". I tried to give him a rough estimate--once an hour? twice? Its really hard to even say because every day is different--how much Lev eats depends on a variety of things. He has started teething, so he eats more. He had a cold, so he eats more. Surprise! He had a growth spurt, so he eats more. Or, conversely, he had a growth spurt and so he was sleeping more often and for longer than he had been. Plus, I'm usually running around like a crazy woman with no schedule of my own which means he certainly has no schedule either...
So I mumble some of this, realizing that he is just listening and staring blank faced at me. ( This is, incidentally, some time after we've weighed Lev--he is a healthy and beautiful 18 pounds 6 oz. ) The Dr begins lecturing us about how we need to offer him other ways of dealing with his feelings other than nursing. He added, that in fact, we are interrupting an important process of coping skills by nursing him when he is upset. We should instead sing to him, bounce him, talk to him etc. He said with a laugh that if we weren't careful Lev would end up like him "eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's every time he gets upset"... I said, "But he is so little!" meaning that he is 4 months old and not eating his cares away. The Dr's response was "Look at him!" meaning, he isn't so little--take a look at that chunky boy.
He basically insinuated that I am emotionally stunting Lev, giving an eating disorder, that I am over feeding him and that I need to regulate his eating instead of feeding him when he is hungry. The entire exchange was totally ridiculous--I got really defensive about the whole thing. He shut up about it once I explained that I'm not force feeding him--we look at each situation and decide what is best for Lev, whether it be nursing, singing or whatever the hell else he might need. If there is anyone who knows when to feed their child and how to help them through their feelings its the goddamn mother! Not to mention its basically impossible to over breastfeed--I only produce enough for him and my milk production is based solely on his needs. That's the beauty of the relationship between a mother and her baby--nature figured it all out for us.
I was pretty riled up about all this--now I've calmed down and moved on. I do need a new pediatrician however...
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