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My friend Liz is one of those women who must be too good to be true. She’s hugging my third baby here. And this woman! Whew! Four amazing kids. Adoring husband. Chickens. Sweet tattoos. Runs her own childbirth education center, Enlightened Mama in Saint Paul services the Twin Cities. IBCLC (that’s the highest level of lactation expert). Doula. And she always has time for me. Even if it’s just for me to run over one evening and talk birthy talk with a glass of wine. Actually I’ve done this a lot. This time, though, we kicked it off with her advice on my going insane with three kids and how can I get my brain back. She solved my problem, by the way. After she counseled me…
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My sweet daughter, now THREE!, went through about 8 months of not caring about me, or for me, or really even wanting anything to do with me. She loved having a new baby, and still adores her little brother, but once he came along and I was out of it for so long, I think her affections grew stronger for other members of the family, my parents, my sister, certainly AA. She’d protest coming to sit on my lap, read with me, have me put her down for naps or bedtime, have me put her in the carseat, have me do most things for her (at that point she was still in diapers for naps & bedtime so changes were a real party). Every morning when she…
READ MOREPhoto credit: Emily Rumsey Photography If you had told me when I had my first that I would eventually nurse in public without a cover, I would have blushed. Deeply. I hated nursing SuperBoy in public. I rarely went in public with him when he was hungry, and given that I didn’t feed on demand, but rather tried to put him on a schedule, I could predict this hangry time pretty well. When I did have to nurse him in public, I’d drape a cover over him, me, us, and with lots of kicking limbs and wails from both of us, attempt to do it thoroughly. Then burp him. Then commence on the other side, all whilst wearing disposal nursing pads that I went through like new…
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Having three kids under five, staying at home with them, no one being in school, means I have very little alone time with each child individually. When I had two kids, I would stagger their afternoon naps so I could sneak in that extra time with the youngest, just truly playing with her and reading to her and smiling at her. Like, looking her in the eyes and smiling. Because for me the long days alone with the kids, especially when they were younger, were hard. Hard to feel like I accomplished anything beyond the basics, and hard to even feel like I was getting quality time with them. Ironically, although I have three kids now, and SuperBoy is much more into exploring the world…
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I hear from a sweet girlfriend she is in labor. I’m at home. I sling the baby on my hips and go upstairs. The older kids clamor what kind of baby will she have? is she going to want a chocolate cake? while following me up the stairs that creak, down the hallway that’s dark, and into the Sitting Room, my work studio. I scan the room in a hurry and blink, in that second recalling the memory of where I safely stowed the matches out of their reach. In a few steps, I recover the matches and light one. The baby tries hard to burn his hands but after setting him down to toddle, I cup the match and my favorite candle made by another sweet…
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my face, that is. My faulty eyes. New glasses. Because mine snapped in half. The day I was going out of town. Wearing my contacts and then glasses (old prescription!!) from college for a few weeks was brutal. My eyes weren’t used to not having the ease and peace of glasses (current scripts, that is, too). I kinda loathe my contacts. Literally the day my glasses broke, Firmoo emailed me and asked if I wanted to review a pair. They also graciously offered a few things for you, too. Skip past me wearing my glasses, as I do every day, looking awkward in my yard. Earrings: vintage from my mom. Top: clothing swap with girlfriends, Max Studio, similar one here. Jeans: Seven for All Mankind:…
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