Parenting
You know I love doulas. Big big big fan over here. Doesn’t matter if you’re planning meds, being with your whole family, homebirth, hospital, whatever. You and your partner will greatly benefit from the help and attention of a doula. I’ve had one with all three and this is with a very involved and supportive husband! Dads for Doulas post here, Why You Need a Doula post here. You’re Pregnant, Now What here. SuperBoy’s birth story, SweetPea’s, and BabyLove’s. If you like birth stories . . . Here’s my list of questions to ask when you’re interviewing a doula. Some may sound abrupt, so you fill in the nice parts. Others may not apply for your circumstances. The biggest key is chemistry between you & the person. Even if they’ve only attended a few births, if you feel like they’ll be your advocate and helper, go for it over the one who’s been doing it forever but you feel isn’t listening to your specific needs. Zee Questiones: 1) What are your fees and what do they encompass insofar as prenatal and postpartum visits? Do you do a standard available-2-weeks-before-due-date-and-after in case I am early or late in delivery? 2) Who provides backup services for you and do you compensate them? 3) If you miss my birth due to unforeseeable circumstances, but your backup is there, is there any change in the fee structure? 4) Are you DONA certified? Why or why not? How many births have you attended? 5) Have…
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I had a revelation yesterday. It was at my Catholic Moms group. We meet in the Bride’s Room of our parish, something like 8-14 moms, 15-30 kids. The kids wreak havoc and we chat about various topics. Yesterday was “self care for the busy mom.” Wait for it; the revelation is coming. We talked about spiritual retreats, date night by yourself at Target, how our craft night was a re-charger, and yes, pedicures. I confessed I hadn’t taken off my french pedicure toe nail polish from being a bridesmaid at my DC sweet girlfriend’s wedding in . . . APRIL. There was a dull silence in any otherwise loud room. Most people looked a little shocked. Disgusted? Amused? Definitely confused as to why my hygiene was so lacking. The truth is, I don’t have any toe nail polish remover and never remember to get it at the store. Gross? Maybe. Definitely. So I went out and bought some last night, and repainted my nails deep purple. Kinda a Rumsey Rouge as a shoutout to my sweet friend Emily. Revelation: moms prioritize different things. For me, it’s almost never appearance and hygiene. And I need to beef things up in that department. I was impressed by my girlfriends who came yesterday to group showered, hair blow dried, and looking lovely. They weren’t peacocking around. They aren’t vain women. They simply looked presentable and lovely! Now that can’t be all of us everyday, but I really put zero effort into it. And…
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when traveling with two kids. I guarantee it’s a party! Especially for your amazingly generous hosts who are awakened each morning at the crack of dawn, remember the time difference?, from the rooster-like howls of my offspring. Despite the time warp and midnight cowboy crybabies, we had a really splendid time. Traveling with our beloved second mother, along with our real parentals, was a really big delight as well. Airport highlights: the man tramping aboard behind me who said to the airline lady, Oh God, Shoot me, I’m seated next to the kids. In front of my back. I mean, literally. When SweetPea cried, I didn’t feel any remorse. In fact, when he moved to the back of the plane as there were empty seats, guess who moved nearby to have her daughter lay down to nap? Maybe someone that vindictive. Maybe. family rest rooms. Right next to the pet relief station. Room for all! three smoothies from the Bux (aka Starbucks) because each child and me needed their own. Sharing straws wasn’t an option. Ocean highlights: chasing the tide out, and then getting hammered by the vindictive waves! So much salt water foam and splash. Laguna Beach was just so so gorgeous. Hearing SweetPea say “seeeeaaa gal” every time she saw a bird at the beach. Then she would proceed to make clucking noises like a duck. So close . . . yet so far. Gelato, beach by moonlight, and the kids playing on a sweet swinging playground. Past their…
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Our mismatch blue shirts with our Godson in Virginia–the most recent photo we have together. I just love AA. He loves me. Our love doesn’t feel static, though. I fall more and more in love all the time. For all the sappy reasons: he cradles our newborn babies in his arms, murmurs love songs to them, he snuggles them to sleep as they grow and groan at night with teething pains, he teaches our son how to fold his fingers around an incense thurible, hit a bat, and our daughter to tickle tackle, say “bacon.” I love him for all the specific-to-him reasons: his chewed on fingers, his eternal patience with my bad housework and fabric addiction, his passion for Black Sheep pizza, his embrasure of so much of my family around-all-the-time, his ability to laugh when he’s angry. The man I met in law school and fell, falling, in love with looks a little older, more tired, and sweeter to me now. He’s still a long lanky runner, but his hands are rougher from hours digging and tending our beloved garden. His eyes still crinkle when he laughs, but the laugh lines run deeper after our years of craziness together. We love having a family so much, we’ve added a new member. Dubbed “BabyLoves” by SuperBoy, we’ll meet our baby in early May of 2014. It’s a really humbling joy to be pregnant, to say yes, please to having another person, and having that request granted. I love sharing…
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Her new favorite food and word, bay-cun. BAYCUN. BAYYYYYY!!! Her brother prefers corn to all else. If you have a child over the age of two, tune in. If you have one of those adorable little tikes, tune out because it is too much of a stretch for your imagination to handle that your sweetpumpkin would ever drive you to want to use force as a parenting tool. See other tantrum hints here. Clear? Okay, older child parents. How are you feeling today? Have you felt that hot hot burn of anger and frustration yet? Have you felt your whole body ignite in one snap of a little whippersnapper’s voice calling out NO! Chances are high that if today wasn’t one of these days, it happened at some point this week. Guiding little children through the valleys and peaks of life is hard. For all the obvious reasons, and then for some more nuanced. For me, and maybe for you, the nuanced ones include helping your child make the right choice with the desired outcome (going to the bathroom before nap time, taking a nap, not screaming in your face or punching your arm), keeping your cool when you are upset, and not succumbing to the false belief that force is a long-term solution. Examples of what I mean by force. I do not mean child abuse. That kind of force is a clear line we all pray we never cross. I mean these kinds of things: dragging your child by the wrist,…
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Me & my Godson, living it up. This is a big phatty reminder to all of us, me first. Don’t personalize each other’s parenting. Remember how I was in Virginia for my Godson’s baptism? With my wonderful family and wonderful in-law family (well, my brother’s in-laws, but we’ve all claimed them for our own we love them so)? I really learned something about myself when we were there, in the land of milk & honey & the Shenandoah River Valley. I realized how personally I take other parents’ decisions. This personalization looks different than judging. We’ve talked about the difference between being judgmental and making a judgment. We’ve talked about parenting styles that vary. We’ve talked about children driving you insane so you just eat cookies in the dark pantry (and chocolate chips!) while in your 2-day-old PJs and your hair starting to dreadlock–true story, that. Personalization is more elusive than an outright disagreement at parents’ choices; it’s downright disgust at them, or better yet, horror or anger. Here’s the sitch: I’m chatting one night over a dinner banquet with my beautiful sissie-in-law while she allows me to snuggle my Godson. She’s sharing about life and I’m sharing about life and then it happens. She mentions a friend whose child attends a few hours a week preschool, and how for this stay-at-home mom that time when children are doing structured projects and artwork etc, is needed and valued for the merit of the activities pursued. I find myself reacting strongly. Unstructured…
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