Blog a la Cart

Month: November, 2011

Kaki’s Style, no. 5

The footsie Courtland is wearing in this photo is the very same footsie that Addison wore on her 1st Thanksgiving. Except Sunny was three months older at the time. It is worth noting that this 9 month footsie is in no way too big on our 3 month old.

And I thought Addison was off the charts.

{Footsie: Carters; Pumpkin hat: Hand knit by Mama, free pattern here}

Sunny’s Style, no. 8

I promise we were outside in bare arms and the snow for less than 5 minutes. Don’t report me! I’m just raising her to be a hardy New Englander. I must expel those So’Cal roots!

Also? How crazy long and cool is that ponytail?!

{Pants and T-shirt: Tea; Boots: Target; Necklace: Mama’s vintage beads; Bow: Gift from Momar}

Week 14

Where the HELL did November go? Somehow the baby is about to celebrate her first Thanksgiving and I’m about to consume my weight in pie.

Gobble gobble.


Courtland: 14 weeks
Addison: 30 months

Photobomb

Sunny’s totally photobombing Kaki’s moment.

Big sisters, huh? Always hogging the spotlight. Not that I’d know anything about that.

Cosleeping parents are not stupid, Milwaukee.

This Safe Sleep campaign by the city of Milwaukee makes my milk boil.

I am currently a breastfeeding mother to a three month old.

That explains the milk boiling.

It also explains why this campaign has struck a cord. While I am not an exclusive co-sleeper, you bet my infant’s binkie that I have on many an occasion had her sleep in my bed, with me and my partner. Here are the 5 best anti-snoring devices that can be used to get good sleep with your family.

I also did so with my now two and a half year old. And, miraculously (by Milwaukee’s standards), she lived to tell the tale.

I get it. The campaign is trying to be provocative. It’s trying to draw attention to the “cause” through hyperbole and drama.

But honestly?

A baby. Sleeping face down. In plushy, cushy pillows. Next to a butcher knife.

HONESTLY?

Apparently the city of Milwaukee feels that parents who allow their children to sleep in their beds are potential baby-killers AND stupid. Because if a parent is ignorant enough to permit her child to sleep in her bed, she must also be dumb enough to surround her baby with soft bedding and forgo the “back to sleep” recommendations that are discussed before a mother is released from her maternity stay at the hospital.

Why was money spent on creating and distributing images that are intended to shame parents that do bedshare and incite fear, rather than on education about safe sleep habits?

The city could have invested in further stressing the importance of the “back to sleep” rule of thumb and the importance of ensuring safe sleep conditions, free from soft bedding, loose blankets, etc., without specifically targeting cosleeping as the primary root of these evils.

The ad says, “Babies can die when sleeping in adult beds.”

Yes, true.

Babies can also die when sleeping in cribs.

Especially in the free “cribs” – i.e. Pack n’Plays – that the city is offering to parents that cannot afford a crib. Of note, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission classifies Pack n’Plays as “play yards” rather than cribs. Play yards also come with warnings and risks. And, based on consumer reports, have resulted in infant deaths due to suffocation, entrapment and strangulation, much like the infant deaths that result from bedsharing. The steps to avoiding such tragedies is to promote education about creating a safe environment for the baby, by removing soft bedding, putting baby on back to sleep, and if sharing a bed with baby, not sleeping under the influence.
I understand that these ads are targeting a specific demographic that is engaging in dangerous parenting behaviors, such as sleeping intoxicated in the same bed as an infant, and that these parents may not have access to proper education about safe-sleep habits. But rather than shame cosleeping, which as a practice works and is beneficial for many parents and babies, why not invest money in offering better support and services to these at-risk families and parents?

At the end of the day, parenting an infant is an incredibly daunting and exhausting endeavor. I am in support of parents doing whatever works best for their family to survive it. If having baby sleep in a crib works, great! If having baby sleep curled up in the crook of your arm works, also great! If a combination of the two proves successful, GO FOR IT! Personally, after two or more failed attempts at transferring my sleeping infant from our adult bed, where we breastfeed, to her bassinet proves unsuccessful, I most certainly opt for sharing a bed with her to ensure we both get a decent night’s sleep. Sometimes she sleeps soundly in the bassinet and sometimes she sleep soundly on our adult mattress. But in either situation, she sleeps swaddled on her back, free from any loose bedding or pillows.

Sleep is a precious and rare thing for parents of an infant. Rather than make it a fear-inducing practice, let’s provide resources and education about how best to combat potential tragedy.

I know from personal experience that the city of Milwaukee is not the only entity culpable of shaming bedsharing. I have experienced the medical industry’s aversion to cosleeping both during my hospital stay when my eldest daughter was born and with our first pediatrician. I found myself hiding the fact that I occasionally bedshared with my eldest because I knew that the pediatrician would cast shame and disapproval upon this information.  Fortunately, I recognized that I wanted to have an open and honest relationship with my children’s doctor and switched to a practice that is supportive of our family’s choices. Of course, I expect doctors to share the potential risks of cosleeping, but they should also share the potential benefits and allow parents to make whatever decision is best for their family.

While in the hospital with my eldest, I was told by multiple nurses that I was not allowed to sleep with my daughter in the hospital bed with me. That kind of policy is incredibly problematic and ignores the research that supports mothers and babies bedsharing, especially breastfeeding mothers.  For more detailed information, I recommend visiting here.

Now I’m off to curl up in bed next to my infant, because she’s sound asleep and I should be too, dreaming next to her sweet sighs.

30 Months.

My darling Addison Weeks,
y two and a half year old,
y pre-schooler,

I thought that I wouldn’t write you a letter like this until your third birthday. But I’ve been reflecting on the past six months since I wrote this, and it is clear that I need to record all of the amazing developments and milestones you’ve hit in just a half year’s time.

You’re an entirely different kid than the one I wrote to back in May. You are a potty-trained, preschool-bound Big Sister. Those are all fairly epic events for a person of only 30 months of life. Brava, you!

Most notably, you are a completely verbal and communicative little person. You know how to express feelings. And opinions. And you’re even learning the art of lying to try to get your way. Like, yesterday, when you told me that you took off your tights and put them in your laundry hamper because there was pee on them. Even though the tights were bone dry and we all know that it’s just because you much prefer life in bare feet. Also, without pants.

I’m to blame for that preference. Le sigh.

You are my best friend and constant companion. You keep me company during the hourly nurse sessions with your sister. We go on walks and talk about the day. We ride in the car discussing what we should eat for dinner. I now understand my isolation and loneliness with your infancy much clearer, as I see the difference it makes to have another person by my side as I manage the day-to-day demands of a baby. Thank you for being such an enthusiastic and adorable bestie.

Although, I recognize that adjusting to life with baby sister hasn’t always been easy on our relationship. While you are bursting with energy and curiosity, you’ve been forced into a time in our household that often demands quiet, and patience, and stillness. That’s like telling Ursa not to love her tennis ball. It ain’t gonna happen.

And this is why you’ll be starting preschool after Thanksgiving. Just three times a week to give you some time with kids your age, in a space that is built to allow you to explore and play and take full advantage of your creative and curious mind and energetic spirit. This will be better for both of us, as our time together can be less filled with No’s and Wait’s and Hold on’s. We’ve also started going to gymnastics classes twice a week, and boy do you delight in somersaulting and jumping and racing around just being a two and a half year old. Your joy is infectious and I wish I could approach such activities like flushing a toilet with the same awe and spirit that you bring to what is seemingly so mundane.

You still love music. And your books. And now, “wideos” – your word for videos and the movies we now let you watch to help me find the time to feed your sister and keep you entertained and in one place. We first introduced you to the Wallace & Gromit series, and I’ve watched each of those films at least a hundred times. Now we’re onto Nemo, and despite urgings to test the waters of other Pixar films, you are holding fast to your love of Nemo. Today you told me that you think Dory loves you. And that that was pretty great.

I agree. On all fronts.

It’s unexpected and magical thought processes such as this that fill my daily life of diapers and laundry and bodily fluids with joy. There are certain phrases that you say that I have no intention of ever correcting because they are far too sweet in their current form to ever change.

Like when you are enjoying an activity and I suggest that we do something else, you respond, “No, I just want to sit for a little bit while, okay?”

Or when your food is hot, you demand that we “blow it up!” to cool it off.

Or when we sit you on your potty and you politely ask, “Please have my own privacy, please.”

I love having clearer insight into how you see the world. That has been the biggest shift in this past half year. I suddenly have a window into how you are experiencing life around you. And I am particularly impressed and filled with pride by how gracefully and sweetly you’ve adjusted to being a Big Sister. You are the reason she giggled for the first time, because she agrees that you are the most awesome, entertaining person in the household. You’re so sweet with her. And assure her that she’s okay when she cries. Or shake toys for her to keep her entertained while I run to the bathroom. You haven’t shown any anger or resentment toward her, or me, or your daddy. And you’ve taken to caring for your own baby doll through mimicking the behavior you see from me and Daddy with Courtland. That you are so aware and sensitive is an overwhelmingly touching thing to witness as a parent.

The other day I found you sitting in the rocking chair, Boppie around your waist, baby doll in your lap with a blanket draped over her, your shirt lifted, “breastfeeding.” Granted, you had Baby nursing from your belly button via the nipple shield that I no longer use to feed your sister, but the effort was admirable. And I realize that the nipple shield is a confusing phenomenon. It seems that you think of it like a bottle, as though it has a magical power to elicit breast milk from its use, so that anyone is capable of breastfeeding. While we’ve had many productive conversations about breastfeeding and biology as a greater topic, it’s understandable that it isn’t all quite clear. In fact, I’d be concerned if it were. Admittedly, I do love that you call penises, “peanuts.” It never gets old hearing you proclaim proudly, “Daddy has a peanut!”

Your father is less pleased. Although he admits that objectively it is quite endearing.

The past few days have found me feeling rather blue. It’s a combination of things: The grey skies. The dwindling daylight hours. Events in our community. Events in the world. Tough, complex personal relationships and dynamics. Mix those all together and I feel off. There’s a constant nauseous pit in my stomach. I’m filled with a sadness that I can’t shake. But then you tell me that you love me. And ask me to hold your hand so that we can dance together in the living room. And the clouds part.

You’re better than any light therapy I’ve ever tried.

You and your sister give me perspective. And purpose. And you fill even my gloomy days with a bit of sunshine. And I don’t know how to thank you for that, so I won’t try. Instead I’ll get up off my sorry butt and shake it so you can see what your Mama gave you.

I love you, Sunny.

143 Mama

Week 13

Next week I will officially have a two and a half year old and a quarter-year old on my hands. And, very shortly, the two will be sharing a bedroom. This is out of necessity as the baby has rapidly outgrown her bassinet. It’s time to transition her to life in the crib, with big sister snoring nearby.

I’m feeling pretty darn lucky these days. How could I not?

Courtland: 13 weeks
Addison: 29 months

Proud Big Sis

This makes my heart swell with happy.

Kaki’s Style, no. 4

{Pants: Hand knit KANOKO PANTS; Boots: Snugglebug; Shirt: Carters}

Homecoming

The Cart family did this past weekend’s homecoming football game right. Despite a loss, we all enjoyed the day’s proceedings in the best ways we knew how. For some, it involved consuming their weight in buffalo wings. For others, drinking a full gallon of apple cider and making many an emergency trip to the potty. And for others, napping. A few things were constant, purple and gold and all things bovine.