Josh and Matthew, along with Josh’s grandmother, went to Santa Fe this past weekend to see his sister graduate from college. I had to work this weekend so unfortunately was unable to make it - congrats Jera! - and so on Friday morning, I drove the three of them to the airport, and they went off. I was sad, but I did not cry!

This weekend was difficult - I had a hard time falling asleep on Friday night, and then last night I went to bed too late because I was caught up in watching outtakes from Whose Line Is It Anyway? on youtube. I ran a lot of errands yesterday and also did my part to stimulate the economy (which we haven’t gotten our check yet, but look at me, being a good citizen and stimulating things!).

Today, I went to pick them up at the airport and finally they arrived and I pulled up in the car (I was driving Josh’s grandmother’s car this weekend) and hopped out. Matthew was standing behind the suitcase or stroller, so Josh nudged him onto the sidewalk and I called out to him. He was so excited and happy that he started running immediately and screaming with joy. He hugged me non-stop for five minutes and did not let go of my neck. He also peppered my face generously with kisses and squealed every now and again and man oh MAN was that the best feeling EVER. I hated seeing them go, but the homecoming - that was amazing. If I ever before doubted this boy’s love for me, today’s display definitely proved me wrong, and I’m glad for that.

I know I wrote about post-partum depression before, but every time I see Matthew displaying intense affection it makes me sad and happy at the same time - sad that at the time I had a hard time seeing Matthew display this affection in the ways he knew how to then, and sad that I was so hard on myself. But I am also happy, because the struggle to get here - while I do not recommend it - makes me appreciate what I do have ten times over.

I know parenting isn’t for everyone. I do wish, though, there was a way I could bottle up this boy’s pure ecstatic joy and give everyone a taste of it. It really, really made my day.

Swiped from Stacie.

Natural birth. Well, if you don’t count the induction, narcotics and epidural, then sure, it was natural. A head emerged from my vagina, along with the rest of the baby and assorted baby bits. As unnatural as my birth may have been, I made good decisions and am happy with the process and outcome, and I find myself remarkably more laidback and forgiving of those who have made other decisions for whatever reasons. Walking a mile in others’ shoes and all.

Breastfeeding. In all, a success. We made it to 14.5 months, and considering that was about 14.5 months longer than I thought I would, I rate myself an A. Matthew had low blood sugar when he was born and I agreed to have him take 1/2 ounce of formula on his first night. I know what low blood sugar feels like. He didn’t need that after a long day’s work. After that, we breastfed (I pumped when I went back to work at 3 months post-partum) exclusively until Matthew was 6 months, then we started solids with him. My pumping supply really began to dip 8 months in, and by the time Matthew was 9 months, I ran out of frozen stash and we supplemented with soy formula. I continued to pump measly amounts for another month or so and nursed exclusively on the weekends, and when Matthew was about 11 months, I gave up pumping. We stopped nursing at around 14 months. It was a very easy transition. I had all intentions of letting Matthew lead with the weaning, but it didn’t happen. I didn’t offer, he didn’t care.

I always knew how hard being a mom would be, how hard balancing momhood and my career would be, but man almighty, performing on command for a pump totally, forgive the pun, sucks. I did it because I was cheap and stubborn, and for most of the time I performed decently on command. I was relieved to give up the pump, and I am equally relieved that we were in a good position to be able to afford at least organic formula for Matthew.

And if anyone even hints at the word fenugreek I may have to shout incoherently.
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Babywearing. We have worn Matthew since almost the first day and continue to do so. He grew up in the mei tai (flickr set here) and although he’s over 30 pounds now, we are still going strong. Josh wears him a lot more than I do, but when we fly, it’s the only way we get around the airport. Easy peasy.

Co-sleeping. Yes and no. We gave up on it fully when Matthew was around 6 months old and was clearly able to sleep much better on his own. We still do pull him into bed with us when he’s sick and needs extra cuddles, and in the mornings, he drinks milk while cuddled between us. Otherwise, we can’t do it all the time, because the child likes to stick his small, sharp fingers into soft holes on our faces. Case in point: in Connecticut this past weekend, he woke up cranky at around 3AM. I pulled him into bed with me, we slept and the reason I woke up was because he happily pinched the crap out of my eyes and tried to shove his fingers in my nose. Never mind tried - he succeeded. Tricksy.

CIO - crying it out. Yep, we did this. Close your email clients right now, or if you plan to leave a comment that says what a bad mother I am, don’t bother. Here are the facts - we know our kid better than anyone else on this planet. We know that sometimes he fusses himself minimally down to sleep, we know that sometimes he rolls right over and zonks out, and we know, unfortunately, that sometimes he’s angry as hell and shouts and even if we go in, he gets ANGRIER. So we let him do his business, if it warrants. We don’t do this every night - he doesn’t need it. Nowadays, if he cries in the middle of the night, 9 times out of 10 he can settle himself (hallelujah) and other times he requires intervention. So we intervene when necessary, and if our presence only serves to piss him off further, we leave. That’s that.

Healthy Foods. I think we do a pretty good job in this area. We eat mostly organic foods and prepare a wide variety of meals with as fresh ingredients as possible. Matthew is completely off of baby foods and purees and eats what we eat, with very few exceptions. We shop at a farmer’s market weekly, Matthew eats a lot of fruits and vegetables, and the processed foods he does get, we always try to buy organic (I’m staring at a box of Organic Weetabix, and he loves it madly). We’re lucky to live in an area that has a lot of great produce options; Matthew’s daycare has fresh fruit from the Berkeley Bowl. We restrict his consumption of crap food (i.e., try to avoid HFCS foods and highly sugared/processed stuff) but, hey, we’re human. Sometimes a little ice cream slips in.

I love that I have a son who loves octopus and brussels sprouts and watermelon and rice and crab and raw tuna.

No TV. We fell into this one pretty well. When Matthew was first born, I watched a lot of TV to pass through the eons I spent on the sofa nursing nonstop daily, it seemed. Once it looked like he was actually watching it (this was when he was really young - a month? 2?) we stopped watching it when he was awake, and we don’t watch it now. I think they watch a little bit of TV early in the morning and late in the evening at daycare, but for the most part, he plays outside, he pokes around and explores in our apartment, and is content with turning the tv on but the cable box is off or the tv isn’t set to the cable box. He loves pressing buttons, really. So the only tv he gets is occasional white noise, more often than not a blank blue screen, at which point he’ll turn the tv off or we will for him.

This is all well and good but when we are ready to introduce tv to him I know I’m not going to know any kid’s tv shows at all. He’ll be the only kid in kindergarten who watches Law & Order.

Toys. We’ve only really become interested and concerned lately with all the crud that’s coming out of companies from China (I feel like I need to note that very specifically; it’s not that I don’t trust the Chinese, which I’ve seen people say online, but I don’t trust some of the companies in China), I’ve been looking a little harder and trying to make better decisions about toys for him.

All that being said the kid prefers to press buttons on VCRs and DVD players, poke his own bellybutton, and sit inside a suitcase. Who needs toys?

Cloth diapers. Haven’t used cloth since we left Chicago and I miss it so, so very much! Matthew’s persistent fungal diaper rash (gross, I know) that ebbs and flows and requires us to use yeast infection junk on his crotch (agh!) has only started with the onset of paper diapers. I hate them. Maybe even half-time in cloth would be fine, but then he’d be bringing yeast issues back daily from daycare? Dixie asked us whether or not we used cloth; we should see how open to using cloth she would be. I am pretty close to either buying a portable washing machine or just sucking it up and going to the laundromat once during the week to do his diapers. I don’t know.

So, I took a trip to St. Louis for a conference, and by and large the conference was mediocre. My experience there was very biased and colored by two experiences: one, lack of Joshes and Matthews to look forward to. I think my limit of not seeing those two guys in my life is about 10 hours, and this trip had me out for effectively 4 days; two, I kind of hated St. Louis, what little I saw of it. I think I’m totally spoiled by life in large cities like NYC, CHI and SF (I was on a roll there) where I didn’t need to have a car. I needed a car in St. Louis. I was at a conference with primarily men (my field right now is heavily male-oriented) and I didn’t know a soul other than me. I’m outgoing, but not that outgoing.

Still, I am trying to be positive about my trip - I got to stay at a fairly nice hotel, I got a manicure and pedicure to treat myself, I watched a lot of Law and Order, and I ran every full day I was there (week 3 of couch-5k plan). I won’t mention missing my guys so much I sort of lost it and burst into tears on the phone with Josh on Saturday. Oof.

And I took a fun picture at the parking lot of the hotel:

Anyway, I am home! I went to pick up Matthew at daycare, in the rain, and he was so excited to see me, and then refused to let me go - Dixie gave us a ride home and I was fiddling with the carseat in Dixie’s car, while Dixie held Matthew, and he sobbed as if I were jamming rusty spikes underneath his fingernails. Ah, the love of a babe. We’ve cuddled lots. I love that boy.

Speaking of that boy, he’s now 15 months old. Amazing. His 15 month letter will go up soon - but look at him. He’s stocky and tall and made of cement. When did he stop being my baby and become a real, live boy?

Lately, whenever I read a story about a tragedy involving a baby or child, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Yeah, yeah, motherhood has softened me, probably predictably. I can’t really help it - it’s like instead of having a baby inside me, after I had him I suddenly grew a heart and the ability to empathize.

In some ways I think I was expecting it - it seems natural and logical that these things develop after having a baby. But I wasn’t expecting a sympathy or empathy in the opposite direction. I read stories and news articles about parents who murder their children or cause great harm and abuse to their kids, either on purpose or not. I was actually going to type and link to the story, but I can’t. I just can’t.

Anyway, what surprises me most about how these stories affect me now is that I feel a tremendous empathy toward the mother of these children, who are killed or abused or harmed in any way. I remember how hard it was to bounce back emotionally after having Matthew - and I can only fathom, briefly, what it must be like to let myself get to the point where I would even consider abuse or violence as an option to handle my son. It scares the hell out of me. I feel the other way too - heartache for the baby, but I feel mostly scared - and an indescribable urge to creep into Matthew’s room and watch him breathe.

Babies will not digest certain foods. You find this out in the most disgusting way possible. Those certain foods are corn (expected), brown rice (unexpected).

A few months ago, I submitted an image of Matthew nursing, for a call for submissions for the 4th annual art of breastfeeding show in Brattleboro, Vermont. The Catherine Dianich gallery will be hosting the event.

I just got an email saying that they wanted to use that picture in the show! Holy crap! I am so excited. I just wish I could go see the photo in the gallery itself.

One of my favorite parenting sites is Ask Moxie. Her simple, sage advice helped me get through crazy ass weeks of sleep deprivation after I went back to work.

She recently wrote a review of a book (The Dangerous Book For Boys) and today, as a follow-up, a list of items that boys should know by the time they become men, and it’s just left a sour taste in my mouth.

1. How to sort and wash laundry properly
2. Writing thank-you notes
3. Tying a necktime
4. Talking your way out of a fistfight
5. Winning a fistfight
6. Ending a date politely without promising to call someone you have no intention of calling
7. Roasting a chicken, making risotto, cooking asparagus, and baking brownies
8. First Aid
9. Driving a Manual Transmission Car
10. The Rules of Soccer
11. Telling a Story Effectively

Are you kidding me? Most of these things I think all people should do before they become adults, or at least by the time they move out of the house. And some of these things I question their usefulness - like tying a necktie. I know plenty of successful people who have survived life without knowing how to tie the neatest ties.

“Roasting a chicken, making risotto, cooking asparagus, and baking brownies” - this appeals to the tastebuds of mine, but you know, there are plenty of perfectly mature men who don’t know how to make those. Those men instead might know how to make dumplings, knead dough for homemade noodles, fry tortillas to make tostadas, and steam eggs to make a breakfast custard.

I don’t profess to be an expert on boys - all I am a pseudo-expert is on my own son. I want so much for him - I want him to grow into a kind, compassionate human being, who chooses his words carefully and with intent, who loves without hesitation and fear, who knows how to function operationally as an adult (cook, clean, etc.), who knows when he needs to learn more and then just does it, and so much more.

If he doesn’t learn, as one of her readers says, “how to choose a diamond,” and isn’t considered an adult because of it, well, than so be it.

My So-Called Life in France: I totally dissed Gwen Stefani.

Swiped from Margaret Cho’s blog. I see Gwen Stefani’s name bandied about in breastfeeding communities, as a celebrity nurser. Come on, people. Aren’t there better role models in the world?

Stacie tagged me. What does a real mom do?

Moms take videos of their kids to blackmail them when they’re 18.

Real moms let their babies maul their bodies in the name of exploration. Be glad I didn’t take a video of Matthew unlatching from my breast while nursing to critically examine my nipple, and when I wasn’t paying attention, practiced the pincer grip.

Real moms also laugh, cry, don’t sleep, pump, nurse, feed, hug, caress and more.

Matthew had his nine month appointment on Monday, and he’s now a whopping 26 lbs. and 6.9 oz. - as I explained it to someone regarding his growth, he is on average heavier than 100% of the babies his age. His growth chart is consistent - just above the 100th percentile. He’s slowed down, which is nice - he’s given us a chance to get used to his weight.

I made it to 9 months of breastfeeding without formula (well, he had a smidge his first night because of low blood sugar). Please close your web browser windows and email clients if you have even so much of an urge to email me anything that says “lactation consultant, fenugreek, or oatmeal” - I am not an idiot and I have tried everything I can. Yesterday was his first full day of full-on formula supplementation - we’re trying a soy formula based on the recommendation of his pediatrician, who doesn’t think his issues are food allergy-related. So we try the soy formula, then if that goes well, we reintroduce dairy into my diet, which will be quite nice.

I only was able to pump something like 4 or 5 ounces on Monday in total, so we had quite a bit to supplement yesterday. I called Josh at one point and asked how he was doing. In my mind, I saw my son as a melodramatic martyr. “Give me breastmilk or give me death! Where’s my breastmilk? I DEMAND A RECOUNT!”

Predictably, Josh said, “Oh, he takes it like any other bottle.” Hmph. No brand loyalty, that boy.

Anyway, today’s pumping only required 1 ounce to supplement, so that’s nice. I know there are babies who thrive just fine on formula, and I am trying so hard not to become That Woman who’s That Way about formula versus breastfeeding, but I can’t help but feel like just even having the stupid can of formula in our house is going to make my breasts go on strike and dry the heck up. Blah.

A couple of weekends ago, Josh, Matthew and I survived the trip out of the city to the suburbs to visit a Babies R Us. Would you believe we never once stepped foot into a Babies R Us - ever? Not at all during the pregnancy, not after Matthew was born until he was 8 months old. I got it into my mind that there were some baby items we DESPERATELY NEEDED. Next time, I’m just going to buy the stuff online.

Babies R Us’ slant is definitely toward babies/kidstuff, to be sure, but it was just… over the top. It signified to me why motherhood (I say that very specifically) seems like one big festering competition, and what I hate about motherhood. There’s this sort of undercurrent about motherhood that if you don’t buy brand new, very expensive… stuff… for your babies, you are a bad mother. Babies R Us personifies the commercialization of motherhood that has me itchy. My son does not need a $400 crib with a matching bumper and sheets and ruffle. My son does not need an exersaucer that has 400 toys attached to it and is so busy I got tired just looking at it. My son does not need expensive clothes he’s going to outgrow in a New York second. My son does not need half of the things in this store, and yet here they were, in my face, taunting me.

Buy me. Buy me. You know you should. Doesn’t Matthew deserve the best? If you really loved him, you would buy him that $3-4-500 stroller. If you really loved him, you would buy it all for him.

I am totally projecting, I know. But it’s the little things - the pressure from commercialization, the pressure from work (at home and not), the pressure from the stupid internet, the pressure everywhere - that drive people batshit crazy. And it seems targeted only toward mothers. Where are the fathers in all of this? Babies R Us had a mother’s room for nursing moms, presumably - but where was the father’s room?

So never again. I will do my shopping online, and I will try not to grow new neuroses. The ones I have work just fine.