Answer to prayer

I have been struggling to love Teddy, and today he showed me that I need to slow down and really see how beautiful he is.

This morning we did errands to the south and then went straight to Lucia's speech therapy.

Lucia at her speech therapy. The sound of the week was /p/, so we worked on that.

She got the /k/ sound on her own and/or listening to her little brother.

We had three children running around: "Gok! Gok! Gok!"

Fr. Peter had to go straight to church to deal with the door and the locksmith, so I had the three kids who were having lunch at two o'clock as well as getting all the groceries in and put away. So I took a nap. (Let's just pause for a moment, because it really was a beautiful nap.)

So I noticed some movement, and there was Teddy at the doorway looking at me. I really didn't want him to need me to do anything that requires either speech or movement, so I asked, "What do you want?" and the reply was a simple: "I was going to kiss you when you were asleep." And I got a hug, and held his hand and closed my eyes. He stuck around, but didn't seem all that keen on just standing there, so I said he could come around and lie down next to me.

Then I figured I should say something, because I didn't want to just lose that lovely connection, of just liking him. I asked, "What was your favorite part of today?" and he said, "Having a balloon." (We went to a store for the first time ever and each child got a balloon on a stick.) Next question: "What was your favorite part of yesterday?" "Communion." It still floors me how important this is to him, just simply and viscerally. I don't know how to recover my conversational footing, so I asked, "What are you looking forward to?" and he replied, "Getting my balloon back."

I've been really praying to have the lightly-held connection between us get reinforced, and today it was. I am so grateful for his sensitive spirit. Sometimes—most of the time—that is hard to remember.

We also got permission to leave for our road trip a day earlier, splitting a 12-hour drive into two days, meaning we get to see some dearly beloved people for more than a fuel-and-stretch stop and still getting to our destination hours late. Of course, now that means there is less time to get everything in. I meant to do laundry today...

How We Became Hippie Parents, Part 2b

I did mean to get back to this a little earlier, but, well, the whole parenting thing.

So, round two: more on cloth diapers.  Evidently I have become the spokesman among my friends and acquaintances (and even my family's friends and acquaintances, on occasion) for cloth diapers.  I keep thinking that I have a post to point them to on my blog, but never seem to be able to find it when I'm looking for it.  (Now I look for it and find it, but we've changed a few things, so I'll just leave what I wrote and you'll have to re-read or skip or give me snarky comments.)

When my husband and I first started looking at using cloth diapers, we considered a few things:

• cost
• ease of use
• environment

Cloth diapers seemed to win in all those categories except, well, the dealing-with-poo part, which wasn't going to exactly be avoided with diaper-changing of whatever sort.

We were fortunate enough to be able to go to a brick-and-mortar cloth diaper store in our area (which is now online-only, but still a good resource) and have a knowledgeable person to ask questions of, and to look at the physical diapers themselves.  We decided to get 24 BumGenius one-size pocket diapers, which then were only available with aplix (like velcro) closures (eight each of blue, green, and white).  We were blessed to have been given a large amount of money at the baby shower, but it was still a large outlay.

I didn't want to get the diapers with snaps because I wasn't sure that they would give me enough flexibility in sizing, but that turned out to be silly.  The aplix ended up wearing out after the first kid, so in my online wishing that we'd gone with snaps in the first place, I found that others wished the same, and there were plenty of conversion tutorials online.  We bought a few snap-installing supplies ($52.05 including shipping for pliers (with cosmetic defect), and way more snaps, caps and sockets, than we need (still), but they come in bunches of 100) and I ripped off the aplix patches (woo seamripper fun!) and my husband installed the snaps per the instructions online.  (Just Google: convert cloth diaper and look for something you can follow, or pay someone to do it for you.  Or, radical idea, just buy the ones with the snaps in the first place.)

The elastic in the legs had also worn out by the time the second kid was about due, and that wasn't someplace we could afford to have openings!  I found more tutorials online, and ripped out the old elastic and replacing it ($2.60 from Joanne's for thread and elastic, and lots of time).  I hadn't done any sewing project since I was six and in a sewing class, so all I needed were basic sewing supplies, including a thimble (which was a gift from Reve) that I'd never had occasion to use before, but was exceedingly grateful for.  It was easier than I had hoped, as the elastic is only affixed at each end, not throughout the length of the leg hole.

Another thing we bought when first getting the diapers was a cloth diaper-pail liner.  And then we got another one, because when you're doing laundry, the baby is still using up those diapers and you'll need a place to put them.  The great thing about the cloth diaper-pail liner is that you can stuff all of the laundry into the washing machine including the bag.

The best purchase, though, has to be the diaper sprayer.  If you're doing cloth diapers, and your toilet has a flexible connection to the wall plumbing, just get one.  It's easy to install (especially if your husband does it for you; he says it's easy to install).  All the solids go into the toilet quite easily.  My mother's and sister's houses do not have the flexible connection, so when I visit them, I am scrubbing away in the toilet and my children just don't seem as charming as usual for those moments.  (And unless you have a low place to sit, your knees and shoulders hurt after a surprisingly short while.)

We had been gifted with some disposable diapers and wipes, but gave away the diapers, keeping the wipes for a while.  Soon, though, it dawned on us that we had to walk to a trash can to throw those away, separate from disposing of the diapery things into the diaper pail.  My brilliant engineer husband just went and bought 24 washcloths, and we just wet those and use them, rinsing and washing them with the rest of the diapers.

I don't think we've figured out the best diaper pail situation yet.  We bought a metal step-to-open trash can from Target, but that rusted after a while and was hard to clean.  After the move, we got a too-small click-top plastic trash can, but that doesn't seem to suit the size of diaper-pail liners and the click-top is horrible, as is the smell.  It's what we're using for now though.  My husband thinks we should get some sort of laundry basket with holes in it, as keeping the smell in seems to lend it strength; I remain unconvinced on airing out the diapers in the larger area of the bathroom (with my nose and no fan, and, currently, a non-opening window).  If you have any excellent solutions, please comment.

My sister, whose nose is much more refined than mine, kept me and the children at her house for five weeks.  She insisted that I wash the diapers every day, and her way of doing laundry included using Borax, which I found to greatly improve the smell of the diapers overall.

To prolong the life of the elastic, I started using a drying rack for the diaper covers.  When trying to be extra frugal, I was using it for all our clothes, especially during the summer, to reduce the amount of heat (and electricity) from the dryer.  Also, it takes a long while for the dense inserts to air-dry.  When using a drying rack for the inserts, I try to line things up so I'm putting the laundry on the rack around bedtime so they're dry in the morning and I'm not waiting for diapers.

We were very fortunate to be able to get a high-efficiency front-loading washing machine with a "sanitize" cycle.  It takes about two hours to wash the diapers with that cycle, but it does spin well enough so that in a pinch I can use a diaper cover straight out of there.  (The diapers come with a large insert and a small insert. If you're not using the small inserts daily, you can stick them in there, or any other absorbent cloth, in a pinch.)  We wash diapers about every other day, more with a newborn and less with an older child, depending on how many diapers are left available and whether we'll be out of the house during that time.

For the diaper bag, I never really found the travel cloth diaper wet-bags all that useful.  I use regular grocery bags, folded into triangles so I can find them by feel.

My mother was initially horrified by the high price (compared to the old-fashioned ones she had used on me, with the pins and the plastic pants), but after seeing me use them at her house, asked me to tell a few of her friends (with upcoming grandchildren) all about them.  My sister remains unconvinced entirely, but her youngest is seven-and-a-half, and I (thankfully, even when pregnant) am not as affected by smells as she is.

Preparing for using these same diapers with a third child, I'm looking into fixing one or two snaps (having fixed about six so far over the past 20 months, out of 24 snaps on each of 24 diapers is not so bad), replacing the elastic on two or three diapers' legs, and looking at the elastic on the backs of the diapers, too, which I have not yet replaced.  The fabric is starting to wear a little bit, but is still containing everything it needs to.  I don't know how things will go as far as having a newborn and an older child both using the diapers; right now we have things sized as large as they will go, but I guess snapping one or two snaps each time I change a diaper won't kill me if I don't let it.

Sorry for the repetition with Part 2, but I honestly didn't remember writing that one and was almost done with this one, and by gum, I'm gonna post it.  If I get on the ball, I might also post about the baby nose vacuum, using a mattress early rather than a crib, and using a cup early rather than a bottle or sippy cup.  But people keep asking me about cloth diapers (three in the past month), so it's been on my mind, especially considering I'll be Full Term on Thursday, and therefore eligible to have the baby within the next five weeks.  (Please pray that it's not during a liturgical service!  Our altar feast is January 7, and I think a bishop is coming.)

An Environment of Obedience

Today we visited St. Raphael in Iowa City for their altar feast (first Saturday of November: St. Raphael of Brooklyn).  Since we all travelled together and my husband always wants to be in time for Orthros, the kids and I were in and out of the sanctuary quite a bit.  In their bookstore, there was a little booklet I hadn't seen before called On the Upbringing of Children by Bishop Irenaius.  Lucia hadn't had any breakfast, so I fed her a breakfast bar and skimmed the chapter on obedience.

Bishop Irenaius (of Ekaterinburg and Sibirsk) wrote that if the environment is not one of obedience, then any lessons in obedience will not take root in the child.  That is, the parents must obey God, the Church, and the laws of man.  He also spoke of showering the child with love as well as tolerating only prompt obedience from the child.

Recently I have been pondering the meaning and practicing of love.  If I say I love my children, but only feel lovingly towards them and do not act lovingly towards them, how can I mean what I say?

I fall down on the job so many times, it is hard to see that I am ever rising to struggle forward.

I want our children to become good Christian adults, and that is enough of a motivation to wash the dishes, run the laundry, and scrape up the layers of debris which have collected over the office and living room (layer one: crayons, layer two: laundry, layer three: an entire box of stationery) so that everyone will have bright and cheerful rooms to greet them when they come downstairs.  Okay, so that at least the first person (probably Lucia) will have bright and cheerful rooms to greet her when she comes downstairs, and everyone else will have at least a brief reprieve from stepping on crayons and looking for socks and slipping on pieces of paper.  ...although it was pretty funny to watch Lucia struggle to wear Teddy's underwear on her head, pull the waistband over her eyes, and then snuggle up to Daddy as though she'd accomplished everything on her to-do list for the day.

I may not fall and get up and fall and get up, but at least I can creep forward on hands and knees.

Holy Week box: Holy Tuesday evening

Book: Children's Bible Reader
Ephemera: Icon of Christ the Bridegroom; holy oil to represent the oil with which the sinful woman anointed Christ; and three dimes to represent the thirty pieces of silver Judas received.

I gave Lucia different icons and a komboskini.  She's really getting into kissing icons, especially those of Jesus.  She also enjoyed playing with the box itself.  Now I just need to figure out how to make it close quietly...

Holy Week boxes

Yes!  I finally got started on these today!  (After two years, so I'm excited, even if I forget to bring them the rest of the week.)

First, I read the delightful "Tips for Surviving Evening Services with Little Ones."  Then I revisited the Holy Week boxes series: 2010, 2011, and 2012.  Then I went shopping and didn't remember to take a list with me.

The kids and I went to Joann's.  Teddy was wet, so we had to take care of that.  Lucia freaked out and threw up because she couldn't get to me (in the cart, right next to me, evidently was Not Good Enough).  Then we wandered around and looked at things (while I cringed at the noises we were making, sure that everyone knew how mean and horrible I really am).  I found plastic grapes which were quite large and some wooden "doll pegs," but not much else.  I had come in thinking that I would just get some felt scraps or sheets and muster up some figures to illustrate the stories of Holy Week, but I couldn't think of any (except "We should have a sheep"), and kept wandering the aisles.

So we picked up a package of felt sheets with a diverse color scheme, and some pipe cleaners with same (enough of the right colors for sheep and people), and snagged the wooden doll pegs, and put the giant bunch of grapes back.  I remembered seeing some wooden boxes, so we went and got two of the treasure-chest type.  I found a small lion at the front and got that, too.  (Lion of Judah, lion lying down with the lamb ... it would fit somehow, and Lucia specifically likes the lion in the library puzzle and in our own Noah's ark, so that would be something quiet for her.)

Then we went home and I studied up on the themes for each service in Holy Week, quickly getting overwhelmed.*  I reviewed the list of items for the Holy Week boxes.  I really liked the site for "Great Lent, Holy Week & Pascha" and supplemented that with the paperback The Year of Grace of the Lord.**  Then I went to the bookshelves and pulled relevant books, and went to the icon bookshelf ... and stashes of icons that have either been put out of the way or are still unpacked and pulled relevant icons and some laminated ones that aren't necessarily relevant but are safe for Lucia.  I thought I had at least something for the Three Holy Youths for Holy Saturday (no), as well as something for the Parable of the Talents (no).  I kicked myself for not doing anything yesterday, because I do have a lovely book on Joseph, who was one of the themes from yesterday's Bridegroom service.  Then I scrounged around all the junk drawers and boxes of hastily cleaned up toys and shelves and places for oddments and found enough things to satisfy me for now.

Books: Tomie de Paola's The Parables of Jesus (library discard, forgot how I got it) and Helen Caswell's Parable of the Bridesmaids (found last year at Goodwill).
For the Bridegroom, I was thrilled to find a bookmark (I'd forgotten about these!) that I'd gotten at our previous parish's festival from the monastery booth.  (Laminated icons, hooray!)
For the parable of the wise and foolish virgins, I used two of those little battery-operated tea-lights that I'd gotten around Christmastime for Teddy's play-censer.  I kept the plastic insert in one (so it wouldn't work), for the foolish virgins, and took the other out (so it would work) for the wise virgins.
For the parable of the talents, I took three of the wooden doll pegs (debated dressing them up and having another one in fancier dress for the master, but decided that I should just go simply at the beginning), two dimes, two nickles, and one penny.

We got to church early enough for us to read both stories and have me explain most of the items to Teddy.  I don't know if he was particularly interested in any of them (but he did like taking them out and scattering them all over the pew before continuing to ignore them), as I was walking up and and down and in and out with Lucia.  I was able to lean over to him a couple of times and point out, "This is about the Bridegroom.  Where is your icon of the Bridegroom?" or "Do you hear them singing about the wise and foolish virgins?  Which lamp is for the wise virgins?"  Teddy asked many questions like, "Why did they not bring enough oil? Why did they bring enough oil?  Why is the Bridegroom coming?" which I hope to answer, but didn't even attempt to this evening.

I found that reading the stories of the themes for the service put me into a more restful state of mind: I was able to pick up on the themes of the hymns, and listen better to the parts of the Gospel I was able to hear, much better than if I had done no preparation.  This reminded me of my father's habit of reading the epistle and Gospel reading for Mass the night before as well as right before the service, and his explanation that it helped him pay attention better.

This is my first Holy Week with two kids, and it is Tough.  I'm glad I read through those "tips," as Teddy was mostly content to snuggle in the pew with his blanket and pillow while Lucia and I walked and walked and walked.  Lucia had a box, too, with three laminated icons, a peg doll, and the little plush lion.  She was interested in his things and had no interest in the lion.  He wanted the lion.  *sigh*  I so called that while they were asleep at naptime this afternoon, but there was less throwing than I had worried about.

I have plenty of things ready for the rest of the week, manipulatives/ephemera and books.  There are only two boxes, so I'm just throwing everything else into a bag and pulling the things I need for the next service as soon as I get a break after we get home from the previous service.  (I at least know I am liable to forget.)  I am hoping to find an icon catalogue that I'd given to my husband and persuade him to make use of our laminator.  (I forgot he'd already bought one, and found one and was so thrilled with myself for remembering to buy it... it was very disappointing to realize that I hadn't saved us from not having a laminator, but instead had purchased a second one.)

*First of all, this collection of icons is awesomesauce, and I'm so glad I bookmarked it when I found it.  I had no idea there were icons of parables and Old Testament stories, etc., before I saw these.  I liked the one with the parable of the ten virgins, and found a better picture of the one of the last judgment (sheep and goats).  I also loved finding this icon of the last judgment ("Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these...").  That said, I was sad that this was the only icon I could find with the parable of the talents.  I want a big colorful one!

Another thing I found in my internet hunt was this moving story about a college professor, doughnuts, push-ups, and explaining the Gospel of Christ in a meaningful way.

**I thought it was an exciting and noteworthy connection from this book, that I'd never thought of before: St. John was the only one of the Twelve who stayed with Jesus through His passion ... and the only one of the Twelve who was not martyred.  p. 179: "All except one had abandoned [H]im during the harrowing hours of Golgotha...  Peter and the other apostles will share, through their own martyrdom, in the Passion of their Master..."

Yes, Ma'am

I was reading the book The Duggars: 20 and Counting! and enjoying the parenting tidbits, especially on obedience.

We've been having Teddy respond with "Yes, ma'am" or "Yes, sir" occasionally when we ask him to do something for us, but after this, I decided to enforce it a little more, as Michelle Duggar does to make sure that her children have heard her (to avoid "I forgot" or "I didn't hear you" excuses).

If Teddy doesn't say, "Yes, ma'am," right after I've told him to do something, now I prompt, "Yes, ma'am?" and he says it ... and then picks himself up and goes and does what I've asked with no further drama.  This may not last forever, but it sure is nice to have him just stop (throwing himself on the floor in "despair," whining, screaming (about my making him answer the question, "What are you doing?"—I mean, really?  Is it that hard to say, "I'm playing"?), etc.), but to have him actually stop and obey...it's a bit heady.

I can fake being a good parent even better now!

Bedtime stories

I'm still struggling along, trying to deal with philosophical questions like death, why bad things happen to good people, how to love others (especially when they drive me/my husband crazy), and bringing up children (in the way they should go, especially considering that I'm not all that great at staying headed in the right direction).

Reading to Teddy at bedtime seems to have helped more than anything else in terms of my having patience with him.  We are in the middle of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and he is pretty good about asking for it.  We read one, one-and-a-half, or two chapters each night, and only skip if either of us is not feeling up to it or it's much too late for reading.  I think he is getting more comfortable using his words to tell me when he's had enough, and (I hope) I am getting better at talking to him and drawing out answers without jumping all over him and expecting too much (which just frustrates both of us).

I've found that I'm calmer through the day, with Teddy, Lucia, and VP.  Our home seems more peaceful (although this has not seemed to affect the dreadfully neglected laundry or dishes).

It seems like it's been so long since I've actually been able to enjoy being with my little boy.  He really is wonderful.  I'm more than a little bit afraid that this is just a fluke, that something will come up to upset the balance and I'll turn into horrible screaming mommy again.  Please keep praying for me.

Thoughts on Medicine and Health

Yesterday I went to the ER for chest pain. After the initial rush (shortness of breath, chest pain, and being six months pregnant moves you to the front of the line, evidently), I was stuck in a room without even a call button. I had an X-ray, an EKG, and a CT scan to see whether there were any problems with my heart or lungs or whether I had any blood clots. I seem to have disappointed the doctor with my normal readings, and he sent me home with a stern injunction to see a real doctor—not just a midwife. His diagnosis? Chest pain.

Last night was excruciatingly painful, as I could not find a comfortable position for sleep. I caught a little in Teddy's rocking chair, a few minutes on the couch, another while leaning/lying on the bed until my knees gave out, then sitting up with my legs crossed until my legs fell asleep. I finally got a lovely hour and a half lying on my belly (so you know it wasn't the usual kind of comfortable already) with pillows all under my front, terrified to move and exacerbate the pain ... which makes it a little difficult to relax enough to sleep.

This afternoon I was able to sleep for a glorious two hours. (Interrupted twenty minutes in by Teddy, who then napped next to me.) I was on my back, with the chest pain not gone, but not as terrifyingly *present* as it has been these past two nights. (The first night I made it through by being propped up on the sofa.)

Tomorrow afternoon I'll find out what a chiropractor can do for me. (I've never been to a chiropractor, and had some muddled mental image of an acupuncturist.) What with all the contortions last night, I'm sore all over. The midwives had originally suggested I see a chiropractor for an alignment before labor because I had such a tough time with Teddy, possibly due to the rods in my back. Then I was referred to her because the baby likes to be head-up rather than the preferred head-down position*; a chiropractor would be able to make sure the ligaments and what-not are nimble enough so that the baby can be turned before and during labor. Then all this chest pain crud, which my midwife thinks is either gas (gasx doesn't seem to help), or something stretched due to the bout with food poisoning last week.**

*A breech birth, with the baby remaining head-up would necessitate not only a hospital birth but surgery, due to Florida state law. An alternative is living out-of-state, but with a due date of "the week before Holy Week," that's not appealing either.

**2011 is a bit more exciting than we'd expected. I won't be eating hot dogs any time soon. Also, my first first-hand experience with food poisoning ... at six months pregnant ... and my husband feeling miserable, too (he got better quickly) ... and Teddy, poor love, only throwing up while he was asleep ... I thought things would get slower after the Theophany craziness, which this year included the funerary viewing of a priest the day before (and an extra four hours' drive).

In any case, I meant to write about medicine and health. When we went to see the midwife after the ER doctor had released me, I felt safe. These were people who knew and cared about me. One of the aides asked whether they'd felt my gallbladder, and my midwife quickly jumped in: "They don't like to touch people." I realized that that was quite true. I'd had all these people coming in, giving me a sheet of paper or asking for my credit card, asking me my name and date of birth, not introducing themselves for the most part, whisking me hither and yon—I literally had to ask directions for the exit because nobody told me how to leave—and not telling me how to contact a nurse if I needed one. (The one lab technician who left me with a call button didn't bother to see that it wasn't actually plugged in; fortunately he was kind enough to give my nurse the message that I'd like to see her.)

I don't like hospitals because you cease to be a person. You put your own health and, necessarily, your trust in people who view you as an object of tests and procedures, who are only interested in making sure *you* fit *their* perspective.*** I sent Teddy and Fr. Peter home for lunch, which was scary for me, as I like to have another adult present at all times when I'm in the hospital. (I'm sick and scared, especially without a diagnosis, and I want someone whom I *do* trust to look out for my best interests.) I'm six months pregnant and had only had toast for breakfast (there was Orthros and Divine Liturgy and not much time for more), and was admitted around lunchtime. I was fed because I'd asked for a drink of water; I couldn't get that myself because I was all tied up to the bed with wires and had no idea how to put the bedrails down.

***I wonder whether people have this view of the Church, and how we can work to change that.

I'm still angry at the doctor who released my father from the hospital when his numbers looked fine. (The nurses were horrified to learn he'd been discharged; they knew my father wasn't well enough to leave just by looking at him ... he was readmitted two days later via the emergency room and died in the hospital.) I'm afraid of hospital errors like what happened after my back surgery: I took morphine orally, the nurse wrote it on the chart, I threw up everything, and the shift changed. I didn't have morphine for two hours despite my mother and father's begging, because "it's in the chart" ... fortunately, I only have a nightmare remembrance of that, but that's a "10" on the pain scale for me. There was the hospital nurse who came to take the stitches out of my hand. For stitches, there's a knot, the thread goes through the flesh, and comes out in a knot on the other side. She was supposed to cut one knot, then pull the thread out. She cut *both* knots off, and then had no way to get the thread out. I had my dad resterilize the tweezers and keep her off of me and I took out my own stitches. (And this was when I was still recuperating from back surgery.)

So that's some of the history of why I never want to be in labor or give birth in a hospital. I will drink crazy drinks, I will take weird vitamins and minerals, I will try papaya enzyme (tastes pretty good, actually). I will turn to my midwives and listen to their referrals to chiropractors. We can talk about God and about my husband's being a priest without being awkward. They are not afraid to share their faith with me. That's how I know they see me as a person.

**Disclaimer: There *are* wonderful people who work in hospitals, and I am grateful for their care and their help. I just can't automatically rely on everyone in a hospital setting to see *me* the way I can at the birthing center.

Adventures in Homeschooling ... and stuff

I am a great waffler on homeschooling. I think it's a marvellous idea. I just don't know whether it's a good fit for either me or for Teddy.

Recently, I read an article suggested by an esteemed friend regarding homeschooling and socialization.

I remember looking over my Montessori "report cards" from when I was small and seeing non-standard subjects. So I thought about what subjects I'd like Teddy to cover right now and came up with a few: reading, writing, arithmetic, life skills (cooking, cleaning, laundry), beauty (art, nature, music, dance), and religion. I jotted down an age-appropriate goal or activity to go with each section.

Since my husband will be out of town for the next couple of days, I figured that making a schedule for my day would be useful. Today has gone quite well. I'm glad that I put in meal preparation times, and am being flexible with myself. (We didn't take a walk this morning, sending Dadda off on his trip instead, and I was late going on errands and couldn't find the blasted lightbulb (bought others which don't fit the little icon light), so we'll go shopping for foods tomorrow.)

My current goals for Teddy:
*reading: putting letters together, like a hornbook sort of thing; maybe I'll try the second lesson tomorrow
*writing: tracing letters; I need to be more prepared for this, as Teddy only wanted to copy the dots. Maybe I can print something out from here
*arithmetic: counting physical items; Teddy tends to keep on going with the numbers, so there may be three items, but he'll count to eleven or twelve
*life skills:
**cooking: we made banana bread today; Teddy loves watching anything about baking
**cleaning: pick up toys and dust baseboards; he's getting better about the first, and I thought he might enjoy something with a dustrag which would save me some bending over; I haven't introduced the latter yet
**laundry: put away clothes; he's pretty good about moving laundry between baskets and machines, but after it's out of the dryer, it usually ends up on the couch for a few days
*beauty:
**art: look at children's art books; haven't pulled any of the multitudes we have yet
**nature: take a walk; oh, well; we'll try again tomorrow
**music: match pitch; I felt like I should have a goal, but he started singing along with the Romanian Christmas carol cd, so I felt progress was made
**dance: clap on beat; again with the need to have a goal, but maybe we'll try this when I watch more Jeeves and Wooster tonight - there's fun music!
*religion:
**icon identification: he picked up on St. Savas last night from a church school display, and did pretty well with St. Barbara and St. Nicholas
**prayers by heart: he was shouting "Agios athanatos, eleison imas!" earlier, so I'll just slow down the usual bedtime prayers
**listen to Mama read the Gospel: oh, yeah, I forgot to do that this morning because I slept in almost a full hour

I think the hardest thing about the Montessori ideas is "a prepared environment" ... and close after that "a prepared teacher." I am trying to make sure that he knows what clean and tidy is ... and thinks it's normal. I wish this were the case for me. Thank goodness for "Auntie Leila"!

Husband just called to report the delivery of both NSP newsletters to the Metropolis and grandmother's chairs to aunt's house!

How long does it take roofers to put a new roof on and why do they seem to work the loudest during Teddy's naptime?

Looking for things, I cleared off an entire section of kitchen counter which just looks and feels wonderful. This is not the kitchen reorganization I was thinking of doing over the next three days, but it's nice to have the dishes done and a whole flat surface to just ... be flat with nothing on it. (I have a tray of miscellany, but moved that somewhere that was already cluttered so I could have a little bit more of success right now.)

I think it is time for a snack, as I am unable to focus. Either that, or I've run out of things to say.

Stretched Too Thin

Dear friends,

I am struggling. I am the mother of an ever-increasingly-active two-year-old boy. And I am the choir director of our church, as well as the main chanter. These two callings do not work well together, especially as, stretched thin by those demands, I am thickening in the middle. (The baby is due the week before Holy Week.)

Today I received word from a friend on the parish council that he and another parish council member have been receiving complaints about Teddy's behavior. I did not ask for details.

It seems that I have different expectations of my son than everyone else in the entire parish, except my husband. This morning I was filled with joy because Teddy was singing along with the choir more than he ever has before. Instead of just "Lord, have mercy," "Kyrie, eleison," "To You, O Lord," and "Amen," he was singing the trisagion hymn and parts of other hymns in both Greek and English. At the same time, I was frustrated that he still kicks and bangs on the pews, with his feet and with his little cars. I am fine with him standing on a little box to see out of the choir loft, but this makes several members of the choir almost terrified that he'll fall down. He was stopped from going downstairs (after I had specifically said that he should, as he wanted a certain favorite parishioner who was downstairs and I told him he could go and see his Vickie) by one of the choir members who really upset him by picking him up and trying to keep him in the choir loft. She asked doubtfully, "Can he go down the stairs by himself?" People, he's been going up and down those stairs for months. By himself. Carrying toys and whatnot. Plus, I *told* him to go downstairs. Another choir member, better known to Teddy and myself, picked him up and talked to him, but he was still upset enough that I had to hold him almost the rest of the service.

He knows when the Gospel is. He knows he must either be held by me or sit or stand quietly. He sings, "Glory to You, O Lord," at just the right times, without any cues besides what's going on in the service. On the other hand, he's a wiggly two-year-old.

People usually come to me after I'm wrung out with trying to at least contain him when he's been acting up all through the services and say, "Oh, he was so *good* today!" So I appreciated being told that there have been problems with his behavior. (I wouldn't have brought him to the whole parish council meeting if I hadn't needed to tell the parish council things ... and, no, I don't trust my husband to remember them; he's got his own things he needs to take care of.)

The choir and I can't agree on a time for rehearsal. They say they'll come during Orthros (great, but I'm in church) or after Liturgy (I'm exhausted by then; again: I come to Orthros), but not after Vespers on Saturday. So then they're frustrated at sight-reading on Sunday morning. (I am one of very few people who can read music, and even for "Amen" some of them (who very much need to) just won't look up. Now I know what my band directors were always talking about.)

I don't mind preparing the music, and I don't mind singing planned (or unplanned) solos, even though this morning when I was going to review the music, I broke the plug for our electronic keyboard at home and have no idea whether I stayed in tone 4 for the hymn in church. Fr. Peter usually runs the rehearsals, as he's directed choirs properly before. We've talked about recording the hymns ahead of time and putting them on the church website, but there never seems to be time ... without a noisy boy in the background.

God gave me a husband and a son. The choir literally tricked me into being the choir director. (The parish has no money budgeted for a choir director next year, and there are few parishioners who are able, let alone willing, to step in.) It's painful to listen to this choir when there is no director. It's horrible to watch Teddy act up or cry and I'm not able to get to him because I'm in the middle of conducting a hymn. I love having Teddy in the choir, though. I love having him sing, even if he's playing with his trucks at the same time.

Because of the upcoming little one, my time as choir director is necessarily temporary, but with these new-to-me complaints, and with Teddy's increasing wiggliness, I think it will have to be shorter than I had previously expected.

Please pray that I am making the right decision. (I am sure there will still be complaints about the choir and about Teddy's behavior, myself chief among complainers as among sinners.) Teddy, my Theodore, my gift of God—he must come first. As my husband pointed out today in his focus on godparents: I will be judged for my efforts in bringing those in my care to Christ.

As usual, I wish there were an easy answer. Preferably involving ice cream. However, as in giving birth, the only way out is through, taking all my concentration and energy, for a most worthwhile effort.

O Lady who entered into the Temple today as a small child, the Holy of Holies who are yourself so near to God, intercede for me to your Son.

How We Became Hippie Parents, Part 2

I know, everyone's just been *waiting* for me to continue. Har har. But Rachel said I should go ahead and blog about the things I'm enthusiastic about discovering. (Thank you, Rachel.)

So after a natural childbirth (no thanks to the Harrington rods), the next hippie step we took was cloth diapers.

We were fortunate to have a storefront cloth diaper store (which moved from Florida to Minnesota), so we were able to go in and look and feel the various kinds of diapers they had, and even have the employees there (one at a time) tell us about the various differences between them, and about the various accessories which others had found useful. Basically, I really liked the BumGenius 3.0 One Size pocket diapers, and we were (again) fortunate to be able to make an investment in 24 of the suckers.

BumGenius 3.0 One Size, after 21 months of use:
+excellent absorbency (compared with a few days of disposable/explodable diapers)
+good fit and easy to adjust the size with snaps
---velcro wears out somewhat easily; others have dealt with this by replacing the velcro tabs (getting replacement tabs for free (at the time) from the manufacturer, although I can't find a link now, and sewing them on themselves)

My workaround for the velcro problem: when I take the diaper covers out of the dryer (which also helps with the velcro), I (1) pinch out large clumps of whatever they've picked up (thread and lint; the laundry tabs were the first things to go) and then (2) pinch each hook-side tab together, rubbing it against itself which helps keep the tab from curling further, and (3) keep Teddy in a onesie, often with shorts, to make sure that the diaper stays on (overalls do not work with this tactic, for the most part)

So, if I had to choose again, I would pick something similar (pocket diaper), but make all the adjustable parts with snaps, like the new BumGenius One Size, and like FuzziBunz have been doing all the time (that I know of).

We really only needed the diapers, but there have been a few accessories purchases I highly suggest: cloth diaper pail liners (with a diaper pail, i.e., trash can with step-on lid-opener from Target) and the awesome diaper sprayer (also good for rinsing the tub or feet!).

But cloth diapering is not the extent of the scatological hippieness, oh no! (I wonder how many hits my blog will get for that phrase...) There's something called Elimination Communication (or EC), and it's sort of like potty training (hopefully the end result is the same: the child learning to use the potty himself) but it isn't quite. Basically, it's paying attention to your child and figuring out when he needs to go (after waking up, before and after a bath, around mealtimes, and before bedtime are good places to start trying), and taking him. If he can't sit up yet, you can hold him over the potty. I recommend bringing a book (for you or him) or having special toys to play with on the potty (easily washable is good -- use your dishwasher for extra clean after cleaning it yourself) or fun songs to sing using your fingers (Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes, The Eensy-Weensy Spider, and a Romanian elephant counting song (the one where they're swinging in a spider web, which I've found in several language variants, but I only know the Romanian one, thanks to my husband) were the ones we used for Teddy).

(1) I read The Diaper Free Baby and realized: "Hey, I don't have to do this all the time. Each time Teddy uses the potty is a little victory, and eventually, the diapers will go away. Each time Teddy misses, it's okay; I'll just clean up and move on." (Poop in the potty (with a diaper rinser) versus poopy diaper (and the poo will get all over his everything is a no-brainer; if you're still confused, potty = good. The second part, moving on, was crucial for me and my husband.)

(2) I read this post by a Montessori teacher and mother, and was blown away with the realization that I didn't have to put the potty on the bathroom floor! I could put it on the counter (with a heck of a lot of supervision, but much easier on my back); I could put it in the bathtub (for misses, any tendency to tip the potty over, or just so he couldn't escape ... as easily, or I could put it in the kitchen if that's where we were).

(3) I bought three potties at IKEA (Lättsam) after reading reviews which said they're cheap (yes) and easy to clean (yes). Now we have one in each bathroom and one at my mother's house. Teddy was terrified of the adult-size toilet, and the only good toddler toilet seat I found isn't made for elongated toilet bowls.

I started Teddy using the potty when he was about eight months old. I am glad to have a sister who encouraged me with her experience; she's lived for a bit in India and started her children sitting (terrified that they'd fall in, from what I remember) on the toilet when they were about six months old. I also got training pants from her, and Teddy will pick "underwear" over "diaper" almost every single time. (Which wreaks havoc on my usual laundry schedule which is based on having three diapers left; I may recover.) Today, at 21 months, he has learned to pull down his own underwear (okay, take it all the way off, despite my best efforts) when asked (although he's starting to have more initiative), tell me that he's going pee-pee (usually after he has, a little, but less and less each time), sit on and use the potty, and, awesomely, tell me when he's done—or not. (I love asking: "Are you all done? Are you finished?" and getting his exasperated: "No! Pee-pee!" like he's saying, "Hey, quit trying to rush me! I'm all grown up and using the potty all by myself!") Of course, today we had three instances of poopy diapers (one in the swim diaper,* alas, but I still think we're making progress overall.

*Swim diapers by Imse Vimse and Speedo (found at Target, in their kids' summer swim gear section) have been pretty awesome for our little fish.

In sum, here's my advice:
*Find a place to look at actual cloth diapers before you buy, and steer away from velcro if you can. (Used diapers can often be found on craigslist.) Follow the manufacturer's washing instructions as best you can! I really like the one-size pocket diapers.
*Totally get a diaper rinser. (Make sure your toilet has the adjustable connection to the wall plumbing.) The cloth diaper bags are a good idea, but you'll need two, since you'll be washing one and still need something to put soiled linens in.
*Read The Diaper Free Baby and consider whether this is something you're interested in. You don't have to buy anything extra and you might find that it's easier than you thought, especially since you just have to take it one potty trip at a time.
*Get a potty or toilet seat you and your child are comfortable with. (I figured that if Teddy's screaming about sitting on the toilet, he probably won't be relaxed enough to use it, and since the IKEA potties had good reviews and were under $4, I could experiment.)

Why did we choose cloth diapers? The main point was cost. It's cheaper to use cloth diapers than disposables ... and if we have another child, we'd only pay to use the washing machine (and dryer). The initial investment can be difficult, but we found it to be worth it. Another point was reducing our trash so we don't build up the landfills as much. I admit, I still use plastic bags to carry dirty diapers home, but there are cloth bags which do the same. I think I also read somewhere that human waste isn't supposed to go in the trash, so I feel better about putting waste in the toilet.

My mother was initially horrified at the cost of the new-fangled diapers compared to the cloth diapers she'd used for me (prefolds with pins (augh!) and plastic pants (again: augh!), but once Teddy and I visited her house, she seemed to fall in love with them, and ask me to tell her friend (with a new grandbaby) all about them.

There's still more weird parenting choices to blog about, so either wait (another 18 months!?) or let me know you want more.

Winning

I have had "blog about BOB books prize" on my to-do list for months.

In January, I won a prize through the Letters of Grace giveaway. Letters of Grace is an Orthodox homeschooling curriculum geared toward children learning to read. It is the product of much hard work from Mary, Anna, and Matushka Emily. These three ladies have created beautiful and harmonious lessons and tested them on their own families, and are freely sharing their work.
***
Teddy loves his BOB books. I thought he'd be too young for them, as they are meant to be read by the child. He'd keep coming up to me and to his father, pushing the first book into our hands and demanding: "Mat! Mat!" (the name of the first book). He loves taking the books out of the box and putting them back in, solemnly turning pages and "reading" them himself, then bringing them to us to unlock their non-plots.

I worry that Teddy won't read enough. I worry that he'll read too much (as I did, and probably do). But I love sharing the discoveries with him. (Okay, most of the time, since I've put the BOB books out of reach for a while. "Mat! Mat!" can be too much since Teddy can't read them himself yet.)
***
So I just wanted to give thanks for Letters of Grace and its creators and share this wonderful resource.

No Jury Duty

I know most people want to get out of jury duty, but I had been rather looking forward to participating. Unfortunately, Teddy probably wouldn't be happy at being separated from his food for an entire workday. (We tried bottle feeding once, and all three of us were exhausted and unhappy afterwards.)

I was excused as "a parent or legal guardian of a child under 6 and not full-time employed." I think it's neat that I was able to do this online, but a little sad that I couldn't add a note: Try back when my son is weaned!

I don't get to use the word "weaned" enough, I think. Also, I like calling Teddy "yeanling," thanks to Fr. Seraphim's influence. (Mary was referred to as "the Ewe that yeaned the Lamb of God.")

Promises, Promises

Okay, folks, I got myself in trouble this time. I commented on Mimi's blog and (somewhat inadvertently) committed myself to participating. I have an entire year to forget and procrastinate! Yet, I live in hope.

I agreed to participate in the following “crazy train” so now I must post the following:—"Crazy Chain of Making" (from ramsey to Jocelyn to Laura to Mimi to me)

The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me. It will be about or tailored to those five people.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:
- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
- What I create will be just for you.
- It'll be completed this year.
- You have no clue what it's going to be or when its going to be. It may be fiction. It may be poetry. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you have to put this in your journal as well, if you expect me to do something for you!

*Please put your postal address & email address in your comment or email it to me!—In other news, I am sick. I have committed to taking Teddy to a Tampa Bay area clergy vasilopita cutting—very confusing; what's wrong with January 1?—tomorrow night. Fr. Peter will be starting his lifeguarding training, so he won't be going.

I also want to say that I have a total crush on this blog (this post in particular, and the blog in general). The pictures and writings are reflections of true beauty which I believe is only found in a life lived in pursuit of Truth (Himself). I understand that when one has time to blog, things often look nicer than the everyday messes of life, but I'm the kind of person who goes to museums and says, "I need this for my house." (Rather a problem when the original items included a large assembly of household and grounds staff ...) But I do need this for my life: a commitment to strive for the good things, to make my family into saints, to make our house into a home (somehow this involves vacuuming more often, I think), and to participate more fully in creation (gardening and volunteering). I am so frustrated that I am, and will always be, miles away from all of my goals, and that it's so difficult to just keep up with just the very basics (forget dishes and cleaning the bathroom, I'm talking remembering to get dressed and eat meals, nevermind trying to get back to meal planning).

I want to be the kind of person who has a calm center based on prayer and service to Christ. I want to be well-educated, aware of the issues in the world and local community—not just someone with an expensive piece of paper. I want to be able to invite people over to our house for dinner more often than twice a year. I want to not have to remember where I've stuffed the papers I hid (to be filed) when cleaning up for houseguests. I'll be 29 in March, and I don't feel even slightly grown up, except that I can make myself eat vegetables sometimes. It's hard to fight off the feeling that since I want something that's really hard to get, that it's not even worth trying—I think that has always been my hardest obstacle.

I finished reading a Montessori book today, and while I don't agree with several of the authors' ideas ("doctrine and dogma" seem just as bad to them as "Naziism and socialism"—what?!), I do like the idea of giving the child tools which will be useful to him as a man. I have to work to acquire the tools of self-discipline, cleanliness, and order before I can help my son.

I think I will start by taking my vitamin for the day and drinking another large glass of orange juice.

How We Became Hippie Parents, Part 1

Well, let's start the finger-pointing. Mairs' story of the birth of her daughter made the Bradley Method and natural childbirth get into my head. I found the list of Bradley Method teachers online, and my husband contacted one. She said that she was taking a break from teaching, and referred us to another teacher on the list.

I checked out some of the books listed on the Bradley website. (Here are my reviews of parenting books.) I wanted to read the original thoughts of the doctors who came up with the natural childbirth ideas, and read the "basic" books I could find for Bradley (also called "Husband-Coached Childbirth"), Lamaze, and almost anything else I could get my hands on. However, after reading Dr. Bradley's Husband-Coached Childbirth, I realized that everything else sounded silly, and this was obviously the best way to go for us.

So we signed up for classes and started going to them. Our Bradley Method teacher had a little library of books and other media to check out, so I happily perused several of those options.

Then it was time for the Birth Plan. (If you know me at all, you understand that my love of over-planning and of making lists warrants the capitalization.) So I asked my OB/GYN (several of them, repeatedly, since it's a group) about the various "normal" things. And the more I learned about natural childbirth, the more I realized that ... um ... my doctors weren't listening to me. Coming up with several drafts of a birth plan, they seemed to get a particular Look on their faces when they came across things like "no IV" and "food and water." (If there is a desire for an explanation of what I wanted and why, I'll be happy to explain. I took lots of notes, and may even be able to find some of them.)

We took the suggested hospital childbirth preparation class, and the idea struck me that I was going to be much too busy having the baby to try to fight the doctors and nurses to get them to leave me alone when I didn't want interventions.

So we took this difficulty to our Bradley Method teacher and she suggested taking a tour of the local birthing center. When we went to look at cloth diapers at a nearby store, I picked up a flyer (wow, the hippie-ness!) and there was an advertisement for the birthing center there, too. So we made the appointment. I never had to discuss my Birth Plan with the midwives there. Every single thing in my birth plan was their normal operating procedure. Also, the birthing center was nice and cozy, and the people seemed especially friendly and attentive.

So we switched (after much worry (on my part, at least) and discussion) from the standard, everyone-normal-does-this OB/GYN to the almost underground alternative midwife-staffed birthing center.

I borrowed Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin from our Bradley Method teacher's lending library. I thought there would be lots of theory and discussion, like many of the other books on natural childbirth I'd been reading. On the contrary, this book was mostly birth stories written by the mothers, fathers, midwives, and attendants, in their own language. (This had initially put me off, as it was written by actual hippies who had "rushes" instead of contractions and when things were serious, they were "heavy.") Yet when the midwife asked me to make the decision during labor of whether I wanted her to break my waters, I knew that Ina May Gaskin (after whom the Gaskin Maneuver was named) regularly broke the waters of the mothers under her care, so I was able to make an informed decision, despite being in heavy labor.

Oh, and when we took the hospital tour, I was just laughing to myself that I had ever considered going to the hospital over the birthing center.

Before I get too ahead of myself, I just want to say "thank you" to Mairs for her unintentional help to me, my husband, and our little son.

(I also want to add that although I have nothing against going to the hospital, I have had too many unpleasant experiences in the hospital (and one at this particular hospital) to make me feel altogether comfortable trusting the staff there.

(When I was sixteen I had back surgery (insertion of Harrington rods for scoliosis) and stayed in the hospital for a week. At one point during that week, I was given morphine orally. I threw it up, and the nurses changed shifts. They had down on my chart that I had taken the morphine, and, despite my mother's protests (which are all I remember coherently, besides pain), they would not give me any more for the next two hours.

(My father was discharged from the hospital by a doctor who looked at the test results instead of the man. The nurses, when he had to be readmitted within a few days, were shocked. One said, "He should never have been discharged!" Within a week, my father was dead.

(When I had a miscarriage later that summer, and I wanted to have one more ultrasound to make sure (and to give God one more chance for a miracle) the morning I had the D&C, I had everyone except the sonogram technician express complete disbelief that it was even possible for me to have a full bladder (for the sonogram) and to not have eaten or drunk anything that morning. Don't most people have any idea of biology, or the fact that it takes time to process what you eat and drink?

(When my mother goes to the hospital, she always gets an itemized bill and checks it, and has taught me to do the same. She has had to fight to get things removed from the bill like the anesthesiologist fee. She didn't *have* an anesthesiologist.

(And that is why I don't like hospitals. I will use them when necessary, but I don't trust them. This is not to say that there aren't good people working in hospitals, but when you already have an idea that people aren't going to listen to you ...)

The Parenting Paradigm

After conversation with my husband about where to put posts on parenting (which question he said I answered myself), it has been decided that parenting rambling will go here rather than there.

Mostly, I'd like to have a place where I feel comfortable talking about our and my parenting choices, and being excited about learning new things about the developing little person we have in our family.

Today is the first time I have felt like a competent mommy. The past several days have been hectic (something outside the home in the morning, afternoon, and evening, almost every day since Friday), and today I didn't have to leave home at all. (I love staying at home, in my box of a house. I do have to make an effort to take walks outside, and be in sunshine, etc. For the record, Teddy and I took two little front-yard-only walks today.)

I do not know how related it is, but today was also the first day I tried to cut down on the pacifier use. I was confident in my decisions to put him down for his naps. I set the timer for five minutes and let him wail (taking notes on changes in tone to help me not go in to him). After the timer went off, I tried caressing his forehead to soothe him, but he kept fussing, so in went the paci, after which he was asleep if not right away then by the time the timer marked another five minutes. (I have a really bad sense of time.) Throughout the day, he didn't really cry at the changing table, and seemed to cry less at on my lap as I prepared to feed him.

I have been reading and listening to plenty of advice over the past three months. Reading includes several Montessori things (in books and online) and lots of parenting blogs. Advice has included my family (mother: he's too cold; sister: he's too hot; conclusion: he's just fine), parishioners of our home parish as well as other parishes (including one Greek lady who assured me that my next* will be a girl), and random people (what a sweet little girl!). And then there are all the people who give me advice, and, either just before or just afterwards, tell me I should go with my gut. Well, my gut is now educated, advised, driven by hormones, and has made compromises with my husband on how to deal with child-based challenges. So it's a very confused gut indeed, and I don't always know even what I want to do.

*We have postponed the actual discussion of having another child until all three of us have made it to September 2009.

We went to confession on Monday, and I raised the difficulty I had been having with receiving advice. I do know people mean well, but it's awfully hard to hear the same criticisms over and over without feeling rather resentful. For instance, having my baby in a sling: "He's always in there." "Isn't that bad for his spine?" "Isn't that bad for your back?" "He'll be growing out of that soon." And the first coffee hour, people kept putting cash right next to his face and hands. I'm a new mommy and I reserve the right to be germophobic. I put him in the sling because he likes it, I like it, and I remembered the Greek custom of "spitting"* to "keep away the evil eye"** and figured that if I kept him close to me, people would keep their distance a bit more than if he were in the stroller. (Ha! to the last part. Some do, but they don't cancel out the ones who don't.)

*One, in the service of baptism, you spit on the devil, not on the baby, and I really don't care for the association. Two, just because you mean to fake spit doesn't mean you are not actually spitting, and that's just gross. (I was "spat" on during pregnancy, and that's okay, but not on my baby with the immune system still being worked on, thankyouverymuch.)

**Once he's baptized, as pointed out by the abbess of the Annunciation Monastery, the evil eye can't hurt him. Also, I think the idea of the evil eye isn't worth bothering about.

So anyway, in confession Fr. Petros helped me focus on the fact that a priest's child is a child of the community, and everyone wants to have a share in loving him. (Selfish grumble: mine! mine!) So I will do my best to keep smiling and "thanking them for their contribution" as Fr. Petros put it. Also, I have the satisfaction of taking him home with me and doing mostly as I please with the boy.

For whatever reason, praise and questions are almost as annoying as criticism. Although I do like the praise much better, I am a little tired of being asked whether I am breastfeeding (yes) and told that I made the right choice (or: "Good for you!"). Perhaps it is the quantity, or the fact that breastfeeding seems more like a non-choice to me: I decided on it, my husband supports me, and by now it is working.

This post is already long, but I will try to keep posting as my brain and baby allow. I hope to answer the thought my husband had when he (a "veteran dad" of two months) brought our son to the Boot Camp for New Dads, "When did we turn into the hippie parents?"