An Alternative to Water Boarding

I can't for sure say how well this would work when cracking a terrorist, but it seemed to drive a Lhasa Apso to her breaking point.

Thankfully

Thankfully, I can truly appreciate my mom now that I am a mom.

Thankfully, a glass of wine cuts my annoyance at picking up crayons for the 12th time today.

Thankfully, I get to work part-time.

Thankfully, I have a daughter with a healthy body and inquisitive mind.

Thankfully, Scout doesn't have to be put to sleep immediately.

Thankfully, I live close to my mother.

Thankfully, Violet is sleeping like an angel.

Thankfully, my siblings are still a big part of my life.

Thankfully, our marriage is the safest place I know.

Thankfully, cleaning up dog whizz is less tedious when said dog is on her last leg.

Thankfully, I threw out the Halloween candy before the pies arrive.

Thankfully, I found volunteer work that feeds my soul.

Thankfully, little boys are a part of my life even if I never have a son.

Thankfully, Shawn doesn't pick on me for being a little soft in the middle.

Thankfully, I have nutritious food to eat and usually have enough sense to choose it over Kit-Kats.

Thankfully, there are still interesting people to meet, books to read, and places to visit.

Thankfully, I was plunked down in the right place, during the right time, and among the right people. I have never known war or hunger or poverty. Amazingly, I am surrounded by people who love me and care for me and who show me how to do the same for others.

I am so fortunate and so, so, thankful.

The Bad Habit

This post has been a bitch to write. I write it because I believe wholeheartedly in the science behind it and I think parents simply aren't being given all of the choices when it comes to sleep. Humans have shared sleep for tens of thousands of years. We were designed for it. Our babies are expecting it. And, clearly, Violet rocks (in part) because of it!!

I spent the first Saturday of October at The Safe Sleep Symposium put on by Safe Sleep Indiana. I heard three speakers, all of them doctors, speak about how, where, and with whom, infants sleep the best. A lot of people may have been shocked by what these Notre Dame PhD's and MD's were saying. It likely isn't what you've been hearing from your TV or even your pediatrician.

They said that babies sleep the most soundly, the most safely, the most NORMALLY, with their mothers. The closer the better, as a matter of fact.

So why on earth are all of us terrified to take our tiny people to bed with us? Why are there billboards warning us to "Never Ever Sleep with Your Baby!" Why aren't our pediatricians offering us safe options for sharing a bed with our infants but instead suggesting that we let our babies cry alone in a crib?

I suspect the reasons are very complicated. I know that a lot of it is misinformation. No one in an authority role tells us that there are ways to safely bedshare. Because of that, we (I) fell asleep in a rocking chair at 4am while nursing, waking up scared shitless. Rightly so.

We (I) repeatedly put a newborn in a bassinet next to my bed and wonder what is wrong with her(!) when she wakes after 4 minutes.

We (I) lie to the nurse at the doctor's office when she asks the "Where does the baby sleep" question because when I answered truthfully--"With us" --I got the hairy eyeball.

I more than suspect that the Juvenile Products Manufacturers Association, a trade organization representing 95% of the prenatal and preschool industry, has a vested interest in seeing that parents are afraid to place their baby down to sleep in anything other than a JPMA sanctioned crib. The fact that the JPMA has co-sponsored the national campaign warning parents about the dangers of sleeping with their babies is reason enough to question the advice. I didn't notice a warning about the safety of cribs when 6 MILLION of them were recalled this year.

The biggest reason, though, that I think we are all frightened to death to sleep as humans have for, well, forEVER, is because no one admits to doing it. Or if they do admit to sleeping with their babies, the admission seems wacky. It is tainted because it comes from somebody fringy--too fringy to relate to. The parents who eat kefir and have chickens and still smoke pot.***

When more mainstream parents admit to bedsharing it is usually in a "We know we shouldn't but it just happened" kind of way. For instance: "We were so tired we all just collapsed into bed and didn't even realize that Janie was still sleeping between us. I hope it doesn't take a month to break her of her BAD HABIT."

I rarely hear parents who acknowledge the closeness and normalcy that bedsharing brings to their family. Discussions about how to make it work in the context of your life--how does everyone sleep? what time do you go to bed? is it every night? what about sex? will he still be in between us when he's 6?--these are the discussions that we need to be having about bedsharing and cosleeping. I usually don't hear parents whose little folk sleep with them who don't think this is some sort of terrible habit to be broken.

Some of the first candid, down-to-earth discussions I heard about sleep were with friends at my breastfeeding support group. When I heard these women relay their experience, it all started to click for me. No one was recommending I stand outside Vi's door while she cried. Shawn and I weren't bad parents for having Violet sleep with us. We were--dare I say, we are--very NORMAL.

Once I got over the vast majority of America (from Parents magazine--don't get me started on my loathing of that rag-- to my peds office), telling me that I should put Baby V down "drowsy, but awake" to establish healthy sleep habits from the start, I became comfortable with normal infant mother sleep routines. Instead of combing Parents for tips on how to traumatize my babe to sleep, I read tips for safely sharing sleep and was a changed mother.

Babies (and by babies, I mean people who are very small, wear diapers, have dimples, and can't cut meat), like to fall asleep close to the adult who can handle all the shit that they cannot. By close, I mean touching, if possible. The AAP now (finally!) recommends a "proximate sleeping environment" for infants. They go on to say, "The risk of SIDS has been shown to be reduced when the baby sleeps in the same room as the mother." And really, isn't SIDS what this whole scare campaign is about? They haven't recommended, and probably won't for quite awhile, bedsharing, but they are starting to see how key it is for littles to sleep close to bigs. How beneficial shared sleep is. How lifesaving.

Sleeping babies use their mother's bodies to help them regulate their temperature, regulate their breathing, and they rouse more frequently and easily than their solo-sleeping counterparts. (Trouble with arousal is a major SIDS risk.) Breastfeeding mothers who bedshare feed their babies more frequently, make more milk, and--hold on to your hats--report feeling LESS TIRED THAN THOSE WHO DO NOT BEDSHARE!!

More sleep for moms, huge benefits for babies, and listening to nature instead of crappy Parents magazine.

Three outstanding reasons to talk about bedsharing!

***I count quite a few kefir-eating, chicken-tending, perhaps even pot-smoking individuals among my favorite people and mean no disrespect. (Sharing a bed with a baby while under the influence of anything is just plain dumb, however!! I don't know people who do that!) I am just pointing out the fact that a lot of parents don't know what kefir is, think chickens still live in happy red barns, and haven't tried pot since that one night in college. We need to let them know that bedsharing is good for their babies, too!

BIG

Lights come up on a warm living room scene.

Mother holds a very young girl close to her on the sofa. Father reads a book laying flat at the other end of the sofa. A dog is curled at their feet and there are toys scattered around on the floor.

Mother: (cooing) Are you my little snuggle girl?

Girl: Mm-hm. (She snuggles closer into her mother, they nuzzle. )

(Pause)

I wanna be tall like you and Daddy.

Mother: What?

Girl: I wanna be tall like you and Daddy. (sweetly, genuinely) I wanna be big like you and Daddy. I wanna be bigger like you and Daddy.

(Mother and Father's hearts break audibly.)


Lights dim.

On marriage

I don't write much about Shawn on my blog because, really, what is there to say? He is so constant, so steady, so ready to rub a foot, or change a diaper, or squash a spider, it would seem like bragging.

Husbandness is Shawn. Shawn was born to be a husband. My husband, such a gift.

He is quiet but thoughtful. He is intelligent and modest. He is expressive but reserved. Shawn loves fatherhood like I love motherhood and we have joined together almost seamlessly as parents.

He lets me plan for Christmas tree placement in September. When I mentally move our family to London for a year, he goes with it and even helps me decide whether we'll store our furniture or sell it. Shawn eats fake meat on pizzas and on tacos with a smiling gulp.

Tonight, Shawn went to Birdy's to see Trampled by Turtles and I wanted to go but sitter money always seems frivolous and it was a late show (9p.m. start--yes, I am OLD), and it just didn't come together. I kinda miss weeknight dates to smokey bars to hear traveling bands with my blue eyed sweetie. I like seeing him navigate the crowd to find us a suitable spot to watch the show only to work his way right back to fetch me a beer. I love the way he'll drum his fingers on my shoulder sort of off beat when he really gets into the music. Shawn introduced me to bluegrass--a music I have come to love--and I like to see new bands with him.

I hope he's having fun. In the meantime, I am going to fall asleep in the shape of an X on the bed. I need some consolation, after all.

Relativity

Like many conversations I begin, this blog will start with this sentence:

So I was listening to NPR yesterday and I heard the most interesting story.

It was about these physicists in Colorado who did actual tests on Einstein's theory of relativity by using an amazingly sensitive clock to measure time on a quickly moving train. What they found was that Einstein was right (of course) and time is not constant. The clock on the high speed train found time moved just a teeny-tiny bit more slowly than the stationary clock. How much more slowly? About 18 zeros after the decimal point of a second more slowly. Not a lot, but a bit.

This news is promising however. Because regular time is just going too damn fast. I think I'd be willing to become the Boxcar Kids if it meant a little longer at bedtime. More snuggles, more books, more talks about our day together.






I would take 18 zeros after the decimal point worth of more walks through the neighborhood.






Even though I'm growing weary of nursing in public, with my big girl baby, I know that those nursing snuggles are winding down so an extra billionth of a second would probably be welcome.




I wouldn't turn down an extra moment watching her take in a fall parade.







18 zeros after the decimal place wouldn't be close to enough time to drink in Violet's new love for dressing herself.




I'm going to hold out hope that these physicists will be able to translate 18 zeros after the decimal into some meaningful extra time for those of us watching our babies grow up too fast.

Drought

It has been so dry here for the last two months, I feel like I am living out west again. Everyone's yards are brittle, the leaves are starting to turn brown and drop, and the farmers are calling it a year. So when the skies finally do open up, if only for a moment or two, rather than running inside to hide, we run outside to play! Yay, rain!