No crap.

*I walked around all day with my nursing bra hanging open. Unaware. That is how much time my bra spends open.

* I shaved my legs (it was newsworthy). I did not cut myself (also newsworthy).

* My 12 year old son is texting a girl. A female. He claims she’s not his girlfriend but I saw him text her a rose. Suspect. Highly suspect.

* I caught him doing push-ups. Oh. Dear. God.

* My 11 year old son got completely ready for school without any prompting. And also without pants on (inspiring my future book… Don’t Forget Your Pants).

* My 15 year old daughter started drivers training. Sigh.

* I hope bald is coming back because the baby pulled out half the hair on the right side of my head.

* One of our stupid dogs attacked the other stupid dog and I almost broke my arm trying to separate them. I am not a fan of our dogs right now. Or any dogs for that matter. Or the cat. In fact, the only animals I’m feeling any good about are the fish, and one of them died. Crap.

* I had to pee (at least once a day) but the baby was in the wrap so I peed while babywearing. In fact I also swept, cooked and dusted babywearing. I would have showered babywearing if my sling was waterproof (and yes they do make those).

* I made Henry the Hoot Owl. But I had to do it with a baby on my lap which means I stabbed myself with knitting needles no less than 7 times.

* I went almost an entire day without water. I had coffee and iced tea. That’s all. And they weren’t even caffeinated. I didn’t realize it until 9:15 pm. By then I had a headache. (I hope the Man isn’t reading this or I’m busted)

* I made rice krispie treats.

* I ate rice krispie treats for breakfast.

* I ate rice krispie treats for dinner.

* I probably ate rice krispie treats for lunch but I’m not admitting it.

* One night I served the 15 year old (who had to leave for an activity before dinner was done) a plate of mexican rice, a rice krispie treat and a banana. It looked as bad as it sounds.

* I started to write a tutorial for the owl I mentioned above. I got the first two lines written. So far, that’s it. It goes like this: Step One: Get some yarn. Step two: Get some size 3 knitting needles. (More on this later)

* The 11 year old told us he was learning about dictators that are “mean and crazy” also that he would like to be a dictator, but a “nice one” because he doesn’t want to be shot or hung. Awesome. It’s good to have dreams.

* I fell into the big curbside trash can. Like inside of it. I don’t really want to talk about it.

* Did I mention the rice krispie treats?

Oh also because I’ve been such a good wife and mommy (or you know, because I was looking for an excuse, like I FELL IN A TRASH CAN) I bought myself this lovely book:


Isn’t it lurvely?

Then someone spilled syrup on it.

Of course.

So readers… what happened to you in the last week?

Hang in folks,

j-diddle

PS I love Jane Austen. Who doesn’t love Jane Austen? OK I mean what LADY doesn’t love Jane Austen? If you don’t love Jane Austen you should buy this book anyway because it’s so purdy.

PPS It’s been one the best weeks of my life.

babywearing , kids , parenting , things that happened this week

Recently my dear, sweet husband went back to work. I should amend this to say he went back to work AWAY from home. See, he is a programmer (At least that’s what he says he is, as far as I can tell he just types all day. No I’m kidding. He works…. I think.). Essentially all of his work could be done from the sofa. Nice, right? Nice. Nice for a couple of reasons (here I go with the numbered lists again). 1. I love him and I get to see him all day 2. He cooks (really well. Honey, if you’re reading this can we have chicken chow mein?) and 3. Our DD (that’s short for dumb dog not dear daughter) would probably starve if he was gone everyday.

In any case, while he is home a few days a week (working on the couch, I’m really trying to work on my envy problem), his job necessitates some travel for a couple of days a week (Because otherwise the HUGE Internet Company he works for, I’m not naming names but it’s HUGE. That’s all.) might doubt that he actually exists in human form. So he drives some distance for a couple of days a week to show his face and do some social work (and by social work I mean it’s not unheard of that there might be cake and champagne in the office. I can’t tell you where he works because EVERYONE would want to work at a place that has this much fun). Anyway because Huge Internet Company isn’t in the tiny valley town we live in when he works away from home he is actually AWAY from home. Now, because the children (aside from the one attached to me) are with their father right now (not him, duh.) Ella and I are left to our own devices for those days he is gone. Which gives me loads and loads of time to do… well… not much. This brings me to my point… (it look a long time to get there I acknowledge)

Ellawearing. Known to people with babies of other names as “______(insert your baby’s name here) wearing”. This is not a new or revolutionary concept I realize. Oh sure now we have companies that sell devices for mothers such as myself (you may find my favorites here and here) but I might share with you that this has been done for years. Probably millions of them. My great granny herself told stories of picking cotton with a baby strapped to here ala The Grapes of Wrath or to take it even further back to her Native American ancestors who wrapped their babies tightly and tied them to themselves for the purposes of hunting, gathering and trying to get away from the White Man (I can say this because though I am genetically mostly White (Wo)Men I am also Cherokee and Creek Indian). Moving on, what surprises me most about Ellawearing is not the loads of things I can get done but rather the number of people who look at me like I’m an enigma. It may be partly where I live. There aren’t many hippies (or liberals) here. Homebirth is insane. People that tandem nurse are crazy. Families that ride their bikes instead of using their cars are weird. Mom’s that babywear are rarely seen and therefore must be a. co-dependant b. a hippy c. insane or d. a liberal (not that we’d recognize one). We should probably move. Oh well anyway, another blog for another day. So it’s partly where I live but I think it’s mostly just that I kind of am an enigma. I told the cashier in Panera that I had my baby at home and she replied “Like, on purpose?” Yes. Indeed. Anyway.

Ella is 5 weeks old Sunday. We have been to 1. Panera Bread. 2. Whole Foods. 3. Trader Joe’s. 4. Walmart (more than I’d care to admit) 5. Target 6. Out to dinner to various restaurants etc etc etc and I’m proud to say Ella’s infant carrier carseat has never, not once even, left the car. Her stroller (I’m pretty sure we have one) is somewhere in the carhole (I didn’t make that up, my husband says that’s French for garage). I have worn Ella to eat, shop, vacuum, fold laundry, make the bed, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, clean, tidy, chase other children, attend back to school night and even go to the bathroom (that last one may be taking it a little far I realize but hey, a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do to facilitate use of the facility). Anyway, this is nothing new to me, I was a fan of Dr. Sears before I even knew Dr. Sears existed, before the internet and before there was a book that said you were… wait for it… supposed to wear your baby. I can’t say when the concept of Attachement Parenting was first so aptly named but I can say I did it before I knew there were books to tell you how. Because it just seemed like what you were supposed to do.

Back to granny. She was born in 1908. She weighed 12 pounds and didn’t get a name until she was 3 months old. My granny wasn’t a touchy feely lady at all. She chewed tobacco and drank wine from a box (white zinfandel no less, she wouldn’t have recognized a good Cabernet if it hit her int he face). She wore pants and used a circular saw. She pulled weeds until she lost her fingernails. She actually cooked food on a stove that used FIRE. Fire I tell you. She read the bible and she believed firmly in the use of a fly swatter for discipline if she couldn’t get to you with her bare hand (see: Spare the Rod Spoil the Child) but she knew how to attachment parent. No one told her how. She nursed cause she had to, who else was going to feed them kids. She wore her babies because, hey that cotton wasn’t picking itself. She responded to their needs because, well crying was kind of annoying. She was born at home and gave birth at home because it just “didn’t make no sense” to go to the hospital, plus if she left who was going to behead and fry the chicken. Period.

It seems simple to me. You make a baby. You nurture it in your body. You do what you can to give him or her the best start. You birth it safely (you know at home [I’ll admit I’m partial to that option] or the hospital or wherever you see fit). Then you love it. How do you love it? Well you keep it close to you. You co-sleep or adopt the family bed policy. You breastfeed. You respond to cries and needs, you know like changing diapers and stuff that moms and dads do (ok mostly moms I guess). So if you want to do all that, because you want your baby to have the best start, it seems pretty logical that you’d just put your baby on you.

So why do people look at me like I just stepped off the crazy train? Well I suspect because they don’t know why I’m keeping my baby so close. So I tell them. And usually they say “Wow. That’s neat. Where did you get that thing?” Or something like that. Hm. Neat. I like it. Granny would be proud. Except that I buy my chicken at the store. That would just tick her off.

This is Ella @ 2 weeks of age. Where she belongs :)

attachment parenting , babywearing , breastfeeding , ella , homebirth