Lost and Found: A Letter to My Family

I am thrilled. I found the red three-ring binder that has been missing for months. Funny thing, I came across the notebook yesterday because I was looking for something else that is missing: the gray cord for our digital camera. Still looking for the cord, but at least I have the notebook. Why is this hunk of paper so coveted? Because when I was pregnant with my daughter and planning a home birth, I wrote a letter to my family in its pages. We had a scheduled visit with my direct entry midwife so she could answer any questions they had about the process of birthing at home. In attendance at this meeting was my midwife, husband, father, mother, sister and mother-in-law. My best friend was invited to the birth but lived in another state so I read the letter to her over the phone. She nor my sister actually made it to the birth because of a fast labor (sister) and miscommunication (friend). When I read this out loud to everyone I was very nervous and stuttered quite a bit with tear-filled eyes. Luckily, through the magic of the written word, you can read the letter without interruption. I wrote this letter with the mind of a very organized and emotional pregnant woman.


I am having a home birth because I feel deeply in my heart that our home is the safest place to have this baby. Instinctively and intellectually I know this to be true. Myself and the baby are healthy and strong which means this pregnancy is low risk. This being the case, I have the right to birth where I feel most secure, without the fear of unnecessary interventions and foreign germs. If at any time, the health of myself or this baby changes so that the pregnancy can be considered high risk, I will do what is right and transfer my labor and birth to the hospital. I have full trust in my body's ability to birth, my midwife's knowledge and skills, and my husband's gentle, supportive nature. What I need from you all, my chosen birth companions, is positive energy, confidence in the process of natural birth, quiet, respectful watchfulness when needed and calm, determined action if necessary. There may come a time when the intensity of labor causes me to lose heart and want to give in. I may make primal sounds, my body may tremble, I may even vomit. All of these things are positive and will mean the baby will be born soon. I will not need to be rescued or shown pity, but more than ever, I will need encouragement to guide me back to a place of concentration. I have chosen you all as my birth companions because I know you will do everything in your power to help us welcome this new life in the most gentle way as possible.

The day after

I've noticed a pattern with the boy's behavior. Usually the day after my husband and I, or even just myself, goes out and leaves him with a sitter, his attitude is hellacious. This is in no way the sitter's fault because he's commonly in good spirits for them (in this case my parents) and he and his little sister have a nice evening. But the day after fun is had by all is torture. He has been excessively grumpy, whiney and testosterone driven. My gut tells me (and you are obliged to disagree) that he is subconsciously getting us back for abandoning him. I got angry with him this morning (yes, my Zen attitude from last week was, uh, displaced) and after several attempts of setting things straight failed, I ended up putting myself in time out. He didn't nap today either which has put a stinker on our afternoon. Currently he's sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the good supper husband is making (not a common occurrence) and guarding the bubble around him from his sister at every turn. How will we survive the night? Like I said, he didn't nap so hooray for us, he goes to bed soon. Give me strength...

I signed up for PPP!

I began blogging over a month ago in hopes of making a little money when I heard of the popularity of mommy blogs. Although writing has also turned into therapy and a creative outlet, the original reason for the weekly upkeep of this blog remains: I need money. So when a fellow novice blogger referred me to PayPerPost and told me she spoke with another mom who makes around $400 a month writing reviews, I figured why not get my feet wet? I signed up right away but was disappointed when I found out my blog was too new at the time to qualify. But now that my blog has been running for more than 30 days and I've written over 10 posts, I'm ready to go! Once your blog is approved you can browse the open writing opportunities for topics that interest you. Like good swag? PPP has a shop from which you can buy blogging gear and promote PPP in the process: Who wouldn't think to ask you why your shirt says "I'll pay you to do it."? And now with this first blogging ad (for who other than PPP themselves) I begin the next step in my writing experiment. Wanna join me? Just check out these blog ads for more information. Happy blogging!

How to diffuse a bomb (or, How I relearned to discipline my 3 year old)

The stress level in our home has dissipated like a ripple of water. The boy has hit, shoved and kicked less and played games and used polite words with his sister more. I haven't been angry at him once or thought nastily about how little things he does irritates me. He has asked to hold my hand when we walk together and to be picked up and has responded better than expected when asked to change activities. The patience and creativity I needed to get my son to do the things he is resistant to have been flowing out from within me. What is the magic that has inspired our good fortune? I have been following the philosophy of the Golden Rule as suggested by the book: Raising your Child Not by Force but by Love . The book's Christian angle caught me off guard because I'm not the least bit religious and tend to feel squeamish when confronted with religion, but you don't have to be Christian to get what the author, a psychologist of over twenty years at the time the book was published, was trying to say. He first speaks of how children are biologically irrational and therefore incapable of benefiting from punishment. When a child is punished, shame, guilt, anger and resentment may be created and rather than think he shouldn't have been naughty he will project his guilt onto the parent (or in this case, his parent and sister) and make himself the victim. For example, the child in time out may think "I'm so mad, Mom's always so mean and taking her side. I'm going to get my sister when Mom's out of the room." The author asks that you imagine you are the child and to treat him the way you would like to be treated; to consider a time when you were upset or mistaken and how you felt when someone forgave you and gave you another chance rather than reprimand you. What if you were arguing with your husband and he decided the best way to convince you he knew best was to scold you and stick you in a corner, causing shame, humiliation and rage. What if this was a common occurrence, would you change your behavior because you learned it was wrong or because you wanted to avoid punishment? Funny how this would be considered spousal abuse and yet it is a perfectly acceptable treatment for children. The author isn't suggesting there won't ever be a need for discipline or a cool-out period for kids in their rooms, but just to keep in mind the way you would prefer to be treated if the roles were reversed and to respond accordingly. A main theme in the book is how repeated punishment that ignores their feelings creates so much repressed rage in a child that when they are older they will no longer be receptive to the parent's authority and will become withdrawn, depressed, delinquent and possilbly turn to drugs...

I'm having a difficult time writing this because it may not be well received, therefore, I'm defensive. Not giving your child firm consequences is perceived as weak, lazy or just plain irresponsible but for me it has been cleansing and powerful. I have taken the reigns on the terrible battle within me to control him because society deems it so and the reality of not being able to control him which makes me feel like a bad parent. The approach of acceptance and guidance feels more natural to my character. Once I allowed the psychological pressure of disciplining my child to disappear, I became happier. I'm not talking about permissiveness because I haven't been ignoring his bad behavior this week, but I've been addressing it with acceptance, forgiveness and suggestions of how to make the situation better for everyone involved. And instead of our days being interrupted repeatedly with time outs (that have been ineffective), we talked about what happened, apologized where necessary and moved on with a marked improvement in his behavoir. I've decided I am here to teach, not to make matters worse by creating more negativity. I haven't felt this consistently relaxed or loving towards my child in a very long time...

If you are interested in the method, read the book. If you think it's a bunch of baloney, read the book and make an informed judgment against it. I am no seasoned debater and my argument for the book may crumble to dust if you challenge me, so reading the book for yourself is best. Either way, it's a cheap read and when you're done with your copy you can mail it to me to go into the Natural Mamas' library.

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Almond Recipes

This recipe was originally Jimmy Carter's Peanut Butter Pie but since I made this for my dad and he has a peanut allergy, Dad's Almond Butter Pie was born. If almond butter isn't your favorite peanut replacement, you may use soy, cashew or sunflower butters instead. You may find these butters with the regular peanut option in the jelly aisle.

Dad's (no bake) Almond Butter Pie

6 oz cream cheese, room temp. 3/4 cup confectioners sugar 1/2 cup almond butter 2 tbsp milk 1 cup whipped cream (cream beaten for several minutes with confectioner's sugar to taste) 1 9-inch graham cracker crust (I used store bought)

In a mixing bowl, blend together the cream cheese and confectioner' s sugar
for about 5 minutes. The longer you blend, the creamier the pie.

Add the peanut butter and milk to the mixture, and blend again. Fold in the
whipped cream and pour the pie filling into the graham cracker crust.

Refrigerate the pie to chill for several hours before serving. Serve with
additional whipped cream and fruit, if desired.

-----------------------------------

Since pie may not be your forte', I thought I'd share a cookie recipe I made several times over the winter holidays. This recipe yields only 2 dozen cookies and almond meal isn't cheap, so make these for a special occasion or to treat yourself- they are worth the pricey ingredients and are simple to make.

Almond Moons

1 cup Sifted Oat Flour
1 cup Almond Meal (store bought in flour section or made yourself with almonds
and a food processor)
1/2 cup Butter
6 Tbsp. Raw Sugar or Light Brown Sugar
1 tsp. Vanilla Extract
Cinnamon and Sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 300* Grease cookie sheet, set aside. With a hand mixer, blend the butter, sugar and vanilla extract until creamy. Add the almond meal and the oat flour and mix until the dough sticks together. Form the dough into 1 1/2 inch balls. Place them on the prepared cookie sheet and bake for 30-35 minutes. Remove the cookies from the oven and roll them in the cinnamon and sugar while they are still warm.

Warm tonight

The air was warm and heavy as I stepped outside tonight. The girl on my hip and my husband at my heal, she said "bye bye" in baby speak over my shoulder. She and I circled the mailbox and after putting a letter inside, walked down and up the ditch back toward our house. Upon our return I stopped in front of the steps and set the girl down on her bare feet. My husband was examining the brick walk and told me of his plans to make it more level tomorrow. I joked with him about how manly it is to consider home improvement on Father's Day. I put my attention back on the girl and saw that she had climbed nearly to the top of the porch and I yelped as I picked her up; I remember too well the day the boy fell down those steps and caused his head to bleed. I began to pull dead flowers off the gardenia bushes and considered the mess in the grass below. I followed the baby around the corner and smiled as she ran toward three cats in our side yard. She loves our animals and tells me in an excited whisper whenever she sees one: "kee kee" for cat or "dah" for dog. As I show her the hydrangea bush and she touches their soft, blue flowers, her brother and father join us. The boy had just finished in the bathroom and was ready for bed but my husband couldn't resist sharing with him the warm night air. The two broke into a run and I soon followed suit; running around our side yard in a chain of I chase you, you chase me. The spontaneity was infectious for the girl and she ran in no particular direction, giggling and screeching. I was glad to see the boy's true colors come out as he protectively stepped in front of her and asked her to stay in our yard with his body language. His sister back on track, I held his hand and ran to the front of our yard, around a tree and back again where he was greeted with a hug from his father. I felt an insect hit my bare arm and wondered if we'd be seeing lightning bugs soon. The activity changed flavor when the boy spotted the moon and we all walked to the front of the yard again to examine it. "The moon!" Where? "In the sky" I told the girl her moon was out and told the boy his sun had gone to bed. My husband and I sat on the prickly grass while the children circled around each other, dizzy from the late hour. We decided to call it a night and I wonder now what tomorrow will bring.

This Week's Parenting Journey

Sunday
I actually remember little about this day. I admit I'm concerned about my short term memory and believe the culprit is a three part combination of lack of sleep, mommy brain and partying in college. I do recall an incident in the morning, however, involving a possible panic attack. First let me give some background as to why the P.A. may have taken place. The day before we had several family members over and had an overall fantastic visit. Great family days usually mean the boy and girl are well occupied and I can focus on myself, chores, cooking, chatting- you know, stuff people do when they don't have children. So the day was great and the kids were happy and there was minimal sibling rivalry. Back to Sunday morning. All the visitors having gone home, my husband wakes up and tells me he'll be going into work for a few hours. I'm used to his occasionally working on the weekends but somehow my world imploded with his words. I had been up for several hours already with the children and was ready to pass the baton, not hear that I'd be going solo until after lunch. We were all in the dining room and my breathing became shallow. I felt an odd pressure in my head and I put my hands on the side of my face. I told my husband to "watch the children, I'll be back in a minute" and proceeded to briskly walk through the house without knowing where I was going. I landed in our bedroom and thought "the bathroom!", walked in, closed and locked the door, turned off the light and sat on the floor. Of course, the boy was curious and followed me. He said "Mama, what are you doing?" and I replied with tight lips "Go find Daddy, Mommy needs a minute." I told myself to breathe all along thinking I was losing it...but then the moment passed; I was fine. I ascended from my freak out and wondered if I had experienced a panic attack so I did what any modern person with a question would do and Googled it. According to Wikipedia it could've been much worse but most likely was a panic attack. The mention of feeling like I was trapped was right on. Nonetheless, I was ready to put my mommy hat back on.

Monday
The temps were expected to surpass 100 degrees so I decided a trip to the local drop-off childcare center and then mall was in order. It's win/win, really. The boy plays for two hours straight in a cool environment with new friends and mommy goes shopping. The girl went with me and together we bought underwear, three tops and sunglasses. Just like anything else (eating, driving, etc.), trying on clothes and checking out took much longer than necessary and was more complicated than B.C. (before children). I sabotaged my trip before we stepped foot and stroller in the mall by forgetting her snacks and drink. The stores didn't open until 10:00 so we walked around with the mall walkers until Victoria's Secret lifted it's gate. The girl became quickly irritated and didn't want to participate in counting 5 pairs for $25 so we checked out and quickly exited. I parked on a bench to satiate her with mama's milk- all was well again. Next we went to Express where, upon our arrival, their dressing room became a play area and milk bar. Eventually everything was accomplished, albeit having taken two hours to visit only two stores, so we left to pick up the boy. I was happy to find him exhausted from playing well yet not tired enough to throw a fit leaving his playdate. We drove home and the children took refreshing naps while I cleaned the house for afternoon guests: win/win.

Tuesday
I chose to go to a playgroup in another town that had been organized by a member of Natural Mamas. The drive took half an hour and I felt a sense of destiny as I got closer. I thought of my difficulty parenting as of late and how perhaps speaking with women I don't normally have the chance to talk to would open up a door to wisdom. I felt reassured that's what the trip meant for me when I turned on the cd player and Raffi broke into a song about how it takes a village to raise a child. Once we arrived at the park; a well shaded vintage with sturdy structures, I felt disconnected from the other mothers but gradually began to feel more comfortable. Feeling like I was welcome couldn't be helped because I had brought all of these women, their children, their stories and advice, into my life. They asked how I was, listened well and offered their understanding- everything I needed. But oh golly, was it hot! After a few hours I loaded the children in the car, (all three of us covered in sweat and sand), and drove home.

Wednesday
I was feeling a need to be in control yesterday morning and the consequence was numerous, firmly handled time outs for the boy. I believe my militant attitude toward him was the result of having my judgment questioned by another mom several days ago, resulting in parental insecurity. I cleaned most of the morning in preparation for an afternoon playgroup at my house to which two moms came and we talked about how it is impossible to relax when our children are around. Later that evening, around 5:30, the boy fell asleep sitting up on the couch watching a show and I carried him to bed an hour later where he stayed until morning. My husband and I were given a gift when the girl fell asleep early as well. We celebrated by watching three episodes in a row of Dexter while eating tacos made with vegetarian meat.

Thursday (today)
I think I've found a happy medium with discipline. I am not yet a mom able to forgo all time outs like I would prefer but I have softened the "You must obey!" attitude of yesterday. So far the need for time out has been reduced by half and instead of using a timer and insisting he sit on his bottom, he is to count to 20 three times in his corner and can come back to play whenever he is ready to apologize and talk about feelings in a calm manner. I'm always asking him to be patient for things he wants but a little while ago I showed complete immaturity by needing to follow my own advice. I got so worked up when it was time for his nap that I sent myself to time out, which he was fine with. This week has been difficult because on top of trying to figure out the form and balance of discipline to use with my oldest child, my methods and judgment were questioned by another mom. Although this mother has yet to experience raising a three year old, it was still hard to take criticism and caused me to question my thinking. So as I look back on this week I can take comfort in knowing I've conquered self-pitying thoughts and a beastly attitude towards my child. Here's to moving on and learing more about being a mom!

The peach tree grows

I was looking today at the young peach tree beside our house. The trunk is thin and springy, its spotted leaves crescent shaped and the branches are dripping with small fruit. The pit-hard peaches are fuzzy and beginning to change their color from apple green to sunset orange. I love this tree. Its life and placement represents the connection between myself and my second child. Sitting here now I can close my eyes and envision the tree's roots just under the surface of the dirt, encircling our placenta.

- - - - - - -

The girl was born during the evening hours following a brief hail storm. Her birth came much quicker than anyone anticipated due to an easy labor and peaceful atmosphere. My husband and I planned a home birth soon after finding out I was pregnant so all the elements necessary for a perfect event were in place...well, nearly everything. Our midwife wasn't present but that was due to no fault of her own. She arrived ten minutes after the girl's birth and was full of excitement and pride but in wonder just the same. Why didn't we call to ask that she hurry? She could have easily been present for the birth. Why not? Because my husband and I were doing fine. We were a great team and fed off each others confidence. My family, however, were dealing with altogether different emotions. I knew I wanted my family present to witness her arrival and had educated them about birth at home. They met our midwife, saw several videos, read books and asked all the right questions to quell their worries...they were ready. But they did not plan for an absent midwife. When the baby's head emerged my husband and I were alone in our bedroom; I on our bed, he ready at the business end. If my husband was scared he didn't reveal it to me. I was flooded with intense love for him, the baby and the miracle of the moment. My mother walked in expecting to see me laboring only to be met with a surprising scene. She ran out to tell everyone the baby was coming and to hurry. She returned with my father, son and mother-in-law and began recording with a video camera. I attempted a few pushes to help the rest of her body out but was met with resistance. I decided to wait for the next contraction. My father and mother-in-law abandoned the room to look for the midwife as my mother continued to record, suggesting that I push the baby out. I waited until the natural urge came and the baby was born within moments. One by one, my family came to my side to welcome the child into our home.

- - - - - - -

This week has brought exceptionally warm weather. I worry the young peach tree won't be strong enough to fight the near 100* temperatures or the hungry insects sure to be eying its fruit. But these feelings of anxiety are familiar because they mirror how I felt about the girl during her first year of life. Would the child be strong enough to overcome life's challenges? I think so now- she has proven herself to be strong and wise. I hope the tree follows the same path.

Sleep escapes me

Sleep mocks me, laughing and teasing, with the aid of two children. This sleepless affair began sometime during my first pregnancy and I have yet to see the night light at the end of the tunnel. Sleeplessness during that time was tortuous due to the constant waking from the need to urinate and the consciousness that is required to twist a bohemith belly. The four foot body length pillow became a third partner in the marital thorn that was No Sex. I was caught in a catch-22 during the twilight hours: mommy and baby required plenty of water to remain healthy and yet, mommy required sleep to maintain a healthy pregnancy. The solution? I took naps at work. The onset of labor was disguised as a trip to the bathroom in fact. I woke around 1:00 a.m. with the familiar pressure on my bladder, sat up and walked towards the bathroom. I was half way there when a gush of liquid released itself between my legs and I scurried to the toilet. But I'll stop here, because that is a different story.

I believe prenatal sleeping habits are designed to ease the woman into the rocky cavern that is Sleep with a Newborn. I don't need to know if my theory is correct, it simply made the transition more bearable for me after my son was born. My boy was high needs, colicky and enjoyed nursing every two hours for at least thirty minutes in one sitting. He also took short naps during the day and slept no more than two hours at a time during the night- for four months. He began to sleep three to four hours at a time and that lasted til he was two or so. But I was a soldier and let my husband sleep while I got up in the night to nurse him back to sleep. I sat in a chair to nurse him because I couldn't figure out how to do so lying down. Luckily, this wonderful way to nurse came easily with my second child and I'm still enjoying latching a babe to my breast while semi-conscious. Although my girl is a better sleeper than my boy was at her age, now I deal with musical beds. Both children must go to sleep in their own beds but when they wake up during the night, they're allowed to come to the bed with my husband and I. We have only a queen sized bed which makes for a tight fit for the four of us, so if the baby is in our bed and the boy comes in, I take her to lie down in his bed. I'm pretty happy with this arrangement...I love being beside my sleeping children, but, I am tired...

My son has always woken early, usually around 7:00 a.m. I haven't used an alarm clock for nearly four years. Every morning I hear "Mama, get up. Mama, get up. Mama, wake up!" I drowsily sit up and make an attempt to wake up per his request but usually suggest he go to the living room or bathroom, claiming I'll be there "in a minute". In the past my groggy deceitfulness worked and I'd fall back onto the pillow to claim a few more minutes rest. But he is wise to my game now and waits for my eyes to close so he can continue his assault.

My lack of sleep isn't nearly as severe as it used to be in my early days of mothering and certainly isn't as bad as what other moms I know experience, but, it does reveal itself daily in small ways. I can fall asleep anytime, anywhere- just give me the okay and I'm out. I will put a filter in the coffee maker and a second later, try to add another filter, only to see that I've already added one. I have a hard time making grocery lists because by the time I walk from the bathroom to the kitchen with the intent to write down "toothpaste", I've forgotten what we needed. Here is an excellent example of how sleep deprivation has caused trouble for me recently: Two nights ago the boy came to our bed in the middle of the night and asked for water. I left the bed to get him some but wasn't fully conscious. Somewhere between our bedroom at the back of the house and our dining room in the front, my body transported me via sleepwalk express through the house. I was awoken instantly by the surprise of a cat leaping into my arms and leaving a three inch scratch on my wrist. I held the purring cat in a state of shock, considered the pain above my hand and wondered why I was out of bed... Oh yes, water.

Is there a lesson to be learned? Go to bed earlier, perhaps? Have the husband get up with the children more often? Wear protective gear before going to bed in case of surprise cat-ball? Hmm, I'll consider my options over a cup of coffee.

I escaped for half an hour

And what did I do? I cleaned cat litter. But, I did it without children and that was enough of a vacation as any. Today I had an intense desire to be by myself that felt like a burning in my gut. I feel that burn and remember to breathe deeply; oxygen is a good thing. I feel the tenseness in my shoulders and remember they should be back and relaxed, not near my ears like a tiger walking. Mothers or fathers who stay at home and are the primary caretaker of their children throughout the week don't get a lot of opportunities to be by themselves. At least, that's how it's been for me in the world I've created. When you do get the chance to go off by yourself, you realize how EASY it is to move one body around. Before stepping outside I grabbed my phone, keys and wallet. No diaper bag with drinks, snacks, diapers, wipes, change of clothes for both kids...just my stuff that takes no preparation. I climbed into the seat behind the wheel, turned the key in the ignition and drove off. I didn't need to air out the car so it'd the right temp for the kids, or open their doors and wait for the boy to climb up while strapping the baby in on the other side. There weren't any tears to calm or attitudes to check. Just me. I found a '90s rock station and turned it up; I wonder how common it is for parents to listen to bad adult music too loud just because its not Elmo raps the ABCs. I drove a few minutes away to a friend's house so I could take care of her three cats while she's away. I took both kids with me Friday and it wasn't worth the $5 I asked for per visit- not with them. The boy had a request to play in the back yard and repeated it the entire time we were there. The girl tried to "help" me clean the litter. The boy kept attempting to open the door which would let the cats out of the basement and into the rest of the house. The boy used his "dancing feet" on the cats which is a nice way to say he was chasing them. Both of the kids fought for footing on the steps. But not today. It was just me. Good thing, too, because the cats left three accidents for me to clean and I can imagine how the girl would've helped with that. The burning in my gut and the tightness in my shoulders forgotten, I came back home. They're back now though; must be one of those days.