- Practice good apartment-hunting. The most valuable weapon you can have is time. (I guess an unlimited budget would be even more valuable, but I'm being realistic). We started looking at the apartment situation in Georgetown even before we knew we were moving here. Was some of it just idle time-killing and wishful thinking? Sure, but it also gave us a good idea of the typical rent, what amenities to expect, and how long apartments stayed on the listings. Poring over apartment listings for months also enabled us to make only one epic trip from Rochester to DC to look at the "ideal" apartment we saw that was at the right location and in our price range, which is an important consideration if you're moving a considerable distance. The other hunting rules are pretty basic - investigate your landlord, inspect the place before moving in, make sure you insist on any repairs you feel are necessary, get a lease, etc. Getting an apartment that you actually like with a decent landlord goes a long way toward happiness, as do things like having a dishwasher and/or washer/dryer (if those are things you want).
- Get unsentimental. If you're going from big to small, you are going to have to get rid of some stuff. No getting around it. We sold our big couch and loveseat, my much-loved gigantic circa-1960 table, our large storage racks (I wasn't sentimentally attached to those), and our car (which is another post itself). It's hard to just cut off so much stuff. We also donated a lot of old clothes and some miscellaneous furniture. Things we knew we wanted to keep but didn't need right now (baby swing, too-small baby clothes, outgrown toys) went to the grandparents, who have much more storage space.
- Think in scale/less is more. Small, multi-function (when possible) pieces of furniture are the best. Our living room furniture now consists of a sleeper sofa (the klick-klack kind), a small computer desk, and a television stand with as small of a footprint as we could manage. Wall-mounting would have been my first choice for the television, but who wants to entrust their television to shoddy drywall? I am probably going to pick up a couple of flat-topped storage ottomans in the near future. Our dining table is a 2-seat bistro number where the chairs fit under the table when not in use (the Bee sits in her high chair on the exposed long side while the Husband and I sit at the ends). Next to the table is a small 3-shelf wicker number for miscellaneous kitchen items that we use, but not constantly. We had a small wine-rack on wheels that stores wine glasses, 9 bottles of booze (trust me, we never have more than that at once!), and miscellaneous bar equipment, but that has since been moved into the second "bedroom." Which brings us to our next point.
- Throw out room labels. Bedroom? Study? Workroom? Nursery? Whatever. They're just rooms. Our living room is pretty standard (couch, TV/Wii/computer. Our kitchen has a washer and dryer (the small, stacked kind but I love them just the same) right across from the refrigerator. Two of our three bookshelves are in our bedroom. The weird room - or "The Workroom" as we call it - started out as a nursery. We gave the crib to the in-laws, and the room now features one large adult dresser, a kid-sized dresser (which is also used as a changing/dressing table) a bookshelf, and a corner desk, along with a fair amount of miscellaneous items (baby bath, seasonally appropriate coats/jackets/shoes, and brewing equipment). The Husband keeps his laptop and science books in there and it is essentially his office. Someday we'll probably put a futon in there for the Bee to sleep on, but I don't see her moving out of our bed in the near future.
- Use those walls! We try to keep the floor as uncluttered as possible - it really makes the rooms feel bigger. No, we don't have those plastic sleeves that you vacuum your clothes into AS SEEN ON TV. We do have 3 tall bookshelves, laundry bags that hang in the closet, hanging produce baskets, a shoe rack, and neatly Tetris-ed closets. Also lots of pictures because they're pretty - and at least with a small space you don't have to buy tons of wall art.
- The whole city is your house. Do you know why people put up with expensive, small or expensive and small houses/apartments in, we'll say, Boston, New York, Philly, DC, San Diego, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver? They are kick-ass cities. So when the walls close in, we gear up and go somewhere! Whether it's the "tot lot" (under-5 playground a block away) or something a bit more touristy, it's good to go see the amazing things that DC has. Museums, people watching on the Mall, funky restaurants, general historic landmarks, the Canal that runs through Georgetown... it's all a lot bigger than our apartment, full of other people (yay! I like people!), and pretty low cost (most things only involve the cost of bus or Metro fare). I imagine the situation to be similar in the other cities on my "awesome" list.
- One last thing: childproof the bejeezus out of your tiny apartment so that little people can have the run of the place. We do keep our bathrooms and the workroom shut, but the Bee can go from the living room through the kitchen into the bedroom with no impediments, as of Saturday. It is so nice to not have a baby gate! It's even helping me get work (and blog posts!) done because she's happy to occupy herself for the most part now that she is free to check in periodically. She is presently doing who-knows-what in the bedroom, and that's okay with me. I think she's yelling at the patio.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Tales of an Apartment Dweller, Part II: The Practical
Having established where I live - a wee apartment with myself, the Husband, the Bee, and a cat - here are my tenets (ha!) of tenancy.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Fatitude
I've been reading a lot recently about fat acceptance and Health At Every Size. I can't help but feel that fat-hating is right next to gay-bashing as one of the last socially accepted prejudices. Life not turning out like you planned? At least you can still look down at fat people. It's okay to legislate against both groups (I'm surprised no one has tried to take away fat people's right to marry... because, you know, they might have fat kids) and to punish people for being either fat or gay (pity the poor soul who is both). The reading actually kicked me into doing some hard thinking, because I was pretty guilty of buying into the OBESITY CRISIS! bullcrap. Not that there isn't an OBESITY CRISIS! but... it's not so simple as saying, have a carrot and a jog and get skinny and you'll be healthy. We could make do with a lot less shaming and a lot more acceptance. Also, dieting is really, really bad for you, body and mind.
But, you say, we might end up telling people it's okay to be fat? Well, guess what? There are fat people, and they are still people. They may stay fat whether we treat them with dignity or not, so I say we should err on the side of compassion and remember that they are people first.
Another important point is that in no way does skinny equal healthy. You can quite easily have a skinny person who eats like a character in one of those awful Stig Larson books and a fat person who eats a balanced diet. You can have a skinny person with truly terrible cholesterol. Put them next to each other at a picnic, and only the fat person would be shamed for eating a cheeseburger. I won't go as far as saying that obesity does not cause problems for the human body - joint issues and insulin resistance spring to mind - but it is important to realize that a person's weight is often the result of other health circumstances in the first place. I also suspect that instead of addressing a person in a holistic manner that encompasses ability, diet, and genetics, a lot of doctors may just be saying "lose 100 pounds and come talk to me then." I have had someone tell me that her doctor insisted she lose weight before he would address another problem. How is that helpful?
For me, though, the most important thing I took away was this imperative: honor your body. Feed it wholesome food, use it to its full capability, and appreciate the wide (and yet ultimately narrow, since we are all humans) scope of forms of which you are a part. I have come to realize that I should rejoice in my temporary able-ness. (We are all surely temporarily abled just as much as we are temporarily alive.) This body? Except for an occasionally mutinous left knee and nearsightedness, it is in pretty good shape, and definitely capable of doing more than just walking to get groceries and back. I should make it strong so that it will not atrophy. I should have regular conversations with it. With that in mind, I find myself four training sessions into the 27-session program of Couch Potato to 5K. The weather is not ideal, nor are the sidewalks (the tracks are snowed over as of now, although that should change tomorrow with warmer weather and rain), but other people manage and so do I. I am utterly amazed at how quickly my body is adapting and getting stronger in between sessions. I am pretty amazed that I can run for 90 seconds straight without passing out.
So, let's stop hating ourselves and other people for not being thin and using that hate as an excuse to push a severely misinformed pseudo-scientific agenda that is making us less healthy than we would be otherwise. If I hear one more person talk about the weight they "need" to lose, how they are watching what they eat, how they are "trying to be good" (what does that even mean?!), or anything similar, I may just have to say something ridiculous like "I think you're beautiful the way you are" until they get the message.
But, you say, we might end up telling people it's okay to be fat? Well, guess what? There are fat people, and they are still people. They may stay fat whether we treat them with dignity or not, so I say we should err on the side of compassion and remember that they are people first.
Another important point is that in no way does skinny equal healthy. You can quite easily have a skinny person who eats like a character in one of those awful Stig Larson books and a fat person who eats a balanced diet. You can have a skinny person with truly terrible cholesterol. Put them next to each other at a picnic, and only the fat person would be shamed for eating a cheeseburger. I won't go as far as saying that obesity does not cause problems for the human body - joint issues and insulin resistance spring to mind - but it is important to realize that a person's weight is often the result of other health circumstances in the first place. I also suspect that instead of addressing a person in a holistic manner that encompasses ability, diet, and genetics, a lot of doctors may just be saying "lose 100 pounds and come talk to me then." I have had someone tell me that her doctor insisted she lose weight before he would address another problem. How is that helpful?
For me, though, the most important thing I took away was this imperative: honor your body. Feed it wholesome food, use it to its full capability, and appreciate the wide (and yet ultimately narrow, since we are all humans) scope of forms of which you are a part. I have come to realize that I should rejoice in my temporary able-ness. (We are all surely temporarily abled just as much as we are temporarily alive.) This body? Except for an occasionally mutinous left knee and nearsightedness, it is in pretty good shape, and definitely capable of doing more than just walking to get groceries and back. I should make it strong so that it will not atrophy. I should have regular conversations with it. With that in mind, I find myself four training sessions into the 27-session program of Couch Potato to 5K. The weather is not ideal, nor are the sidewalks (the tracks are snowed over as of now, although that should change tomorrow with warmer weather and rain), but other people manage and so do I. I am utterly amazed at how quickly my body is adapting and getting stronger in between sessions. I am pretty amazed that I can run for 90 seconds straight without passing out.
So, let's stop hating ourselves and other people for not being thin and using that hate as an excuse to push a severely misinformed pseudo-scientific agenda that is making us less healthy than we would be otherwise. If I hear one more person talk about the weight they "need" to lose, how they are watching what they eat, how they are "trying to be good" (what does that even mean?!), or anything similar, I may just have to say something ridiculous like "I think you're beautiful the way you are" until they get the message.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tales of an Apartment Dweller, Part I: The Ramble
I never thought I would have so many apartments under my belt, let alone a few comically small ones. I had always wanted to live in a big city, sure, but a teenager hardly thinks about square footage. My first two apartments in the Pennsylvania mountain town of Lock Haven were fairly spacious, especially the second one. It was across from a KFC and above a head shop (for the uninitiated, that's a store where they sell things with which to ostensibly smoke tobacco and other hippie accoutrement such as Bob Marley tapestries and hackey sacks). So, full of weird smells, but amply sized. The first one lacked a dining room, but as it was just me, the bar in the kitchen did quite nicely for dinner, even with guests. The only real problem in my first apartment was the raging theological debates between my Lebanese, Muslim landlord and his American, faintly evangelical, wife, which I could hear through either the very thin walls or the oil heat registers. (They had the majority of the house; I had one third of the ground floor). I'll go out on a limb and say a husband and wife should probably be on the same page, theologically speaking. I digress.
We had an 18-month stint in a tiny apartment in Rochester. 700 very oddly shaped square feet, with a gigantic bathroom and a monster of a refrigerator. We had to rearrange if we wanted to have more than two people sitting at the table. Looking back, we did a crap job of tiny apartment management at that place. For one thing, getting a dog - even a small dog, maybe especially a small dog, because they tend to be more energetic - definitely breaks some small apartment and life rules. Then we moved to the Gigantor of apartments just a block away. Pardon me while I swoon in remembrance. *Sigh* 1500 square feet. Gloriously weathered wooden floors. 14-foot ceilings. Two storage lofts. We bought big furniture, got a table that went to 90" long, and the Husband constructed some "rustic" bookshelves to go along one wall. Last year we had a 13-foot Yule tree. My swooning, unfortunately, is interrupted by the memories of paper-thin walls and jackass neighbors who ignored the no-smoking policy in many ways, the domestic disturbances, having to hear Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
being sung along to time after time, having to hear far more intimate activity than I wanted to... so many irritants.
And then. Wham! The Williamses move to Georgetown. If you are unfamiliar with the Georgetown neighborhood of our nation's capital (in our case Georgetown/Burleith, but that's splitting hairs), it is charming, walkable, full of luxury SUV-driving twits, renting yuppies (that's us) and students (also us), but most of all, old, with rowhouses galore. We live in a Georgetown special feature, the English basement. What it is: most rowhouses here have 3 stories. The first is half-below street level, the second half-above, and the third, of course, just on top of the second. Our front door is down half a flight of normal stairs, has a full-sized window and door out front (a bit of a rarity), and then the back (our bedroom) opens directly onto a nice fenced-in patio/garden area that is about as long as the apartment itself. Other English basements have itty-bitty corkscrew steps going down; I don't know how people even move their stuff in. The insides are largely the same, although, again, I think our two bedrooms and 1.5 (more like 1.25) bath may be somewhat rare.
But oh, how tiny it is. I remember reading a comment (joking) about standing in a living room of a Georgetown house and being able to touch both sides of the front room at the same time. It's not far off. I would say the place is, at most, 1000 square feet. Maybe less, and the ceilings are pretty short. That's a living room, 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining nook, and 1.5 bathrooms in 1000 square feet. I can plug the vacuum into an outlet in the front room and go all the way back to our bedroom at the other end. And... it's okay.
So that's where we live - next up is how we live. We've gotten pretty creative in order to make our existence in this wee place more of a joy than a chore.
-----------------------------------
Ha! Was I ever off on the square footage... turns out it was just over 600.
We had an 18-month stint in a tiny apartment in Rochester. 700 very oddly shaped square feet, with a gigantic bathroom and a monster of a refrigerator. We had to rearrange if we wanted to have more than two people sitting at the table. Looking back, we did a crap job of tiny apartment management at that place. For one thing, getting a dog - even a small dog, maybe especially a small dog, because they tend to be more energetic - definitely breaks some small apartment and life rules. Then we moved to the Gigantor of apartments just a block away. Pardon me while I swoon in remembrance. *Sigh* 1500 square feet. Gloriously weathered wooden floors. 14-foot ceilings. Two storage lofts. We bought big furniture, got a table that went to 90" long, and the Husband constructed some "rustic" bookshelves to go along one wall. Last year we had a 13-foot Yule tree. My swooning, unfortunately, is interrupted by the memories of paper-thin walls and jackass neighbors who ignored the no-smoking policy in many ways, the domestic disturbances, having to hear Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
being sung along to time after time, having to hear far more intimate activity than I wanted to... so many irritants.And then. Wham! The Williamses move to Georgetown. If you are unfamiliar with the Georgetown neighborhood of our nation's capital (in our case Georgetown/Burleith, but that's splitting hairs), it is charming, walkable, full of luxury SUV-driving twits, renting yuppies (that's us) and students (also us), but most of all, old, with rowhouses galore. We live in a Georgetown special feature, the English basement. What it is: most rowhouses here have 3 stories. The first is half-below street level, the second half-above, and the third, of course, just on top of the second. Our front door is down half a flight of normal stairs, has a full-sized window and door out front (a bit of a rarity), and then the back (our bedroom) opens directly onto a nice fenced-in patio/garden area that is about as long as the apartment itself. Other English basements have itty-bitty corkscrew steps going down; I don't know how people even move their stuff in. The insides are largely the same, although, again, I think our two bedrooms and 1.5 (more like 1.25) bath may be somewhat rare.
But oh, how tiny it is. I remember reading a comment (joking) about standing in a living room of a Georgetown house and being able to touch both sides of the front room at the same time. It's not far off. I would say the place is, at most, 1000 square feet. Maybe less, and the ceilings are pretty short. That's a living room, 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining nook, and 1.5 bathrooms in 1000 square feet. I can plug the vacuum into an outlet in the front room and go all the way back to our bedroom at the other end. And... it's okay.
So that's where we live - next up is how we live. We've gotten pretty creative in order to make our existence in this wee place more of a joy than a chore.
-----------------------------------
Ha! Was I ever off on the square footage... turns out it was just over 600.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Le Sigh
I have the first post in a two-part series all ready to go. It's about dealing with a tiny apartment. It was fun to write and I enjoyed my little memory trip through my previous apartments.
But I feel it would be dishonest to not acknowledge that I am something of a mess right now. Work has been rotten for the past month (that's right, from before the holidays and straight through until now). The Bee is at a stage where she wants to tell us things but can't talk, and no amount of signing is going to completely relieve that. There is also the fact that sometimes when we do know exactly what she wants, we have to tell her no. No, we can't stand in the windowsill for half an hour. No, we can't do nothing but watch videos of you. No, you can't stand up on top of the changing table. I try as much as possible to create an environment where I get to say "yes" more than "no," but unfortunately the world is full of things a toddler wants to do and can't, whether due to safety or ability reasons. For the past few days there has been a lot of whining, and some crying, which is extremely stressful. She has also been taking one nap a day because of what an ordeal helping her to sleep for two naps a day can be. Plus, she will sometimes wake up possibly in a mood more foul than when she went to sleep. We're adjusting to that, and between 3:00PM and 5:00PM she isn't the most pleasant of companions.
Phew.
It's getting better, though. The big audit by a certain pseudo-Federal mortgage agency will be over today - and hey, what's the worst that happens, I get fired and collect unemployment? (I'm not saying I've done anything to deserve being fired. I actually do my job pretty well, but I know that sometimes someone has to be blamed.) The Bee has actually played by herself for decent stretches yesterday and today. ("By herself" means on the other side of the gate while I work at the computer.) She slept wonderfully last night, from about 7:30 until I went to bed at 11:00 (she only woke up then because I got into bed and dislodged her from her diagonal sprawl). Little by little I am getting back to normal.
The real problem is that I need to find another job, where the stress level is a little bit more appropriate to the pay scale (currently, the stress level is much higher than is warranted by my meager earnings). I am looking. I do not, will not, leave the Bee (except with her father). We have no family here and I cannot imagine leaving her with a stranger at this point. I have long-term plans that are satisfying - going to get my MLS (Master's Degree in Library Science, unsure of the concentration), being crafty, having more kids - but this part right now is tough.
I need to sit down and work on achievable, short- and long-term action points that will Make It Better. For now, though - I've got a clean apartment and a play date tomorrow, a sleeping baby who ran around naked before bath time much to the amusement of The Husband and myself, some chilled sake and a waiting Kindle, and that makes me happy.
But I feel it would be dishonest to not acknowledge that I am something of a mess right now. Work has been rotten for the past month (that's right, from before the holidays and straight through until now). The Bee is at a stage where she wants to tell us things but can't talk, and no amount of signing is going to completely relieve that. There is also the fact that sometimes when we do know exactly what she wants, we have to tell her no. No, we can't stand in the windowsill for half an hour. No, we can't do nothing but watch videos of you. No, you can't stand up on top of the changing table. I try as much as possible to create an environment where I get to say "yes" more than "no," but unfortunately the world is full of things a toddler wants to do and can't, whether due to safety or ability reasons. For the past few days there has been a lot of whining, and some crying, which is extremely stressful. She has also been taking one nap a day because of what an ordeal helping her to sleep for two naps a day can be. Plus, she will sometimes wake up possibly in a mood more foul than when she went to sleep. We're adjusting to that, and between 3:00PM and 5:00PM she isn't the most pleasant of companions.
Phew.
It's getting better, though. The big audit by a certain pseudo-Federal mortgage agency will be over today - and hey, what's the worst that happens, I get fired and collect unemployment? (I'm not saying I've done anything to deserve being fired. I actually do my job pretty well, but I know that sometimes someone has to be blamed.) The Bee has actually played by herself for decent stretches yesterday and today. ("By herself" means on the other side of the gate while I work at the computer.) She slept wonderfully last night, from about 7:30 until I went to bed at 11:00 (she only woke up then because I got into bed and dislodged her from her diagonal sprawl). Little by little I am getting back to normal.
The real problem is that I need to find another job, where the stress level is a little bit more appropriate to the pay scale (currently, the stress level is much higher than is warranted by my meager earnings). I am looking. I do not, will not, leave the Bee (except with her father). We have no family here and I cannot imagine leaving her with a stranger at this point. I have long-term plans that are satisfying - going to get my MLS (Master's Degree in Library Science, unsure of the concentration), being crafty, having more kids - but this part right now is tough.
I need to sit down and work on achievable, short- and long-term action points that will Make It Better. For now, though - I've got a clean apartment and a play date tomorrow, a sleeping baby who ran around naked before bath time much to the amusement of The Husband and myself, some chilled sake and a waiting Kindle, and that makes me happy.
Monday, January 10, 2011
I Feel You
Welcome to the January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Learning from children
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have shared the many lessons their children have taught them. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.
***
I'll say it: I have spent most of my life with a less than fully developed sense of empathy. This has resulted in me being - at my worst - morally inflexible, unforgiving, and prone to write off others' problems as being their own fault. Things that didn't affect me - well, they really didn't affect me.
The Bee has changed that. She has taught me empathy. I think it's wonderful and terrible at the same time. The first time she cried, my brain started racing all by itself: is she hungry-cold-hot-wet-poopy-lonely-gassy? Without much conscious decision, I would pick her up and try to ascertain the source of her unhappiness. Sometimes holding her was enough, sometimes it was another culprit or it was just her being a crier. Regardless, those wails made me physically feel her pain. There is a chemical component to this (which can be affected by method of delivery). It's hard-wired empathy that doesn't activate until you have a baby. Now? I still try my darnedest to make her stop crying, and I really can't stand hearing other babies cry either. I want to fix it. Whatever it may be.
At some point, I realized that this empathetic response was spreading into other areas and relationships in my life. I was constantly playing devil's advocate by examining what factors could have caused a person to do what they had done. I was responding better and more genuinely to other people's grief (and their joy!). Sometimes it still takes some effort, but more often than not it's nearly as automatic as my feeling for the Bee.
Why is this important? Why do I feel like this could be a world-changing phenomenon? Why does this study about babying and bullying make so much sense? Because you can't be cruel to someone if you feel their pain. I think our general lack of empathy can be contributed in no small part to the unnatural way in which we've segregated ourselves into groups based on age and whether or not we have children. We have decided that children should be neither seen nor heard, and it is no surprise that bullying has skyrocketed. It's easy to push someone around when you can view them as a non-person without feelings. It's also harder to do something simple like pat someone's arm or give them a hug after a hard day when you can't quite imagine how they are feeling.
It's not just school-scale bullying that results from a lack of empathy. It's racism. Homophobia. Being frightened of someone with AIDS and telling yourself they probably got it from drugs or promiscuity. Dismissing someone with a different - or no - faith. All because they are a non-entity, pure other. Once you acknowledge that everyone, no matter what, deserves your full consideration, life gets so much more complicated, but ultimately much better.
So, thank you, Bee. I hope I can teach you empathy half as well as you have taught it to me.
***
Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:
(This list will be live and updated by afternoon January 11 with all the carnival links.)
- Affection — Alicia at I Found My Feet has finally become a hugger and kisser, now she has someone sweet and small to snuggle with. (@aliciafagan)
- Learning from Daniel — Amy at Anktangle hopes that she and her husband will always be open to learning from their son. (@anktangle)
- Kids Cultivate Awareness of Universal Truths — From forgiveness to joy, Amy Phoenix at Innate Wholeness has become aware of deep truths that come naturally to children. (@InnateWholeness)
- What the Apple Teaches the Tree — Becky at Future Legacy has learned about imagination, forgiveness, and strength.
- A Lesson in Slowing Time — Bethy at Bounce Me To the Moon revels in the chance to just be with her baby.
- Learning From My Children: I Am So Honored — WAHM Chante at My Natural Motherhood Journey is learning to choose tea parties over work. (@MyMotheringPath)
- P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E — Now that she's a mother, Danielle at born.in.japan is finally learning about a personality trait she lacked. (@borninjp)
- Top 5 Homeschool Lessons My Children Taught Me — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now shares what she learned from homeschooling her (now grown) children. (@DebChitwood)
- Learning to Live in the Present By Looking to the Future — Dionna at Code Name: Mama finds the patience to be a gentle parent, because she knows how fleeting childhood really is. (@CodeNameMama)
- The watchful Buddha boy — At Dreaming Aloud, they are learning to cherish their thoughtful, sensitive child in a action-driven, noisy world. (@DreamingAloudNt)
- What My Children Taught Me — Dulce de Leche's children have taught her to value herself for the wonderful person and mother she is.
- Lessons from the First Year — Having a child made Emily at Crunchy(ish) Mama realize that her decisions affect more than just herself. (@CrunchyishMama)
- Lessons from Loss — Erica at ChildOrganics learned so much from the love — and loss — of her sweet Bella, five years ago. (@ChildOrganics)
- The Socratic Baby — Erin at Multiple Musings has so-called "identical" twins to serve as a daily lesson in nature vs. nurture. (@ErinLittle)
- Learning to be a Mother — Farmer's Daughter learned the type of patience that enabled her to calmly eat one-handed for months and change clothes seven times a day, before noon. (@FarmDaughter)
- A Few Things Being a Mom Has Taught Me — Heather at Musing Mommy shares the curious, hilarious, and sometimes Murphy's Law-like tidbits we learn from our children. (@xakana)
- I Feel You — Motherhood has taught Jamey from At the Bee Hive empathy, and it extends beyond just her child. (@JameyBly)
- Lessons From My Child… — Jenny at I'm a full-time mummy shares the inspiring ways she's learned to expect the unexpected — and have a camera ready! (@imaftmummy)
- My child is my mirror — Jessica Claire at Crunchy-Chewy Mama has seen herself in her children – and it's not bad. (@crunchychewy)
- There is enough to go around… — Kellie at Our Mindful Life learned that love doesn't diminish when it's shared.
- Learning From Our Children, Every Day — Kimberly at Homeschooling in Nova Scotia, Canada is continually inspired by her children. (@UsborneBooksCB)
- Life Lessons From My Children — Kristen at Adventures in Mommyhood has learned that every slug is fascinating, doing the dishes is fun, and sharing a banana is a delight. (@crunchymamato2)
- Things I've Learned From My Children — Kristin at Intrepid Murmurings uses pictures to share what she has learned from her children. (@sunfrog)
- Beyond the questions lies the answer — Lauren at Hobo Mama stopped wondering and started knowing — loving and liking our children comes naturally. (@Hobo_Mama)
- Learning from Children — Lily, aka Witch Mom, finds out just how enchanting balloons can be. (@LilyShahar)
- Lifelong Learning — Lindsay at Living in Harmony has learned that what works for one kid might not work for another. (@AttachedMama)
- Walking alongside my daughter — Lindsey at Mama Cum Laude is learning to give the clock less power over her family's life.
- Things my baby taught me about me — Luschka at Diary of a First Child is proud of how she has grown as a mother. (@lvano)
- From my children, I have learned — Mama Mo at Attached at the Nip has a litany of beautiful lessons, from selflessness to sleeplessness.
- The Little Things in Life — In a simple and lovely prose poem, Mandy at Living Peacefully with Children shows how adults worry about the wrong things and forget the little, important ones: watching ladybugs, jumping in leaves, cherishing each moment as it comes.
- The Virtues of Motherhood — Melissa at The New Mommy Files has had opportunities to learn from children as both a teacher and a mother. (@NewMommyFiles)
- My Kids Have Taught Me That It's Time To Stop Blogging — Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! has learned that childhoods fly by too fast to blog. We'll miss your wonderful online presence, Melodie, and we wish you much peace and happiness. (@bfmom)
- Having Kids Has Taught me a Thing or Two — Michelle at The Parent Vortex learns all day long — from fun facts about hedgehogs to tying a complicated wrap with a screaming child and an audience. (@TheParentVortex)
- We Could All Learn from the Children — Momma Jorje takes time to get on the floor and play so that she can see the world through her child's eyes.
- Teaching Forgiveness — Mrs Green at Little Green Blog has a daughter who's taught her unconditional love — even when she feels like she does't deserve it. (@littlegreenblog)
- Parenting as a joint venture — Olivia at Write About Birth appreciates watching the astonishing way her children learn. (@writeaboutbirth)
- Beginner's Mind — Rachael at The Variegated Life learns from a child who builds bridges to nowhere, calls letter magnets his numbers, and insists dinnertime is truck time. (@RachaelNevins)
- A baby's present — RS at A Haircut and a Shave presents a short poem on the differences between a baby's mindfulness and ours.
- Self-Confidence Was Born With My Daughter — Sara at Halfway Crunchy learned to trust her instincts by responding to her child's needs — and saw her self-confidence bloom.
- The Importance of Being Less Earnest — Seonaid at The Practical Dilettante has one list of earnest and one list of silly things she has learned as a parent. (@seonaid_lee)
- Lessons my children have taught me — Sheryl at Little Snowflakes learned that attachment parenting was the best way to meet the needs of her child and herself. (@Sheryljesin)
- Till the water is clear — Stacy at Mama-Om learns that being present is the best present. (@mama_om)
- I Hold It — Stefanie at Very, Very Fine has learned that the ability to communicate is much more important than the number of words a child knows.
- What My Children Taught Me About Letting Go — Summer at Finding Summer is learning from her kids to laugh in the face of heartache. (@summerminor)
- Finding My Tools — The Artsymama has applied some of what she's learned as a mama in the classroom, with great results!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Winking and Blinking: Where's Nod?
I have two things I'd like to write about, one seasonal, one foundational. I'm going to do the foundational one first. I'd also like to say that this story, as it is, does have a happy ending. Mostly. It's not over yet, I guess. I should also say that the events depicted below may be a little hazy. Not sleeping will do that to your memory.
I am the mother of a child who has never slept well. Ever. I just want to get that out there. The only time she slept well was when she was jaundiced. That doesn't really count. After that, I had to wake her every 2-3 hours to feed her to flush her system and make her not-yellow. Oh, she wanted to sleep in those days - I remember many times when I would have to take off everything but her diaper to wake her up enough to eat. Poor ickle munchkin. She would semi-frequently sleep for about 5 hours overnight up until she was 3 months old or so. Since then, it's been about 3 hours at a time, maximum, with a few lovely exceptions where she has gone 5 or (gasp!) 7 hours.
It's not just that she doesn't sleep for a long period of time. She has, historically, been very tricky to get to sleep. There has been a lot of swaddling, white noise, swinging, and nursing to sleep. All 5 of Harvey Karp's S's, just to get her to sleep for a few hours. Also, lots of crying. Not me letting her cry - her crying in spite of everything. I like to think that she at least knew one of us was with her, instead of her going through this neurological nightmare by herself. I am pretty sure she wanted to go to sleep, but wasn't able to. It's a skill, just like walking or doing math or not pooping in your pants. (She can do one of those things fairly well, one of them not at all, and one of them when I catch her in time to have her do it over the toilet, but that's another post. Hint: the last one isn't math.)
So what are our sleeping arrangements? There have been a few. Newborn Bee slept in the bassinet of her portable crib next to the bed. It took a Herculean effort for my still broken body to pick her up out of it, and she would often wake when laid back down after eating. That was my first shock: babies don't just magically go to and stay asleep. We used the bassinet for... uh... I honestly don't remember. Until we couldn't, probably. Anyway, at some point I finally just started keeping her in bed with me and nursing her lying on my side. Much happiness and sleeping for everyone!
When we got settled into the new apartment in DC, I thought, "I'm going to try to get her to sleep in her crib for naps and a few hours at night. Maybe she'll sleep better!" So after tubby time, it was jammies, nursing until almost asleep, walking around the nursery in the sling until asleep, then laying down and shushing off to sleep. It worked pretty well - for 3 days. She would go right to sleep minutes after I laid her down! She slept for 3 hours! (She hadn't been). On day 3, however, as soon as we even approached the crib, she would start to wail. She would only sleep for 45 minutes at a time. I wasn't even trying to get her to sleep in her crib all night - just a few hours, and then I quite happily brought her into bed for the duration of the night. I kept the experiment up for a few more days and then gave up because things were just getting worse and worse.
What happened after this is a total blur, which brings us to the present. Here are how things currently stand: we have the bed set up for safe, easy co-sleeping. It is a queen bed. We have it pushed up against the wall (and the crib bumper jammed in between it and the wall, although there really wasn't much space there), and it's not very high. At this point she can dismount safely anyway. She naps in there, on the wall side. (My side). I put her to sleep at night in there too. She sleeps either betwixt me and the wall or me and the husband - either one works. She goes to bed around 7:00. It's tubby, jammies, story (sometimes), nursing until she loses interest (all of about 10 minutes), then sleep. Under ideal conditions, the whole thing only takes around 30-40 minutes and involves hardly any crying. It's some kind of magic - I lay her on her tummy and she rolls her head over and just goes to sleep. If she wakes up before I am ready for bed, it takes a little back patting and she's right back to sleep in minutes. Yes, she wakes up for boob a couple of times a night - but that probably only "robs" me of a grand total of 15 minutes of sleep.
So my sleep strategy is this: a routine is good, but basically just roll with it and do whatever maximizes sleep and sanity for everyone. Don't feel like a failure because your kid doesn't sleep long, or in a crib, or always cries no matter what you do (assuming there are no health problems). Things will get better. They'll get worse again, but then better. It's not a linear progression, it's more of a roller coaster of good and bad, and usually just at the moment you think, "I MUST change something NOW!" things settle down.
I do highly recommend getting a sidecar crib for tiny babies and regular in-bed cosleeping for bigger babies (say, once they can roll over and it feels safe to you). Do your research and make your bed safe. (Yes: I am advocating not getting a big wooden crib that is expensive and may just turn into a giant laundry basket/storage bin, or getting moved to your in-laws' house in Virginia).
You should forget everything if there are teeth or developmental milestones happening. The dirty little secret of sleep "training" is that teething, traveling, sickness, and developmental milestones frequently undo all that tough cry-it-out work and it has to be redone. Not only that - it doesn't actually do much as far as waking up during the night goes.
I've offered no magic solutions, but maybe I've at least helped to erase this bizarre perception that babies should sleep like adults. They aren't, they shouldn't, it's not in their best interest, and just try to slog through it until it ends. Getting out of the house and commiserating with a fellow traveler are the things that help me most. Sweet dreams!
So what are our sleeping arrangements? There have been a few. Newborn Bee slept in the bassinet of her portable crib next to the bed. It took a Herculean effort for my still broken body to pick her up out of it, and she would often wake when laid back down after eating. That was my first shock: babies don't just magically go to and stay asleep. We used the bassinet for... uh... I honestly don't remember. Until we couldn't, probably. Anyway, at some point I finally just started keeping her in bed with me and nursing her lying on my side. Much happiness and sleeping for everyone!
When we got settled into the new apartment in DC, I thought, "I'm going to try to get her to sleep in her crib for naps and a few hours at night. Maybe she'll sleep better!" So after tubby time, it was jammies, nursing until almost asleep, walking around the nursery in the sling until asleep, then laying down and shushing off to sleep. It worked pretty well - for 3 days. She would go right to sleep minutes after I laid her down! She slept for 3 hours! (She hadn't been). On day 3, however, as soon as we even approached the crib, she would start to wail. She would only sleep for 45 minutes at a time. I wasn't even trying to get her to sleep in her crib all night - just a few hours, and then I quite happily brought her into bed for the duration of the night. I kept the experiment up for a few more days and then gave up because things were just getting worse and worse.
What happened after this is a total blur, which brings us to the present. Here are how things currently stand: we have the bed set up for safe, easy co-sleeping. It is a queen bed. We have it pushed up against the wall (and the crib bumper jammed in between it and the wall, although there really wasn't much space there), and it's not very high. At this point she can dismount safely anyway. She naps in there, on the wall side. (My side). I put her to sleep at night in there too. She sleeps either betwixt me and the wall or me and the husband - either one works. She goes to bed around 7:00. It's tubby, jammies, story (sometimes), nursing until she loses interest (all of about 10 minutes), then sleep. Under ideal conditions, the whole thing only takes around 30-40 minutes and involves hardly any crying. It's some kind of magic - I lay her on her tummy and she rolls her head over and just goes to sleep. If she wakes up before I am ready for bed, it takes a little back patting and she's right back to sleep in minutes. Yes, she wakes up for boob a couple of times a night - but that probably only "robs" me of a grand total of 15 minutes of sleep.
So my sleep strategy is this: a routine is good, but basically just roll with it and do whatever maximizes sleep and sanity for everyone. Don't feel like a failure because your kid doesn't sleep long, or in a crib, or always cries no matter what you do (assuming there are no health problems). Things will get better. They'll get worse again, but then better. It's not a linear progression, it's more of a roller coaster of good and bad, and usually just at the moment you think, "I MUST change something NOW!" things settle down.
I do highly recommend getting a sidecar crib for tiny babies and regular in-bed cosleeping for bigger babies (say, once they can roll over and it feels safe to you). Do your research and make your bed safe. (Yes: I am advocating not getting a big wooden crib that is expensive and may just turn into a giant laundry basket/storage bin, or getting moved to your in-laws' house in Virginia).
You should forget everything if there are teeth or developmental milestones happening. The dirty little secret of sleep "training" is that teething, traveling, sickness, and developmental milestones frequently undo all that tough cry-it-out work and it has to be redone. Not only that - it doesn't actually do much as far as waking up during the night goes.
I've offered no magic solutions, but maybe I've at least helped to erase this bizarre perception that babies should sleep like adults. They aren't, they shouldn't, it's not in their best interest, and just try to slog through it until it ends. Getting out of the house and commiserating with a fellow traveler are the things that help me most. Sweet dreams!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
What a World
First, I have failed at my two-post-a-week goal. But I shall try to meet it henceforth. Second, I realized that if something keeps bouncing up in my mind, it's probably worth writing about. Third: the forthcoming rant is related to having a child. More or less.
Why do people become professional athletes? I'm starting to think it's because they are dreaming of having a status where the rules no longer apply to them. In high school, I read a science fiction story set in a future where instead of having wars, there were regularly scheduled war games. People still died, but it contained the mess. The survivor(s) of those games could do whatever they wanted to after the games were over. They were heroes. The story ended with the survivor raping his underaged neighbor because she was just something he saw and wanted, and no one could tell him no.
Enter Ben Roethlisberger. #7, because typing his name is a pain, and I don't like saying it. Clearly he read the same story (if he, you know, reads) and instead of being saddened was intrigued. The man has thrice eluded very well documented rape/assault charges. How? A small army of well-paid attorneys and the might of the NFL. The NFL, which suspended another player a year for DUI-related vehicular manslaughter. Yep, a year, for killing someone with a car. Given that precedent, perhaps the lightness of #7's suspension should not be a surprise. And, in the end, they are just a business, and can do what they please with their employees.
However, society as a whole... did not rail against #7. This bothers me. We live in a world where so many actions have a clear message: women do not matter as much as [fill in the blank]. In this case, women do not matter as much as a professional athlete. Am I saying the women involved are poor innocents who couldn't have known better, or who were conducting themselves like nuns? No. But I will very firmly defend the idea that no one deserves to be sexually assaulted. Ever. No one is asking for it, or being a tease. A mistake in judgment or a flaw in character should not result in your being violated.
Out and about this weekend, I saw a little girl in a pink and white #7 jersey. That prompted a big "what the heck?" from me. We need to teach our daughters - AND our sons - that women are just as important as men. We are not second-class citizens. We need to teach them that just because someone can throw a touchdown or hit a home run (skills which are ultimately not that useful), they do not get to live by a different set of rules.
So I'm glad that rapist had his nose broken. I doubt it will make him respect women, and it's a far cry from his being jailed and having his livelihood taken away, but it's something. And parents? Maybe don't put a rapist's jersey on your little girl.
Why do people become professional athletes? I'm starting to think it's because they are dreaming of having a status where the rules no longer apply to them. In high school, I read a science fiction story set in a future where instead of having wars, there were regularly scheduled war games. People still died, but it contained the mess. The survivor(s) of those games could do whatever they wanted to after the games were over. They were heroes. The story ended with the survivor raping his underaged neighbor because she was just something he saw and wanted, and no one could tell him no.
Enter Ben Roethlisberger. #7, because typing his name is a pain, and I don't like saying it. Clearly he read the same story (if he, you know, reads) and instead of being saddened was intrigued. The man has thrice eluded very well documented rape/assault charges. How? A small army of well-paid attorneys and the might of the NFL. The NFL, which suspended another player a year for DUI-related vehicular manslaughter. Yep, a year, for killing someone with a car. Given that precedent, perhaps the lightness of #7's suspension should not be a surprise. And, in the end, they are just a business, and can do what they please with their employees.
However, society as a whole... did not rail against #7. This bothers me. We live in a world where so many actions have a clear message: women do not matter as much as [fill in the blank]. In this case, women do not matter as much as a professional athlete. Am I saying the women involved are poor innocents who couldn't have known better, or who were conducting themselves like nuns? No. But I will very firmly defend the idea that no one deserves to be sexually assaulted. Ever. No one is asking for it, or being a tease. A mistake in judgment or a flaw in character should not result in your being violated.
Out and about this weekend, I saw a little girl in a pink and white #7 jersey. That prompted a big "what the heck?" from me. We need to teach our daughters - AND our sons - that women are just as important as men. We are not second-class citizens. We need to teach them that just because someone can throw a touchdown or hit a home run (skills which are ultimately not that useful), they do not get to live by a different set of rules.
So I'm glad that rapist had his nose broken. I doubt it will make him respect women, and it's a far cry from his being jailed and having his livelihood taken away, but it's something. And parents? Maybe don't put a rapist's jersey on your little girl.
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