Why am I collecting my son’s lost baby teeth?

Last night, I found myself frantically digging at the depths of the secret stores in my bedroom because I realized I had done the unthinkable…..

I have misplaced my son’s first lost tooth.

Our first lost tooth! Little Bear is equal parts proud and nervous as captured so clearly in this expression. 

I only realized this too because the second tooth is dangling just days away from its magical moment of departure and I clearly will be contracted again by the tooth fairy to do some collecting and exchanging.  Its only logical that I would continue to store these little teeth in the same spot like a seemingly organized human, right? 

"I can’t believe I lost his first tooth!"  

The barrage of “Mom Fail” self-talk started to make me question all of my qualifications for motherhood or even more specifically as the tooth fairy. Thankfully, the more logical part of my brain kicked in:

“Why the hell am I saving these teeth anyway?”

I mean, my mom saved all of my baby teeth. But now she has given them back to me and I don’t want them. Why do I want an old film canister full of tiny needless bone material or whatever teeth are made of? Now they even make these super cute baby teeth organizers for the “Super Moms” of the world, so clearly we should be saving them. However, I cant help but wonder if this is one of those things "we" have just always done so now we think it must always be done, but doesn't actually have a purpose or reason in modern day? My imagination flashed to people making dentures 300 years ago with used baby teeth. Clearly, we have better options now for dental hygiene.

So like the info seeking mother that I am, I prioritized researching the history of baby teeth saving and the benefits of continuing this practice today. This is clearly a good use of my time since I have claims to insurances due for my actual job; but, my brain said, "let's chase the dopamine instead," and now I’ll pass this procrastination masked in purpose as a gift for y'all.

What I learned:

1.        There does not seem to be any evidence that we used baby teeth to make dentures.  In fact, it was more common to use animal teeth, which seems like an odd choice when we could potentially have just used our kiddos lost teeth, but I am no prosthodontist.
2.        Many cultures save teeth as a token, omen or relic! For example, some Central American countries fashion jewelry from lost baby teeth. Ancient Viking culture wore baby teeth as a good luck charm when heading into battle.
3.       Many culture don’t save teeth. For example, in China and Japan there is a ritual for burying baby teeth as a way to bid the adult teeth to grow in straight and some cultures in Africa and the Middle East throw their lost baby teeth at the sun to encourage a brighter one to grow in its place.

So what does all of this mean?

In all of my rabbit hole research, the general theory I have for why Americans save baby teeth is that it’s simply tradition. A tradition that stems for an accumulation of varying countries of origin's historical traditions and is generally reinforced by a doting mother’s sentimental attachment to any reminder that her baby is no longer a baby.  For those evolving this tradition, there are jewelry vendors selling pieces using shaped tooth bone as the feature and formal medical tooth storage for saving for future stem cell retrieval.

Long story short, I feel a little less guilty that I don’t feel a particular sentiment towards my child’s lost tooth, but I do feel overwhelming emotion regarding his toothless smile and all of the changes I see happening on his face that remind me every day he is no longer my little baby.

But, he will always be my baby...

Some fun bloggers who did a far better job than me on this topic if you want to learn more. 

https://kidshealthyteeth.com/what-to-do-with-your-childs-baby-teeth/

http://www.campbellsbraces.com/common/pages/UserFile.aspx?fileId=940269

https://www.scarymommy.com/parenting/kid-car-tantrum-scientist-formula

Book Review: My First Book of Feminism (for Boys)

My First Book of Feminism (for Boys) by Julie Merberg and illustrated by Michele Brummer Everett was initially gifted to my son for Christmas, and what a gift! As a boy mom, I of course want to raise a strong and kind son. I want to raise a son who is respectful of women's boundaries and humanity. Understands fully the nuances of consent and privilege, but also is proud of his own masculine existence.  This book hit the nail on the head in an age appropriate manner.

The book starts by outlining this idea that feminism really starts with the relationship you form with your mom. A mutually respectful one where everyone contributes to the household. It then moves to normalize the expression of emotion. Its okay to cry and to have more feelings than "just happy or mad." The content continues to discuss not gendering toys, chores or careers and awards your brain as one's strongest attribute, "flex your brain power... use your words to win fights."

Raising a son in 2020 is an interesting time. We are raising a generation of boys post, Me Too Movement, the full acknowledgement of gender inequality as an unacceptable standard, and the reinforcement of gender expression ranging on a spectrum.  This book empowers our sons to be human rights activists and how feminism is central to that. Its just beautiful. 

Anxious Kids During Shelter in Place

My son...... like lots of littles, has had anxiety about the novel coronavirus. Some days he doesn’t remember or even care and then other days, it’s the only thing on his mind. For example, recently he was confident that one of my 11 month old was saying “coronavirus” and he was too anxious to play in the backyard - insisting on staying inside. Its devastating as a parent because as much as we wanted to protect our children from trauma and the reality of the harshness of our world, we couldn't prevent it from coming to him anyway. I was hoping to protect Little Bear a bit longer, but the drastic changes to his life ruled that impossible. 

Staying home is great! He loves that! He could do that all day and not notice. Good days include playing in the sand pit, kiddie pool and cars. Its when we added in virtual classrooms, limitations on Grandma's visits, and walks where we have to maintain social distancing that it started to not feel like a normal vacation.

Normally, kids stay home from school when they are sick. I didn't realize this at first, but that meant that Little Bear thought we were in Shelter in Place because he had COVID-19. He thought he wasn't allowed to go to school because he was sick. He refused to eat because he didn't want to feed the coronavirus and he drank lots of water so he could "pee it out." He then started transferring his anxiety onto benign things that never bothered him before. Bugs became a central fear. They were something tangible that he could project onto. If we as adults are having difficulty processing and coping during this time, how can we expect a 4 year old to?

I had to come up with some solutions. First, my kid thrives on information. He does not do well without the who, what, when, where, why and hows..... Also, throughout his childhood, we have always used books to supplement material. Books bring an external voice to content that can reinforce a message. However, nothing specific existed yet. How could it? A pandemic to this level has not happened in over 100 years and has certainly never happened during a period with such dependence on international trade, travel, social media and the Center for Disease Control. 

We started teaching the power of social distancing, that these changes in our household were acts of love - to protect not only ourselves but our loved ones. We empowered him as a scientist. He had tools at his disposal to stay safe: washing his hands, drinking water and taking his vitamins.  We made as many connections as possible: virtual play dates, dinner dates via face time, pen pals, drive by visits and lots of extra love. We gave power to magic. The magic of prayer, the magic of love, the magic of time. Lastly, we acknowledge the grief process that both him and everyone else was experiencing. We normalized the anger, the denial, the sadness.... reinforcing that even though his world has turned upside down, this to shall pass.  

White Priviledge, One Mom's Process

By Contributing Writer Danielle Dixon of Irving, California

When My Little Bear was a toddler, I was unprepared for how early she became aware of race. We passed an elderly woman of color in a store and my daughter questioned why she had "different skin than us." My heart sped up and I prayed for the words to answer my child’s innocent question in an age appropriate manner. I wanted to honor the woman nearby who was close enough to observe and hear my reply.

“Yes, God made us with all different colors of skin, you noticed! Some of us are pinkish, some of us are more tan, some of us are light brown, and some of us are darker brown, and there are so many colors in between. Isn’t it beautiful how God makes us all to look so different, but we are all his children?”

What does white privilege mean to you? 

For me, it meant that as a child, I could easily find dolls that resembled me. I saw children on posters and TV, and the little girls looked just like me. I was part of the majority culture—I was comfortable, and I was oblivious.  

As I became a teenager, I thought that living on the West Coast, eating ethnic food, and being friends with people of color somehow gave me a greater understanding… But I still didn’t get it.

In my twenties, I began listening more. It was uncomfortable, listening to friends of color share their experiences.  I slowly took in their stories—their lives—their trauma—I realized how I had continually benefited from the same systems that have oppressed them.  

I remember driving home from college and I got stuck behind a car going UNDER the speed limit. I impatiently passed them, glancing sideways. I noticed that the driver was a person of color. I sailed past, going comfortably over the speed limit—and for the first time in my white mind, I realized that even how I drive is a reflection of my privilege. I didn’t worry about being pulled over; cops aren’t going to pull over a white girl in her little white Beetle... Not everyone gets a free pass. Here I was, frustrated with a total stranger for carefully obeying the laws of the road—because I didn’t have to. Pretty entitled, right?

Once I began considering the areas of my life that my skin color had affected me, I saw it everywhere. I felt gross as I realized all of the ways that I had profited from this system, the implicit and explicit biases. There is no room for defensiveness in this, white fragility. If we say, “...but I am NOT a racist!”, suddenly, the conversation is focusing on us and is an egocentric, defensive reaction. It completely invalidates the trauma narratives shared. Is it any wonder that people of color are beyond exhausted from trying to explain this to us???

I don’t want this to be about white guilt; instead, we must lean into the pain and accept that all of us have played a role. For example, if one of my kids unintentionally hurts the other, I still expect an acknowledgement of the injury they caused. The affect trumps the intent. It doesn’t matter if you unwittingly participated in this broken system; the point is, most white people have. I now view this wrestling as a duty—as an imperative. I am part of the majority culture; I want the narrative to change. My heart breaks for parents that lose their beautiful boys to a modern-day lynching. I can’t imagine sending my girls out for a jog and having to worry if they would be gunned down. It’s atrocious. This is not a matter of politics—it is an issue of morality.

 

Obviously, white people cannot help that they are born white, but if privilege does not acknowledge itself—does not figure out how to use its power for good—then it becomes an instrument of harm, whether consciously or unwittingly. Once one becomes aware of their power, it MUST translate into a sense of duty. I often feel overwhelmed, as I wrestle with all of these injustices—I pray, I beg that God will open my eyes so that I don’t add to the wrongs, and so that I will continue to HEAR my family, friends, and neighbors as they mourn.  My efforts feel small; I pray that my girls will grow up to see a world of color, and that they will also learn to call out injustice—and that they will fight it.

Dont Touch My Hair - Thoughts on Raising my Curlies.

Growing up, I really didn’t understand my hair. My friends comparably had straight hair and I was one of the very few with hair that got bigger if you brushed it, played outside.... or even looked at it.  My mother attempted to style it by blow drying it straight as a young child. This just resulted in one big 80s style poof. Then in middle and high school, I just solved that problem by sleeking baby oil in my mane and slicking it up in the tightest, wettest sloppy bun a 90s teen could muster.  

Conversely, people loved my curls.  Friends would try to convince me to let it down. They would twirl my trendles in class and ask to play with my hair during sleepovers. Parents would notice the color and body in the grocery store or as I readjusted it between sports events. These little moments became the foundation of my new relationship with my hair. 

I wasn’t unlucky to have curly hair. It was just a fact, I had curly hair. People loved it. People would tell me, "people spend big money to have hair like that." I was introduced to ethnic hair products. The baby oil went out and all of the amazing shea, cocounut and argon smelling products filled my bathroom cabinet. After some trial, error and education, I learned I had 2c/3a curls and I could celebrate them as oppose to being a victim to them.  I established a routine and led through adulthood proud of my curls.  I married another curly and that solidified it. My children would also have curly hair and I was on a mission that they would love it! 

Photo by Madeline Richards

My son has the most amazing hair. Its alive. Its vibrant. Its soft and cuddles back with you. If you pull it, it bounces. We like to play the boing game. Everywhere we wonder in this world, people stop to admire his hair. Passer byers will rub a "that-a-boy" tousle in his curls. Its like watching what happened in my childhood x 100000. 

"I love his curls." 

"Look at those curlies" 

"Que Chino."  

 He is growing up so proud of his curls. He loves them too. I like the comments. I like the hair love. The questions. 

"How do you get his hair like that."

"What do you put in it?"

"Is it hard to brush?"

It feels like an innocent curiosity. An opportunity to educate on curly hair and help bridge gaps.

We also live in a city that is predominantly Mexican American. It is perfectly normal here for random strangers to come up and touch or rub your child or baby real quick. This enhances the number of hair tousles my children get. Its cultural to touch what you love or are envious of in order to protect it. Its a tradition/superstition known as Mal de Ojo. 

Conversely, I understand intellectually the layers of history behind African American hair considerations. The pain of perpetuated biases, gawking, jokes, stereotyping, microaggression and minimalization of the African American experience. I understand that it is not culturally appropriate to touch an African American’s hair without first asking permission.... and you better be fairly secure in that relationship. That is not a question for bystanders. I get that this is also the cultural context for my son’s hair. 

I am not black and can therefore have no expertise on the black experience. But I am raising black children who are also reflections of me and my experiences. It interesting to balance all of these factors.  As a result, my approach to my son’s hair and my boundaries with that are likely different than if he was raised by purely black parents. I may have more to learn here or maybe this is the note to hit considering this beautiful hybrid of experience; meanwhile, I just want my children to be proud, confident and kind people. My son is proud of his curls and that fills my heart. My girls are still developing their hair textures and with that we will eventually be able to honor a household of five different types of curls and all of the beauty they possess.   

Photo by Madeline Richards

Book Review: Dont Touch My Hair!

My son's locks at 3 years old. 

Dont Touch My Hair by Sharee Miller caught my attention at the library one day after story time. Not only was the main character a beautiful brown babe, but it discussed an issue that is a conflicting one for me.  I understand the idea and historical significance behind not touching a black person's hair... but I also don't necessarily agree.  As a non black person, maybe I don't get to agree or disagree on this issue; however, as a parent, I feel its my right to take a position regarding my own children. So, I decided to give it a read.

The story begins with a little girl named Aria who is sharing her amazing self love for her hair. "Its soft and bouncy, and grows toward the sun like a flower." Then Aria sets out into her city for adventure. It turns out, everyone else loves and is curious about her hair too. She goes through her day filtering questions and comments about her hair. Then people want to touch it. This gets to be too much for little Aria. "They are so curious about my hair that they even want to touch it without even asking for permission."  People, dragons, and aliens are all guilty of this and she finally has enough. "This is My hair."  The book ends with her learning to set boundaries regarding what she is willing to experience with others regarding her hair.

Its a fun, light, first person narrative that invites the reader to join in the world of a little girl who makes it all the way to outer space and a deserted island from her home all in one day.

I liked this book for so many reasons:

1) It was all about self love and not letting that which makes you different affect your positive self view.
2) It serves to educate people who may unknowingly be offending or making another feel uncomfortable.
3) It teaches boundaries. Anything that helps my kids claim their own bodies and teach them boundaries gets gold stars in my book.

The book ends with some discussion prompts that you can use with your own readers to further the discussion. Its recommended from an audience preschool to second grade. My three year old thoroughly enjoyed it and asked to read it again and again.  There are also tons of Youtube videos of kids reading this book. Its a fun way to read to your kids if you're in a crunch.

Amazon Reviews: 

"Since reading this book with my 3 year old, she has had the confidence to tell 4 adults not to touch her hair! We love this book! It teaches them about consent. I’ve told her many times what this book says, but I think seeing a little girl with hair like her, dealing with the same issue, helped it sink in."

"This book has generated many important conversations in our classroom, grateful to the author for this."

"An excellent book for black girls and anyone of mixed heritage, my daughter absolutely loved it!"

Police can be Heroes.

Our first little bear is officially four years old and solidly into the hero stage. He loooooves all things hero and practices his rescue of people, toys and pets regularly. Prior to even walking, we had discussed the role of the police with him. It took repetition, but every time we would go to a public event or even grocery store, we would stop, greet the officer, and review the rules. "If you cant find your grown up, you tell a police officer and he will help you."

Thanks to Youtube, my son now also has the concept of jail. Apparently, little cars who wouldn't follow the rules of the road would have to go to jail. His world began to open more to the idea of good vs. bad guys.  For example, my car was broken into and the police had to come make a police report, Santa's "naughty and nice list," and of course, those pesky Ninjalinos from Pj Mask.  

On the way to school one day my son announced, "police catch bad guys and take them to jail. Police are heroes right?"

"Yes, son. Police are heroes." But my heart sank a little as I responded. This pure admiration and innocence. He couldn't possibly grasp that while this statement is also true, there is more to the story. As a white presenting female, I recognize this statement is more true for me than it will be for my son.  He will one day be a "black man" in America. 

It was time to get real. 

"Yes, police are heroes. They help people. But bad guys can be sneaky and sometimes bad guys can pretend to be heroes. Right now you are too little to tell who is a sneaky bad guy and who is a good guy. So you can always ask Mommy or Mama and we can teach you. One day, you will be big and will know on your own."

Furthering the conversation little bear asks, "bad guys go to jail, right?" My response, "yes! the police take bad guys to jail. But sometimes other people go to jail too. Sometimes, the police make a mistake and take a good guy to jail or sometimes a good guy makes a mistake and has to go to jail, but he is still a good guy." 

We have had versions of this conversation a few times and its amazing how easy it is for him to grasp. It is also very satisfying to know that while I am not ready - and he is not ready - to grasp the full understanding of these concepts, he is at least introduced to them in a way that wont shatter his idea of the world when they come tumbling into his reality. 

I cant raise my children assuming they will have the same privileges as me. They wont. But, I also don't want to raise them with the full weight of transgenerational oppression and trauma during early childhood. I want them to be confident in navigating the world. I want them to understand how these systems work and translate that into opportunity not marginalization. With the number of multiracial citizens tripling in the last census, systems can change too. There is power in numbers and empathy established when issues start to hit the masses closer to home. However, Trayvon Martin was murdered when I started my fertility treatments. The year my son was born, black men were 9 times more likely to be killed by police. These facts cant be ignored. 

Today is Martin Luther King Day. My inquisitive guy of course wanted to know who he was and why we didn't have school. I explained, "Martin Luther King was a hero. He helped save kind people from mean people. There is still a lot of work to do, but he was a hero too." We went over pictures of MLK and the massive crowd of his "I have a Dream" speech. Little Bear was amazed! Little Bear also has no concept of race. I don't want to teach him about race by first introducing racism.... Good and bad are not directly related to race and I want his discovery of race to be built on appreciation and curiosity.  On this day, regardless of who you are, consider your privileges and what you are doing to make a better world for our children. Also, consider how we start to teach privileged with simplifications like, "police are heroes." Yes. Police can be heroes.... 

  

Boosting Milk Supply

I had to learn to feed two! 

Nursing my firstborn was so easy that I didn't even realize there could be issues breastfeeding. Of course, I had the cracked, bleeding nipple stage in the beginning, but we latched easy within seconds of birth and my supply always matched baby. It was just natural.  In fact, nursing became my go to parenting skill. Cold baby, nurse. Hungry baby, nurse. Vaccines, nurse. Sick baby, nurse. Tired baby, nurse.

Flash forward to my twins the second round, It. was. not. easy. It has not been easy.

Aside from other issues, maintaining my supply has been a full-time job this round. The girls don't nurse on demand well because I have one baby who can't latch.  This means, I not only have to produce enough milk to exclusively feed two, but I have to somehow communicate that to my body when I only have one baby latching. 

We are now five months solid into breastfeeding and while the path has not been easy, it has been successful. We are now introducing our first foods so the pressure has officially come off my boobs a little. Phew! Along the way, I have learned some highly effective tricks for increasing supply. Assuming there are others who dont just naturally produce fountains of breast milk, I will list them in their order of effectiveness for me.

1) Water!

Make sure you are drinking enough water. Breast milk is 90% water.

2) Power Pumping.

Power pumping is 1-2 hours of pumping 15 minutes on, 15 minutes off. This is the most boring tool of all, but, it is by far the most effective. I power pump daily. This means I put all of the kids to bed, shower and straighten up, and then from 9:00 pm to 11:00 pm, I sit and pump. I hate it! But it simulates a baby cluster feeding and even if you aren't lactating for each mini pump, you are tricking your body into thinking baby is growing and needs more milk. The reason I do this daily is by power pumping, I can skip pumps during the day. Instead of pumping every 1-2 hours as recommended, I can limit my pumps to one morning, lunch and evening pump and skip the every 1-2 hours or midnight pump.

3) Fenugreek.

Take a minimum of 2,000 mg 2x daily.

I buy the Nature's Way brand because it is about $6.
The '"breast feeding" brands can price well over $25. 

4) Lactation Shake

I make my own mostly because they can be so pricey. Plus, I happen to like my recipe. I add 1/4 cup of cooked oatmeal, 1/2 cup of spinach, milk, blueberries (optional) and plant based protein powder. Then blend together and drink. I will use as a breakfast replacement or drink during my power pumping sessions. What I love most is it give my milk a slightly green color from all of the veggies. I have to admit that is satisfying to know my babes are benefiting from the extra veggies.

Breast feeding, kid safe and plant based
protein powder for less than $25 on Amazon. 

5) Dark Beer

I only use this method when "I am in trouble."  Stress, exhaustion, being sick, or off routine significantly effect my supply. If I have a drop, I will drink 1/4-1/2 a bottle of dark beer for 3-4 days while pumping. The beer has a couple of qualities that helps both increase production and encourage let down.

In addition to these tips, if you are pumping, you have to make sure you have good pumping technique. For example, leaning slightly forward while pumping, massaging breasts throughout sessions, using clean pumping gear, checking lines for fluid, maintaining a tight suctions, etc. There are a few other things to do as well, but these have been the most bang for my buck during my journey. Whether you are looking to build your supply for your exclusive nurser or for pumping moms, adding any or all of these should certainly help!

My typical morning haul after an evening of power pumping.
This is still after nursing one babe during the night. 

I'm Not a "First-time Mom" Anymore

As many of you may know, I am no longer a first-time mom. I originally thought that the second round of parenthood would be more or less the same as the first... but apparently, the process doesn't "repeat" itself. From conception, to pregnancy, to labor and delivery, nothing was comparable to the first round and my second pregnancy clearly established itself as its own whole new experience. Part of this may likely have been because my first born was a singleton and my second pregnancy was twins! But, I think many Mom-ease could relate to the following:

1) Conception: Our children are conceived with the help of fertility treatments. We tried several things with our first born and finally found a combo that resulted in our pregnancy. Come second round we thought we just had to repeat that same magical combo. NOT! Turns out, my body wanted a whole new magical combo that was unfortunately a lot more expensive. I think many woman experience differences in their fertility with each attempt (planned and unplanned).

2) Pregnancy: The pregnancy for each trimester was not even comparable. This was largely due to carrying twins, but I am sure many moms can relate to showing sooner, different early pregnancy symptoms and variations in morning sickness. For me, my firstborn gave me morning sickness for 5.5 months and then it returned again at about 35 weeks. My second pregnancy gave me a much shorter period of morning sickness which ended at about 12 weeks. The third trimester however, was like nothing I have ever done (or would like to do again...). That was hard!

3) Labor and Delivery: My labor with my singleton was textbook. Looooong, but progressed in regularly intervals over the course of 25 hours. Contractions became regular, increased in severity, and finally it was time to push. With the twins, my labor was so inconsistent. Contractions took place over 16 days, but were extremely irregular and varied in severity and intensity. In fact, it wasn't until I was dilated to 8 that I was even confident I was in active labor. I had back labor with my first and thankfully not with my second; therefore, labor with my son was immeasurably more painful. Many woman share that their labor the second time around is easier and I would have to agree.

4) Postpartum Recovery: Wow! The first time around, I was completely unprepared. I didn't know that I should expect bleeding for weeks. I didn't consider that I wouldn't feel confident sitting, that my boobs would be leaking, or that I wouldn't be able to use toilet paper. I was just sore and confused. With my twins, I immediately felt relief. Even the postpartum pain and bleeding while painful - still felt better than being 40 weeks pregnant with twins. The recovery period was much quicker too. I was taking steps and chasing my toddler within a few days. This did not happen with my first.

5) Hormones: Its not until now, two months postpartum with twins that I realize I likely had postpartum depression or anxiety with my first born. I chalked it up to "baby blues," lack of sleep, and nursing hormones. I thought all moms felt that way and it would just take time to recovery. It wasn't until my twins that I realize I didn't "need" to feel that way. In fact, I feel great! Ironically, I am an Licensed Clinical Social Worker and treat clients with Postpartum depression and anxiety. Apparently, that didn't mean I would recognize it in myself.

Overall, my girls require me to be a different kind of parent than my son did. Im sure this has to do with birth order (now I have a toddler to consider), that they are multiples (I just cant technically practice attachment parenting in the same way - I don't have enough hands!), and their personalities. All three kids need me to be a different kind of mom with them. So while, I am familiar with the technical stuff from round one, in many ways its a whole new experience again.

To motherhood!

The Accidental Pressure I was Putting on Little Bear

By the time my Little Bear was 1 year, he was speaking in sentences and could articulate his needs. Now three, I have unique insight into his little toddler mind because he can actually share how he is feeling and what he thinks about things in a semi complex manner. This means making phone calls or ordering at a drive through is particularly difficult, since like me, he has an opinion about everything; but, it also gifts me with insights that not everyone parent has access to.

Potty training has been a struggle for us. And not because he isn’t potty trained, but because he is resistant to committing. He has been using the potty inconsistently since before he was one, but frankly some days he prefers his diaper and some days he prefers the potty. As a social worker with a psychodynamic background, I am probably too sensitive to the idea of pressuring him to meet this milestone.  What if Freud was right? As a result, I have just been following his lead.

One day, I had this conversation with me son:

Me: "Maybe its too confusing to use diapers, pull ups and underwear. Do you think we should pack up your diapers and save them for your baby sisters?"

Little Bear: "No. I like my diapers."

Me: "Okay. Can I ask you why you aren’t ready? Is it too boring? Scary? Hard? Annoying?"

Little Bear: "No, I’m just not ready to be big…"

The simplicity of this statement hit me like a wall. He’s not ready to be big. That’s okay. I get that. Upon deeper thought, I realized there is another layer to this. I, through my "loving affirmations," have accidentally been pressuring him to stay little.

Me: "Will you be my baby forever?"

Me: "You’re growing up too fast."

Me: "I need my baby."

Also, Me: "You’re my perfect little baby."

All of these cuddles and loves, which we both cherish, really reinforces him staying little forever. I know you Moms get that urge to slow down time… but each milestone reached and growth observed is equally exciting. I just want more of it all! But, I wasn’t relaying that to him. I was telling him that I was not ready for him to be big.

Since this conversation, I have had to be mindful of how I talk to him.

Me: "You will always be my beautiful boy."

Me: "I am so proud of how you are growing."

Me: "I need my big boy."

The new Me: "You are my perfect big boy."

We all know he will always be "my baby"…. He can be 40 with three kids and I will always remember that little chubby, hairy, neckless miracle I pulled from my womb, but meanwhile, I need to be more mindful of the messages I send him.

I hope I never forget....

I have been feeling sentimental lately... But I have good reason. My only baby will now soon be a big brother. I am transitioning from a first-time Mom to a Mom of multiples. Twins are on their way Spring of 2019. This transition has been a whirlwind of emotions including excitement, bewilderment, nerves and more. So with the combination of hormones, lack of sleep and my quickly growing son and family, I have been feeling sentimental lately. Please indulge me....

August 2018

Things I hope I never forget:

I hope I never forget that you say toe-tatos instead of potatoes,
and Togg instead of Todd.
I hope I never forget that your biggest fear is ants,
but you are working through this by regularly playing out pretend ant bites.
I hope I never forget that you line all of your cars up
creating a zen garden of Hotwheels.
I hope I never forget your morning breathe
or the smell of your head.
I hope I never forget that mornings are our best cuddles,
because you're too busy in the day for such things.
I hope I never forget your refusal to feed yourself,
and the times I roll my eyes trying to get you to take bites.
I hope I never forget your love for fake coughing,
and your insistence on yodeling daily.
I hope I never forget the moment you crowned,
and I impatiently grabbed you from me before the midwife could intervene.
I hope I never forget that hairy peeling baby skin,
and that little wrinkly butt.
I hope I never forget how frustrated you got trying to take your first steps.
You just couldn't wait and had to push through.
I hope I never forget the utter excitement and ownership you took,
the first time you saw your two baby siblings' sonogram.
I hope I never forget they way you look at me,
and how you say, "I love you, Mommy."
You will forever be my first born, our oldest son, and the one who made me a Mom.
I hope I never forget these little things...
the ones that don't always make the photo album,
but make my days with you perfect.

This Show is Mommy Approved

TV is a part of my parenting style. We limit it and ensure that what is watched is educational, but TV allows my son some down time when needed, Mommy to work at her computer when needed, or just exposure to fantasy or lessons outside of our every day world. One show we are in looooooove with is "Super Wings."

My son discovered "Super Wings" on Netflix. (My almost 3 year old is slowly but surely learning to navigate the IPad). Netflix currently offers 2 seasons (approximately 150 episodes) in English, Spanish, Italian, Korean and Mandarins. I love shows that my son can watch in English or Spanish and Netflix is a go to in our cable free home. I have also seen it on Amazon Prime. According to Wikipedia, "Super Wings is an animated television series co-produced by FunnyFlux Entertainment in South Korea, Qianqi Animation in China, and Little Airplane Productions in the United States, with the production support from the Educational Broadcasting System and CJ E&M in South Korea, and additional support from KOCCA."

Here is what I love about Super Wings:

Jet, the main character, is an airplane who delivers packages all over the world. During each episode, he is given a package by Jimbo or Sky to deliver. They then show a world map and outline the route of travel from their starting point. Before take off, Jimbo or Sky will teach Jet a few points about that country which will include, the language spoken, 1-2 words in that language, and some cultural details. Then Jet is off to make his delivery. 

Upon arrival in the new country, the package is delivered to its choice recipient and usually is a piece to some regional aspect or cultural event. The recipient usually has some challenge associated with the package, so Jet calls his other airplane friends and they solve the challenge together. All meanwhile, they navigate the new country's culture, language and traditions during their mission.

Some of these countries, I have never even heard of! I have a Master's degree!!!!! On the couch one day, my son turns to me and says, "Namaste means hello." He has soaked up every episode. This month marks his 3rd birthday and he got his first set of Super Wings toys. Now, I get to hear him play out these countries names and challenges on his bedroom floor with his new characters. He is really learning! 

I highly recommend this show for kids. Its entertaining, education, free, and fun! I say it would be good for ages 2-10.

“There's No Such Thing as Bad Weather" A Review

By Contributing Writer Alyssa Queen of Texas

If you read only one book this season, it should absolutely be “There's No Such Thing as Bad Weather: A Scandinavian Mom's Secrets for Raising Healthy, Resilient, and Confident Kids (from Friluftsliv to Hygge)” by Linda Åkeson McGurk. This book is equal parts anecdotal narrative and non-fictional facts as the author navigates starting and raising a family as a Swedish transplant in the United States and then later, taking her American kids to Sweden for half a year. It gives you a completely different view of our own culture that is so ingrained in us and will inspire you to make little changes every day. It’s absolutely changed my entire perspective on raising children and made a huge difference in our lives!

It’s an easy-to-read, enjoyable story that at the heart examines the importance of outdoor play and letting kids learn to navigate risk throughout their life. It’s our job as parents to nurture and guide our children throughout life’s challenges, but equally as important for them to learn to face adversity on their own. Play, especially outdoor play, is the opportune time for them to push boundaries, learn how to carefully evaluate and take risks when they are ready, and manage the (both negative and positive) consequences that result. Other lovely side-effects of this include improvement in the overall health of our children, as well as teaching and inspiring them to be good stewards of this beautiful planet of ours. It also talks pretty in-depth about the Swedish versus American school systems that was both enlightening and alarming as my 3 year old will begin school faster than I can imagine. 

Two little bears playing at Free Forest School in Texas

This book isn’t just a personal story, or philosophical look at many parenting topics- it even dives into truly usable tips and information for putting these thoughts into action with our children. After you read it and are bursting at the seams to talk about it with someone like I was, message me and we can totally go to town! Also, full disclosure: I listened to it on my Audible app instead of actually, physically reading it the first time and the audiobook is really terrific! Though I loved it so much, I ended up buying the physical copy also and read it all over again. If I didn’t listen to books, I’d never get to “read” anything! #MomLife

I hope you get a chance to “read” it and it inspires you as much as it did me!

The horrors of IVs and littles.

Most mom's who have had their littlest, littles have an IV or extensive blood draw usually also has a traumatic story to share along with it. We are no exception. When my son was one and a half he got two viruses back to back at the tail end of the cold and flu season. The first virus has him running a fever for about a week, but nothing too high or dramatic. This of course resulted in decrease appetite, lethargy and a resistance to fluids... but we tried our best. By day 7, our Little Bear had contracted his second virus and started spiking high fevers of 104 and greater.

Our fourth trip to the doctor's resulted in a direct hospital admit for suspected dehydration.

Dehydration means IV.

April 2017

Up to this point, my son had had two blood draws for food allergy testing in his life. They of course hurt him, but he didn't even cry during the draws. They were short and performed on healthy hydrated veins. This IV stick however, was a different story. We had a cranky-sick baby, in a new hospital environment, with nurses dressed for quarantine, trying to stick an IV line into little dehydrated veins. It was a disaster.

The nurses began by wrapping (swaddling) my son in a blanket and allowing me to stand at his head to comfort him and control his upper body movements. Meanwhile, the two pediatric nurses attempted for the longest 45 minutes of me, my partners and I'm confident my son's life to get an IV line in.  Mommy mode had kicked in so I was calm and comforting but the moment he was returned back to the room with his other parent, I had to go for a walk so I could break down and cry. It was horrible. He was so scared and mad and miserable.

Two days later his IV fell out... I was not doing that to him again. I remember hesitating to even tell the nurse the IV fell out. But, at this point I knew my son had spiked some even higher fevers and it just needed to be done.

I went to the head nurse and stated that I wanted the most specialized and experienced nurse to perform the IV line. The head nurse with no hesitation stated, no problem. She called down to the NICU and a NICU nurse came up to perform the line.

This time was different from the start. The NICU nurse came with a vein viewer light. She shined it on my sons arm, which illuminated a clear view of his veins. Within a few tearless seconds his line was in and we were back in our room.

Photo source: https://www.christiemed.com/PublishingImages/Pages/pediatrics/veinviewer-tertiary20.png

My point in this story was not to disparage those hard working pediatric nurses who got my son's first line in. They had many challenges and throughout the process stayed calm and professional. My point is THERE IS A VEIN VIEWER! Ask for it. Require a NICU nurse who is accustomed to smaller and harder veins to put in your child's line. It was a completely different experience. I would love to save a mom and baby from having a scary, emotional IV story.

My son of course made a full recover and was up playing and home in no time. I caught the same virus upon our return home, but it was so minor on my adult body compared to my son's baby body. My ideal wish is that your little does not get sick enough to require an IV, but with cold and flu season here again, I wanted to pass on this info and hopefully save someone some heartache.
 

Donor Conceived. What does that mean?

My son was donor conceived. He has two mom's and we were able to make a beautiful baby using a generous donation from a sperm donor and a little help from the doctor. For some families, this may be new. Your child may have some questions about this and you may struggle with knowing how to answer these questions. I admit as the parent, I too didn't know all of the "right" things to say, but I was able to get some great advise from a PhD leading in the field. I thought it would be helpful, to go ahead and just lay out a list of helpful points.

- Donors are not parents. They do not see themselves as parents when providing their donation. They see sperm or egg donation how you might see blood or bone marrow donation. As a result, we should always refer to them as the donor and not as the biological mother or father.

- Acknowledge that nature and nurture both take a strong role in developing a child. So the non-bio parent is 100% the parent. This is the same for a step-father who has stepped up for an absent biological father, or for adoptive parents who raise a child as their own. This means, we don't need to search for answers to questions past the parent's we see right in front of us. Let the child lead the way and not be placed in a position to answer circumstances complicated by adults.

- Donor conceived children may very likely have donor siblings. Each child and family view these relationships differently and this discussion should be led by the child and not by curious adults.

- Its okay to acknowledge a donor has been used. The word donor is generally not taboo in a family with a donor conceived child. Its okay to even ask the parent's about how it works or even ask for advice on how to talk to their own children about this family dynamic. Donor recipients have been trained usually by their fertility clinic on how to assist in these interactions. However, be prepared to sometimes get a response like, "we are choosing to keep those details personal." That's an okay response too.

- When talking to your own children, try to be inclusive of all of the different types of families that can exist. That is really half of the battle. They are much more open to these concepts and find little question in them compared to adults.

I hope this was helpful and interesting!

An inclusive answer to "how babies are made."

Every parent knows that at some point their child is going to ask them "where do babies come from?" and "how are babies made?" These questions are almost always uncomfortable for parents because it can also trigger a discussion about sex. It usually comes too soon and marks the milestone that your baby certainly isn't a baby anymore. He or she is demonstrating complex thought and is wanting to learn how the world works. However, this question can get even more complicated for parents who are not able to conceive naturally. Thankfully, in this day an age there are so many amazing fertility options available that allow parents to use surrogates, egg donation, sperm donation, insemination, in vitro fertilization, etc and this doesn't even include the other ways we can make families including domestic or international adoption and foster care.

Emylee McIntyre Photography

Many of you already know that our Little Bear has two moms and is the result of sperm donation and IUI treatments. Prior to starting treatment, our clinic required us to participate in a psychological assessment. Resentful at first, this appointment ended up being so informative. It basically included a discussion of how to answer these questions for your donor conceived child and what language to use with them while growing up. I thought this information was so great, why not share it with friends?

The basic principle includes:

To make a baby, it takes a part from a woman called an egg and a part from a man called the sperm. Sometimes families have their own egg and sperm to use and sometimes families have very special donors that give them their egg and/or their sperm. It takes a lot of love and effort to make a baby and sometimes families need a lot of help from the doctor. Then, the baby has to grow in a belly. This is sometimes the mommy's belly but it can also be the birth mom's belly or a surrogate's belly. Then when the baby is big, it is ready to come out and be with its new family. 

So essentially, sex is really separated from the discussion and reserved for another day. The idea is to keep to the truth of how babies are made, but make slight changes that make the description inclusive of all families. Parent's can also tailor this to fit their specific child's conception/birth story, or to fit a friend's story that your child has questions about. As they get older, more and more details can fill in as they continue to ask questions.

I just really thought to myself what a beautiful world it could be if all children were introduced to how babies were made in this inclusive way. It also really helps to normalize fertility issues, if your child happens to have them as an adult. This introduction to fertility could help alleviate some of the shame and guilt for them later on.

Surprisingly, our 2 1/2 year old son asked us "how are babies made" last week!?!?! I was not ready for this.... I thought I had several more years, but his eager observant little mind has noticed his friends have brothers and sisters and he does not. We shared this story with him and talked to him specifically about how he was conceived. He loves this story! He asks to hear it over and over again. So this is baby tested and approved.