Homeschooling in the Wild: Charlotte Mason and Mother Friday

Halfway through our first full year of intentional homeschooling and I'm realizing just how much I adore this aspect of motherhood. I attended state-schools all the way until college, and so my daughter and I are discovering how education at home works together, and right now, we are just reveling in the magic of it.

Our exploration has lead us so far to the Charlotte Mason method, which is rich in literature, art, music, and nature. And specifically, to the Catholic curriculum based off of that method, Mater Amabilis. But as much as I loved the tone and structure of that curriculum, some of the books don't quite fit our family..we've ended up starting there and jumping off into sometime else. 

It's a little fuller in the fairy-tale, Faith, and artistic aspects..a little wilder and free form in the nature study, and a little more rigorous in catechesis. We also have edited our history texts completely, as the books recommended seems a little limited. Since we're starting with American History, I wanted Yarrow to learn more about the people who were here before Colonization before we learned about the United States itself. 

And she is thriving in this learning environment! We have library books piled up high on the dresser, a morning basket full of the read-aloud books, and such a variety of ideas to pull from. Yarrow is really getting to know her name-saint, Paraskeva, this year! She has been so delighted to try to include her in things on Fridays especially, and to get closer to Christ through her.

We're reading poetry each morning and I can see her mind filling up with images from our newest book, The Tree is Older than You Are. 

One of my favorite parts of homeschooling is that she shares it with her brother. Watching him watch her writing out a line of poetry, or helping her collect beech leaves makes everything so rich for me. Seeing her have the chance to practice her Arabesques in between math questions is delightful. Education is such a multi-layered thing..and my children finding their own paths in it. I'm so blessed to be able to guide them, and to give them the chance to guide each other.

Diaper Balm

I make my own diaper balm for Ilya. It can be used for a many things besides baby bottoms, but I always call it diaper balm. The recipe is similar to the recipe for Yarrow when she was smaller, but it varies in every batch, depending on the herbs I have on hand. I always have comfrey on hand though. I can't get rid of it.

Comfrey is one of my favorite herbs..mainly because it grows so well in our yard and garden. Actually, it grows so well everywhere. It's kind of a weed. A monstrous, overgrown, pretty, weed. With healing properties. 

Comfrey heals cuts and abrasions, rashes, and skin-in-general. It heals quickly, make sure your skin is clean if using comfrey to heal - especially the root.

herbs soaking in oil

I use the leaves in my diaper balm. I soak them, with calendula and yarrow blossoms (in varying amounts) in olive oil for about a week. 

Then, I strain them out and heat the oil on a less hot area of the woodstove...a 'normal' stove would use a low setting. I chop in beeswax..no measuring for me. Sometimes it takes a while to find the right amount, but generally 4 or 5 parts oil to 1 part wax is a good place to start..so measuring, you'd put in a little less than 1/4 cup wax for every 1 cup oil...I usually only work with a cup of oil at a time anyway. And once that melts, I take it off the heat, and add about 5-8 drops lavender essential oil. 

mixed herbs, dried yarrow on top

If I'm not sure about the consistency, I'll wait to add the essential oil. Instead, I'll let this blend cool, test it's consistency, and reheat. Then I can either add more wax, more infused oil, or just remelt it to pour into jars. 

I use this blend for baby butts, minor bug bits, skin irritations, or just dry skin. It feels great on new tattoos (though really, I prefer adding rosemary essential oil and a bit of coconut oil to my tattoo balm.)

It's easy to make, which is good, I'm a neglectful herbalist, and it heals everything quickly. It smells nice too.

Changing Doctors...

We've been blessed with an ideal pediatrician, a family doctor who truly cares about our family and tends to Yarrow with gentleness and good sense. We adore him, and Yarrow looks forward to her annual check up. 

"My doctor is a nice doctor!" she says, "My doctor doesn't try to shoot me."

She's horrified by the idea of 'doctors who shoot kids', and by dentists, though the thought of acupuncture doesn't bother her at all.

We tend to avoid vaccinations and with all the arguments over vaccines on the internet, she's gotten nervous from the many photos of kids 'being shot'. I've tried to clarify, "these doctors are trying to help, honey, they aren't being mean.." but Yarrow will have none of it. Thanks to my recent issue with platelets, Yarrow's decided that it's easier to assume all these children have low platelets and are getting their blood checked. I let her hold onto the idea, as it's not as scary for her.

Her doctor is supportive of our decision to keep away from immunizations, he'd made the same decision for his own child, and prefers to encourage building a natural immunity, eating well, and keeping medications to a minimum. We feel safe and well cared for with him. I couldn't wait to introduce him to Ilya.

But perhaps this winter was too harsh for him, as it was for many people. Our doctor is leaving us for southern weather this spring. Ilya won't get to meet him, and we're in search of a new doctor. It's a rough search, and harder now that I have such high expectations of my pediatrician.

I've heard horror stories from friends of pushy doctors arguing over immunizations in front of the children, and I can only imagine Yarrow's response. My tender girl hates arguments, fears shots, and is deeply protective of her 'precious and honored Baby Ilya' (I've no idea where she came up with 'precious and honored', really I don't!). 

Ideally, I'd have picked a naturopath to replace our dear, naturally-minded doctor, but our insurance (which we have to have under the ACA) refuses to cover naturopaths. I'm tempted to find an acceptable primary care doctor and a naturopath and treat the latter as the kids' true primary doctor, but it seems excessive. Do I really need two doctors anyway? As of today I've gotten a few recommendations, and had a lovely conversation with a naturopathic doctor in the area. There's a lot to think about though, and right now, I'm just going to open a beer and think about how much I wish we could just stay with our current doctor. We're really going to miss him!

How do you go about choosing doctors for yourself and/or your children?

What do you value in a doctor?

Ilya's last check-up with the midwives is just a week away, so I suppose I should find someone sooner rather than later, especially as our doctor was very popular, and his move is going to 'flood the market' with people looking for that rare, nurturing doctor, one who will actually encourage them to take charge of their and their children's health, with his full support and understanding.

Wish me luck!

Ilya's Quilt

My parents have a lovely neighbor.

When Yarrow was born, she made a beautiful quilt - all blues and greens and summer-time woods. Yarrow adores her quilt-with-the-stars. She loves seeing the stars in the sky and knowing they come down to nestle with her in bed.

I grew up right next door to this woman, never knowing she quilted until she gave us Yarrow's quilt. Now she's sent along another for baby Ilya...and I'm thrilled and so grateful to her.

Ilya's quilt is huge! Not quite a 'baby' quilt at all, it would fit on a toddler bed easily. And like Yarrow's, it feels as though she's touched his soul in the making of it. It seems to belong with him - my late-winter baby. 

But right now, he's sharing with his sister..it fits her little bed so well after all! And she's so excited to share her quilt with him as well. They're an adorable pair - Yarrow and Ilya and right now, sharing is what they do best!

Birth

Ilya was born last Tuesday. He gave us more warning, with a nearly 8 hour labor. Most of which was slow and comfy. We went to the Birth House, because of my platelets, which had risen, but not quite enough for a homebirth. The Birth House is lovely though, and we had time to stop for bagels on the way. 

Yarrow settled right in with her toys, all excited to meet her new brother, while I listened to chant, and Seth tended to us all. I was amazed by his ability to be there and fully available to both Yarrow and me. I never felt as though he weren't completely a part of our birth, and she was able to enjoy the experience without worrying, because she could look to him for the 'right' response. Because he was calm and supportive, she felt completely comfortable.

The tub really is fantastic. And our midwives were wonderful. After his birth, I thought back to the hospital room we'd visited in the local hospital's labor and delivery ward and thanked God again that I'd managed to avoid it. I'm sure the staff there are lovely people, but it just felt so institutional, so dead. And so full of nurses running around doing things. 

Our birth center was so peaceful. Like home, if home had electricity and super deep tubs. The midwives gave us space and welcomed Yarrow's enthusiastic participation as integral to the whole experience. They didn't just avoid getting in the way, or over-directing, they were hospitable, and that was ideal.

When the time came for Ilya to be born, I heard my softly chanting music, my husband's voice, and Yarrow's encouraging little words more than anything else. The midwives gave direction and support, but the birth belonged to our little family. Seth helped Yarrow to climb, naked, into the tub with us after the birth and hold her tiny brother, before we all got out to rest together on the bed and get to know him better.

Ilya Birch, who adores his sister, and tried to follow her voice with his pouchy, little, newborn-eyes until they closed from exhaustion. He seems more internal than Yarrow at this point, a peaceful little old man, eager to grow young and strong.

Today..

Feeling... impatient. We're just waiting around now. I'm trying to keep my house in it's current state of near perfection, despite the people living in it, and the dog who delights in destruction. I should get this new baby a puppy of his or her own, but I'm making myself wait until the snow melts - house-training a puppy in winter is an awful thought! I should get Yarrow a kitten too..anyone who wants to find a hypo-allergenic kitten for Yarrow is welcome to send it our way, maybe two? I like Siamese and Russian Blue, visually. But I know nothing about cats. And it must have claws..I want this cat to be safe in the yard!

Seeing.. my husband make dull dresser beautiful. He's painting folk motifs on bare wood and it's so fascinating to watch. I love the colors!

Smelling.. Rosemary, mainly. Seth has been wearing Rosemary essential oil a lot recently. It smells fresh and clean and delicious. At Christmas, the grocery store was selling those little rosemary trees. I wanted one desperately. But they're not for culinary use, and it just didn't seem worthwhile to buy a whole tree of un-cook-able rosemary. I still want one, or five..for the house. 

Tasting.. clementines..and my new, supposedly very powerful, platelet juice. It's beetroot juice-powder mixed into a big class of carrot juice. It looks like clotty blood, tastes very medicinal, and should keep my platelets from dropping anymore. It's the should that haunts me. I want something definite. 

Listening.. to the soundtrack from 'The Book of Life' on the computer. We discovered the cartoon (by the same guy who made Pan's Labyrinth!) and it might be Yarrow's new favorite movie! It's adorable, very fun, and full of great characters. I like cartoons with characters who are really like-able, and not pathetic. And these characters - three friends, are wonderful! The girl, Maria, is strong, love-able, funny, capable, and so very kind..the guys are equally capable, delightful, and completely un-threatened by Maria..also completely in love with her. But their friendship stays strong throughout. I love it!

Grateful... for the slight warming trend! It's over 30 already today, and it's not even noon 

yet! 

Hoping..I have the best platelet count ever at the next check..that this disgusting drink does it's job for me! And that I can manage to get into town tomorrow night for another massage. I'd like one more before the birth, and another soon after birth. They're amazing, really!

Reading..Backyard Medicine, F. Scott Fitzgerald's short stories..but neither consistently, mainly I'm just waiting and being distracted.

Working on..building platelets and encouraging labor. This would really be a wonderful, warm week to have a baby!


How about you?? How's your day?

Waiting for Baby...

We're moving into the warmest week of the year so far! I've seen predictions for a week of days above freezing, and I'm hoping desperately that the warm days inspire the baby to come out and greet the world. 

Our house is all cozy and ready to welcome the tiny person who currently spends all his or her time grabbing with tiny hands at the edges of my womb. I imagine him grabbing at all my food, greedily trying to steal the flavor. 

We have flowers out on the altars and tucked under Icons, stock-piled kerosene, propane, and as much wood as we can keep from burning. Seth has been bringing home buckets of clean water to store, and the bathtub is sitting - full and clean - in the center of the of floor..but we won't be having this baby at home, as we'd planned to. Apparently my body is low on platelets..not dangerously low for an in-town birth, but low enough to make the midwives uncomfortable with a deep-in-the-woods, winter-time birth. So we'll be moving the birth to the Birth House and I'm eating a platelet-friendly diet of kale, kale, and more kale until the baby is born. 

I'm disappointed, but not devastated. I wanted a home birth this time, and had such happy images of my home birth..but I'm relieved beyond all telling that I'm still outside the hospital. Hospitals make me uncomfortable, and I worry that I'd have to spend the entire time fighting to avoid excessive interventions. Also, visually, the space is jarring to me and I don't know that I could feel safe enough to labor well in such an institutional environment.

But friends and family have no need to worry..even the hospital midwife we consulted said she'd be comfortable with a home birth at my levels..it's more our location that throws a wrench into things.

All in all it's a decent middle ground..maybe even ideal for this time of year. I always tend the stove at home (it's my own little addiction), and it could be I'd be too distracted by the 'need' to add a log or two to focus on birth. And thanks to weeks of preparation for a home birth, I have an amazingly clean, well-stocked, and beautiful home to bring the baby home to. And thank goodness the birth house doesn't hold us unnecessarily for hours and hours after birth, so home might not be a super cold place to come back to afterwards.

St. Valentine's Eve

This morning is so quiet. Yarrow has gone off to work with Seth, she likes helping him build..she loves mixing the mud and wiping stone and sweeping up. She especially loves dry-wall. I love the beautiful, bonding time she gets to spend with her daddy; and I love the skills she's picking up, and the sense of competency she's gaining. She comes home so very proud of the sanding she's done, or the painting, or the dry-wall patch.

Tonight though, she'll be spending the night at her grandparents..she's been looking forward to a night away, and we're pretty excited about it as well. Especially as she's insisted on bringing Luba. I'm not sure if Yarrow's grandmother will let Luba spend the night, she didn't like the idea when I mentioned it, but an eager little face, asking "Yes please can Baba spend the night with me too, please!" is hard to resist. 

Seth and I are planning to get out for the night. It's supposed to be -11, again, and we've got a couple big storms coming along next week (actually, tomorrow night). So it'd be nice to over-indulge a bit in a hotel room, hot showers, and electricity..and, you know, parental downtime. These storms have been draining for Yarrow as well. She wants desperately to be out and about in them, she loves the snow, but the wind and the cold, cold temperatures keep her venturings out to a minimum.

We're excited about the end of winter! A part from melting snow, warm weather, planting, and general happiness - a tiny plot of land on our road might end up being for sale. If it is, Yarrow's Bushia and Dzia-dzia might scoop it up. I can just imagine Yarrow wandering over for the day, dragging her beloved Luba along, and delighting in the excessive attention. And we, of course, would love their for-certain support in the 'battle of the road'. But everything is uncertain right now, so we're keeping our hopes all hushed up..kind of, in an 'over-sharing-online' sort of way. I can just imagine Yarrow's face though, hearing that Bushia and Dzia-dzia will be right next door. And can come up and stay in the winters as well as summers..without the whole 'can they make it up the hill while visiting' worry. This year we had a last minute (and probably ideally timed) January visit with them. It was horribly cold, but also pretty much the only week between freezing rain, snow storms, and general winter misery. Because the last thing I want to do is say, "Guess what Yarrow, Bushia and Dzia-dzia are here, but you'll just have to settle for calling them because we can't get out, again." That wouldn't go over well at all. 

* * * * * 

Anyway, keep us in your prayers! The midwives come today for our home-visit. We're so excited to be planning a birth in the coziness of our own home. To have no where to go and nothing to do for the first few days after welcoming our baby.

To the Woman Who is Not a Mother: I Value Your Advice

Maybe you saw me at Mass the other day, looking annoyed, just trying to pray, while the little girl pointed  again and again to Christ on the Stained Glass. Maybe you wanted to tell me "look! See!" But you didn't want to be pushy.

Maybe my daughter crashed her Trader Joe's kid-cart into you yesterday and I snapped. Maybe you wanted to whisper: "patience" to me as I walked away with her, but kept silent.

Maybe you sat behind me and heard me wonder aloud about teaching her to trust God and not worry. Maybe you wanted to tell me how, maybe you've learned how from a mother, sister, friend, or father. Maybe you just wanted to share your wisdom, as a woman, as a person, as a Christian. But you kept your mouth shut and felt shut out, because you've no children of your own, and mothers are a touchy, exclusive group these days. We've told you so many times, in blogs, in articles, in day to day life that you're not qualified to speak here, not in our world, not on our issues. 

We want to hear from moms of 9, 12, or at least 4 kids! Seasoned mothers, not newbees, and especially not you. 

Well, we're wrong. 

You are qualified. In some cases, you're more qualified to speak than the mother who speaks as a mother to mothers..because you're speaking more purely as a person - neither mother nor young child; beyond the roles and 'sides' we give each other in conflicts, you can speak to and for the people involved, and there are always at least two people in every parenting struggle.

So speak up, please!

If you can remember your childhood, and the way you felt when your mother related to you as I relate to my daughter, remind me.

If you can empathize with that screaming baby, that defiant child, that searching teen..open up those feelings to me.

If you see me carelessly neglecting the vocation I've been given, whether you long for it or not, whether you ever want to be in my shoes or not, please, call me on it. 

And don't be afraid to let me know that your theater job stole as much or more sleep than my newborn, so long as you pass on the skills you used to deal with it!

You have the right and the calling to be a voice for the good in my life, even as it relates to my parenting, and I need to hear from you. 

I need to hear from someone who isn't comparing her parenting to my own. From someone who isn't trying to affirm me in the hopes I'll affirm her mothering as well. We need advice and suggestions and direction from beyond the 'mommy wars'. And we need to be reminded that no, motherhood is not a 'high and lonely destiny,' it is a vocation within the church, a vocation that wants participation from the whole church - including you!

I know I can't speak for the whole of mothers..but I can tell you that if they don't want to at least hear and consider your advice, merely because you have no children of your own, and if they don't think you're able to speak to them about raising children in love and joy - then they're wrong.  They're insulating themselves from the wisdom of their sisters, and you should tell them that too.

Hatin' On Mother's Day

I don't like Mother's Day. 

I know..it sounds so mean to say it out loud! Or write it publicly, but really, I'm not a fan. 

At all.

That doesn't mean I don't like my mother, or being a mother, or seeing other mothers get flowers and attention. I'm not bitter or resentful, and I've got a husband who can pretty much rock any holiday - even the pathetic, Hallmarky ones - without trying. I'm also definitely not arguing, as so many Catholics do around St. Valentine's Day (though these same Catholics adore Mother's Day with a passion) that my motherhood should be celebrated everyday, shouldn't need a special day of overblown theatrics. I love that stuff, in general; setting aside special days to honor aspects of life: love, romance, motherhood..is an essential part of our humanity.

 I don't like Mother's Day because its fake.  It's a commercially created and socially enforced lie to women that her value comes primarily through her ability to birth; that her vocation as a mother is 'the hardest job in the world;' and that because of all this she is owed the veneration, affection, and affirmation of not only her family, but society at large. 

I hate feeling owed. I hate having my motherhood relegated to a "job" - it's banal, it's ugly, is de-relational. And above all that. I feel as though celebrating motherhood, in a society that celebrates no other aspect of womanhood and permits a mother to kill her children without a second thought, is sort of a joke. A sad, self-absorbed, depressing little joke. What aspect of motherhood does mother's day focus on anyway? Generally, it focuses on entitlement. "You deserve it..because your a mom." Lovely. And not at all the sort of attitude I want to indulge in, or pass down to my daughter.

Do I sound too harsh? I hope not..I want a celebration of motherhood, but one that celebrates motherhood in it's place among womanhood's other roles and blessings. I'd like to see Mother's Day drift and spread out into something almost pagan, something Marian, something holistic..we are not a Catholic culture, and I don't expect to change that, but within the Church, why can't we honor the many faces of the Theotokos: virgin, mother, consort/spouse, lamenting one, and wise old woman of Ephesus - Queen of Apostles..why can't we take on May Day again on the first, or the feast of her Queenship on the last of May..and use the day to honor the women in our lives who bear God to us - however they do so.

I'm not asking you to stop celebrating..really I'm not. But do try to celebrate well.

 Don't let your Mother's Day turn into a secular, self-congratulatory celebration of the world'sview of motherhood..instead celebrate the 'genius of women' - the little icon of the Mother of Christ we all have within ourselves. Celebrate the women who have mothered you as well as the women who have never borne children: the Paraskevas, the Theresas, the Magdelenes, and those still waiting to be born anew. The world tells us they have no value, that there is no point in honoring the woman-not-a-mother..she has no day, no cards, no flowers. But Christ tells us otherwise, and this Mother's Day, while I may go to brunch at the local cafe, and I'll definitely be calling my mother, I'll also be planning ways to honor the other women in my life, tucking their names up behind my Icons and honoring their lives as I'm able. Please join me?

7 quick takes: Links and Reflections

 1.

There are so many discussions around the internet these past few week. Most of them focused on Modesty.  I thought I'd share some of my favorites - starting with Jenna's Plea to Homeschoolers and the collection of links back to articles she found encouraging. I did not grow up in a family overly focused on modesty, marriage, and preparation for family life, so I don't have the scars these girls do - I also don't have the excuse they do for my own awful adolescent fashion sense. When my sister mailed me a collection of photos she'd saved, and I saw myself at the height of my horror all I could do was shudder and stare..and dump them in the burn pile (Seth rescued them because he's cruel that way).  But I echo Jenna's plea to "please teach your girls - especially your cautious ones - to find and pursue interests, including interests outside teh home. To look for good work to do and to do it confidently. To smile and converse with and befriend boys as well as girls. To hold their heads up and look men in the eyes as equals, choose husbands who respect women, and give those husbands their respect out of choice, not out of instinct and fear."

2.

The most delightful article on modesty and breastfeeding making the rounds yesterday, and I couldn't resist sharing it with everyone I met. I actually never got many negative comments when Yarrow was nursing a lot out in public, though neither of us liked to cover up, and I nursed her everywhere. It might have been because I didn't really expect to get any comments or because of my very intimidating personality. But I know plenty of girls who are consistently harassed, who really feel the disapproving stares of their mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and friends, and so are suffering needlessly through Liturgies, dinners parties, County Fairs, and wedding receptions. Don't. Please. You're not immodest. One of my greatest inspirations as a nursing mother is a woman I never met. I saw her at a Liturgy once, the Cantor's wife sitting in the front row looking dark and serene as her tiny boy nursed his fill. She looked like an Icon and the image has nestled deep in my soul. Motherhood, worship, beauty, peace - all at once, and perfectly fitted to the moment.

3. 

Leo Babauta over at Zen Habits had a fantastic post last week on The Social Costs of Being Different. I've mentioned my own surprise at discovering some of them for myself, and he offers some helpful thoughts and some perspective; and every time I step outside into the early morning air and see the last of the stars fading, I remember just how much I cherish those differences.

4.

And this 'Introduction to Catholicism and Modern American Poetry'  was fascinating! I found it through Tuscany Press, and read it through about four times as Yarrow pointed to various words and side images to ask "What's that!?". There is a lot to ponder, and a lot to affect the artist who does want to feed and be fed from the larger tradition; who wants to understand and relate to modern poetry, not just what many Catholics consider to be 'safe', traditional verse. 

     "Artistic modernism in general has something to it of the incipiently Catholic. Modernist art sought both to strike against modernity..and to find a place for divinely constituted meaning and order within the modern condition."

Food for thought, isn't it?  

5. 

Here's just a taste of what I've been doing  all month:

 

..not to mention

Pesto!!! We made tons of it, gave some away, ate some fantastic lime-thai basil with shrimp, and froze the rest! But we still have basil to process..and it better be soon, the nights are getting frosty.

6.  

 "A thriving Christian community requires its members to think beyond their own preferences, about how personal decisions impact others. But, as I watched hoards of my male peers bounding across the lawn wearing nothing but flimsy track shorts—think Juno's Paulie Bleeker—I wondered if they had received any wisdom or direction about their dress. Is modesty a virtue only for women?"

Asks Katelyn Beaty of Her-meneutics. And sometimes we do get that impression. A blogger complained recently about inappropriately seductive facebook photos among her son's friends, alongside photos of her teen boys flexing their muscles on the beach. She later replace the photos, but I can't help but wonder about the mindset that forces us to see women's bodies as inherently sexual and threatening, while men's bodies are neither.  I also am disturbed by the 'one strike and you're out in our family' tone the blogger uses towards these under-dressed girls. If I had the same policy online, it's possible I'd never go back to her page after seeing her beach-clad sons cavorting through a post on covering up. But, as Beaty reminds us at Her-meneutics, modesty is about more than clothing, it's "about viewing ourselves humbly" and adorning ourselves 'with a gentle spirit', which includes forgiveness and kind admonishment rather than shunning and shaming for those who fall short.

7.

And finally..Kendra, who writes a blog I love to read opened a can of worms a while ago with a post on crying it out. I don't agree with her conclusions in this, and it always makes me sad to read about methods of sleep training that give my imagination too much to feed on, but my thoughts here aren't about that so much as they are about the discussion I saw in the combox. I've copied the relevant  parts below:

                 Commenter: I just can not imagine that baby's sad and scared thought, crying out for their momma, and being ignored. Breaks my heart.

                   Kendra: Your comment breaks MY heart. I wouldn't want to lay that guilt..on a mom who has made the difficult decision to do what works for her family...

Both are perfectly reasonable responses, and I was so impressed with Kendra for managing to keep such a hot-button issue polite, but I've encountered a trend toward being almost too polite in the blogging community (paired with the awful, angry commentators we all shy away from)  so often and it worries me. If as the commenter and I see it - ignoring the baby's cries as he sits alone in his room is an unkindness to him, would it not also be an unkindness on my part to avoid pointing it out, to keep quiet for the sake of 'niceness' or to preserve the feelings of others? I'm not saying we should all turn shill and angry at the first hint parenting divisions, but I do think everyone benefits when we're called to re-examine our decisions on a continual basis.

The commenter ends her post with these fantastic thoughts:

       "I do hope and believe that all moms are doing their best for their children. And the CIO method just doesn't agree with what I consider "doing my best." But I'm sure I do plenty of other things that others might perceive as not my best. We're all works in progress, right?" 

What a blessed way to end an attempt to encourage reflection in each other. We are all works in progress, and the path toward sainthood is a hard road; hopefully we can all give and receive support, advice, and admonition with gratitude and grace. Never abandoning kindness in favor of mere niceness. 

What do you think? Blessings to all!

           

Book Review: Bringing Up Bebe

It's been my intention to review  Pamela Duckerman's book since I read it back in the spring and found it frustratingly inconsistent. But looking back, Bringing Up Bebe isn't really inconsistent at all, I just hadn't spotted the theme. The book is less about parenting than it is about - as one New York Times reviewer wrote "parents protecting their own pleasures," and often at the expense of their children's best interests. Which isn't to say I'm against parental selfishness - to an extent. I'm a happily selfish mother myself - with my own time for my own activities and plenty of personal space (all things considered) but French Parenting as Duckerman presents it puts the concept of parental enjoyment at the pinnacle of parenting, and makes the sacrifices necessary to keep it there. 

The most disturbing aspect to me was her presentation of sleep-training..apparently French mothers are famous for getting their babes to sleep through the night early..very, very early. Duckerman passes along the advice of a Parisian-born doctor, who recommends that children not yet sleeping the night at 6 months be put down in their own crib, in their own room (obviously) at 7pm and left there until 7am..to teach them that night-time is for sleeping. It seems more likely to teach that night-time is a time of terror, loneliness, and abandonment to me..but then, I'm not French.

There is abundant praise for French day-care as well..which can begin as early as 6 months and goes all day, Monday through Saturday. And, while the day-care does seem to foster wonderful attitudes toward food - actually, the book overall gives such a lovely sense of food, meals, eating and the joy of introducing children to new and exciting flavors - I don't think it's necessary or helpful to send your children away all day, everyday in order to develop their taste-buds. Honestly, with all it talk of full-time day-care, long lonely nights, and Dunkerman's insistence that French parents do not play with their children at the park; it seems like this book works best as a sort of 'no contact parent's handbook'. 

Bringing Up Bebe has its good points, even apart from the fantastic thoughts on food and meals. It emphasizes that mothers are also women, and they do need to care for themselves as well. And the 'French' attitude toward pregnancy seems healthy enough, as well as the determination to stay healthy and in shape during and after pregnancy. The rejection of breastfeeding though, in an attempt to avoid de-sexualizing breasts, was disturbing and indicative of the selfishness behind Bringing Up Bebe's concept of French parenting and also of the strange dismissal of the physical I saw throughout the book - except where food was concerned. Overall, it was disappointing. It made me nestle my daughter closer when I read it, and it reminded me of how very differently we all see the important parts of life.

Discipline: Questions, not Answers

I’ll happily admit that Yarrow is an easy child, she’s sweet, loving, and kind. She likes to nestle her toys close to her heart..actually, she’s been seen nestling everything from toys to beer bottles to Luba’s unwilling head close to her heart. And those she can’t physically nestle, like the moon, or the statue of St. Patrick in the church, she nestles symbolically ~ reaching for them and hugging her hands close again with her eyes on the object of her love. She helps out eagerly ~ the dog is thrilled to have someone who actually enjoys playing with dog food feeding her, and I’m constantly encouraging Yarrow to “sweep toward the dust pan” and to roll the dough gently.. Apart from a consistent refusal to sleep like a person, she’s just a little love. But she’s also a wretch in her own right at times, and these days we’ve been dealing with a little tendency to hit out with her tiny hands when we displease her (or when she’s especially excited). It’s not idea at all, though the look of absolute horror on her face when one angry hand actually makes contact is adorable. Generally, we sit her down somewhere, tell her firmly that hitting is not nice at all and make her sit, ignored for a while, until she’s calm, when we talk again and make certain, she in some way acknowledges her offense and promising to be kind in the future. Hitting does seem to be diminishing, but I’m wondering, are there better ideas out there?

I’d love to hear: how do you discipline your children? I’d love advice and encouragement from other mother’s as Petka’s little person-hood asserts itself more and more!

Sleep

I am trying to teach my daughter to sleep well at night. That milk is not needed constantly, that moonrise is not the best time to play. I’m trying to teach her to sleep as I rarely sleep - long and still and soft. I’m trying to teach her kindly, so she doesn’t fear the darkness, so she doesn’t wake alone and small in her little bed to be haunted. I want her sleep like her father and wake revived. How do I do this? I am looking for advice.

10 Reasons I Love Cloth Diapers..and 1 reason I don't

         1. When I forget to bring diapers on my long drive to Whole Foods, I can grab a rag, a couple socks, or anything absorbent to be an emergency diaper! The cover holds it in place well enough and nobody can tell I’m a flaky mother.

2. Raccoons, chickens, and Luba breaking into my trash can scatter garbage, but I never have baby-poo spread around my yard. Having just raked up all the trash the chickens scattered before they ate my perfect-almost ripe tomato, I’m grateful. And the chickens would be too, if they could feel gratitude, because if they had spread baby-poo around the yard and eaten the tomato, I would be eating them this weekend.

    3. I don’t ever need to use those obnoxious “baby undies” that come with all little-girl dresses. The diaper cover is cute enough! And..

4. Yarrow can look fashionably adorable in just a diaper and beads. Or just a diaper and t-shirt, or even just a diaper.

5. My food budget isn’t affected by diaper costs. At this point, with cloth diapers, cloth wipes, and our own home-made wipe solution, we don’t have to pay for diapers at all. Which lets me waste money on wine, chocolate, ice cream, and food for Luba.

          6. There’s always have a towel handy in a clean diaper from the basket or purse. The number of times I’ve stolen one of my last diapers to wipe up a coffee spill is beyond measure.

7. The clothes-line looks so pretty with a row of bright white diapers and colorful covers. I just love a pretty clothesline.

        8. I’ve never had a blow-out..That may not be due to the diapers, but I like to give them credit for it. They’ve kept in some horrific poops, the cover will be filthy, but only on the inside. I stay clean, and that’s the main thing.

9. Yarrow can play with her diapers, and I don’t have to worry about her eating those nasty gel beads..actually, I don’t have to worry about those beads at all, which is nice, because they kind of gross me out.

10. I’m not contributing to landfills - at least, not with my diapers - I am contributing in other ways, but, one step at a time.

..A reason I don’t love them: they often contain poop. Poop is gross. Even baby poop.

Staying Home

I was a housewife before I had my daughter. Our life is not the sort that allows both my husband and I to be absent all day. Especially in the winter. With a stove to tend, a garden to fill, and a road to build, I was never bored. I am still a housewife, and I am still busy, but with my little tick riding along during daytime chores. Today, the pigs escaped, and I rushed around the yard, a miserable Yarrow clinging to my arm and an overwhelmed Luba barking like mad in the house. We corralled them, luring them back with food and collapsed, sweaty, tired, and triumphant on the grass - laughing together with shared glory. These are the moments that thrill me. My little girl is learning life at my side, laughing with me, crying with me, and growing each and everyday in confidence and security. Except, of course when she’s frightened by the stress of pigs running wild and her mother yelling for Luba to shut up! But even those moments, are at least shared moments. I too am frightened by the thought of losing the pigs we’ve been feeding for two and a half months to the woods, or losing the tomatoes and eggplants to the destructive force of Bonnie and Clyde - we’re frightened together, we overcome together, and afterward we can sit on the floor reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and the frightening time can fade into a happy memory of us doing what we need to do, together.

Not every woman can stay at home with her children. I realize this, and I’m grateful to my husband, because he works hard to make my life possible. He is up at dawn to make the long drive down to Portland each day so that I don’t have to lose these daily moments of loving, learning, and growing to someone else. Yarrow’s confidence in my presence - her surety that I will be there for her, is such a joy to me. I love cooking with her perched on the counter to help, watching her mimic me read, and sipping from her ‘espresso’ cup. More and more I am realizing the value of quantity time - what she sees, day after day, Yarrow is learning to do. She is learning to laugh at Luba, to dance to Florence + The Machine, to drink lattes from coffee-house ‘to-go’ cups, to recognize Jesus. Seeing Petka mimic makes me try to be a better person, because I am the one she spends her hours with, and I want those hours to be beautiful.

Bohemian Mama: Just my thoughts..Circumcision

Before Yarrow’s birth, our midwife asked a us a list of questions: Do you want to vaccinate the baby for Hep B? Do you want the baby to get a vitamin K shot? If you have a boy, will you be having him circumcised? That last question made me realize how lucky little girls are in America. Whatever dangers they may be prone to here, they are at least safe from circumcision. We hadn’t even bothered discussing circumcision during my pregnancy, if we’d had a boy, he’d have been no more likely than Yarrow to be cut. It wasn’t an option for us. I’m not going to argue that circumcision is abusive, or that it should be banned, just as female circumcision is in this country; it’s a sensitive topic. Parents who have chosen to circumcise tend to get defensive and parents who chose not to tend to be strident. I can understand both reactions, especially because, looking at it from the outside, circumcision is brutal. It is a violent rite of passage for boys in our culture - better fitted, perhaps, to our primitive past than to this sleek, softer age. It has no medical benefits, though parents crowd around it for many vocalized reasons - from reducing masturbation to preventing the spread of AIDS. But no reason is as common as the simple desire of the father: “I want my son to look like me.”

 

A month or two ago, NPR interviewed an African woman on circumcision. It had just been made illegal in her country and she was arguing against the law. Circumcision, she argued, reduces disease, cures promiscuity, and besides, “I want my daughter to look normal, to look like me.” There are differences between female and male circumcision, for certain, but it’s hard for me to see them clearly. Both leave behind children well acquainted with pain, children who have been wounded in a ritual, a cosmetic procedure, that looks too much like sacrifice.

It’s a practice that, I think, requires a second look. A discussion. I have written harshly about it, not because I want to offend or argue, but because I have no other words. Circumcision affects me on an emotional level, as so much violence does. I know so many parents whom I love and respect, whose sons are well loved and happy, and who have chosen to have their sons circumcised, but I don’t understand it. I don’t follow the reasons behind the decision. I would like to understand.