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Showing posts from May, 2012

If You Want a Good Cry...

... please check out this blog, from a missionary named Katie Davis, chronicling her ministry to orphans and children in Uganda.  I often write about being a mommy of one, with all of its challenges and triumphs, from my comfortable home in a first-world country.  I am shamed and my complaining heart is humbled by this young woman's grasp of Jesus' love, which compels her into a Mother Teresa-esque lifetime mission that leads her to be "Mommy" to over a dozen children.  Her challenges and triumphs are so much more extreme than mine, and give glory to God.

I read the entire blog today.  And I wept.  My tears were for the heart-breaking stories of the children Katie has come to parent, and for the amazing grace that our Father has poured out into the lives of these kids and their momma.  They were tears of confession as I repented of my own selfishness and ingratitude and faithlessness, and they were tears of adoration and worship for my glorious Savior.

Be warned - yo…

Judgy Moms Are Us

Nisha at Prairie Plate makes a compelling argument that convicted me. In her Mommy Wars post, she posits (quite accurately) that even if we say we aren't judging other moms, the very fact that blogging mommies talk about how they do things and how great their methods and choices are implies that another way is somehow inferior. Head over there and give it a read, and come on back!


So anyway, I am inclined to agree with her. I live in a very organic, eco-friendly, green city where yoga reigns supreme and there are nearly as many Whole Foods-esque grocery stores as there are regular supermarkets. Parenthood and child-rearing that is "progressive" is lauded here, and "traditional" methods are looked down on. Doulas and midwives are celebrated but OBs are considered the devil, and "why on earth would anyone elect to have a scheduled C-section (insert horrified *gasp*). That's major surgery, you know?" You get the picture.

I am guilty of …

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Oh, there are so many metaphors to describe what is happening with my hair!  It's a mass hair exodus, it's a coup d'├ętete (pun intended) , a hair harvest ... you get the picture.  My hair is falling out in more than just handfuls.


Great.  I already find myself taking extra long showers to round up the hairshed and keep from plugging up the drain (thereby necessitating a costly and visually-disturbing visit from a plumber).  Now I've got to do it for a year!?!

And get this - sometimes weaning leads to further hair loss.


Yet another compelling argument to breastfeed for a long time.  Kidding! (Actually, and as a total aside, here is a great parent resource called Parenting Myths and Facts that debunks some myths about parenting, and reviews the literature fairly and thoroughly).

To counteract this hairrowing (pun intended) situation, I've turned to Kevin Murphy and his thickening lotion and powder puff hair products to vol…

Splashing and Rolling Around - Milestone Updates

(Sorry about the Milestones post that somehow got published before it was even finished.  I had fallen asleep and somehow my finger hit "Publish" in error)

Baby Loquacious decided yesterday that she was sick and tired of rolling onto her tummy and getting stuck there, so she rolled back onto her back! Now that she's able to do a full log roll, Hubbs and I are starting to worry that perhaps her mobility means that we will need to pad up all the corners on our furniture, stat!

During bath time, she has also figured out how to float on her back and kick her legs to splash the water.  Bathing with her has become infinitely more challenging as a result since she doesn't want to be in any other position than the supine one.  I can't wait for the day when she can sit up in the tub on her own, so that I don't have to try holding her down as she planks during hair-washing.

I suspect she is also getting her gums ready to teethe (oh no!) because everything is going into…

Stroller Success!

Well, the feedback I got included the Phil & Ted's strollers, "something with big wheels," and the Baby Jogger City Mini.

I was still partial to my Britax B-Agile.

However, upon visiting the stroller shop and speaking with the saleslady (who has had kids of her own and traveled quite a bit), I was convinced to upgrade and go with the Maclaren Quest 2012.  The reasons were simple, the primary one being that on most longer-haul flights, the cabin crew will not allow something as big as the B-Agile to be brought to the gate; it will need to be checked (thereby defeating the whole purpose of getting a travel stroller in the first place).  This one folds into a compact size (and is lightweight), so it's allowed on board.  Though for a flight to E-town, the attendants might have let the B-Agile slide, I have a feeling that our flight to Hawaii next year will be a different story.

A secondary reason is that this one has an adjustable footrest.  Good for babies. :)


Attachment Parenting, Granola-Hippie-Crunchy vs. What Comes Naturally

(This post was inspired by Booshy's breasfeeding:crunchy granola post)

Lots of labels out there, each conjuring up a certain "type" of person or stereotype.  For attachment parents, and for hippie-granola-crunchy moms, the picture you'd come up with would probably be the opposite of me.  I mean, I don't love being in the woods and I dislike camping; I don't own Birks and my thumb is distinctly black.  I fear most animals (save for dogs - love 'em) and enjoy fluorescent-lit streets a la Vegas-style.  AND I am not a crazy-recycling type, and I don't thrift, and I don't make my own soap.  I don't even cook, really.

So, I will reject these labels since they don't really "fit" with me and people would die laughing if I used them to describe myself, anyway.  However, that's not to say that I do not have elements of crunchy in me, or that I do not adhere to some of the basic principles and practices associated with these labels.

To …

Baby Weird

I know that as part of Baby L's development, there are some strange antics that she will be performing.  A few recent ones that totally made me smile have been:

- taking her chubby open hand and "petting" (sometimes smacking) my breast
- grabbing my hand (when I'm bottle feeding her) and directing her bottle to go in and out, in and out over and over again
- biting her lower lip and clucking her tongue so that she makes these funny smacking noises
- leaning into the mirror to try to head-butt her reflection
- wriggling her butt from one side to another while lying down with her hands above her head; I swear it looks like she's dancing
- covering her face with her meaty arms while she's nursing, and falling asleep in this position

Baby Loquacious has also become more adept at rolling from her back to her tummy, although she hasn't yet figured out how to roll back the other way.  Sometimes, if we look away, we'll turn back to find her lying prone on h…

It's No Sacrifice At All

My first Mother's Day as a mom, and I feel so blessed.  My baby girl is healthy, happy, and busy snoozing away in her crib.  She barely fussed tonight when friends dropped by to have dessert with us (they brought in the most delicious Melona popsicles) and went down without a fight, after Hubbs gave her a bottle. 

These last few weeks..months...year, the recurrent theme of my life has been God's amazing grace and abundant blessing.  I am reminded of it every time my girl snuggles into me, wrapping her little arms around my neck or body or breast, or whenever she flashes me a toothless grin and throws her head back and laughs a loud, uninhibited, from-the-belly roar.  I am reminded of it when I look at the date, for it was this month last year when we conceived by His grace, and when my pee tests came back positive.

I am also reminded of God's favour in my life whenever I hear or read about other mothers, particularly those for whom my first-world "basics" (like…

Mom Fashion (Or My Lack Thereof)

This coming weekend is Mother's Day.  In about 2 weeks, I'll also be celebrating my dad's big 7-0.  And in 3 weeks, we'll be celebrating birthdays for both of my brother-in-laws (who oddly enough, share a birthday).

What to wear?

This didn't used to be a dilemma.  I'd just go out and buy a couple of outfits.  However, now that Baby L consumes all of my time and energy, shopping for dresses seems like a frivolous exercise that only serves to stress out Momma and baby.

Besides, there are now things to consider that I didn't need to worry about pre-baby, like:
- how accessible are my breasts in the outfit
- will a leaky boob be evident/visible
- how well does the outfit hide my saggy belly skin
- how well does the outfit hide the rest of my still-oversized body
- will the fabric chafe Baby L's skin when she snuggles up on me
- how much waxing/shaving do I need to do to wear the outfit
- do I have comfortable non-heeled shoes to go with said outfit


Hairy Tales and Random Blatherings

One thing I miss about being pregnant are my formerly-luscious locks, which are now falling off my head like cherry blossoms from Vancouver trees.  It used to be so wonderful to shower and not have a tub full of shed hair afterwards.  Now, I get the lovely experience of having strands randomly exiting my scalp and finding their way into Baby Loquacious's chubby little hands, woven between her meaty fingers that are sometimes still clenched in a death grip.

Then, there's the other hair issues (witness as I now tread into TMI territory).  Let's just say that the hormone-induced growth is so abundant that I could probably fund my aesthetician/waxing lady's trip to Vegas if I actually had the time to go in and get every unwanted, unsightly strand removed from my body.  In my current state, my body would make a compelling case for ape ancestry (not that I believe in that - I'm purely a Creator-ist).  Frustrating that the hair I want to keep is falling out at the same t…

Bond with Baby

There is something very comforting about mommies.  It is an inexplicable link between momma and child that is established at birth and extends ... forever, I think.

I ponder this as my precious Baby Loquacious sleeps on me, her tiny frame curled into mine and her face semi-nuzzled into my breast.  I know she can hear my heartbeat and smell my distinct pheromonal scent, and I know this reassures her as she dozes.

I remember my own childhood, and how good it felt to have my mom comfort me in her arms on those days and nights when I woke up from a scary dream, or puked up from a queasy tummy, or felt hurt by that meanie at school.  There was something so natural and right about snuggling up close to her on the couch or lying on her lap; I could fall asleep there as a kid and even as a teen.  Her warmth and her scent were familiar to me and overwhelmed me with ease.

I wonder when the bond breaks, or if it really ever does.  Even now as a grown-up, I feel so much better when m…