Tuesday, July 17, 2018

What Happened When I Let My Toddler Do Everything Herself

The Big Girl Moment


“Mama let me do it!!” My two year old yelled, wrenching her shorts from my hands. I got up and left, frustrated beyond belief of the past few weeks of the terrible twos.

I couldn’t seem to get through a day without frustrating my child and myself. It wasn’t that we didn’t like each other, we just couldn’t find a groove lately. We clicked so well during her baby hood. She and I were like peas in a pod, reading each other’s cues and blending like water and soil. 

But toddlerhood... she just wanted to do everything herself. 

My husband and I sat down together during her nap that afternoon. He said, “Why don’t we just let her do everything herself when she wakes up?”

“What?!” I replied.

“She sees you get dressed, alone. She sees you shower and go to the bathroom, alone. She sees you put on your shoes and comb your hair and get a snack and pour your drink. She wants to be just like you.”

Just like me? The lady who walked away in frustration just hours earlier, tears in my eyes from feeling clueless as a mom?

Just like me. Something clicked. She was no longer my baby. She is almost three. We have taught her from the beginning to do things on her own. Told her how to do it so she can be big. Is this the moment when we need to just let her do it?

That evening we ate dinner on our back deck. We used the China my grandmother bought us for our wedding- around $40 a plate. Phoebe was done eating and hopped down from her chair. She grabbed the plate off the table and I made a move to stop her.

My husband held his hand out- “Let’s just see what she does.”

I paused and watched. She put the plate on the deck, let the dogs lick it clean (yes we are those people), picked it up, opened the sliding glass door, walked into the kitchen, opened the dishwasher, put the plate in, and closed it back up.

I was speechless.

At that moment, I let go. No more babies in our house. We had a big girl. I let her do more and now she is capable of so much more than I thought:

She gets both mine and hers toothbrushes ready in the morning

She dresses herself and asks which feet her shoes go on

She washes herself with a purple bath poof and puts her own soap on

She combs her hair 

She pours juice and milk for herself

She walks the dog and holds on to his leash pretty well

She picks out her bedtime books

And the biggest one... she’s officially potty trained, two weeks after we let her be big.

Are things done perfectly? Nope!
Are things done fast? Nope!
Are we frustrated? Nope!

She has to be a person someday. We chose that day to let her just be herself. Two months shy of three, and she’s more independent than I could ever dream. But guess what... we don’t fight anymore, and neither one of us are in tears. 


I let go. She stepped up. What a wonderful child- I’m so happy my husband told me to just let her do it.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Baby No More

I won’t ever see my baby again.


This was made clear to me yesterday, as my toddler kicked me in the face as I loaded her into her car seat and fought me while I tried to brush her teeth, sending her toothbrush flying.

I told her I was very sad. That I wanted her to be nice to me, and that I didn’t want to sleep with her that night. My exhaustion level was so high, after a few super physical days at work, and Phoebe in the care of others, which meant she just wanted me (and to nurse all night; some reason I have lost the ability to sleep as she does so). I was burnt out and touched out and so, so tired.

I put her in her toddler bed next to our big family bed and put her soft blanket over her and turned out the light. Her gentle crying was so sad. She had been such a toddler, and I just needed a break.

It occurred to me then: I won’t ever see my baby again. Her soft full baby cheeks are gone.

Her toothless smile is gone.

The rolls on her ankles and elbows and wrists and thighs have lengthened out.

She no longer needs me to move about the house. She sprints.

She can feed herself and requests specific foods.

The snuggles are fewer, and harder with her long legs.

She nurses still, but not the soft baby nursing. It’s comfort for her still, but it’s different and she sighs loudly, “no milk, mama.”

I lay there in bed thinking of how fast these three years have gone and wept. I could not stop the tears. And Phoebe cried too, mostly because she didn’t get what she wanted. 

I invited her into our bed after about 10 minutes, longer than I ever would have separated from her in infancy. 

She said, “Don’t cry mama. It’s ok, sweetheart. Let me wipe your tears.”

And she took her little hand and wiped my wet cheeks. 

Hugged and kissed me. 

Offered me a pickle to make me happy. 

Comforted me for mourning the loss of the baby I once knew.

I let her nurse and she hummed a lullaby I sing to her, one my mama sang to me.

And I realized then... I will feel this loss my whole life, as each new phase comes. I will (maybe) mourn her toddlerhood.

Cry when my little girl becomes a young lady.

Mourn her childhood at her graduations, and wedding, and someday if she becomes a mama, I’ll really cry and say with absolute truth: “Where did my baby go?”

I needed that cry, I now know. And hope to get a good nap in today to revive myself. But I think of the things that I did that made her who she is today... they all stem back to her baby hood.

I comforted her, saying “Don’t cry, baby. Mama’s got you. It’s ok sweetheart. Let me dry your tears. Do you need something?” And snuggled her, nursed her, let her into my bed...sang her an old family lullaby. 

It’s funny how I turned into the baby who needed some love. I have a feeling she’ll keep surprising me, loving me when I need it most, even if it’s her orneriness that made me grumpy in the first place.


Cycles of life. Circles of remembrance. I hope I can remember this phase... I’ll likely be sad when I realize I’ll never see my toddler again.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Our Bed

It's the first cold day of autumn, and as I woke to a 60 degree house I found myself grateful for (yet another) controversial parenting choice. My warm, snuggly toddler was cozily snoring wrapped in my arms.

The window was partially open last night, and our attic bedroom got chilly. Phoebe's soft purple blanket enveloped the two of us. We woke up to cloudy breath but warm toes. 

Yes, she still sleeps with me. I say me because my husband works nights, and so Phoebe and I, like a mother rabbit and her kit, snuggle up in our big bed and sleep. She sleeps with me touching her, and often I wake with her head on my shoulder, her little body fitted against mine, like she remembers being part of me once.

Phoebe around 18mo, and me.


And now, I write this on my phone while we nap. She naps with me, too, and always has. When I'm at work my husband naps with her. Since she was little I took the advice to "sleep when the baby sleeps" very seriously. And I developed a habit of curling her up in my arms, laying flat on my back, and letting my newborn sleep on my chest. Now as a two year old, she sleeps with my arm as a pillow.

Even her first night out of the womb, she has only slept contentedly with me. And rightfully so... she was never alone before she was born. Why should she be alone in the big dark cold world? She can be with mama.

Cosleeping... the stories of tragic infant deaths are not to be taken lightly. I did all my research and follow all the guidelines. (See them here: https://kellymom.com/parenting/nighttime/cosleeping/) If it doesn't work for you, or you want to sleep alone, or you want to sleep train (I never have and don't think I could, it's too traumatic for me) then you do you!

She has never slept at night in a crib. I tried a bassinet and failed there too. Cody got her to nap a few times in her crib but I never could. When we moved we got rid of her toddler bed- her bed is our bed.

I go to sleep with her every night at 8-9pm, missing those sweet parenting freedom hours that I've only ever heard about and never experienced. Did you catch that new Netflix series...? Rented a RedBox that's R rated and watched it when your kids went to bed? Maybe I will, too, in 5-9 years. Am I sad about it? Nope. I work full time, remember? And need these hours to reconnect with this baby.

My life has slowed significantly, and attachment parenting is not for the faint of heart. But I won't get this time back with her, and I'm hyper conscious of how fast she is growing up. I'm desperate to be part of every moment possible; the times she's deep asleep, dreaming, in the place between sleep and awake, or drowsily welcoming the cold fresh dawn with me by her side. Her bed is our bed.


Wednesday, July 5, 2017

What it's REALLY like to Breastfeed a Toddler



If you're reading this, you probably have one of two mindsets about the title of this post:

1) Ew what the heck?! She's still breastfeeding?! I'm gonna read this post and see how weird she is.

2) Preach mama, I'm (secretly) right there with you.

This lovely tasteful portrait of us nursing was taken by T.Marie Photography. I chose the black and white version so it's milder for those of who are still SHOCKED that we're still nursing.


 Here is my disclaimer: It is not my choice to breastfeed, it is my daughter's choice. She is a person who is allowed to make decisions, too. I am supportive of my daughter and her positive choice to continue to nurse.

If you'd like to explain to a 21 month-old about how she should wean because it's "weird" and she's "too old," go for it. Expect a wildly flinging tantrum and perhaps a smack in the leg.

Go ahead though, tell her about how it's not "normal," or how she's using her mama as a "pacifier." Try it. See what happens if you tell her she can't nurse. It's literally her favorite thing in the world.

Phoebe nurses 4-10 times a day. She nurses during her nap, she nurses to go to sleep at night and during the night while we share our big bed together, she wakes up  and nurses and goes back to sleep. She nurses before I leave for work. She nurses when I come home from work. She nurses while we watch Frozen (Let it FLOW, let it floooow!) and she nurses at the zoo while I'm wearing her in our Beco carrier.

She has no qualms about it. She asks in her own special way - signing for milk, or this funny little noise "Hoo-hoo? Poo-hoo-hoo?" or just pulls at my shirt until I oblige. I don't mind. Here's why...

 She rarely gets sick. She's had maybe 6 illnesses in her 21 months of life. Yay! Breastmilk morphs to what your child needs. Get ready to have your mind blown: Her saliva tells my milk what germs she's fighting and my milk changes to include antibodies that fight those germs. What...Yeah. Rad.
(And in case you were wondering: no breastfeeding does not cause tooth decay. Sorry haters.)

 She's starting to be a picky eater, and I want to keep those little baby rolls as long as possible. It's a MYTH, folks, that breastmilk has no nutritional value after a year. Does cows milk still have nutritional value regardless of how old a person is? Yeah. No difference. She will nurse before she will eat new foods most of the time. That's cool. Lots of calories (and antibodies, remember?).

 It's one of the few times she's calm and collected. She settles down into my lap, gets all comfy, pulls my shirt and unhooks(!) my bra, then she starts nursing and hormones release that calm her, and she's soothed. I have literally nursed bumps and bruises away. Tears fall a lot less when she's able to nurse. Her calm-down hormone is important at this stage, too, and her lack of tantrum throwing is a testament to that.

 I believe that she needs to nurse to reconnect with me because I work full time. I spend 40 hours away from her during the week. To me, her nursing says "Mama, I'm still here, I just wanted to you know. I still need you, even when you're gone all day. Are you still mine, even though you've been away? Prove it, Mama, let me nurse." I love those quiet, still moments with her when I'm off and we both need to relax together. It's priceless and I can't replace it.

So those are the sweet and good things...

But breastfeeding a toddler is lonely and nerve wracking. Think you had it bad when you were a newbie-nurser and you had to go in public with your newborn? Guess what - people are usually much more accepting of newborns. Try being in public with a toddler who's saying "Poo-hoo?" and pulling your shirt down. I try to discreetly nurse her, but I still get some looks.

Plus sometimes she kicks me... but usually by accident.

No one has said anything to me about nursing her - neither positive or negative - in public. Maybe I'm just a master and no one can tell, or maybe people are too surprised to say anything. Regardless, the nerves get me sometimes. And the loneliness is so strong. I don't know another mom with a child my age who is still nursing. I don't know another mom with a child my age who nursed past a year, actually.
(If you're reading this and you're hiding your breastfeeding toddler, come out of the woodwork so we can chat!)

I still have to pump. I get some anxiety about it. Past 18 months, I can't donate to the milk bank anymore. I do have a lovely donor who takes my pumped milk for her little, and that makes me feel really good about being able to pump. But it sucks. Seriously. I hate taking my lunch to do it, I hate the parts and the noise and cleaning and storage. It's gotten old. But if I don't pump, I hurt. And if it don't pump, I lose my supply, and I will not do anything to jeopardize our nursing relationship. I'd love to quit (which is why I'm going to see a lactation specialist next week. Even nursing vets need help!).

Mostly I feel like people who don't say anything but know I'm still nursing Phoebe have a few things in their brains, like...
"How strange." or "That's just too much." or "That child is spoiled."

Y'all... please remember, Phoebe is more baby than she is grown up. She's not even two. She knows a few things are certain and true in her life: Mama and Dada love her, and her Mama will nurse her no matter what. I'd like to think it's establishing a relationship that we will cherish for the remainder of our days.

So what's it REALLY like to breastfeed a toddler? It's wild and weird and unexpected and wonderful. Did I expect to nurse this long? Nope. Do I mind? Nope. Do I love it? Sure - I love her, and she loves to nurse, and those two things go together so I shall embrace it.

Will I wean her? No. I won't. But I'll let you know when she's done, as I'm sure that will be another beautiful story to tell.



Sunday, January 22, 2017

A Liberal Mother's Thoughts on the Next Four Years




The next four years I have work to do. But it won't just be signing petitions or marching or voting. I have a woman to raise. And a strong set of ideas to help me do that.

I heard an 11 year old boy on NPR on Inauguration Day. His mother introduced him and he talked briefly about why he was a fan of Donald Trump. I couldn't help but wonder how that mama told her son about the Access Hollywood tape of Trump belittling and blatantly disrespecting a woman. Did she ignore it? Did she sit him down and say, even though you like this man, what he said is not okay?

I would have liked to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. We will have many moments like this over the next four years; when our judgement is tested and our children look to us for answers. If the highest ranking person in our country is cruel or rude or nasty, how do we tell them that it is not okay?

Answer: we simply tell them. People are not perfect and neither are our elected officials. My family is preparing to explain tough topics of race, class, and religion to someone who can't even form a sentence yet. But it is vital to explain these things to her young in order to raise a strong proud woman who leans left.

What a privilege to have the vital years of my adolescence spent under a president who represented a large majority of my political ideals. I am grateful to be alive for such a time when I felt secure and happy about the leader of our country.

As I grow and mature, so do my politics. I now realize that each regime change will cause turmoil and I have a 50/50 shot of being confident in our leader or not, and that will not change my entire life. How exhausting.

Under Barack Obama I had four major things happen that personally made my life better: federal student loans allowed me to go to college and Obama's policies allow me to pay those back based on my income; I was able to buy a home with little down payment and tax breaks as a first time home buyer; insurance paid for a breast pump so I could feed my child when I am away from her; and a federal mandate makes it illegal to discriminate against breastfeeding mothers and made it mandatory for me to have breaks to pump at work. A sincere thank you to the administration for those things.

I am liberal. And for me the next four years will not be so fun, as I'm sure the past eight weren't so fun for a lot of conservatives. But I'm also a mom to a little girl who will be going into kindergarten at the next election cycle.

And I've realized something.

The president or whichever political party is officially in charge of our country isn't officially in charge of how I live or what I believe.

I am a liberal. And my daughter will be raised with the politics that I believe in, and that means teaching her that while we respect our elected officials, we do not have to agree with them.

I have a duty to her to uphold the principles and beliefs I hold very dear.

It is a parent's job to teach their children the values and morals of either political fence. Our children are individuals who, when the time is right, will decide for themselves what they believe. For now I will raise her with my beliefs and politics. When she gets older, she can decide for herself what she'd like to believe. In our family, we are strong in our convictions.

Here are five things she will know, regardless of who is president, about our world and our family:

1. Every person is valuable. Regardless of skin color, gender, sexual orientation, class, rank, or religion. In our family, everyone is treated with kindness and respect.
2. People love who they love. We are LBGT friendly. Everyone deserves to love who they wish. In our family, people are allowed to be who they are.
3. Women can do whatever they dream to do. Want to be president? Let's make it happen, baby girl. In our family, there are no limits.
4. My religious views and relationship with whatever deity I believe created this universe are my own. We respect the views of everyone because those ideals are sacred. We are too small to determine who is right and who is wrong. In our family, we embrace diversity and ideas because they're important to grow.
5. If we don't like the ideas of a person in power, it's okay to let them know. It's not okay to disrespect anyone for their views, but telling them we disagree is just fine. In our family, it's okay to say, "My opinion is different than yours."

Work over the next four years? Sure. But guess what... my work with this little girl and raising her right are more important. She and I can change the world if we continue this path of liberal unity. I believe we can. In our family, my immediate world is most important.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Mothering Time

Freshly asleep in my arms tonight, Phoebe made a little noise between a sigh and a coo and I was immediately taken back to babyhood.

I don't remember the last time she made such a wonderful peep. And it got me thinking about memory and our children.

How much do we really remember? What things last in our minds eye and what moments are forever gone?

I do not think I would remember much if I didn't have our journal.
When Phoebe was almost one month old I found a notebook my aunt gave me to "write down all the firsts... because you'll forget if you don't." I wrote a short sentence and dated it. Then I realized I had no recollection of the first few weeks of her life.

Sure I remembered the big things - bringing her home from the hospital, my family meeting her, our first nights together.

 But I didn't remember her, specifically. What was she like when she was five days old? What did she smell like? What did she wear? What did I do all day with her?


Alas. That day is gone. So is five day old Phoebe and I'll never have her back.
And so every day now I write something, anything, so that maybe when she's 10 or 18 or 42 and I have forgotten what she was like, I can read about it and trigger a memory.


Time is a funny thing. It seems to drag on. And then suddenly another milestone hits and we've never stopped to realize how fast it actually goes.
Time doesn't stop.

The people you love grow old.
The babies your raise grow up.

And her little coo-sigh tonight at 15mo old reminded me again that my journal for her is so important.

What do you remember about your babies?




Sunday, November 13, 2016

A Late Note to Phoebe: One Year Old

When I held you for the very first time, I remember thinking how strange it was to finally meet you and how miraculous it was that just hours ago you were in my womb.

Those emotions. That joy of seeing your squishy little face. It is a memory that will not soon fade, if it ever does.

This year has been a blur; a mess of chaos and love and cuddles and wonder. Mostly wondering how your brain works and wondering how it's possible for you to grow so very fast.

My child I wish for you a joyous life, one similar to your first year:

A life of new friends, family who can't wait to see you no matter the occasion. I wish you a life of quick learning, full of mistakes so you can grow. I wish you a life of commiseration when you're sad or hurt or sick. I wish you a life of love and snuggles and never sleeping alone.


Happy first birthday, beautiful one.