Way hands-off parenting

I'd like to think that I'm a pretty laid back parent.  Sure, I get stressed out a lot about my lack of sleep or Desmond's eating habits, but for the most part, he does a lot on his own.  Unless there's a concern for his safety, I'm not hovering around my child like a gnat (not that mothers that do are gnats...they have a different name for that: helicopters), which can also be explained by my limited patience for playing with Desmond and his toys or playing on the playground equipment, unfortunately.  I do like to provide him with the tools (toys, leaves, washable crayons, food, dirt, whatever...) and let his little budding imagination take over.  Unless what he's doing is going to make a horrible mess (like letting him take the top off his sippy cup and put the bendy straw in...big mistake), I usually let him try things on his own so that he could figure out how things work without me telling him how to do it.  It's one of the things that I feel that Bill is really good at and I'm really bad at: he will sit there and try to fix things and make them work, whereas I'm all for calling the landlord, plumber, drycleaner, Billy, my mom...to make it better.  Billy also tends to be the more present parent.  He's able to give Desmond 100% of his attention and sit there and play with him and be present for him for hours.  I don't know how he does it, but I'm trying to learn.  Putting that on my continuing education list of to-dos.

So, how has all of this manifested in Desmond?  Well, there are some pros.  He knows his limits, as in, he'll try to go down the last stair in a staircase the adult way and end up falling (under my supervision) and realizes that his legs are way too stubby to step down that step gracefully, so he'll stand there and wait for me to hold out my hand so he could do it the adult way.  He is very aware of his surroundings...everybody is always remarking about our glass coffee table (ooooh, isn't that kind of dangerous, having a baby around?  Or, ooooh, you forgot to babyproof that!) but he knows that it's there, he knows that it hurts to bump your head, so he gives himself a wide berth from it when he plays.  It's awesome. Also, although I don't think he's to the point where he's imagining much when he plays, he does usually play by himself and usually only engages me when he's trying to figure out how something works or when he wants me to read to him.

The cons, he currently has 4 scars on his face from falling on different things, some requiring trips to the hospital, and some we took care of at home (and let me tell you, the sight of bright red blood pulsating all over Desmond's sweet face is enough to make me want to crouch in the corner and cry, but something snaps within me and I stop thinking and my mind stops processing any external stimuli besides the wound and making sure my baby is OK.)

The last incident, for which we spent an entire afternoon at the Children's Hospital here in St. Louis, Desmond fell onto Bill's metal hand weights.  He almost required stitches, but thankfully, they only gave him some skin glue.

On our way to the hospital.  When Billy picked Des up from the floor, he immediately pressed him to his chest to comfort him.  When he pulled Desmond's face away, he was bleeding profusely all over Billy's shirt and face.  I couldn't tell if he was bleeding just from his forehead or anywhere else.  I thought he had for sure lost some of his teeth!  I automatically went into robot mode and took Des, put his face under cold running water and saw where the wound was.  I took a clean dish towel and pressed it to his forehead and checked the wound again to see how bad it was.  It was pretty gash-y, so we decided better be safe than sorry...

Once we made it to triage, the nurse put some lidocaine on the wound and put a clear plastic bandage on it.  Desmond kept poking at it and the nurse said it was ok, since that would push the anesthetic into the wound.

Des was having the time of his life at the hospital.  There was a TV with cartoons and a big tank full of fish.  He loved running around.

Look at Billy's shirt.  We subsequently used it for his Halloween costume.  I think that this is the cutest picture of Desmond.  I mean, look at how cute that baby hospital gown is...and the way his socks are all scrunched down...

So, maybe I've a bit to learn about keeping my child from more bodily harm from those helicopter moms...seriously, I'm dreading the hospital bill we're going to receive any day now.  In the meantime, I'll keep letting him run around and slide down the fastest slide on the playground...if it means a skinned knee or a small head wound, I'm ok with that.  Kid needs to know that the only way to fail is to fail hard, learn from it, and keep going.  Hopefully he'll be able to teach his mama the very same thing, too.

1-month hiatus

I haven't had the chance to post in a long time.  I've spent the majority of my time working on a grant that's due in a few days PLUS we had to let go of our nanny...so, technically, I've had no time to write.  I read once that if you want to write a good blog or a dissertation or anything, you should plan to write a little bit every single day.  However, my motivation to write was sapped by my reality and I had no creativity left in me at the end of the day.  However, I'm in the process of finishing the grant, cleaning up the house after hosting 6 family members for a long Thanksgiving weekend, and getting Desmond back into his previous groove that I'm just now starting to get my writing mojo back, albeit slowly.  Therefore, this post will be a short and sweet update and will hopefully be a jumping off point for more frequent, interesting, and lengthier (but not too lengthy) posts.

Desmond is currently almost 16 months old.  He's quite a little man, although his face, to me, still looks babyish.  I find myself excited for him to move on to bigger and better things, but am a little bit sad that he will never again look this way, act this way, smell this way.  I'm trying to grow alongside with him as a mother: to grow in patience, understanding, love, and happiness.  But sometimes, I find myself severely stunted.  I'm trying to get out of this funk I've been in and to try to spend the short (relative to life) time that I have with Des in the best, most loving manner possible.  It's been a long road with Desmond and I hope to write in the coming days about how difficult it has been for me to admit that I'm a not-the-best-at-it mother and how that realization is going to impact my desire for a future child.

I'm currently nanniless, which means that I have to devote my entire day to Desmond and do my work at night.  It's made things a bit stressful here in the Thomas-Reeves household, but we're doing our best.  I'm trying to think of as many things to do outside of the home that doesn't involve playing around a park in 28 degree weather.  Long story short, because of an hours-worked-and-payment-received misunderstanding, our ex-nanny wrote us a scathing email demanding that she be:

• paid 25% more per hour because she's "teaching" Desmond Spanish
• give the equivalent of 30 days paid vacation per year
• paid in full at the start of every month for hours yet to be worked
• paid for the week even if she doesn't actually work the hours.

Obviously, we couldn't accept her terms.  But, as the saying goes, when one door closes, a window opens, or whatever the heck it is.  I went to an open house for the local Waldorf school to check it out and whilst there, I met a mother of 2 little boys, spitting images of Desmond, who was from...get this...Colombia.  In St. Louis!  The Open House was just about to start so I couldn't speak to her anymore, but she quietly slipped her phone number and email to Billy so that we could get in touch.  And I did, which led to me not only meeting a new friend from mi patria who's raising her children in much the same manner as I am raising Desmond (they're 4 and 7 and speak perfect English and Spanish), but also to meeting her mother, who nannies kids at their house for 30 freaking dollars for a full day.  $30!  I almost fainted when I heard that.  Granted, we'd have to drive Desmond over to her house (10 minutes away), but it's sooooo worth the inconvenience.  We're getting double what we used to get for half the price.  Plus, she only looks after one other boy (besides her grandkids) consistently, so it won't be such a chore for Desmond to get her attention.

Let's see, what else...I cooked a Thanksgiving dinner for 8 people...it was a small success.  I should've planned better.  I stumbled upon this great new site, called Weelicious, that gives you recipes for your toddler, but really, I've liked every single thing I've made for Des from that site and have made it for dinner for me and Bill, who's also a big fan.  I just made some homemade pumpkin ricotta gnocchi and Des loves the beet pancakes from Weelicious.  You should check it out.

OK, peeps...I promise to write more about my current parenting struggles and Desmond's crazy antics/accomplishments/milestones.  Oh, and I'll post some pics of our fall photo shoot here in The Lou done by my new friend Sam.

A sneak peek to tide you over.  Check out his luscious mullet.

Halloween 2011

We had such a nice time for Halloween this year.  Billy and I carved our very first pumpkins as a couple (and it was also my very first pumpkin carving ever!) We carved them in the likeness of our two dogs, Hanzo and Pirate.  I did mine in like 20 minutes.  Billy took about an hour on his.  But his did come out better and he did win us a gift certificate to a nice pizza place.

Just look at the way I deftly hold the carving utensil.  I'm a natural.  Mio, the woman next to me, also won a prize.  she made her pumpkin into the pumpkin carriage from Cinderella, complete with horses, a barbie, etc. 

Joint Ventures Club at Wash U.

Cute, eh?

My pumpkin.  It's supposed to be Hanzo, our Boston Terrier.

Billy's pumpkin.  It's supposed to be of Pirate, our pug, but he was so engrossed in carving, that he forgot to poke out one of its eyes so that it's a true representation of our one-eyed dog.

D enjoying himself at the carving party.

So, we put our prize-winning and prize-losing pumpkins on our front porch that evening, lit a couple of tea lights, and stepped back to admire the view.  I also cut out little bats and ghosts on black paper bags and put a tea light in those.  They came out OK.  Finally, we hung a BOO sign on our front door; it was covered in green glitter and god knows that I ADORE any kind of glitter.  So that made me happy.  I never thought I'd feel that way about decorating a home for the holidays, but it really does make such a huge impact on the way I feel about the whole season. 

So, last year for Halloween, Billy and I dressed up as Neo and Trinity from the Matrix (sort of unoriginal, but black is sooo slimming and I was only 3 months postpartum then and still had a huge gut...ahem...I still HAVE a gut, but it was definitely bigger then) and Desmond went dressed up as sushi.

We made this Kitty Litter cake that was absolutely delicious, but nobody wanted to eat it!  :)  The poops were melted tootsie rolls and the cake was part mashed up oreos, part yellow cake, and part vanilla pudding.

Sashimi Desmond.

Our homemade costumes.  Billy had painted his hair black and filled in his eyebrows.  haha!

This year, we decided to go with a theme again.  However, we decided to go a more cultured route: we decided to dress up as famous late artists.  Can you guess who we are?

I was Frida Kahlo, Billy was Vincent Van Gogh, and Desmond was Salvador Dalí.

Seriously, if I don't nair once a month or pluck my eyebrows every now and then, I would end up looking like this.

Notice the clock on his shirt?  It's supposed to be the melting clock from Dalí's painting, "La Persisténcia de la Memória." 

Loving the Twizzler I made the mistake of giving him.

So, the rationale behind the choices was simple: I chose artists that I both liked and who beared some cultural semblance to the make up of my family.  Although Frida Kahlo was of Mexican descent, we're close enough brown that it didn't matter that I was Colombian.  When Billy has facial hair (can't call it a beard since it's never thick enough to be considered that), it's got streaks of reddish gold in it, which reminded me of Van Gogh.  Also, they're both very white European men.  Finally, I chose Dali for Desmond because he's Spanish and Desmond's not quite brown, but not quite white...like the Mediterraneans!  But the bottom line was money.  It cost me around $10 for our entire costume (that was to buy the flowers for my hair).  Everything else was ours.  The shirt, I drew (artistic genius, eh?  Looks just like the original).

Billy's ear wound cover was actually the shirt that he had on when Des fell (again, his 4th time) and banged his head up pretty badly (pictures coming up in the next post) and we had to take him to the hospital.  So that is authentic human blood on the shirt.  Sigh...we will do anything to make our Halloween costumes as authentic as possible.  :)

Anyhow, Des loved watching all of the kids come up to our door asking for candy.  Here in St. Louis, they all tell you a joke or a riddle first and then you give them candy.  It's perfect.  I loved hearing all of their jokes and (pretend) laughing.  It was really lovely to get to spend it at home with my little family.  I know soon enough, I'm going to be schlepping it out there in the cold with Desmond, going door-to-door.  Hopefully, that's not for a few more years. 

Rejoice in golden hues...

I love autumn.  It is by far my most favorite season.  I love the cooler weather, the crisp smell in the morning, and the colors...man, the colors in autumn are unparalleled.  I was so excited to be able to take Desmond to a pumpkin patch and for a drive out into Missouri wine country.  This time around, Desmond kind of knew what was happening and he actually enjoyed being out and about.  Unlike this one time (pictures from October 2010):

Not enjoying the splendor of autumn...

So uncomfortable...

Hating life.

We went to a farm in Augusta, Missouri, which just happens to be part of "wine country."  Yes, Missouri is home to several vineyards and the wine they produce isn't that bad.  This area of the state, just about 50 minutes west of St. Louis, was settled primarily by German immigrants, so a lot of the towns that are scattered throughout the area have vestiges of those old German towns.  It's such a beautiful drive.  We timed it so that we left around the time of Desmond's nap so that he could sleep the majority of the drive to the farm.  We got to the farm and it had a play area for kids, a maze, scarecrows, etc.  Nobody was there, so we had the entire place to ourselves, and got to have our pick of the better pumpkins.  I can now understand why parents go crazy over places like this...it's so much fun to see your kid run around and enjoying the fruits of fall.

This time, we had better luck with the pictures (compare with above):

It's funny how I still think of myself as being 22 or o and then I look at this picture and notice that I'm starting to get wrinkles around my eyes and am floored.  I certainly don't feel 30...but I look it.

Now this is the face of a kid who loves fall.

Look at the tin man!  And Dorothy looks like she's in dire need of a bathroom.

I'm so in love with these guys...

He wasn't as creeped out as I thought he'd be. 

I mean, I sure as hell was.

He looks like a little mini movie director.

Desmond's trademark Eff Off face.

Cute.

But this one's cuter.

We wanted to get a series of shots of him sitting in the tractor tire, to match the awful ones of him we took last year. 

We tried so hard to get him to sit by the tractor.

But he wasn't having any of it.

At a vineyard.

Ok, so now the cheesy part (Yes, I know the pictures themselves are super cheesy.  Humor me here, ok?)  I know I keep beating this dead horse over and over again, but being a mom is hard work.  Super hard.  Harder than anything else I've ever done.  I mean, learning how to write code in SAS is far easier in my book than being pregnant, giving birth, being the sole life-sustaining force for a newborn, and changing so much as a person with each milestone Desmond has achieved.  He's already shaking his head no (and wagging his finger back and forth for emphasis), can hold up one finger when I ask him "Cuantos años tienes?," and teases me by offering me pieces of his food and then taking them away.  I'm not the same mother I was a year ago.  Heck, I'm not the same mother I was 3 months ago.  He is constantly changing and I'm realizing, that like the beautiful colors of fall, this milestone, these moments, will soon come to an end and I will never, ever relive them with him.

Being outside with Desmond, watching the wind ruffle his (very straight) hair, and seeing the most joyful, explosive smile on his face when he picks up the leaves and crumples them in his hands...it's the most wonderful thing.  Better than wearing new underpants wonderful.  I am trying to sit back, take it all in, and cherish these sweet, simple moments because in another year, he's going to be yelling "NO" at me instead of showing me, he'll be saying "one" when I ask him how old he is, and he probably won't offer me anymore of his food (he probably won't eat any of the food I offer him...sigh.)

So, here's to the last few weeks of fall and to rejoicing in those golden moments in life.  I'll take them when I can get 'em...

Deal for breastmilk???

Breastmilk is now mainstream, thanks to the help of the "deal-of-the-day" website Groupon, which offers gift certificates for local companies in your area.  You could get a gift certificate for, say, Mexican food at The Red Iguana and pay $20 for $40 worth of food.  It's a fantastic service and I use it frequently.  However, it usually caters to service-based companies, like restaurants, yoga studios, and massage parlors (parlors?  What are they called?  Centers?)  So, imagine my shock (and jubilation!) when I read a Time magazine article about a Groupon offer in Indiana to buy $10 worth of breastmilk.  It definitely caught my attention, so I read on...

The fine print explained what was going on: philanthropy. People who purchased the deal weren't getting cutthroat bargains on breast milk for themselves; instead, the money raised would be used by the milk bank to offset the cost of providing human milk to premature and sick babies in need. 

The charitable deals are courtesy of G-Team, Groupon's good-doing arm. The fund-raising represents a return to the company's roots: Groupon started as a social-action network in 2008 and later transitioned to offering daily deals. G-Team launched in Chicago in July 2010 and has since expanded to 65 other cities, or one-third of Groupon's markets; Indy came online at the end of August. 

Other G-Team offers have included homeless shelters, school districts and museums — essentially any not-for-profit organization. The milk bank, says G-Team spokesperson Kelsey O'Neill, was a perfect fit. "Everyone kind of has a soft spot for providing babies the nutrition they need," says O'Neill. 

After mom's own milk, donor milk is the next-best option for preemies whose mothers may be sick, taking drugs incompatible with breast-feeding or otherwise unable to provide breast milk for their infants. An increasing number of hospitals have switched to donor milk in their neonatal intensive-care units. 

SOURCE

 But the milk doesn't come cheap. Although it's donated by lactating mothers, milk banks have to pay to screen donors for disease. The banks supply bags in which the mothers freeze pumped breast milk, underwrite the costs associated with shipping and pasteurizing the milk to ensure it's safe for already immune-compromised infants. All that overhead adds up: donor milk typically costs $4.50 per ounce (30 milliliters). 

Some preemies take as little as 5 ml a day, meaning that the 132 Groupons sold could cover the cost of 9 liters (304 oz.) of donor milk, feeding 1,800 babies for a day. "That is huge," says Dane Nutty, IMMB's program manager.

I hope and hope that Groupon will offer the same deal to St. Louis and other cities around the country and that other milk banks hop on this bandwagon.  What a great service and opportunity to be able to donate a little to help a lot.  This is exactly the type of non-profiteering that I would like to build up and support (btw, Christy, this is the kind of breastmilk non-profit I was talking about before in that email...)  So, please, if you guys get a deal like this in your city, let me and others know about it so as many people as possible can "buy" (donate) and help provide life-saving, NECESSARY breast milk to babies all over the country, especially to those whose mommies can't make and/or can't afford to buy their own.

Read more: http://healthland.time.com/2011/10/10/a-groupon-for-breast-milk-of-sorts/print/#ixzz1boOXtAQw

Poor economy and diaper rash: cause and effect?

According to data from the CDC, the increase in sales of diaper cream has increased, while the number of babies born and the number of disposable diapers bought have decreased at the same time (SOURCE).

Here are the hard numbers: the Centers for Disease Control reported that the number of babies ages 2 and under fell 3% last year while disposable diaper sales slipped a whopping 9%. And yet, there was a 2.8% increase in diaper rash cream, despite fewer babies.

This doesn't necessarily mean that the sluggish economy is directly the cause of what seems to be an increase in the amount of baby butts with diaper rash, but it's definitely interesting.  Although we cloth diaper mostly full time, there are days when we don't get to the laundry, or the diapers sit in the dryer waiting to be folded and put together...those are the days we use disposables.  And sometimes, we stretch it a bit, leaving Desmond in a diaper much longer than is necessary.  I mean, the type of "longer" where the little absorbent beads start leaking out of the diaper and pepper his privates.  That's when I start to feel like such a crap mom and commit to folding the diapers and putting them together.  But also, part of it is that the diapers we buy (the huggies organic cotton ones) are so expensive.  "Why not buy the regular diapers?"  We've tried them and found them to be more plastic-y and smellier (in a perfumey way) than the organic cotton ones, so we shell out a few extra dollars for a packet of 40.  That pack usually lasts us all month, but when we get really lazy with the cloth diapering, we tend to stretch it and leave Desmond in a wet diaper longer than he should be in one.

The average American baby bottom sees 6.3 diapers a day, and with parents shelling out an average of $1,500 a year for diapers, it's easy to see why some might turn a blind eye to a slightly damp diaper (especially when disposable diapers are so absorbent nowadays)
And of course, parents are doing everything they can to meet their families' needs with less money, but is it really at the expense of their tots' tushes? 

We wouldn't be surprised if other explanations beyond parents skimping on diaper changes included folks making the switch to increasingly popular cloth diapers, others pushing potty training earlier, which Pampers marketer Procter & Gamble suggested, and even just more aggressive marketing efforts on the part of diaper cream makers and retailers.

Market research is so interesting!  I mean, isn't it cool that local health departments use a type of market surveillance that, for example, alerts public health officials to a possible diarrheal outbreak in children when Pedialyte or other oral rehydration solutions fly off the shelves in supermarkets?  Too cool.

Worst countries for women

In so many places, in so many countries, women are treated as second-class citizens. They are denied basic human rights and can be physically and psychologically suppressed by their government, community, and family members. I am so grateful that I live in a country where things for women are pretty decent: I get to pursue a degree that before was barred to so many women, I have the ability to wear and look however I want, and I don't have to ask Billy or my father or my brother for permission to do anything outside of my own home. I'm very lucky that I grew up in a part of the world and in a family that values education and freedom of thought and action. Many women, simply through their place of birth, are born into a life of forced submission and reprehensible lack of basic human rights.

As we approach the season of giving thanks, of being grateful for all that we have, think about the plight of women just like you (or your wife, daughter, mother, sister) all around the world who struggle day in and day out for a better life for themselves and their families. If you have a few minutes, take a look at the pictures in the slide show at the link below. It contains pictures of women living in the world's most dangerous countries for women: Afghanistan, the DRC, Pakistan, India, and Somalia, and keep them in your thoughts as you go through each day-to-day enjoying some of the basic freedoms that these women lack.

Adrees Latif/Reuters

World's Most Dangerous Countries for Women - The Big Picture - Boston.com

Thanks for reading!