Wondrously Other: January 2014

Growing Up and Growing Down

While the baby is driving us all insane with her FULLSPEEDDEVELOPING, the other children are still making quieter, if equally spectacular, transitions:

Alfie with the grown up and Esme more with the grown down.

When I’m parenting younger children, I always get the feeling that I am only seeing them in glimpses.

Imagine running through a forest; you get a clear sense of who they are, but you get it by looking through and around and over and under the emotional noise.

I’m not saying that as a criticism, watching the emotional turmoil of two and three year old is like watching an elephant roller-skating down a mountain towards a brick wall.

Parenting a child through that turmoil is like standing between the elephant and the brick wall.

Esme is a magnificently intense little girl. Everything in her life starts with a capital letter and is filled with boundless excitement. Like her mama before her, anything that threatens to dampen that excitement feels like a personal and very mortal wound.

Her challenge is to understand that the battle is long, and not won in a single day.

My challenge in parenting her is to remember that she’s only two.

She has recently started wanting a dummy at bedtime again, flirting with the idea of nursing and asking to go up in the sling.

I know Keith finds that frustrating. In his mind our children make lineage progressions, but while that may have been largely true of Alfie, it isn't true of Esme.

She is our middle child orbiting twin moons, one pulling her onward, the other back towards babyhood.

I am happy to watch her ebb and flow between the two, some days running ahead with Alfie, and some days hanging back with her baby sister in the familiarity of her toddler world.

Alfie has stopped looking back: For him there is only running ahead, just like his papa before him.

Alfie is quietly self possessed, strong and determined. He has maturity, and gentleness, and intensity and stubborn. So very much stubborn. Just all the stubborn. All of it.

His challenge is understanding that his sister is only two and doesn't mean to annoy the crap out of him.

My challenge in parenting him is to remember that he’s only four.

Some days it’s hard not to think he’s fourteen.

Thursday 30 January 2014 Comments: 0

Attachment Parenting Olive That's Life Toddler DoOm

How the Baby Got Sold

I would like to tell you a little story.

Once there was a baby. She was a snugly little baby who loved to be carried, cuddle up to her parents at night and who enjoyed a hearty feed any time she was hungry.

In return her parents and siblings loved her very dearly and were careful to give her all the snuggles and milk she could desire.

Every day she would smile and blow raspberries and gurgle at the wonderful world around her. She was so cute that her family would smile and blow raspberries in reply, so in love they were.

One day she learned to turn over, and her family clapped and cheered and told her how clever she was.

Soon the little baby was commando crawling across the floor. The family exclaimed gleefully how wonderful it was that the baby could explore the world around her.

The baby was so encouraged that she soon started crawling properly, while also cruising. The family were slightly taken aback by this two pronged approach to mobility, especially at such a young age, but they were careful to be supportive all the same.

This was an error, because while the family thought they were being supportive, what the little baby heard was entirely different:

“We love it when you jut out your jaw and pull all the DVDs from the shelves all the live long day”

“Please stay awake half the night and use our heads as stepping stones as you cruise up and down the bed frame”

“Hoon up and down the house cackling maniacally and stuffing Nerf darts into your mouth”

"Hurl food at our heads with surprising speed and accuracy"

The family pleaded with the little baby to stop this insanity but the baby wouldn't listen. She had taken a good look at the crazy that surrounded her and thought to herself “I’m going to have to do something really special to make my mark in this family”

So the family traded the baby for a blender and finally got some rest.

True story.

Tuesday 28 January 2014 Comments: 2

Activism Attachment Parenting Feminism Review

Disney's Frozen - Another Review to Add to the Pile

I'm going to make an assumption that the new film by Disney hasn't escaped your notice.

Frozen? Based – heavy on the air quotes – on Hans Christian Andersen’s Snow Queen?

Am I the only one who missed that memo and thought it was a film about a funny snowman?

I'm guessing so.

There is no way on earth I would have taken the girls to see the film if I had known it was a film with not one, but TWO Disney Princesses in it. If they hadn't both fallen fast asleep by the end of the opening number I would have beaten a hasty retreat, but instead, trapped under a sleeping baby, and propping up a sleeping toddler, I was left alone in cinematic hell.

There are many, MANY places you can go and read debate on whether Frozen is a piece of feminist subversion, or whether Disney just did a James Cameron/Titanic style hatchet job on their source material.

I like this review which builds to following heady conclusion:

“But is Frozen the first feminist Disney movie? Perhaps it's more accurate to call it a step in the right direction of the first feminist princess Disney movie”

Of course it is! Because after 91 years, an organisation with the vast resources of Disney must still be finding it so hard to make inroads into the tricky subject of how to depict women. How do we function in the dark when we don’t actually have eyes as big as owls? Can we bend in the middle with such thick waists? Are we virgins? Are we whores? Or are we a combination of the two? Oooooh controversial!!

I will admit that when Elsa first “came out” in her big number I was mentally penning a letter to Disney from “Outraged of Wellington” on behalf of my sleeping children.

Luckily for the sensibilities of the Disney post room, the song was early enough in the film that I had time to reflect, and realise that actually, this shedding of her childhood chrysalis was timely, and represented a strong message to girls about owning their sexuality. I'm all for that message, every step of the way. I hope my daughters own the shit out of their sexuality, when they are old enough, and that my son respects women who do.

So good job Disney, +10 points for you.

The big steaming pile of caveat to that statement, is the fact that - once again -sexuality has to come in the same impossible package. It’s all very well telling a child to love themselves for who they are, but not if the subtitle to that statement reads “as long as “yourself” involves a tiny waist, huge eyes, a stunning singing voice, and big swooshy hair”.

Dammit Disney, you were so close!

Also, I'm pretty sure there is no royalty in my family tree, so the lives of Elsa and Anna have pretty much zero relevance to the ones my daughters will lead. Our house, while extremely comfortable, is not a palace. Our social gatherings, while fascinating, are not balls. My children will not lead a life devoid of meaningful employment, so why is it that Disney once again chooses to take the easy route and remove social context from their story?

My daughters don’t need to be told that Princesses come in impossible shapes: We’re British, we have Kate Middleton. My children need to know that they live in an imperfect world, with imperfect people of different shapes, who can STILL find ways to be happy.

They need Lilo and Stitch.

There’s your true story of familial love and sacrifice. THERE’S your strong female character.

If you want to template a formula, Disney, template THAT.

And PS - it looks like they just might

Thursday 23 January 2014 Comments: 8

Alfie Attachment Parenting Esme Olive

Miss Olive’s Playground

I am so proud that I can give my children the opportunity to have a playground that looks like this.

Alfie and Esme are a little slow to warm to it – they are cautious of the waves and irritated by the sand - but you, Miss Olive, you are in love.

I have watched you canter and buck across the sand like a colt turned out to grass, grin spread wide on your face.

I have heard the squeals of glee as you grab a clump of washed up seaweed and wave it proudly over your head.

I have felt the sand between your toes as we head back to the car, your dead weight in my arms in protest at being taken away from your favourite playground.

You and I are drawn to the sea in the same way, my precious one: I can’t wait to share it with you in the years to come.

Wednesday 22 January 2014 Comments: 2

Alfie Attachment Parenting Esme Learning

An Unschooling Mother

I mentioned last week I am reading a book. Truth is, I am slowly crawling through it in itty bitty sessions. Not because it is a bad book, or even because it is written in turn of the century American, but because of a personal failing of mine.

Simply put, when I am faced with something new and exciting, it’s like all the thoughts I am ever going to have on the subject all run at each other at the same time shouting “HEYELL YEAH!!!” before making the sign o’ the horns, chest bumping, aaaand maybe crushing a few beers cans on their heads to seal the deal. The only thing I can do to cope with this mental mosh pit is to take a step back and just .... exist ... for a while until those thoughts settle down.

A Montessori Mother is so exciting and inspiring, that after about 10 minutes I have to close it before I start making a noise that only dogs can hear.

This is the first book I have read that addresses Montessori education from the perspective or a parent. It is full of observations, ideas, enthusiasm about how children learn, and more importantly why.

It speaks to me, and it challenges me.

Which is not the experience I expected from this book.

What I need for my bus ride into work is a nice simple book that doesn't make me weep snot bubbles in public, or miss my stop, or do c-RAzy laughing that scares the person sitting next to me.

What I don’t need is an invitation to naval gaze on the subject of knowledge until I look like a lobotomy patient with just the teensiest bit of drool escaping down my chin.

I started from a fairly simple viewpoint when I picked up this book: I want my children to have a good relationship with learning. I want my children to be like me. I am a collector: Not of things, but of knowledge.

Thinking gives me a buzz, investigating gives me a buzz, learning gives me a buzz.

School? This did not give me a buzz.

Like young Logan, I see school as a sanitised facsimile of life, ordered, broken down, measured, designed to train children to become successful adults.

If your view of success is to buy into the average western consumer lifestyle.

It all feels so sterile, so lacking in passion.

For me knowledge has never been a means to an end, but a journey that I savour. My brain is full of what I apologetically call Random Shit with absolutely no practical application. I see similar traits developing in my children.

Alfie latches onto a subject and just wants to learn the shit out of it.

Esme, is an investigator.

Last night, for instance, she spent the entire time I was unloading and reloading the dishwasher opening and closing a cupboard door that has developed an especially musical squeak. I was torn between the desire to go in search of earplugs, and gratitude that she wasn't helping me unload the dishwasher, but somewhere past that, I was listening to her testing the differences between slow closes, fast closes, jiggling and every other tortured wail she could coax from that door.

There is no practical application for that knowledge, outside of a foley stage, but it was her process that intrigued me, and her curiosity that excited me.

The reality of life is that at least some of the knowledge you have needs to hold value to someone else, if only so that you have the choice to opt into the modern world. You could know everything there is to know about 15th century Bavarian squeezeboxes, but I doubt it will ever provide you with a living wage.

But is that something that education should address?

I know a shocking number of people who are earning a living doing jobs with absolutely no connection to their qualifications. I know people with no qualifications at all who are also providing for their families.

That says to me that education is failing even at doing the one useful thing it was supposed to be doing in training people to earn a living.

On the flip side, what it is also showing me is that without education, my children will probably be just fine.

And you know what sparked all of this? It was this page:

My answer to the question, after much naval gazing is yes, for my children, within my family, I do think it would be an improvement.

Thursday 16 January 2014 Comments: 6

Babywearing Esme Olive Stay At Home Dad

Sexy Men. Carrying Babies. For Charity.

Right there is the ultimate sales pitch. I should just put a big full stop, post a picture and walk away, job done.

This is me though, so of course I’m not going to do that.

This is a calendar you need in your life though, for all the reasons I have mentioned in the title.

Sales from this calendar will go to buy slings for local NICU units so that parents can practice kangaroo care which, as WHO point out, is vital for premie babies.

Photography by Sharyn - http://photos.bysharyn.com/

I know a lot of you are in countries other than New Zealand so here’s a sweetener, if you order this calendar and you mention this blog post, I will cover the difference between the standard P&P costs and sending it over to you.

And don’t give me “it’s already January, why would I want to buy a calendar?”, there are 352 days left of the year.

That’s 352 days of ovary aching to be had!!

And all for $25/£12.50

That, my friends is the deal of the century.

Monday 13 January 2014 Comments: 0

Breastfeeding Olive SNS

I Will Not Take These Things For Granted

This is nothing more and nothing less than a chance for me to post a photo of Olive nursing.

It's been nearly seven months now - SEVEN - of feeding my baby girl with the help of an SNS.

I managed zero feeds with Alfie and three months with Esme.

Each day, each feed, I look down at her sweet face and say a silent thank you to her for sticking with me.

I will never take this view for granted.

Thursday 9 January 2014 Comments: 2

Feminism

Mommy Bloggers suck at discussions

This is me dusting off my soapbox for a bloody good rant.

In fact this is me with such a bug up my ass that I got out of a nice warm bed, beside a nice warm baby because I couldn't sleep.

Over the last few years I have noticed a slow creep of what I can only describe as "the fear" amongst bloggers - and yes I am talking about female bloggers here - who have become so delicate that it is now unacceptable to voice even the most respectful disagreement.

And the problem is getting worse. In fact it has turned a corner and is heading down hill at speed with rollerskates and a feckin jet pack.

And we're not talking minor league bloggers here, we're talking the big guns, the many thousand followers, invited to become keynote speakers at conferences bloggers.

In the last year I have been flamed three times when commenting on posts:

The first time I was actually trying to sympathise with a difficult time this blogger had posted about. I was told in no uncertain terms by the lady herself that I had missed the point and actually sympathy wasn't what she was after.

No? Did you air your shit on the internet as a public service announcement then because I tell you what, nobody is learning from it. Not even you.

The second time I had the temerity to raise an eyebrow at a blogger who has advocated passionately for women for several years because she posted about how much she was enjoying listening to Robin Thicke's recent "classic".

I had barely hit enter before me, and several others, were engulfed in the wave of "support" telling us a) we didn't "get it" b) she was allowed to listen to whatever she wanted and c) don't you know that song's about his wife anyway?

That may all be true, but we didn't call her out as a murdered of puppies, we expressed surprise that a song like that would be on the play list of a feminist.

And this evening, seriously just the icing on the cake this evening.

There was a post shared by a blogger I respect about this new life saving baby cot in India. I had an instant reaction to the article and mulled over whether I was just going to open a can of whoopass on myself by posting it, but hey, social media is all about the interactive experience and the ability to connect and grow right?

No, apparently social media is just about kissing ass these days.

My carefully worded question around whether this cot was trying to fix a problem that actually didn't exist was, I am informed, missing the point.

Apparently life in southern India isn't like my first world bubble.

No shit Sherlock. But the fact that you have replied to me in nearly real time says to me that you aren't exactly living in a shanty town.

And before anyone points out that since I am not a successful blogger I can't possibly understand the pressures these people are under, I KNOW, and I fully agree.

Except for two things:

1. It's your choice to put yourself out there into public view

2. Respectful disagreement is not the same thing as being attacked by trolls.

Healthy discourse is the tool human beings have developed over centuries to stop you looking like a complete ass. It's the thing we humans do so that we don't end up with more Emperors in New Clothes.

Except somewhere along the line, women in the blogging world, and especially those who blog about parenting choices - actually anyone who comments on parenting full stop - has taken a collective step back into their own personal bubble and cries foul any time anyone doesn't kiss their feet for every word they pronounce.

I hope someone does come on here and tell me I'm talking crap. In fact I live in hope of that every time I post because then at least people will be thinking for themselves and challenging me to think more deeply about what I believe.

As hated a term as the "Mummy Wars" has become, what this trend really says to me is that it has taken a more insidious turn than ever before. Like any abuser worth his salt will tell you, if you do a proper job pretty soon your victim will believe in your hatred and take it on as their own.

Welcome to the new era of parental discourse people - now with added neurosis.

Wednesday 8 January 2014 Comments: 0

Alfie Learning Not a Cooking Blog Stay At Home Dad That's Life

Kitchen Magic

Recently I have been reminded about the interconnections of life. I don't know if my life is especially full of them or maybe just that I am especially aware of them.

Whichever it is, Alfie just got new shoes and they were his first pair of non velcro shoes. In fact if you listen to Keith they are also his first pair of girl's shoes but the fact remains he chose them so they are now boy's shoes - very shiny turquoise boy's shoes.

I'm reading one of my haul of Montessori books which makes reference to watching children using large scale replicas of clothes fastenings to improve dexterity and learn new skills. In fact, I was reading about exactly that when my attention was dragged kicking and screaming back to reality by the anguished wailing of my beloved first born son.

Apparently his ability to join in some exciting new adventure was being thwarted by his ability to put his shoes on.

Somewhere between the thought that started "will you shut up so I can read about children acquiring new skills" and the one that started "how will I get my son to learn to deal with his new buckle shoes" a small brain fart erupted and I realised how I could buy myself some more reading time.

Thirty seconds later I had retrieved a belt from Keith's stash and a cushion from the sofa and I was was watching his deft little hands pulling that buckle open and closed like a pro.

Suddenly the book didn't seem as interesting as what was happening right in front of me.

I wish I could show you a photo of quite how proud he looked when he first got that buckle done up.

In fairness it was quite similar to how proud he looks every other time he achieves an everyday miracle and his little hand hit mine in a high 5, chest puffed out, self worth notched up just a tiny bit more.

Perhaps his biggest recent step has been to take over production of an entire meal for the family. Turns out our little man loves his albondigas, and I mean LOVES them. In the last week we have had them in the traditional tomato sauce and pasta configuration and also in a green curry and mash variation as well.

It has also spawned a trip so frickin epic I am actually welling up thinking about it. I won't tell you about it though, because it wasn't my idea and I'm not there to witness it but if ever anyone claims men can't be the best primary carers of young children, they need to check out the FTC blog soon to see what Keith and Alfie have been up to. Something made possible by the amazing city we live in and the creative thinking of my husband.

This is also a rare chance to post a recipe that I created the other day and which will bring joy to the heart of anyone with too many carrots, or a child who hates vegetables. Not a problem in our house, especially where carrots and broccoli are concerned, but useful nonetheless. Of course if your children don't like vegetables, chances are they will also be suspicious of strong spices, but hey, this isn't a cookery blog.

Esme's Bitty Carrit Cake

Filling - Based on Anjum Anand's recipe

1 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 medium onion, sliced

3 cloves garlic, peeled and left whole

1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger

5 whole black peppercorns

4 whole cloves

1 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 (1/2-inch) piece cinnamon stick

2 mild dried red chiles

1 tomato, chopped

1 teaspoon sugar

2 teaspoon white wine vinegar

200g cubed stewing steak

Water

Batter - Based on this recipe from Eatori

125 ml extra virgin olive oil

125 ml vegetable oil

3 eggs

2 cups carrots (about 4 medium carrots) washed and grated

1.25 cups self raising flour, sifted

1/2 cup polenta (I used the course variety for more texture)

40g fresh coriander, chopped

1 tbsp ground cumin

The method is pretty simple really.

Take the onion and whole spices for the filling and cook them off on a low heat until mellow.
Add the other filling ingredients (except the water) and bring to a sizzle.
Add enough water to just cover the meat and put onto the lowest bubble your stove will allow for about 2 hours. Keep an eye on it and make sure you add a little more water as you go so it doesn't dry out. If you time it perfectly you will have just a little thick gravy with fall apart meat.
Preheat oven to 180 C/350F. Line a 23 cm spring-form tin.
Whisk the eggs together in a bowl.
Trickle in the two oils, bit by bit and whisk together until they emulsify.
Fold in the carrots, ground almonds and all the spices.
Gently fold in the sifted flour.
Spoon half the cake batter into the tin. Add all the filling and then top it with the remaining batter
Bake for 45 minutes or until the top has browned and a skewer comes out clean of batter (you may have a little residue on there from the filling)

Tuesday 7 January 2014 Comments: 0

Attachment Parenting Co sleeping Olive

Sticky Cub Paws - The Dark Side of Co Sleeping

Look at them.

Don't they look cute? All chubby and nommy, and squishy?

They are evil.

They are an instrument of torture.

Somewhere between bath time, sofa cuddles and bedtime, these little piggies become sticky, grippy little gecko toes.

Which are then used in anger against me. All. Night. Long.

Are my babies the only ones that do this?

By "this" I mean peddle furiously in their semi dozing state so that their nails drag down my torso?

Their evil razor sharp little baby nails.

Please tell me some of you share my pain. We can have a club. We can call it the "I can't wear a bikini because my mini Freddie Kruger just made my stretch marks look like roadkill"

Anyone?

Thursday 2 January 2014 Comments: 0

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Esme's Bitty Carrit Cake

Filling - Based on Anjum Anand's recipe

Batter - Based on this recipe from Eatori