Just a look

I experienced something today that bothered me more than I thought it would. It disturbed me so much, in fact, that I was still thinking about it two-and-a-half hours later...one-trip-to-Costco and after-putting-my-son-down-for-a-nap later.

Benjamin and Buckley and I had gone to the dog park and then to Starbucks. Sitting at a coffee shop with Benjamin is one of my favorite things to do. He's a people person, and he tends to be compliant when out and about, so I thoroughly enjoy the moments we spend at a cafe table. He drinks his water through a straw while eating a banana or a bar, and I sip my double espresso on ice.

Today was less than idyllic, however, as we had Buckley with us. We sat outside and shared water with the dog. We didn't talk much as he was busily consuming a granola bar. I was distracted with Buckley.  But still, all was fine until we needed to go.

Benjamin's newest method of misbehavior is the silent treatment. I ask a question or suggest an action and he says, and does, nothing. To outsiders it may not appear to be much, but I know he is being defiant. I know he heard me. I know he is choosing to ignore what I said. And I don't tolerate this.

In this case, I told him we needed to leave soon, asked if he was finished, suggested that maybe when he was done he could throw his trash in the can. He used to love this routine. Today, he just decided to, at that moment, open his cup and dump the ice on the ground. Then he picked up ice and began eating it. He wouldn't look at me when I handed him the trash and, for a second time, asked him to put it in the can.

I knew this would be a loud, losing battle so I chose not to engage. I took the trash and put it in the can, intending to just scoop him up and leave. But as I walked over to the can, the leash tangled around Buckley's leg and he yelped.

He has been doing a lot of this lately - getting himself tangled up in something and yelping pitifully. I don't know if he is really getting hurt (it rarely looks serious) or if he wants attention. In any case, I don't take it very seriously unless he limps afterward (almost never).  So he yelps/screams and sounds like I just ran over him.

Here's where things went awry:

[Click the link below to read more]

Chores

I am a mama who believes in the value of chores. Anyone who has been around teenagers lately will agree that something has to be done to weed out the natural inclination toward a sense of entitlement. Chores are one of the ways parents can bring some intentionality to child-rearing and instill a sense of community and responsibility in a child.

So how does Little P help out around the house?



He puts away silverware, of course!



The wonderful thing about this is that he thinks it's fun to sort. He also gets to practice skills like paying attention to the similarities and differences of what he's sorting. Once he became frustrated as he attempted to stuff a big spoon in a little spoon's place. We talked about size and compared it to the other spoons. Little P figured out that it was actually a big spoon, and he did it mostly on his own!



He also assists with watering the potted plants outside. He tries to sweep with the hand-held broom when I use the big broom, and he has a child-sized pretend vacuum which he uses when I vacuum.

We also work on him cleaning up his own messes (in his room, at the dinner table, any accidents or spills) as much as possible.

Mamas...what do you expect of your toddlers? I'm curious about other ways you have incorporated your little people into care for the household!

Transitioning to a Big Boy Bed

In response to a question from VCW and at the risk of offending all the people who disapprove of spanking as an approach to discipline, I hereby tentatively share my concrete approach (and all its mishaps) to helping Little P learn how to transition to a "big boy" bed.

We had little trouble getting Benjamin to stay in his new bed at night. I don't even remember what the first night was like, if he got out of bed or anything. He is so tired in the evenings that he dives into bed and happily closes his eyes (after pitching everything over the side...he doesn't like animals or pillows, and he begrudgingly tolerates a blanket).

Naps, on the other hand, are a totally different story.

Benjamin is currently on a one (majorly needed) nap a day for close to three hours. He truly needs a minimum of two hours - anything shorter and we are mi-ser-a-ble an hour later. He was going down around 11:00, though on many days lately he's not quite ready until 12:00.

So. The techniques.

When Benjamin is all riled up and ornery, going down for a nap is cause for much drama. His first attempts at napping in a bed that did not contain him were like eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. He thought he had freedom to do as he pleased simply because the physical barrier had been removed. Goodness gracious.

I started by approaching getting out of bed as defiance. (Defiance is the only reason for which I spank him.) For example, I put him to bed with the usual routine and then left the room. When I walked past the door and saw the light switching on and off rapidly, I went in, reexplained the expectation, and put him to bed.

Upon the second offense, he got one swift, hard smack on the bum (setting off the tears) and put him into bed with a kiss, an "I love you", and an admonition to stay in bed.

The first one or two times this worked. But then the swagger of the freedom to get out of bed built up. One afternoon I spanked him in six consecutive occasions over the course of an hour. He was not relenting, and he was not falling asleep, and we were not getting anywhere. I was frustrated and tired. So was he. In fact, he was by that time overtired, and that is a realm that no parent wants to enter.

I can't recall if it was that same day or the next, but at some point early on I recalled a technique I had seen on the Supernanny show. She coached parents to do this when they started enforcing a bedtime for the first time (I am always amazed by parents who do not think bedtime is important) and the children would keep coming out of their rooms or crawling into their parents beds. The trick is this: do the bedtime routine with the child. Spend the time to lovingly, calmly get them into bed. Remind them to stay there if need be. Then turn off the lights and sit somewhere in the room with your back to them until they fall asleep.

Sounds easy, no? The truth is, for a kid who is determined to do his own thing, that poor parent has to follow Supernanny's other instructions...every time the child gets out of bed, the parent says nothing, but physically places the child back into bed. On the show, sometimes parents do this 115 times over a two-and-a-half-hour period. The kid screams, rants, kicks, and throws himself around. Mom silently reinforces the expectation with no show of emotion and no verbal engagement in haggling, explaining, promising, bribing, or begging.

I do remember it was a Sunday after church. I was tired. I really wanted to go take a nap myself. The Papa was lying in bed reading a magazine, and Little P was wildly not succumbing to sleep. The spankings were not working. I needed a new approach. I knew it was time to buckle down for however long was required to do the technique right. I launched into it.

Little P fought with the force of a strong-willed toddler. He got out of bed. I put him back silently. He kicked and screamed. He got out of bed. I put him back. This occurred about three dozen times. In between getting out of bed, he kicked his legs on his bed (thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!), bit the railings, threw himself against the railings, threw his blanket out of the bed, and wailed. He also tried other methods:

"Mama? I love you. Mama? I love you. I love you, Mama."

"Whatchoo doin'? Mama, whatchoo doin'?"

"Are you happy, Mama? I happy."

"I gonna play cars, Mama. OK? I gonna play cars." [He got out of bed and tried to walk to the car bin.]

"Peekaboo, Mama." I looked back because it sounded like he sat up and found him peering through the bars on the guard rail. "Peekaboo, Mama. I see you. Mama? Look at me."

He put his feet on the railing and moved them along the slats. "I climbing the ladder. I climbing the ladder. Mama? I climbing the ladder."

I did not respond to any conversation starters. I also ignored all noise and behavior EXCEPT the two things I cared about - sitting up in bed and getting out of bed. He could rage, sing or talk as long as he was horizontal. Then came this...

"OK. I goin' sit up now. OK, Mama? I goin' sit up....[rustling around is heard]. I sitting up, Mama."

Oh, he is too, too funny, this child.

This first attempt took an hour and twenty minutes, but he finally fell asleep.

I closed the door and walked out a new Mama. I had won that battle, and it was a foundational one. I had stuck it out to the bitter end. My will outlasted his. I was fair, not cruel. I was the authority. He would gain a new respect for nap time.

Sort of.

It actually took a few more of such standoffs to make the point, but none lasted as long as that first one. I occasionally still have to sit there for a half hour, but now he just yammers and kicks his legs. He will not get out of bed or even sit up if I am there.

And even the spanking, when needed, is more effective. Here's my one other method:

Yesterday I was going to go visit a friend. The Papa was sick in bed, and Little P was not performing on schedule. I sat in his room for fifteen minutes and was worried about being late to meet my friend. He was lying there talking to himself, and his punchy mood told me he posed a flight risk. I couldn't have him messing around with no one to follow up on him, and I didn't want The Papa inconvenienced (given his physical state), so I left the room and stood right outside the door. Almost immediately I heard little feet running around and something clunked off the shelf.

I swung open the door, swooped him up over my knee, gave a single, hard spank, and put him into bed. (My spanking method is to only give one swat, but it is hard enough to hurt. It is my opinion that this is more powerful than 4-5 wimpy hits. Also, a child who is spanked should experience consistency. He should know how many hits he's going to get so that there's no fear of if it's going to be two or ten. The number of hits should never depend on the parent's mood or level of frustration. This is confusing and harmful to the child and/or the relationship. Likewise, if the spank is going to matter to the child, it needs to smart.)

I did the usual kiss and "I love you," and goodnight, and left the room. I waited until he quit crying and talking to himself and then reentered the room. He was still in bed. I praised him for it explicitly. "Wow! You're doing such a good job staying in bed! What a big boy! I'm proud of you!" I got ready to go and just before leaving I popped my head in again. He was still awake, but his eyes were drooping. He was still lying in bed, so I said all the praise again.

(It's important to be explicit when praising children. They are not just being a "good boy or girl", they are doing a good job on _______. Or they are being obedient/kind/helpful/safe by following Mama's instructions/sharing the truck/cleaning off the table/holding Mama's hand while walking through the parking lot. This is how they learn exactly what is pleasing and exactly what is not appropriate.)

I left to visit my friend, confident that he was really going to stay in bed until he fell asleep.

So, those are the two ways I handle the getting-out-of-bed problem. I think that which one is effective depends on where your child is in the process. Supernanny's approach is really good for establishing the expectation and helping the kid understand you are serious and committed to the routine. The spanking works better after the expectation is clear and the child needs a little dose of external motivation in order to pull off the self-control part.

Does anyone else have suggestions?

Escondido Farmers' Market

On Tuesdays it is our habit to meet The Papa at his place of work and walk to the farmers' market. The Papa works in downtown Escondido, a mere five-minute drive from our house. The Papa's place of work is a mere five-minute walk to the market. It's all very convenient.

When we visit the market we buy fresh fruit and vegetables, sometimes those wonderfully bright papery flowers whose name eludes me; we eat dinner, as well: The Papa ordering a lamb gyro from the Greek tent, The Mama and Little P eating spicy lentil sambussas from the Ethiopian woman's stand, and The Parents splitting a cinnamon-sugar churro.

We are pleased with Little P's choice of dinner entrees. It is always surprising what a todder shows affinity for, and the fact that he gobbles down curry and hot spices just makes The Mama so proud. He's already enjoying world cuisine.

The Mama intended to take all kinds of bright and happy photos today, but it was terribly hot and crowded. We pooped out early and this is the best shot of the four that were taken. Maybe next week you'll see something better.

Until then...what simple rituals are a part of your weekly routine? Do share!

And, does your toddler enjoy any exotic cuisine or odd flavors?

Allergy Hunt

Little P's digestive system has been a touchy thing from the start. As a first time mom, I don't really know what's "normal", but my suspicians are that his tummy is a smidgen intolerant of certain foods. I'll spare you the details, but I will say that this "difficulty", if you will, is the root of much of his grouchy behavior. He just doesn't feel well.

Enter the hives. Or the red bumps, as I'm not exactly sure what true hives look like. Since we introduced solids, he has gotten these red bump breakouts on his cheeks and abdomen. (Along with all the GI issues.) Mama finally got serious about figuring out the problem.

Strawberries.

Yep. I'm pretty sure it's strawberries. But it might not be limited to strawberries. Sigh. People with an intolerance for the protein found in red strawberries (there is a white variety, did you know?) are often intolerant of the entire Rosaceae family: apricots, almonds, plums, apples, peaches, and pears. Pretty much everything I was feeding him from the farmer's market last summer. Ha! No wonder he was such a mugwump.

So. Now I will have to test these things out on him to see just how far this intolerance goes. Not looking forward to it. Not one bit. But the reason I will try - it seems like applesauce is all right on his tummy. And possibly pears. Peeled. I am pretty sure he reacted to apricots and prunes, though...but they have far more color throughout them, and if that protein is linked to the reddish color, well, we might be fine with green apples.

NOTE: The above photo is of one of my tests. Benjamin is eating almond butter (He's not allergic to peanuts, thank God.) He got full exposure and the results were inconclusive!

Question: Have any of you experienced this form of allergy/intolerance? Do you know if it can be outgrown? Or if anything helps calm the symptoms?

Of Puddles of Pee

I'm not sure how all of this happened: I was down the hall putting clothes away, when Little P started squawking. Unfortunately, this was not unusual for today so I kind of ignored it. He was safely in his room, or the hallway, where about the only thing he could do to hurt himself would be to reach over for a toy, lose his balance, and bonk his head. His head is only 12 inches from the floor. Naturally, this is not a terrifying injury.

So I did not get my undies in a bundle over these particular squawks. But they continued. Also not unusual on a day like today - the guy was possessed with the ghost of crabbies past.

I only discovered this thing that I'm not sure how it happened when I left my bedroom, reentered the hall with my now empty laundry basket, and saw...

Little P.

Sitting in the hall crying his eyes out. Nice juicy crocodile tears (the kind he specializes in).

His diaper.

Unhitched on the left side.

One soft, dimpled, precious baby bun.

Bare and resting on the wood floor.

A puddle.

A HUGE puddle.

A puddle that spanned the width of the hall.

Sitting there.

Smelling like urine.

So, allowing the good and attentive mama personality to take over, I grabbed Little P and assured him he was all right, then plopped him in the sink for an impromptu bath. Being that he is practically half fish, he cheered up immediately and began splashing water all the way up the entire bathroom mirror, all the way up to the ceiling.

And I waited until he was bathed, dressed, and happily playing with his blocks before going back to clean up the puddle. I have my moments, ya know.

QUESTION: Do you have any good "remove the diapers" stories from your children? Do tell.

A Day in the Life of Mama

So what has Mama been up to today?

Playing with Little P on the furry rug; cleaning puke off the baby jumper (which she let sit for three days because she couldn't bear to deal with the slime); dropping poopies in the toilet (not her own...these are from diapers); washing diapers and hanging them outside to dry; checking email and finding nothing new; feeding the dogs; petting the dogs; installing a baby gate and deciding that she hates baby gates, but Little P took a tumble down a short flight of stairs yesterday (6 steps) and scared the juice out of her so it is officially time for the gates; feeding Little P peas and cranberries and yogurt and freshly-steamed squash and Cheerios and applesauce; searching for her sewing machine manual because she can't remember how to thread a bobbin on this machine; singing to Little P before laying him down for a nap; telling a band that was interviewing her as a back-up singer that she can't be part of it because they hold five-hour practices on Saturday afternoon which is not convenient given her husband's work schedule, her baby's sleep schedule, and the family hang-out-and-have-adventures schedule...that if they only had a three-hour practice on a week night she could do it; thinking about doing yoga but craving a nap, but knowing that by doing yoga she would no longer crave the nap; listening to the trash man pick up the fruit of her labors from yesterday - cans full of dead leaves and trimmings and debris from the most desolate part of the yard; listening to Ray LaMontagne; wondering if she can make it to the Over the Rhine concert coming up at the Troubadour in LA; looking for her dog's rabies vaccine papers so that she can take him to get his toenails clipped at Petco because he makes it so darn hard to clip his nails at home; feeling defeated by the stacks of important papers in the office closet that really need to be sorted and responded to; feeling yucky from eating ice cream at 11:00AM; wishing it wasn't so hot; wanting a better hairdo; setting up her iGoogle page so that she can get to news and NPR efficiently; setting up a date to hang out with a neighbor and her grandson; folding laundry; writing down ideas for gifts to give people for Christmas; wondering when we'll get notice that we will be going to Albany for the adoption finalization; simmering bean and barley soup on the stove; talking to the Papa on the phone; and typing an update onto her baby blog.

What are all of you up to today?

Argyle and Blocks

A few shots while playing blocks yesterday...

Tell me, readers, which do you like best on this series - color or black and white? Why?

Feed a Cold? Starve a Cold? Feed my Kid?

Tis true, I'm afraid. The rattly cough, the endlessly running nose, the successive sneezing...Benjamin is experiencing his first cold. I am proud, in a way. Against more conservative and fearful advice, I have taken Little P out on the streets and into public germs since he was three days old. He experienced a New York winter and all the invisible stuff one might encounter being passed from one set of admiring arms to another. I never asked anyone to wash their hands (though some thoughtful people washed up voluntarily). And it has taken seven months for Benjamin to get sick for the first time. Not so bad, I think. (I have to also credit six plus weeks of Emma's breast milk and awesome immunities. I am absolutely POSITIVE they played a part in his great health.)

Anyone else? Moms, if you are the type to tromp around town with your newborn, how long did he or she go before getting sick? Do you let your children on the ground in public places? (I have this hunch that it's actually better for a child to get out and about in a reasonable manner...let's see if it holds up.)

How Do We "Do" Open?

On Saturday, we drove to Rochester for a picnic with Emma, Kevin, and several members of their families. We all wanted one more opportunity to hang out before the P-Pod relocates to the surf n' turf of SoCal. Surrounded by lovely woods on Lake Ontario, Jim manned the grill, the cousins played ball, and I got some interesting stories from Karen and Betty about Emma and Kevin as children. (I'm looking forward to watching Little P's personality develop and seeing which traits show up in the nature part of who he is.) We all survived the chilly weather, in some cases with a borrowed jacket or serape.

All of this visiting and getting-to-know-you stuff got me thinking about openness in adoption, and the fine balance between those on the adoptive side and those on the birth side. Do boundaries need to exist? In what ways? Is it possible to maintain "extended family" type relationships? How can you be "extended family" in a few encounters? How can adoptive parents who already have two extended families make room for two more? What is a restorative perspective? What is just? Can anything be easy?

I tend to be the idealistic sort...the idealistic sort who gets tired when things aren't easy and wants to take a nap instead. Most often, the ideal can only be attained with great effort. And let's face it, I can be self-centered and lazy, especially when emotional stamina is required.

So as we were driving the five hours (we stop a lot) back home, my selfish, lazy little peabrain was contemplating these questions. Because, darn it, we had a really good time. And because, darn it again, the V-family and the I-family are really nice people.

When we first brought Benjamin home, I needed boundaries...emotional ones anyway. I don't have words for how hard adoption is on the outset (for those on both sides). Weighed down with the fatigue of being a new mother, I didn't have it in me to cope with my own emotions surrounding the difficulty of the adoption process and to carry Emma and Kevin's and their families' loss as well. There were days where I had difficulty separating Benjamin from all the emotional baggage that accompanied him. This hindered my ability to bond with him. I had to figure out what was in the way, and pray, pray, pray that God would overcome it and free me from the desire to flee all of the additional "stuff" that came with Benjamin. And he did; my God is good like that.

In those early days, I could point to what would be ideal - a warm and open relationship with Emma, Kevin and their families - but I didn't have the energy to make it happen. I wanted to have my own joy without having to be sensitive to someone else's grief. I did not want to have to explain myself to anyone. I did not want to have to share my first child with strangers for the rest of his or my life. I did not want to feel like I owed somebody something...forever. It was too overwhelming. But I could see that, if a mature relationship could occur, it would be best for Benjamin and healing for his biological family.

I knew, when we signed up for domestic adoption, that a certain level of openness would be required. I believed that would be right and just. But I had no idea what that would look like in practice until it started happening. I had to trust that God would give me strength and wisdom as I went, because none of us could define what "openness" would look like. Before the adoption, when we briefly discussed with Emma and Kevin what they wanted their future relationship with Benjamin to look like, they didn't know. We didn't know what would be expected of us. (The legal document we signed outlined our openness agreement, but we understood that it described the minimum amount of contact, not the desired amount, and that we would need to have flexibility as we proceeded on this journey.)

I don't know what boundaries should exist, if any. I guess that would depend on the families involved. Adopting a child with an extremely open agreement is almost like marrying into a family...only normally you have met your fiancee's family prior to committing to a lifelong relationship. You probably know before the wedding how close you will be with the "new" family. In most cases, this is not available prior to an adoption. In fact, in most adoptions, even open ones, extended family simply aren't part of the equation. It's the adoptive parents and the birthmother. On the occasions that he's still in the picture, the birthfather. So we are charting new territory in open adoptions right now. There are not many sources to go to for perspective.

I do not feel that we have to add boundaries to our relationships with the V and I families. They are warm and welcoming and easy to hang out with. Our relationship is off to a great start. I do think, however, that some natural boundaries exist - boundaries that are simply the product of a finite amount of time.

We are moving to California to be near my family. Brent has family in both Ohio and Florida. We have dear, dear friends residing as far west as Oregon, as far north as Canada, as far east as China, and as far south as Guatemala...or is Zimbabwe further south? And let's not forget the UK, Malawi, and Ethiopia, just because they are fun places to mention. These are people we already adore and do not get to see often enough. By moving west, we hoped to be able to see both our immediate families more often. We should be able to get to Ohio more easily because we will already be living near my folks. We won't have to divvy up vacation time as much.

We also want to travel internationally - this was how we met, living abroad, and this is part of who we are. How do we pull all of this off and still include two more families in our lives? This is a question to which I trust God will reveal an answer. But it does pose a natural boundary - a boundary of time. It's not one we choose, but a fact of our lives. We will have to grapple with this as Benjamin grows.

Despite these heavy questions, I firmly believe it is right that we make an effort. As a Christian, I believe in restoration. Restoration in relationships, healing after hurt, forgiveness, grace. As an adoptive parent I don't have to put the birth family above my family, but I do need to respect and honor their journey, especially if (as in this case) the birthparents seriously considered raising the child themselves. For some birthmoms, adoption is an easy decision; though emotional, the circumstances surrounding the child make it clear to them that adoption is definitely the best choice. Other birthmothers must wrestle with turning their child over to another family - and this wrestling goes on long after the adoption has occurred.

No matter what the circumstances, God is a God of healing. Restoration is Plan A. So, easy or not (don't the best and most meaningful things in life require the most effort?!), my aim should be to help, not hinder, the healing process. At this point, I have no idea what that requires of me. Brent and I are fumbling around, doing our best to be sensitive and accommodating and honest, and hoping that where we fall short, God makes up the difference. Some days this flows from me naturally, and others, I have to tie my selfish, lazy peabrain to a chair and duct tape its mouth so it will shut up.

I have no answers on how to "do" an open adoption of this magnitude. But when I mentioned to Brent that Jim has a one-room cabin on a 60-acre parcel of land where he likes to hunt, he shouted, "That's where Benjamin and I are going to hang out one day!" So it sounds like we're headed in the right direction.

**Readers, if you are in an open adoption, what have you learned? How have you handled openness? How would you answer the questions I've been pondering? Share your thoughts in the comments section.

And now, for photos from the happy day:

The I-family: Karen, Lizza, and Paul





The V-family: Jim, Betty, and cousin Abigail






Emma borrowed professional video equipment to document the event (putting BenTV to shame...)










Gramma Karen feeds Little P




Kevin and Emma (in her handmade sun cape)















Part of our drive home was accompanied by a rainbow of great proportions.

Color or Black and White?

With all the photography I post here at the P-Pod, I am curious about what connects with you, esteemed readers. Here's a shot of Little P anticipating a walk in the park with his favorite dog in all the world. Which do you like best - the color or BW? Why?

Getting a Green Clean

Loreen posed some questions about eco-friendly, child-healthy cleaning products that actually work on the tough stuff. I have sent the question off to Joanna, an avid reader of this blog and a woman who is significantly farther ahead of me when it comes to making such products at home. Maybe she'll email me and I'll make an entry...or maybe she'll comment on this post with her info. We'll see.

I do not personally know how to deal with the really difficult stuff, but here's what working for me otherwise. AND, keep reading because there are some great links near the end that may be really helpful to you.

I can comment a little on general household pre-made cleansers: I love the Seventh Generation all-purpose cleaner - it works really well on a number of jobs - even removes stains from the light colored formica stuff in the kitchen with minimal scrubbing. I use it to clean my tile floors, counter tops, whatever. That said, I have never used it on anything really bad like soap scum or toilet buildup or anything, so I can't promise results. For soap scum I am still trying to use up some nasty mainstream product that burns the hairs off my nostrils after about the third squirt on the tub. I am doing the use-it-up-before-replacing-it method of reducing what I have/use. In the meantime, I am probably taking gigantic steps toward cancer of the lungs.

The eco-friendly laundry soap that seems to work best for me is the Seventh Generation free & clear HE version. I also really liked (before I got the HE washer) the biokleen "Oxygen Bleach Plus" - a chlorine-free whitener that really works. (I don't know if I can use it with an HE, so I haven't.) I remember not having feelings one way or the other about their regular detergent.

For the dishwasher - I really like the Ecover dishwasher tablets - but they're kind of expensive (as any individual pods/packages of anything are), so I bought some generic stuff in a pinch and have to go back to my search. The Ecover dishwashing liquid is my favorite. I actually liked a different brand better for the scent (pear), but that seemed less concentrated and I would run out of it faster. The Ecover lasts me a while and it cuts through the greasy buildup on Benjamin's bottles. I just noticed that this line carries all kinds of cleansers that I have never seen in the store before. As I have had good luck with some of their products, I would recommend trying some of their others if you have heavier-duty needs (a lime scale remover, toilet bowl cleaner, cream scrub, floor cleaner, etc). Click here for the "where to buy" section of their Web site.

In researching this topic, I came across a few really informative web sites:

The Seventh Generation blog: Of the "green" household products I have tried, some of my favorites (most effective) have come from this company.

Broomhuggers, a cleaning company in Atlanta, offers lots of practical cleaning info for home cleaning remedies...really useful.

An excellent overview on why eco-friendly cleaners are better for you and the environment, PLUS some homegrown cleaning solutions and recommendations for the most effective green cleaning products you can buy at the store. Make sure to look at the little orange and blue boxes embedded in the article - they have links to the details you are probably looking for. From Grist magazine, an excellent resource for more sustainable living. Here's a review on bathroom cleaning products. It's funny, too!

Here's a gigantic list of links for how to green just about anything in your life - from your baby to your funeral. Couldn't pass this one up, but I haven't read it all yet. From Treehugger.com.


PLEASE NOTE:
A lot of mainstream companies are starting to "greenwash" themselves - marketing themselves as though they are eco-conscious and always have been (Proctor and Gamble is one that I have noticed). Regard such claims with suspicion. The trustworthy companies are the ones that have been doing this from the start - they reveal ALL the contents of their products (not hiding something behind the excuse of "proprietary blend"). I'm not saying that companies can't change, it's just that with everyone hopping on the bandwagon now (hey, it's a trend so it's good for business), you have to be a smart consumer. For me, this means sticking with the originals. They may be a little more expensive than, say, the new Windex that suddenly has an eco-friendly sticker slapped on it, but I know that I am getting what I'm paying for. Don't be fooled by tricky ad campaigns!

Readers, what eco-products have you found to really work? Or, which ones have you discovered to be a bust? Got any book or Web site recommendations for homemade cleaning products, again, that work on the tough stuff?

Hide-and-Go-Seek Teeth

I am totally confused. A few weeks ago, Benjamin started acting like he was beginning to get teeth - crying, drooling all over, chomping away on my finger. About that time a little white bump appeared on his lower gums. Though he seemed young for it, all the evidence pointed to teething.

Well, yesterday I discovered that the white bump is gone! No bumps anywhere!

So what's up with that?! Mommies, have you experienced this with your children?

*We have a doctor's appointment in two weeks, so I will check with him. In the mean time...

I Got One Hand in my Pocket...

...and the other one is scratching my head.

What I can't figure out is: Why does anyone put pockets on infant pants? Benjamin has a pair of hand-me-down jeans. These jeans have two complete pockets atop both legs - not just fake pocket edges that are sewn shut. REAL POCKETS. When I try to pull them over his diaper, the inner pocket bunches up and I have to wrestle him and his pants to make it work. (He assists me by crying loudly and kicking his legs.) Now this pair also has the little inner pocket - the kind that is a mystery even on adult pants. (What is that flat little pocket for - a key?) I have to ask, why?

But it's not just jeans. I pulled out a pair of 6 month sweatpants today and guess what I found? Pockets on the bum! And the khakis - side pockets.

Now tell me, when's the last time you saw a kid who couldn't even crawl, hold an item, or shoo a fly off his face put his hands in his pockets? And just what does an infant put in his pockets? A spare sock? A binky? A thermometer? A handkerchief for the burp-ups?

Readers - Please comment. Why do YOU think there are actual pockets on infant pants? What do your infants keep in their pockets?

Meet Miss Lactina

I wanted to introduce you to my new friend, Lactina. She and I are going to be spending a lot of time together in the next several weeks. You see, I am planning to breastfeed my son.

What?! But you're adopting!

Well, non-pregnant women can nurse, too! We're a non-discriminatory lot, we mothers. Go ahead and ask...how, er, does a woman who was not pregnant, um...

It's called "induced lactation". Basically you do enough sucking on the darn things and they'll produce. Of course it's slightly more complicated than that, but that's the bottom line: supply and demand. Or demand and supply, I guess.

Hormones and herbal supplements may come into play at some point, but for now I am spending time with Miss Lactina every two hours by day, and, soon, every 3-4 hours by night. I'm getting broken in to the baby schedule already. But it's not as pleasant as nursing, I don't think. It's more like an experience with the gruff Russian nurse in an Ethiopian clinic: hard, cold, a bit rough, without compassion, definitively to the point.

I'm off now to press two cold, plastic suction cups to my breasts.

**If you've induced lactation yourself, what was your experience like? Did you require hormones? How much of a supply of milk were you able to produce?

Of Diaper Bags and Donkeys

All right, experienced post-modern mothers. What system do you have for carrying around all the stuff that leaves a woman feeling like a mule? Are you the all-in-one jumbo bag type? Or are you the specific-bag-for-every-occasion type? Upon first thought I decided, I am a simple girl. One bag is all I need. But then I saw the size of the bag one woman I know carries. She loves it, but HOLY CRAP! the thing is the size of a baby elephant!

Now I understand that the transformation into pack animal will occur, what with car seats and play pens, strollers and...oh, I can't go on. Part of me wants to cry at the loss of simplicity, and another part of me cheerfully wonders how many calories this will all burn. Winter is coming, though. Winter. Bitter cold...and baby accouterments swinging from my shoulders, neck, back...entangling in my scarf and squashing my innocent babe in his sling while I swear like a sailor into the wind...

Mamas? What's the word? What works for you and why?

Cloth Diapers, not Pampers

I am motivated enough to attempt using cloth diapers. I might need a few plastic pampers on hand for traveling or for anyone kind enough to babysit, but I am really, truly going to try to do this (hey, if my mom did it...).

Now there are a host of other questions to be answered:
-- How many diapers does a baby go through in a day?
-- Pins or pockets?
-- Heinies or Fuzzi Buns?
-- Terry or wool?

Do any moms want to weigh in? Please, if you have thoughts, wisdom, or advice, leave a comment.