#10. This Moment: You Can't Resist This Sly Charm

You Can't Resist

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same

leave your link in the comments 

then go to Soule Mama and do the same.

A Letter to Des: My Most Favourite Person

To Desmond, my most favourite person,

You are five months old today. All day I thought of writing you a letter to celebrate how incredible you are and all day I just marveled at you instead.

Sitting On Your Own

I can't believe it has been five months since I held you in my arms for the first time. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around how small you really are because to me you are everything, you are my world. And you seem so big, you seem like you have grown so much already. It is difficult for me to imagine all the places you'll go, all the thoughts you'll have - they are mysteries to me, a great secret to be discovered.

I don't want to miss a second of it. 

These days you are sitting on the floor - wobbly but independent. You think your feet are hilarious, and you giggle hysterically when I kiss them or blow raspberries on the soles. You clutch them and bring them to your mouth, but if I congratulate you your focus is lost and the feet disappear. This, however, doesn't slow you down. You are so big now that you've outgrown the baby tub and Papa juggles you, all slippery, in the big kid bathtub while you desperately try to put everything in your mouth. Two months ago you were just noticing your hands, exploring them for the first time. Now you masterfully grab and handle anything placed within your reach and cover it with your slippery mouth.

Jumping in all Your New Easter Gear

Your grandma and grandpa got you a Jolly Jumper for Easter and it is so strange to see you upright, standing there like the little person that you are. I love to watch you jump industriously, so much work to be done! You always look back at me and smile, checking to make sure I think this is as hilarious as you do. I do.

It's true that you don't like to let us get much sleep at night. Even though it gets hard and sometimes I feel completely spent, the cuddling, the kisses, the chubby little smiles make it all worthwhile. The other day you said Mamama and Papapa and we celebrated like you actually knew our names. Like you actually knew who we were and that we love you more than anything.


We do, you just don't know it yet. We do. And someday soon you will know it with all your heart.


A millionty kisses,
Mommy

#9. This Moment: Mirror Buddy

Mirror Buddy

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same

leave your link in the comments 

then go to Soule Mama and do the same.

Visit me at Tales of an Unlikely Mother!

Tales of an Unlikely Mother: Mommy Friends: A How-to Guide

Today Darlena from Tales of an Unlikely Mother has featured a guest post from little old me! It is about my experiences as a lonely and bored Stay at Home Mom and how I had to venture out and make some Mommy Friends to save my sanity.

In this guest post I give a few tips about getting out of your comfort zone, staying open minded, and, of course, different ways and places that you may be able to meet other moms!

Darlena is a truly funny and candid writer with a big heart for her two little -unexpected- twin toddler girls, so while you are there check out the rest of her blog. She is always making me laugh, I'm sure you'll find a guffaw or two!

This is my first guest post and I'm very excited (nervous!) about it. If you like my guest post, I'd love it if you left your thoughts in a comment there and then share the post freely! Click here to visit!

Thanks for the support, everyone. You are all so amazing!

xox
Farren

Being a Mom is Hard Enough - Guest Blogger Cerlandia

Before becoming a Mom Sarah received a Master of Arts degree in Sociology and worked with troubled youth. Currently she enjoys staying at home with her two young children and crafting whenever she has free time. You can see what she's up to over at Cerlandia.

I had to really think hard about doing this guest post. I was incredibly honored to be asked, but I value my family's privacy (as well as my own) and I try to find humor in all things. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of humor in this story; even I who can find humor in Husband finding out his product was moving to Seattle while our kitchen was torn down to the studs still fail to find humor in Daughter's birth story.

Or better, the story of why I was unable to breast feed. I talked with Husband about the privacy issues I had with it and we both agreed that people need to know that not everyone can breast feed, nor does everyone want to for their own reasons. People should be respectful of other's choices and in part, it was this lack of respect that made me hate leaving the house when I knew I had to feed Daughter. I will try not to get up on a soap box, but I make no promises. I'm sure that I will be opening myself up to a lot of criticism, but as a tech at the emergency room who was trying to start an I.V. told me, I have tough skin.

When Husband and I found out we were pregnant there was a mix of emotions, but we came to terms and we were excited. We chose a wonderful midwife whom we both really liked and the pregnancy was going so well. The baby was doing great, there was no reason to think she wouldn't be healthy. Until 31 weeks. I had a tiny spot of blood and mentioned it at my appointment the next day. Turns out I was 1.5 cm dilated, the head was down way lower than it should have been and after the stress test the midwife found that I was having contractions every minute. I had no idea. A premature contraction feels a lot different than a full term contraction (I learned that later - it has been likened to your baby curling into a ball) and pair that with my high pain tolerance I didn't even notice. We were sent off to the hospital (I think this was 4 days before Christmas) where I was admitted for three days while they did their thing to stop the contractions and gave me steroids to help her lungs develop. There is a bit of irony there as I wanted an all natural pregnancy only to end up getting steroids.

I made it two weeks on bed rest until my water broke. Daughter was born at 33 weeks and 3 days (I used to say she was 6 weeks early until a doctor clarified that they call that 7 weeks early). During labor a doctor from the NICU came in telling us what to expect having a baby that early. I don't really remember anything but the baby will most likely be in the hospital until the due date. The birth was not the easiest, but that's a story for another day. I was only able to hold her for less than 5 minutes. We did skin to skin, but didn't even try having her latch on because the doctors were worried about her breathing. She was taken to the NICU for tests and to get cleaned up, but we were told they would bring her back if she showed signs of wanting to eat. About an hour later when they were done cleaning me up we asked the midwife to go back and see about her. She came back with great news; Daughter was going to be brought to our room!

That's when the breast feeding struggles began. Turns out that back in the NICU they decided (even though our chart and the bassinet clearly stated I wanted to breastfeed) to give her an ounce of formula. At the time I had no idea the damage that may have been done; that you're supposed to nurse your baby as soon as possible. It wasn't until 6 hours later, when it was well past her next feeding, that the nurse had a lactation consultant come in. It wasn't that I didn't try to get help from the nurses, because I had. Daughter's latch on looked wonderful, she wasn't sucking. I kept trying to tell the nurses there was something wrong and they kept putting me off telling me the lactation consultant would be in as soon as she came in for the day. Approximately 12 hours after Daughter was born a pediatrician was called in and confirmed that there was indeed something wrong. Her blood gases were high and she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Plus a heart murmur.

The day after she was born

Here's something else a lot of new moms may not know, if you can't breastfeed for any reason, it is important that you pump as soon as you are able. And then every 2-3 hours after. Nobody brought a pump to my room until 14 hours later. I got the tiniest amount of colostrum for her and then my milk came in. I pumped ever 2-3 hours for the almost 4 weeks Daughter was in the NICU and made an ounce a day. That is what she was eating every 3 hours. You would think the nurses would have been supportive, but the NICU was my first experience being judged simply because I didn't make enough milk. Not because I wasn't trying, I did skin to skin every time I was there and pumped every 2-3 hours. I don't think I went out except to get a meal once in a while or visit the NICU. I heard such comments from the nurses as:

This is all you have for us?

You need to drink more fluids!

Don't you know this is the amount she drinks at one feeding?

I already felt like a failure for having a premature baby, but now I got to feel like a double failure because my body didn't produce enough milk for my child. I never got to see the lactation consultant in the hospital again; unless you were having issues feeding you didn't get to see her (it was a large hospital and she was extremely busy). We did rent a hospital grade pump, like it was recommended, it just didn't help.

When Daughter was getting healthier and her sucking reflex started to kick in I wanted to breast feed. Not one nurse encouraged it. Instead I was told that I could breast feed but that she'd still have to be fed the ounce of formula since I wasn't making that much and she couldn't lose weight. I was told that the doctors needed to know how much she ate and they wouldn't be able to tell that if I breast fed, but the choice was ultimately mine. So basically if I wanted to doom my daughter to the fate of being in the NICU longer then I could breast feed. At least that's how it sounded to me. I should have fought more, but I really really just wanted Daughter home so I let them give her the formula.

Two days before she went home

When we got home from the hospital I tried breast feeding a lot, but I had a lot of the same fears. We were told at discharge that if she didn't eat so much per day (and we were supposed to keep track) that she'd be back in the hospital. Nobody told me that it would be okay to breast feed and then bottle feed. That it wasn't a big deal to mix formula and breast milk and that my daughter would be able to tell me if she wasn't getting enough food. Instead we were taught (like a lot of NICU parents) that we should not trust a preemie.

The Monday after she was discharged we had an appointment at the breast feeding clinic (the one they never told me that I could have gone to when she was in the NICU to get help with low milk supply) and the lactation consultant walked in to us giving her a bottle. You would think that a lactation consultant, or anyone really, would be happy that at least the baby was getting food. But no. She seriously yelled at us. As in raised her voice and yelled at us for giving her formula. And so I explained why I was giving her formula and that's when she became helpful. She told me to breast feed, then give the bottle, and then pump to try to increase my milk supply. She also gave me some herbs to try and told me that there was a prescription medication that could also take, but she hesitated going that route (as did I, Daughter had had quite enough prescriptions in her young life). So I tried all of that. This was my routine:

feed for an hour

bottle feed for a half hour

pump for a half hour

sleep for a half hour

get up and do it all over

It worked fine the week my husband was home so that he could do the bottle feeding and I could get an hour of sleep, but when he went back to work there was no way I could keep up that schedule and still stay sane. My milk supply never increased even though I was told it should within a week. I just physically and mentally couldn't do it anymore and so we switched to formula.

And if I thought the nurses and the lactation consultant were bad they were nothing compared to others (some complete strangers). One said it was a shame because breast feeding is the best thing about being a woman (now I'm a bad mother and just a shame to women everywhere? Might as well take me out back and shoot me; I'm sure the jury will understand). I was told that my child would be stupid, overweight, would hit puberty early, and wouldn't be good at math (I'm still trying to figure that one out). And the looks strangers would give could be horrid. Which is hilarious because I've seen strangers give those same looks to breast feeding moms; so the only thing I can come up with is that moms who are still feeding their children from a bottle or breast just aren't allowed outside the home.

I can't help but wonder if without all of the pressure to breast feed and with actual support from people I knew and from people who were caring for my child I might have made it a little longer. I'll never know and as guilty as I felt then I don't anymore. Daughter is 5, is not stupid, or overweight. I have no idea if she'll hit puberty early or not and I'm not going to worry about it. Girls are hitting puberty early, some have even been breast fed. I do know that I had a Son three years later. Everything went right and I still didn't produce enough milk for him. I started to do the same thing in terms of breast feed, bottle feed, pump until it suddenly occurred to me that I was exhausting myself and not being as good of a mom as I could be. From that point on I just breast fed during the day and pumped only when Husband was doing night feedings. And I was a much better mother.

Being a mom is a hard enough job without people judging you on how you feed, whether you cloth diaper or use disposables, or whether you cosleep or babywear; and I can't help but wonder if we supported each other instead of judging each other if maybe (just maybe) this mothering thing wouldn't be as hard.

...............................

I am honoured to host this guest post from Sarah at Cerlandia, and invite you to leave supportive comments as well as visit her lovely blog.

xox
Farren Square

I talk about Breastfeeding. A lot. Here's Why:

You may have noticed I talk about breastfeeding a lot. I post pictures of me nursing, I ask questions about breastfeeding on twitter, and I blog about breastfeeding, too. Hell. I've even written a poem about breastfeeding.

There are more than a few reasons why it's always on my tongue, and I think sharing those reasons is important.

I talk about Breastfeeding a lot because I do it all the time. Right now I nurse Baby D about 12-14 times in a 24 hour period. If it sounds like a lot, that is because it is. I am his only source of food right now, and both his body and his brain are growing exponentially. So we nurse. And of course I'm going to talk about it; I think you would talk about it, too, if it took up many hours in your day.

Nursling Smiles

I talk about Breastfeeding a lot because I'm curious about it. I like to be a smart-ass, it's true. I like to know a lot about the things I know a lot about. Meaning, when I set out to be good at something I want to be all the way good. I want to know the secret things, the tiny bits of information, the loud things, the things everyone knows. Breastfeeding is intricate, a delicate relationship between a mother and a little one, there are a lot of details to know about supply, physiology, mistakes to avoid, and inevitable struggles. I want to know all of those things.

I talk about breastfeeding a lot because I want it to be normal. I want people to think nothing of my breastfeeding baby at the restaurant. I want to nurse in the middle of the mall without a cover and not get any glares or stares. I want to educate women before they are mothers on those small intimate secrets about breastfeeding so that they aren't secrets anymore. I want people to know that breastfeeding can be a positive experience and have it be a natural first choice for every mother.

But I don't talk about breastfeeding to make anybody feel badly. I don't talk about breastfeeding to make anyone feel guilty, or judged, or like less of a loving mom. I don't talk about breastfeeding to make mothers who do otherwise have any negative feelings, ever.

I support all women, and I support the informed and educated choices that they make. I support mothers who feed babies, mothers who have a different story, mothers who are doing their best; I support all mothers.

So yes, I talk about breastfeeding a lot, but it doesn't dictate who I am as a mother.  And it certainly doesn't have any effect on my respect for all women and mothers.

#8. This Moment: Snow in April

Snow in April

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same

leave your link in the comments 

then go to Soule Mama and do the same.

#7. This Moment: Busy Day at the Baby Office

Busy Day at the Baby Office

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same

leave your link in the comments 

then go to Soule Mama and do the same.

The Bad Mommy versus The Perfect Mommy

When I announced my pregnancy to my large group of -mostly childless- friends, several people told me that I would make a good mom.

That sentence scared me like nothing else in pregnancy ever had. What does it even mean, to be a good mother? How does one qualify what a good mother looks like, sounds like? And if some mothers are good mothers, that means there are bad mothers - and what if I was secretly one of them? What if I was selfish sometimes and wanted to go to the bathroom without my kid in there with me, what if I wanted to leave my baby with his daddy and escape to the coffee shop sometimes, does that make me a bad mommy?

Is this what a bad Mommy looks like?

What if I put my sleeping baby down in a swing, does that make me a bad mommy? What if cloth diapers just don't work for us overnight - now am I a bad mommy?

It's all just too much to think about, defining who is and who isn't a bad mommy. I can only focus on what I choose to do because it feels right to me.

It feels right to put my sleeping baby in a swing, where he will be rocked and loved while I breathe and sip the cold coffee I made for myself hours earlier. It feels right to put him in a disposable diaper so that neither of us are waking every hour for a diaper change. It feels right to take time to re-charge every so often, to remind myself that I am just "I" - not always a "We."

It feels right to breastfeed my baby, but if that didn't work for us the way it has so far, it would feel right to make sure my baby was fed and happy - no matter what I had to do to accomplish that task.

In 2008 I had the chance to be a part of a community where nobody is judged for any choice that they happen to make, as long as it is respectful to others. I felt absolutely freed from the world's negativity. I vowed that I would return to my life and work harder than ever before to make sure nobody I ever encountered felt judged for any choice they make (as long as it was respectful towards others). I've slipped up more than once, but I still continue forward with this mission, especially now that becoming a mommy has opened up a gorgeously diverse group of women for me.

But as I get to know these mothers, as I move forward as a mother myself... I'm realising that I never stopped judging myself. I never stopped and allowed myself to simply make the best choices that I can. I haven't let myself believe that it's okay not to be an absolutely perfect mother.

Or that maybe I get to be the one who decides what perfect means for my family. I think it is time to move forward, to let go. I think it's time for freedom.

Me? Versatile?

What an honour! I've always thought of myself described more by the words "mish-mash" or "smorgasbord" but Versatile sounds so much better!

Really, though, I squee'd with flattery when a saw that Darlena from Tales of an Unlikely Mother chose me to receive the award. Why? Because she is incredible! This mother of two twin girls has a great blog, takes the time to offer toddler tricks (I'm seriously soaking them up for later), and has a great tongue-in-cheek sense of humour - while still honouring mothers and supporting whatever choices they make to succeed in this crazy mommy world.

In part of receiving this award, I was asked to list seven facts about myself and then pass the award on to seven other bloggers!

Let's start with the seven facts:

1. I wear earrings nearly everyday. The bigger and flashier they are, the better. These days my little housebeast has learned to grab onto them so I've had to dig through my stash to find the smaller pairs. I really hope I don't have to give up earrings for him!
2. I have a Bachelor's degree in Education and I was a grade-school and pre-school teacher for 5 years. I actually really love working with kids, although babies are a total new mystery to me. 
3. I have long blond dreadlocks and I have had them for nearly 10 years. They have been many different colours but for most of that time they have been blond or bright white. They are so easy to care for that I can't imagine going any other way right now.
4. I'm not married. GASP. Neither were my parents when I was born, but they are still together after almost 30 years.
5. I'm a hula hooper. Though we really don't like the word "hula," we prefer to call it hoop dance. At one point (ie: right before I became pregnant) I was doing paid performances and teaching classes locally! Can't wait to get back to it, and I'm hoping to post a pregnant hooping video sometime soon...
6. I was dedicated to horse riding for most of my teenage years and even spent time riding competitively. We rode mostly english - with the jumping and the small saddles and the big black helmets - but also loved to expose my horse to the trails and sometimes even cattle. Still love that guy, he mostly belongs to my mom now.
7. I speak french. I used to be fully fluent but I've lost so much of it over the years. Sometimes I still dream in french! I'd really love to take a few classes (or move to Paris...) to freshen up, eventually someday. 

Now I get to tell you about seven other blogs that I truly adore! I am awarding each of these bloggers with the Versatile Bloggers Award - but no pressure, my friends! It's fun for me to talk about bloggers I love - but if you know me at all then you know I am not one for automatically following any rules! 

Seven Incredible and Versatile Blogs:

1. Amanda from the Last Mom on Earth is an incredible woman and mother, and she writes about motherhood in the most gorgeous and heartfelt way. I love her.
2. The Rockin' Momma Blog is an awesome, in-your-face account of one Punk Rock Momma and her view of the world. Plus she is expecting! Can't wait to meet her newest baby rocker! 
3. Sarah from Cerlandia is one of the most brilliant and powerful women I have ever had the chance to know. She is crafty and great in the kitchen - and she's an intelligent feminist with a heart in social justice. Seriously, how could I not adore her? (She's great on twitter, too)
4. I love Jennifer Banks who writes at TechMommy.ca - a hip guide to technology from a mother's point of view. The nerd in me is caught on every word.
5. Sasha from One Rich Mother and I met in the same online due date club and I liked her right from the start. She is warm, inclusive, knowledgeable and dedicated to being an incredible mother. She goes out of her way to make people feel good and that is something to be celebrated.
6. Robyn from The Edmonton Tourist is one of the funniest people I know, ever. She's got a great head on her shoulders and an incredible perspective on life. Every time I read her blog, I find one more thing that inspires me to be more like her. Plus, did I mention she is hilarious?
7. Last but not least... Not a blog but a podcast from Lindsay at Manic Mommy. Lindsay is so spectacular for so so many reasons. She is the reason I survived those first three weeks of mom-life, she held my hand and was the calm voice of reason that helped me through the hectic moments of insanity that were the first few days of Desmond's life. Besides being an amazing mom, musician, intellectual, and feminist - she knows buttloads of cool people and interviews them for her podcasts, and you can listen to them while you make dinner. Rad.

There you have it! Seven facts about me and seven blogs that deserve to be honoured and celebrated!

xox
Farren

Rookie Cooking: My first (sort of) Disaster

So I got in the kitchen and I made up my own concoction. I didn't even pretend to follow a recipe. I definitely proved myself to be a rookie cook.

The thing is? It was delicious. It was spectacular. I made BBQ Chicken Fingers, and I loved them. I made plenty and ate them over several days, and each day I felt more ill than the last. I knew the culprit was gluten.  

"Where could I be getting gluten?!" I wondered, I'd been so careful! I decided to scour ever ingredient of everything I'd eaten and checked one of the ingredients that I'd used for this recipe - which, yes, I am still going to share - when I discovered the word MALT.

Malt, my friends, is a secret ninja gluten enemy. It is made from barley, and makes me very very sick. That means I can't even have my favourite chocolate bar anymore - the Snickers with Almond.

So if you are gluten-free, do not eat this! 

But if you could go either way, then this was a fantastic success and I'd love to hear if you liked it.


The Supposed to be Gluten-free (but not!) "Breaded" BBQ Chicken Fingers

What I used:

• Chili Sauce (I had half a jar sitting in the fridge I wanted to use)
• Franks Red hot Sauce
• Tabasco
• 1.5 cups of corn flake crumbs (My nemesis supposed-to-be-gluten-free-but-wasn't ingredient!)
• 1/4 tsp oregano
• 1/4 tsp basil 
• 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• ground black pepper



Beware the evil Malt!

• 4 chicken breasts cut into thin strips 

What I did:

I really just wanted to re-create that awesome breaded spicy chicken meal that I hadn't been able to find gluten-free in over a year, as well as use up some stuff that we had in our refrigerator. I went ahead pre-heated the oven to 350 degrees. I mixed half a jar of heinz chili sauce (around 1-1.5 cups) with one cup of Franks Hot Sauce (hey, I said spicy, so use less if you can't handle it) as well as a light sprinkling of tabasco. I put this all in a long and shallow glass dish.


In another long shallow dish I mixed the corn flake crumbs and spices. Now, I've used corn flake crumbs in other recipes to acheive a fake "breaded" taste and texture because I had been told that boxed crumbs were safe - while the breakfast cereal wasn't safe. Looking back, I cannot remember if I checked it myself before ever using it, but I paid the price and it reminded me to check every box before I dive in!

I cut the chicken breasts into strips, placed them in the first dish and coated them in the prepared sauce. I then moved them into the second dish, coating them in crumbs and spiced before placing them in a greased pyrex dish (I used olive oil for this) tight like little sardines. Some people prefer to shake their chicken in the crumbs using a ziplock bag, but I like to minimize my trash.

I put them in for 45 minutes and they came out perfect. Perfect and delicious and, for me, gluteny poisonous. Gloisonous.

My first Rookie Cooking Disaster. And I didn't even use Mrs. Dash this time!

Stepping Outside my Comfort Zone

I'm that weird mix of person that is confident and shy at the same time. Does that make sense? I believe in who I am and what I do - and its true that there are times when I'm pretty loud about it - but when I'm meeting new people I hold back, I question whether or not to let my freak flag fly.

But being a new mom can be pretty isolating, especially now that I'm staying home with Desmond and don't even have work as a social outlet. Most of my friends with children live far far away or their babies are older and they are back to work. And, as weird as it is to be shy and confident, I'm also shy and extremely social. I like people. I like talking with people, being around people, meeting with people, learning about people - I need to be around people. 

The library: My favorite place to meet.

So, I'm stepping outside my comfort zone. I'm pushing through the shyness and I'm meeting new people. I'm biting my bottom lip and going to playgroups. I'm putting up a brave face and adding friends-of-friends through facebook just because they also have babies. I'm marching up to moms at LLL meetings and handing out my phone number, my e-mail address. And then I'm going ahead and making plans with them.

Its a fine line between friendly and creepy, I think, but I like to believe I'm doing okay. We're all in the same boat, thrust into this new world of endless day time hours and bedtimes that start before most people even leave for the bar on a Friday night. I'm doing something entirely different from my vagabond party life, I'm investing in someone's future. In may cost me my evenings out right now, but at least I'll have sunshiney days and, hopefully, some mama friends and babies to share them with.

#6. This Moment: Teething

Mmm, Icy Cloth

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour, and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same

leave your link in the comments 

then go to Soule Mama and do the same.