Neighborhood-Kids All Local. All for Kids. All the Time.

I have just returned from a glorious evening at Boulevard Park with my husband.  We ate barbequed salmon, chatted with friends, and watched the sun set into a vibrant pink swath across the bay.  We did this at our leisure.  Without the kid.

This, and other similarly adult experiences, have been made possible by the most genius of all arrangements: a friendly and equitable babysitting cooperative among a few of our parent-friends.

The simple and elegant agreement is as follows: three families agree to take turns sending a mom or dad over to babysit at someone else's house (which usually just means eating their ice cream and perusing magazines while their child sleeps) and the favor will be returned to you and your spouse so that you may enjoy perhaps one night each week out on the town together.  Sanity restored.  

So I had to sit right down and write a little ode to my dear friend who came over and watched over Archer tonight.  I always look forward to returning the favor. 

Good grief.  What does it take to get just one professional quality photograph with a toddler?  Thanks to digital photography and a talented friend, we've discovered that it may take up to 27,000 crappy shots to get a decent one.  Our first official family photograph session has come to pass.

Things I've learned:

1. Don't schedule a photo session at the child's bedtime.
2. Do check the tide schedule if you plan to walk along the beach for your photos.
3. Don't wear pants that make your ass look huge.  You want your precious child to be the focal point of the photo, not your tightly clad ba-dow of a booty. 
4. Do have infinite appreciation for your friend who is hooking you up for a fee that is way less than she's worth.
5. Don't expect your candid shots to look the same way that candid shots look in magazines.  It is tough to look nonchalant on purpose.
6. Do laugh at yourself and your ridiculous quest for the perfect picture.

 

It is with some urgency that I pass along the following advice:  don't give your child unrestrained access to his whole birthday cake.

As you will read in some other posts, Archer's first birthday celebration was a tremendous success in every way accept this:  he woke up barfing huge amounts of carrot cake and cream cheese frosting the next day. 

Refined sugar is just not really a part of Archer's diet.  In fact, it is part of my things-to-avoid acronym: PST.  (P)lastics, (S)ugar, (T)elevision.  Sure, he gets plenty of sugars in his fruit, yams, and breastmilk, but nothing close to the magnitude of the unbridled throwdown he experienced at his birthday party.

So, when a mom neglects to step in and stop the madness, when a baby eats nearly a pound of cake (mostly frosting), and when said baby's stomach has little tolerance for such decadence, well, he pukes.

And like a strange and delicate fossil, his vomit told the story of the previous day's exploits in perfect detail.

Next year, the simple indulgence of just one piece of cake will do nicely, thank you. 

When we began thinking about having kids, there always seemed to be a lot of hubbub about how much our lives would change and how incredible the experience is.  Key ideas kept emerging and repeating, swirling around us like some widely accepted canon of you-can't-go-back propoganda.  Well, now I'm on the other side of the birthing bed, and while it has been a remarkable transformation in our lives, I'm here to dispell a few common myths about being a new parent:

1.  All babies are cute.  Come on.  It is okay to admit that some infants, especially just-out-of-the-oven ones, are more lizard than human.  I myself come from a long line of ugly newborns.  My mom says a neighbor lady came by to see me when I was a few days old and remarked (pointedly) on the lovely baby blanket I was sleeping on.  And I am secure enough to admit that my own son had a bad case of the uglies that he couldn't shake until he hit the two month mark.  He was like a earthworm-octopus child; all squishy limbs, scrunched face and mottled skin.  Of course we love him all the same, but the myth lives on - our friends and family became adamant about how cute he was.

2.  Your body wil never be the same.  Sure, initially it is difficult to walk across the room for fear that your junk will actually drop out of your pant leg onto the floor, and the boobs become blue collar workers whereas they used to be white collar execs, but in time the body can restore itself to essentially its old familar self.  I feel like it is a common misconception that any Tom, Dick or Harry can tell just by looking at a woman of birthing age if she is a mother or not; the extra sprigs of gray hair, the loose skin dangling from her waistline, the breasts that dangle and droop.  Poppycock.

 
3.  Your single and childless friends will disappear.  This is a myth I have been pleasantly surprised to find completely untrue.  It is so endearing to witness our bachelor friends hang out with the baby during a football game on Sunday, or call on our single friends to babysit while we run to a evening meeting. Some of our best new friends are a couple who don't have kids, and we always have plenty to talk about over dinner and drinks without dwelling on diaper rashes and nap schedules.  Sure, my spouse and I do appreciate that we have some very good friends with kids about the same age as Archer, but that is simply an enhancement to those friendships, not a requirement for all things social.  I feel so happy to still have my single and kid-free friends close, with no threat of that mythical lack of commonality that presupposes parents and non-parents are different species.

4.  Say goodbye to travel.   Babies are highly portable.  Their stuff - maybe not so much.  I admit that the amount of gear that is necessary to maintain a baby's health and hygiene while traveling is nothing short of absurd.  We used to be able to dash away for weekend jaunts with little forethought, but now it takes checklists, reservations and multiple laps to the car for loading.  Still, babies can be fantastic travel companions: they don't have an opinion (or can't voice it) about the vacation spot, they can be carried and don't take up too much space, they fly free until they are two, and they are usually good conversation starters with the local folks wherever you go.  No need to file away those passports.  Add one more to the pile and go forth by train, plane, bike or foot to exotic and mundane locales near and far.

5.  You'll know how to be a mother instinctually.  I've asked around, and it's not just me who feels terribly ill-equipped for this job.  With no formal training, no manual (I'm still searching for that succinct book, study or article to tell me what the hell to do), and no practice or scrimmage before the big game, it is on, and you'd better work some serious voodoo magic or this kid will be ruined.  Or at least damaged.  In some way.  Now.  Use your intuition.  Every woman inately knows what's what in the wide world of child rearing, right?  Nope.  Don't think so.  With so many possible choices in so many possible scenarios that ultimately carry such grave and undeniable importance, how can it be mothers' insticts that produce happy, healthy kids time and time again?  I think it more plausible that kids are resilient enough to survive most parental choices - right or wrong, lucky or unlucky - and that ends up being dubbed "A Mother's Instinct."  

When we began thinking about having kids, there always seemed to be a lot of hubbub about how much our lives would change and how incredible the experience is.  Key ideas kept emerging and repeating, swirling around us like some widely accepted canon of you-can't-go-back propoganda.  Well, now I'm on the other side of the birthing bed, and while it has been a remarkable transformation in our lives, I'm here to dispell a few common myths about being a new parent:

1.  All babies are cute.  Come on.  It is okay to admit that some infants, especially just-out-of-the-oven ones, are more lizard than human.  I myself come from a long line of ugly newborns.  My mom says a neighbor lady came by to see me when I was a few days old and remarked (pointedly) on the lovely baby blanket I was sleeping on.  And I am secure enough to admit that my own son had a bad case of the uglies that he couldn't shake until he hit the two month mark.  He was like a earthworm-octopus child; all squishy limbs, scrunched face and mottled skin.  Of course we love him all the same, but the myth lives on - our friends and family became adamant about how cute he was.

2.  Your body wil never be the same.  Sure, initially it is difficult to walk across the room for fear that your junk will actually drop out of your pant leg onto the floor, and the boobs become blue collar workers whereas they used to be white collar execs, but in time the body can restore itself to essentially its old familar self.  I feel like it is a common misconception that any Tom, Dick or Harry can tell just by looking at a woman of birthing age if she is a mother or not; the extra sprigs of gray hair, the loose skin dangling from her waistline, the breasts that dangle and droop.  Poppycock.

 
3.  Your single and childless friends will disappear.  This is a myth I have been pleasantly surprised to find completely untrue.  It is so endearing to witness our bachelor friends hang out with the baby during a football game on Sunday, or call on our single friends to babysit while we run to a evening meeting. Some of our best new friends are a couple who don't have kids, and we always have plenty to talk about over dinner and drinks without dwelling on diaper rashes and nap schedules.  Sure, my spouse and I do appreciate that we have some very good friends with kids about the same age as Archer, but that is simply an enhancement to those friendships, not a requirement for all things social.  I feel so happy to still have my single and kid-free friends close, with no threat of that mythical lack of commonality that presupposes parents and non-parents are different species.

4.  Say goodbye to travel.   Babies are highly portable.  Their stuff - maybe not so much.  I admit that the amount of gear that is necessary to maintain a baby's health and hygiene while traveling is nothing short of absurd.  We used to be able to dash away for weekend jaunts with little forethought, but now it takes checklists, reservations and multiple laps to the car for loading.  Still, babies can be fantastic travel companions: they don't have an opinion (or can't voice it) about the vacation spot, they can be carried and don't take up too much space, they fly free until they are two, and they are usually good conversation starters with the local folks wherever you go.  No need to file away those passports.  Add one more to the pile and go forth by train, plane, bike or foot to exotic and mundane locales near and far.

5.  You'll know how to be a mother instinctually.  I've asked around, and it's not just me who feels terribly ill-equipped for this job.  With no formal training, no manual (I'm still searching for that succinct book, study or article to tell me what the hell to do), and no practice or scrimmage before the big game, it is on, and you'd better work some serious voodoo magic or this kid will be ruined.  Or at least damaged.  In some way.  Now.  Use your intuition.  Every woman inately knows what's what in the wide world of child rearing, right?  Nope.  Don't think so.  With so many possible choices in so many possible scenarios that ultimately carry such grave and undeniable importance, how can it be mothers' insticts that produce happy, healthy kids time and time again?  I think it more plausible that kids are resilient enough to survive most parental choices - right or wrong, lucky or unlucky - and that ends up being dubbed "A Mother's Instinct."  

Here's my approach (and my issues) with meals for the wee one: 

1.  pick a few grains, a protein source, some fruit, one green and one other vegetable,

2.  then I make up some porridges, purees and finger foods for the week, and then

3.  pack them into some Mason jars and store 'em in the fridge. 

Armed with the copiously informative Super Baby Food by Ruth Yaron, I fire up the mini food processor every Monday and get crazy.  This week I made a simple porridge of oatmeal with flax and another one of rice cooked with chicken stock.  I also steamed some carrots and blended them with fresh parsley.  Finger food will be cooked yam cubes.

When I'm feeling most saucy and capable as a mother, I introduce all kinds of new grains, legumes and veggies blended in exotic blends.  I approach Archer with these concoctions as if each dish will be his absolute favorite.  I try not to let my personal biases intrude into his dining experience.  Well, maybe my bias against sugar.  I'm a little nuts about restricting his sugar intake.  Sugar is my scapegoat for all things evil.  I say this with a bag of gummy bears open in my lap as I'm writing this.  I've got issues. 

When I'm feeling less on top of my game, I fall back on some old standards that I always have hanging around the kitchen:

1.  Plain whole milk yogurt mixed with flaxmeal, brewers' yeast and kelp powder 

2.  A box of Purely O's cereal

3.  Avocados

4.  Stewed prune puree

It is a great challenge to nurture healthy eating in this wacky, fast food-addicted, more-is-more, gastrointestinal bypass American culture of ours; at times it feels like a losing battle with all of the prepackaged, processed foodstuffs that are designed even for our youngest children.  Certainly the best thing I can do is set an example and be the type of eater I would like Archer to be. 

Pass the kelp powder.

 

My mom had a good chuckle when we were on the phone last night, joking that Archer should be signed up for a frequent flier program.  Truly, as I think about it, he has been traveling nearly every month he's been alive.  This is a statistic I am proud of.

December was a stand out month for vacations, with our trip to Sayulita, Mexico being a highlight.  But little Archie has been on the go from the get go, including two flights to Oregon to visit my family in the summer, a long drive to the Tri-Cities for an Ultimate Frisbee Tournament in late fall, and a few glorious weekend retreats on Camano Island sprinkled in for good measure.

The mode of transportation to and from each of these locations has been variable; car, bus, plane and train.  Those are printed in order of preference; from worst to fantastic.  I'm telling you (emphatically) - you must ride the train from Bellingham to Seattle and/or vis versa.  This is one of the prettiest routes ever to have seen tracks laid, and the spacious seating is absolutely made for travel with small children.

Another important variable in these trips has been sleeping arrangements for the baby.  Visits to Grandparents' houses are fairly straightforward; they nearly strain muscles bending over backwards to purchase pack 'n' plays, set up cribs, clear out guest rooms and build additional wings onto their homes so that the kid will be comfortable. 

But other, less familiar environments call for creative bunking.  The cheap motel we stayed at in Tri-Cities was less than "baby friendly."  We had to corner off a section of the floor, lay down some blankets, cover the exposed wiring, and hope that Archer didn't get too mobile in the middle of the night. 

On Camano he slept in a closet.  Sayulita, a bathroom.  I'll never forget the look on the cleaning lady's face when I told her she didn't need to clean the upstairs loo because there was a baby napping in it.  "En el bano?" she whispered, horrified. 

But all this is just fine, because I have a love for travel that is thick in my veins, and I'm planning on many more adventures with Archer as a travel companion.  In a month we fly to Florida to visit my folks, and then in June it's a sailing trip in the British Virgin Islands.  When Archer is school-aged, we hope to live abroad.  It is hard to imagine my wanderlust ever being satiated, and hopefully this will be passed along to our children.

Of course all this wandering would not be nearly as sweet if we didn't come back to the greatest place on earth.  Bellingham is home.

 

This surprises me: I am really into making Archer's baby food. I feel like a mad chemist, mixing new ingredients and experimenting with his budding tastes. It is oddly satisfying to beat all kinds of food into a quivering pulp and offer it to him like it is chocolate-covered awesome. Babies are so gullible. Actually, my hope is that organic fruits, vegetables, and porridge will become his personal version of chocolate pudding. Sure, it's a total pipe dream to image Archer at his fifth birthday party rejecting ice cream in favor of swiss chard salad, but I do feel good about loading him up with it early and maybe helping him to develop a more sophisticated palate. And I don't feed him anything I wouldn't eat myself.  Although, I do admit this has become a bit more difficult with the introduction of powdered kelp and brewer's yeast into his porridge; I've been eating that with long teeth.

Who am I kidding -- this kid is probably going to refuse everything but chicken nuggets as soon as he hits three. Nevertheless, armed with a miniature food processor and Super Baby Food by Ruth Yaron, I've been creating a veritable feast of mushy fare each week, and so far nothing has been rejected outright -- except for egg yolks. Actually, Archer didn't even reject those, but his stomach did. Barf.  He even digs on kale; dark green juice runs out of the sides of his mouth like he's some sort of sadistic alien.  And don't get him started on satsumas; you'll be peeling pith until your fingertips are cracking from the acid while he shovels in the sweet-tart morsels and howls for more.

In the photo, from left to right, are what's on this week's menu: blackberry applesauce, broccoli, stewed prunes (a personal crusade against constipation), potatoes, super porridge (oatmeal, amaranth, wheat bran, flax meal). 

Perhaps New Years Day or Archer's first birthday is a more appropriate time to reflect on the first year of his life, but I suppose I am just too darn excited to share my ten favorite nuggets of wisdom with all of the new parents out there who might appreciate some humble advice from a mom of subdued temperament.  Frankly, this public service cannot wait; I must bestow this knowledge immediately so as to benefit as many bewildered first-timers as possible. Without further ado: