I had one of my most cherished and proud parenting moments at the cottage recently when Lucy spontaneously lifted up her shirt and pretended to breastfeed her dolls.
(OK, so she used her bellybutton. But the premise was there.)
It’s always bothered me a bit that so many baby dolls come laden with bottles and pacifiers. I suppose it’s hard to package a boob in a box, but I often wondered if it was sending a one-sided message to kids (mostly girls) about feeding options for babies.
I guess this Spanish company thought the same thing, because check this out: Bebe Gloton (Gluttonous Baby)
“A Spanish toy company has a new doll out that allows girls to play-breastfeed. Girls put on a special halter top with daisies over their nipples and draw the doll in when it cries. When the doll’s lips press against the girl’s pink daisies, the baby makes little suckling sounds.
Shockingly, not everyone in the media can appreciate the hilarity of Bebe Gloton. Manny Alvarez, the health editor at FoxNews.com, claims the doll will speed up maternal urges and contribute to unwanted pregnancies:
“Pregnancy has to entail maturity and understanding,” Alvarez said. “It’s like introducing sex education in first grade instead of seventh or eighth grade. Or, it could inadvertently lead little girls to become traumatized. You never know the effects this could have until she’s older.”
Unlike the thousands of dolls that come with little milk bottles.”
Lucy was very interested in breastfeeding, especially at the beginning. She wanted to know where the milk came from, how Alice got it, what it looked like, what it tasted like (she had a few drops off my fingertips, pronounced it “YUK-ee!” and that was the end of that) etc. She dubbed it “Mumma Milk” and told everyone that’s what SHE drank, too.
But we also taught her that sometimes women can’t breastfeed, or choose not to, so formula works as well. We had Alice on one bottle of it a day from an early age, and she now drinks it exclusively since we’re done breastfeeding.
Hopefully we’ve shown our girls the best of both options.
We are back to proliferating as much as we can from cows.
After Angry Baby dissapeared and the green poops dried upsolidified stopped, we introduced Alice to small bits of dairy around 8 months. She’s been perfectly fine on everything, and now eats buckets of yogurt, cheeses, baby cereal and regular formula.
So who knows what this was all about. I can only guess her digestive system needed some extra time to mature.
I’m excited to be buying our favourite baby/toddler yogurt again: Li’l Ones by Dairyland. I did a big review back in March 2007 when Lucy was gobbling them up — check it out here. They’re still delicious, sweetened with fruit juice, made with whole milk, have no artificial flavours, colours or sweeteners and come in great baby-pleasing flavours such as banana, pear, peach and grape.
Obviously the line has grown in the past 2.5 years, because I can now buy them at my local grocery store — not just Lawn Mart. Very exciting.
And wait ’till you hear this deal!
As a disclaimer, I’m a coupon whore. If I’m the store and there are coupons for a product, I take, like, 20 of them. So a few weeks ago, when the baby food aisle at the grocery store was laden with Heinz Nurture $10 off any formula coupons (!!), I pounced. I ripped 10 of them off the stack and stuffed them in my pocket like a thief, eyes darting. The Eyes in the Sky at the store probably thought I was trying to stuff baby food down my pants or something.
We were supplementing Alice with soy formula at the time, but I was working towards switching her to a milk-based one like the Nurture line.
Last week the stuff — regularly $23/can — went on sale for $17.50. Do you know how much formula is when it’s on sale and you have a $10 (!!) coupon?
That’s right. I got it for $7.50.
I bought one can on Monday to make sure Alice could digest it alright. Then I went back on Thursday night and bought six more. Regular price = $138. Coupon stuffing price = $45.
I’m getting tingly just reliving those moments. Two managers had to come process the coupons through the register — reading the fine print, turning them over and over — and a bunch of cashiers came to ohh and ahh and congratulate me on the savings. I felt like I’d won the lottery or something.
The timing of the score sale couldn’t be better. My busy baby seems to be done nursing. She’d given up all but the morning feed when she first wakes up. And now she’s more interested in batting the blind behind our bed and trying to climb out the windown that snuggle in with me and drink.
I think this week will be it. She easily drinks formula from a cup, and does not even care if it’s heated anymore. The transition for all of us could not be easier.
From a physical stand point, anyways. There’s still the emotional side that I have to deal with, Alice being our last baby.
But I’m ready. I want to buy pretty bras again and have my Girls settle into their nursing-battered shape. Which, ironically enough, will probably be much like the cow udders that are replacing me.
I’m so far behind on recording the little happenings in our life lately. Before they are forgotten forever in the vortex of summer and growing kids, a list (with pics, below):
Three Dora & Diego window stickers & a beach ball now grace the glass and floor in Lucy’s room, because my girl has gone poop on the potty FOUR TIMES in a row! That’s right, no 3+-year-old poopy diapers in a week. We are so thrilled. And so is Lucy. She keeps asking if we’re calling everyone to tell them — and that “I’m so proud of myself!”
If you’re wondering what worked, it was a combo of give and take: I bought some dollar store toys, and put them in a bucket in the bathroom so she could see them. When she went poop, so got a prize. If she went poop in her diaper, she had TV taken away for the rest of the day. We only had to take TV away three times before she realized we meant business. — and that television AND a toy was awesome.
Speaking of poop, poor Alice is battling terrible constipation. A result, I think, of adding a second bottle of formula a day, Cheerios and crackers. She just hollers like the devil when she goes. We are taking out stock in prunes
Speaking of butts, Alice can sit up on her own now. It’s so adorable when they can do that! A whole new world to learn about from that angle
Also, her top two teeth are coming in. Anyone else hate teething? Yeesh.
I have piles and piles of reviews to do and write (vitamins, food, play centres, pacifiers). I think the week I’m at the cottage with the girls will be review week.
Our gardens look gorgeous right now. Must post pics.
We saw the Sound of Music on Saturday (must see the movie still, as I don’t quite get what all the fuss is about…), and we were away from the girls from 9:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. During the performance, I had this pain in my arm that traveled from my elbow to shoulder, and was all freaked out telling Eric to watch in case I had a stroke. When we got home and Alice drained my milk-swollen right breast? Pain disappeared. WEIRD. Can one get milk backed up in their appendages?
The other weekend was our local Duck Derby, and guess who was there? Bram from Sharon, Lois and Bram! Remember Skinnamarink-A-Dinky-Dink? ALL the parents in the audience were swaying and singing, blissful in reliving their childhoods, while our kids were looking around suspiciously. T’was hilarious.
For Father’s Day, Lucy made personalized keepsake jars for Eric, her Papa and Grandpa. They were a hit, and she loved doing them.
It’s stinkin’ hot out, and I LOVE IT. Been hanging tons of laundry, with Alice babbling away in her booster seat outside on the deck
I lost three nose pins this weekend — two down the drain, and one in bed. Grr…
Lucy and I did swimming lessons together for eight weeks. More on this later.
Stroller Fit class continues to be great fun, and an even awesomer workout now that instructor Kelly has kicked it up: We walk faster, use benches, tip toe up hills. No weight loss, but this weekend I fit into pants I haven’t been able to in years!
After much hand wringing, some general freaking out and a few tears, we seem to have a solution to the State of the House (post and comments here). Or, at least we think we do.
Anyone who knows my husband will not be surprised at how he took to this dilema: He created a spreadsheet.
(Apparently this is what he gets paid to do all day. Who knew!)
I’ve had to give up the notion of a clean house all at once (as Ang does), and we’re now focusing on a specific few tasks each night. Aside from laundry, each night should only require each of us to spend around 20 minutes cleaning. Of course, this does not include the monumental task each night of cleaning the kitchen up from dinner, but that’s just part of life.
We’re on day two, and I’m loving it so far. I feel like we’re both in this together more, and like that I have a specific thing to do each day. It appeals to the planner/controller in me. But I also told Eric The Schedule and he need to be flexible to accommodate my work, too.
We’ll see how it goes. Maybe something you can try?
In other news, on Sunday night I ate a piece of cheese on my chicken burger. REAL cheese from a cow. And Alice was completely fine.
Perhaps we’re seeing the end of the daily allergy?
At Durham Mom’s Night Out tonight, we’re trying out Mexican Cuban. And I am SO having some more cheese…maybe even *gasp* sour cream.
I got home this afternoon, after a long morning of running errands with the girls, to discover my nipples were pointing in different directions. Not just tucked into my bra in a “Haha, wouldn’t that be embarrassing if someone saw!” way, but looking like a cross-eyed, drunk sailor through my shirt.
(Breastfeeding women will know exactly how this happens: You feed on one side, tuck the deflated boob back in with nipple probably pointing to the sky, while the other, fuller breast remains looking straight ahead. Or in my case today, lazily wandering to the right.)
Ladies, please. Shouldn’t we make a pact or sign a contract that if you see an obviously oblivious woman (especially a mom with two young children you know barely made it out the door with clothes on) with lopsided nippes you discreetly tell them?
Lucy and Alice, looking especially cute today with barettes and tutus and big smiles, chatted to a ton of people as we were out and about. But now I wonder if those strangers’ grins were for my girls, or for My Girls.
___
(Dear Dad: I know, I know. First the cabbage leaves in the bra (with a photo, no less), and now this. I’m sorry. Unfortunately I still have a post to do about a pink nursing bra that a local business gave me to try. I promise, no pics…)
Here’s an Easter craft tip to file away for next year: If you’re going to dye eggs with a toddler? Use hard boiled ones. And lay down lots of newspaper, because flicking the metal egg dipper in the bowls of food colouring is hilariously entertaining. And messy.
But Lucy and I had a blast on Thursday morning doing this while Alice napped. The results, in my biased view, are egg-ceptional!
(Sorry. I couldn’t resist.)
Hope you’re having a wonderful Easter, and Mr. Bunny is good to you. Eat some chocolate for me, OK?
(Damn milk-allergic baby keeping me from Mini Eggs and peanut butter chocolate cups. Good thing she’s delicious herself.)
Sweet, creamy, cereal-hugging, blueberry-coating dairy. Oh, how I ache for you.
But I don’t miss Miss Screech Alot, so it’s absolutely worth it.
Alice’s poops, however, are still green. But they are normal breastfed baby consistency — not the liquid that destroyed countless onesies and was so painful for her to pass. They’re just avacado or four leaf clover or pea coloured. It’s like a rainbow! But the same colour!
Our doctor, who we visited today, is not worried about the colour. That should right itself over time as Alice’s digestive system continues to develop. Our baby is thriving (up a pound and half an inch since our last visit, to 15 lbs., 26″) and not The Angry anymore, and that’s all that matters.
And even with one tooth through and another busting its way up, we still have so much of this:
(The Baby for Sale sign has been removed from the window.)
I start the day with milk in my cereal or oatmeal, and have it in my tea throughout the day. My favourite drink is a cold glass of milk (especially with dinner and ice cream). I live off yogurt and blueberries, and eat cheese and crackers almost every day (not to mention add cheese to a good portion of our meals, along with the occasional cream soup). And ice cream and frozen yogurt? Mmmmmm.
But no longer.
We suspect Alice’s vibrant, watery and rather painful green poops are the result of a milk allergy. They haven’t gone away in a month, and now that I’ve read more about it, she has many other signs:
rubbing her eyes even when not tired, what we now guess it itchiness
a sandpaper-like raised rash on her cheeks
persistent red rash on the bum
We don’t know for sure, of course, but it’s a likely culprit. A milk allergy is very uncommon (between 2%-3% of babies), but if a baby has a food allergy, it’s most commonly milk.
The best we can do is cut it out of my diet, and see what happens. The milk proteins can take up to three weeks to get out of your system, but we should notice an improvement in Alice in 5-7 days.
It’s a stress and sacrifice I could do without, but we think it’s worth it. A few months in the grand scheme of my life is nothing, and I’m not willing to give up breastfeeding over what should be a simple fix.
(And she’s so worth it, don’t you think?)
But do you know that dairy is in everything? It’s in margarine! And crackers! Granola bars, cookies, pasta sauce, and — be still, my breaking heart — potato chips.
(I was hopeful about cereal — those that don’t contain dairy, anyways — and tried soy milk on some Mini Wheats this morning? Then gagged. Bleh. Imposter milk is great in tea, but there’s no way I’ll be eating it so overtly.)
So, we’ll see what happens. I’m trying to take a positive attitude and see it as (forcibly) opening up some new recipes and foods. Maybe I’ll discover something I never would have tried otherwise.
Except soy cheese. Gotta draw the line somewhere, and that’s just wrong.
I can still remember the physical torture of those early weeks of parenthood, when merely raising your arms over your head while taking a shower hurt. Your back and shoulders ache from carrying a newborn. Your eyes burn from being open so damn much. If breastfeeding, your nipples feel like a beaver was using them for training practice.
Add in a busy toddler, and it’s a wonder the four of us survived unscathed after Alice was born.
The one aspect of new parenthood (again) I was most worried about was breastfeeding. While the recollection of labour pain fades so quickly, my Girls were cringing daily at the memory of learning to breastfeed with Lucy — the hours spent learning to latch, the bleeding nipples, the lingering hole she chewed on my right side, the tears of frustration as pumping brought no milk.
Discover Birth, a local group of women specializing in childbirth, breastfeeding and post-partum care, offered help. (Actually, owner Stefanie first offered us a labour doula, which I turned down. For us, having a virtual stranger in the delivery room would have been uncomfortable. Maybe if we’d met sooner? I dunno. But I do know many women who’ve used doulas while giving birth and LOVED them.)
Alice was balancing on my lap, milk drunk from a feed, when the appliance repair dude emerged from the basement.
“So, what was it?” I asked, referring to the mystery piece of white fabric he’d spotted clogging the washer’s drain, and the reason for his visit.
“One of your um, ah…” he said, gesturing vaugely in the direction of my chest from across the room.
Is he pointing at my boobs?
“One of your, you know…pad…things,” he stuttered.
What the hell is a maxi pad doing in the washing machine?
“Oh, you mean a breast pad?” I said as it dawned on me. “A round piece of fabric about yay big?”
“Yes!” he said, relieved and nodding at my hands held in a circle the size of a large orange.
I’m forced to look down at Alice’s head in order to hold back a snort of laughter, realizing this poor guy had been afraid to say the word “breast.” I wish I’d been in the room when he and his young apprentice dug it out.
Apparently fabric breast pads are the perfect size to slip through the opening inside the drum, and one got sucked in and jammed into the drain. It was discovered protruding from the top like a flower.
“First time I’ve ever pulled one of those suckers out of a machine,” he said.
$96.35, one blackened, grungy, destroyed pad and an embarrassed appliance dude later, our washing machine is working like new again. An expensive and hilarious lesson for us, and a new tale for the repair man to share under “Weird Things I’ve Dug Out of People’s Appliances.”
I had one of my most cherished and proud parenting moments at the cottage recently when Lucy spontaneously lifted up her shirt and pretended to breastfeed her dolls.
