Mister Independent

This is what happens when a 15 month old becomes aware of clothes and choices:



Adorable, right?

He started off the day in blue jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes. Then he found the bag of new clothes I'd bought for him the day before (a pair of pajamas and a zippered sweatshirt) and decided the race car pajama pants were to his liking. He walked over to his dad, arm outstretched.

"Eh! Eh! Eh!! EH! EH! EHHHH!!"

Ah. The "eh" stage. The "I want something very specific but don't have the vocabulary to tell you what it is" stage. The "hey, why did Mommy just lock herself in the bathroom without me??" stage.

Because the eh's are driving me a tiny bit crazy, Little One. That's why.

Anyway. Kind daddy put the very cool race car pajama pants on the little guy. And then, of course, the shoes had to go right back on, because not wearing our new big boy shoes at all times is simply not acceptable. A little while later, I was caught hanging up his new sweatshirt in his closet - a quick round of eh's later, the sweatshirt was on him instead of the hanger, thus completing the above ever-so-coordinated outfit.

Honestly. The outfits he's come up with this week. Today it was the still-loved race car pajama pants with a pair of swim shorts over top. Now there's a look that's sure to become popular.

His awareness and memory have shot through the roof this past week or so. Now he wants things, specific things, things that are in another room or up high on a shelf or put away somewhere. Unfortunately his vocabularly has yet to catch up with this increased awareness - thus the aforementioned rounds of "eh ehh EHHH!" going on around here lately, coupled with much pointing and dramatic facial expressions.

And so we've redoubled our work on signs - which has, admittingly, been sorely inconsistent in the past. We have the sign for milk down pat, and we've worked half-heartedly on "food", "drink", "more", and "done", but now he really needs them (as does my sanity). Yesterday we learned the sign for book, as probably half the eh's around here are in reference to wanting a book read. I *love* that he loves books, but oh. my. goodness. The constant books, all day long.

Mr Brown can moo...can you?

His current favourite book is Baby Cakes, a really cute interactive book where you kiss your baby's nose and nibble his toes and laugh and sing and so on. This is the first book that he's "memorized" - he knows what comes next and starts doing it before you even turn the page to read it. It's so neat.

Bouncy bounce Baby Cakes on my lap...YAY for little Baby Cakes, clap clap clap!

Hmm...he's currently laying on the floor snuggling with a pair of my soft pajama pants.

Never a dull moment, eh?

Why I still breastfeed

So, it's arrived - August 2008. The month that, in all of my great human "wisdom", I planned to get pregnant with our second child, thereby making our children two years apart.

Instead? I've yet to see even a hint of the return of my post-partum period.

15 months and not so much as a hint.

And here I was secretly ready to get pregnant again pretty much as soon as I gave birth.

*sigh*

It hit me hard in April, when my son turned a year old. Suddenly I was Ready. Yes, that's ready with a capital 'R'. But, sadly, no period.

A month later, my son started sleeping through the night (of his own volition). And still no period.

Now, having reached the month we "planned" to get pregnant in - and still no period - I'm having an even harder time with it. Yes, I am fighting the selfish desire to wean my son so that my fertility will return.

No, of course I won't wean him - but I can't pretend I don't find the idea horribly tempting right now.

And so - partially for the sake of my dear readers, but even moreso for my own sake - Why I Choose to Breastfeed my Toddler:

The World Health Organization recommends breastfeeding for at least the first two years of life. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding for at least the first one year of life, and states that "there is no upper limit to the duration of breastfeeding and no evidence of psychologic or developmental harm from breastfeeding into the third year of life or longer." The American Academy of Family Physicians notes that children weaned before two years of age are at an increased risk of illness.

Nursing a toddler has numerous benefits.

For toddlers, these benefits include (but are not limited to)
complete nutrition,
fewer allergies,
stronger immune systems,
increased cognitive achievement,
reduced risk of excema,
reduced risk of diarrhea,
reduced risk of respiratory infections,
reduced risk of ear infections,
reduced risk of childhood diabetes,
reduced risk of heart disease,
reduced risk of pneumonia,
reduced risk of Vit A deficiency,
reduced risk of future autoimmune disorders,
and numerous psychological benefits.

For nursing mothers, these benefits include (but are not limited to)
a delayed return of fertility,
reduced risk of breast cancer,
reduced risk of ovarian cancer,
reduced risk of uterine cancer,
reduced risk of endometrial cancer,
reduced risk of bone disease and arthritis,
and easier post-partum weight loss.

And those are just the benefits related to extended nursing (nursing beyond a year), nevermind the many benefits of nursing in general.

Another reason extended breastfeeding is important to me is because our son remains entirely unvaxed at this point. The extra immunity he receives from me is integral.

Also, it is reassuring to me to know that on those days when he doesn't eat much, he is still getting an optimal balance of vitamins and nutrients that he wouldn't be getting from regular milk.

Finally, we nurse because he still wants to nurse. The comfort and bonding aspect is of huge importance to us. Nursing helps my little one fall peacefully asleep each night. Nursing makes owies better. Nursing allows an overwhelmed toddler to seek a few minutes of solace at his mother's breast. And on grumpy days, when my son and I find ourselves feeding off each other, nursing allows us to take a breather and quietly snuggle and reconnect, walking away a few minutes later in much better spirits.

How could I even think of giving that up?

And so I find myself, once again, acknowledging before God the folly in even thinking my life is mine to plan. I've seen it said recently - write your plans in pencil, then hand God the eraser. So, God, here's my eraser.

I know, truly, that natural spacing of children through extended breastfeeding is the ideal. I've long thought so. I just had no idea that it would work quite this well.

But hey - Jesus was breastfed, right? And during a time when weaning didn't occur until three years of age or later. According to that standard, we're not even halfway there!

Here's to another 20 months or so of cozy nursing snuggles.

Psalm 22:9
Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you even at my mother's breast.

1 Thessalonians 2:7
But we proved to be gentle among you, as a nursing mother tenderly cares for her own children.

In Which I Clean

Ah, how wonderful it is to have a tidy uncluttered clean home.

We had company last weekend, so I used it as a good excuse to do a deep clean of our house ahead of time. How oddly exhilarating a day of good hard cleaning is! Since then I've been tidying up twice a day, as I know that I do much better when I keep on top of things rather than end up overwhelmed and avoiding the mess after falling behind.

I did a bit of a mini-clean this weekend again,
sweeping,
mopping,
vacuuming,
ironing,
doing laundry,
washing diapers,
handwashing and relanolizing the wool diaper covers,
cooking,
tidying,
marking (I teach an online course),
baking (the best banana bread ever, according to my husband),
before finally putting my son to bed and, after one last quick kid-free tidy, relaxing for the evening.

It's so much more peaceful to spend the day in a tidy house (or, even better, outside).

My biggest difficulty as far as cleaning and decluttering goes is throwing stuff away. I'm terrible at it. Firmly against it, actually. After all, you never know when that desk calculator with the dead batteries and broken pen might come in handy - and, in any case, it was a gift. And that sweater you've never worn - it is really quite pretty and one day you might want to wear it. And all those empty containers - well, containers can be useful for so many things, right? Countless things! You can't throw them away. And that old tennis ball that doesn't bounce anymore - it's still a ball. You can, you know, roll it around or something.

It would seem I have issues.

BUT last week I forced myself to let ago of a few things (including the above-mentioned broken desk calculator and flat tennis ball). My husband is much better at this than I am. A little too good, I thought, as I pulled a Christmas card from his Oma out of the trashcan. Honestly! Not a sentimental bone in his body.

Now, perhaps someone could tell me - what do I do with all these rescued greeting cards??

Ah, summer

We've been having such a nice summer so far. One of the perks, perhaps, of having an unemployed husband. The company my husband worked for closed last month, so he's out of work and hanging around at home all day instead. Ask me how easy it is to get stuff done with him around all the time - actually, no, it's probably safer if you don't.

But in the meantime, we're taking advantage of a family summer. Lots of time outside, visiting the duck pond, swimming in the pool, going for long walks. Today we visited the Experimental Farm, a large functioning farm in the middle of the city.

At first the boy wasn't too sure about all the big animals - horses, cows, bulls, sheep, goats, and a donkey (named Eeyore, if you'd believe it). Wide blue eyes stared over my shoulder at these new noisy creatures. By the time we got to the petting calves, he was excited to look but quite uncertain about touching.



The playground, on the other hand, was most exciting.



He got to run around in his spiffy new "big boy" shoes - Robeez Tredz - climbing the play structures, going down the slide, standing on things that were meant to be sat on, worrying his poor mother who tries so hard not to hover...

But eventually naptime arrived, so we headed out after one last look at the huge bull and gorgeous Clydesdales. My husband agreed with my sympathy over the plight of the poor dairy cows but, perhaps sadly, couldn't be persuaded that it was sad enough to become vegan over. Oh well. Another discussion for another time, maybe.

Back at home I laid the sleeping baby on our bed and slipped off his big boy shoes. He hasn't wanted to take them off since getting them the other day. This was unfortunate at first because the new shoes took some getting used to, making him trip a lot, which in turn made him frustrated, but neither did he want us to take them off for him. Anytime he did have to take them off, you could be sure it wouldn't be long until he brought them over to you wanting them back on again. He's been doing the same thing with his clothes lately - he goes into his dresser drawer, pulls clothes out until he finds something he wants, then brings it to you to put on him. Which explained why I came home recently to find him wearing a pajama shirt two sizes too small.

It's hard to believe he's already 15 months old. My 8lb 10oz newborn is now a squirmy 23.5lb ball of constant movement. He walks, talks, thinks, and explores. He loves to dance, to be chased around the house, and to climb everything in sight. This morning he shoved Daddy awake with repetitions of "twuck! twuck!", wanting Daddy to lift him onto the windowsill so he could watch the garbage truck he had heard pull up. He waves at buses every single time he sees or hears them - even when he only hears them drive by outside or sees them in a book. So far he's had a grand total of three kindly bus drivers wave back at him, bless their hearts.

In addition to "twuck", he can say
hi
bye
cat
car
that ("dat!")
dad
duck
quack
and can sign nurse (which he does, frequently).

He can give hugs and kisses, which delights his father to no end (and his mother too, of course).

And every day brings something new.

I am so blessed.

Rambles of a Mother

I'm pretty much amazed by my son.

I love watching him discover new things. It's so exciting. It's neat to see the wheels turning in his head, the light bulb moments when he puts two and two together, the ah-ha! and repeated experimentations as he explores the world around him.

His most recent discovery is echoes. There are a few places we walk through every day that he's noticed are particularly good as far as echoes go. As soon as we walk in the door of the parking garage, for instance, he starts his "ah! ah! ah! oh! oh! oh!", grinning away as his voice echoes off the cement walls. Same with the elevators, the mail room, the entrance way. It's one of those things that had never occurred to me that he would discover one day. I mean, I just never thought of it. Echoes. How fun!

Speaking of fun, we've started swim class at the local pool again, along with our own swim time in the outdoor pool at our condo. He starts grinning as soon as his toes touch the water. He'll be a regular fish in no time, the way he keeps trying to swim out of my arms already.

Not only does he think he can swim alone, but he thinks he's ready for Mom and Dad's shoes too. He opens the closet and pulls out Mom's sandals or Dad's big shoes, then works away at trying to get them on his feet, looking ever so pleased with himself when he succeeds.

Most of all, he's just plain fun. We had our first pillow fight today - he giggled like crazy as I (softly) knocked him over with the pillow, then he'd take the pillow and plop it on my lap, laughing some more when I fell over too.

I just love that boy's laugh.

I just love that boy.

Ten Things

Ten things I'm grateful for today...

1. My husband. Happy birthday, sweetheart. Thank you for showing me what unconditional love looks like. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of watching our son dissolve into a fit of giggles as his Daddy plays with him. And, most of all, thank you for not running far far away when I told you, perhaps prematurely, that God told me I'd marry you someday. I hate to say it, honey...but I told you so.



2. My son. There aren't words for the joy that you have brought me. I now understand what they mean when they say that to be a mom is to forever have your heart go walking around outside your body. I love your smile, your giggles, your cheeky grin as you run out of my reach, your eager desire to be involved in everything I do, your warm body snuggled against me each night, your oh-so-serious face and expectant eyes as you politely sign "milk" when you want to nurse - oh, darling, I just love everything about you.



3. My Saviour. Sometimes it hits me - what You've done for me, the grace You've shown to a miserable wretch, the love beyond knowledge. Other times...oh, Lord, You've been so merciful to me even while I've so often gone about my day without giving You a second of my thought or time. Fill me anew with that longing to know You deeply, to spend time in Your Word, to seek You in prayer. Create in me a clean heart, oh Lord, and renew a right spirit within me.

4. Chocolate. It's only fitting that chocolate be on the list, considering how often it has got me through a stressful day.

5. Whiteboards. Oh, the unspeakable joy of wiping away yet another completed task from a long whiteboard to-do list.

6. Kindred spirits. In a society that values convenience over knowledge, it is such a blessing to have those who understand why you choose to do things differently.

7. My sister. I was so mean to you when we were kids. Mom always told me to be nice to your siblings, as they'd be the only ones to stick around when you were older. I get it now. Sometimes it feels like you're the only person who has remained a constant in my life. No matter how long we go without getting a chance to talk, I always know that as soon as I pick up the phone or write an email, you'll be right there, same as always, ready to chat as though we've done so every day of our lives. No matter what I've done, you've never treated me any different. You're the only person who has ever been like that to me. I don't tell you this enough, but I love you and I deeply treasure your friendship.



8. The sun. Blue skies, green grass, red flowers. Long rambling walks with my son, stopping to inspect every ant and leaf that catches his eye. Slowing down.

9. Green smoothies. Sliced apples. Watermelon. Farmers' markets.

10. That increasingly rare gem - a truly good book.

I feel loved

Spring? What spring? It went straight from winter to summer here in about a week. I'm not complaining! The boy and I have been going for long walks and playing in the park - well, to be more accurate, we've been sitting in the park. My beautiful little non-walker has issues with touching both the grass and the sand which he has yet to get over. I guess I should count my blessings - in time I'm sure I'll wish he would stay in one spot for even a few seconds!

Anyway, this warm weather has finally brought the return of yet another wonderful summer event - the organic farmers' market.

Granted, ours is a year-round market, but unfortunately I've been car-less this winter (my husband takes our car to work on Saturdays) and just couldn't convince myself to make the cold trip by bus. So I slightly shame-facedly started shopping at our local grocery store again, still buying organic and avoiding processed foods whenever possible.

Did our grocery bill ever jump! Apparently I am an impulse shopper and am not safe anywhere that offers more than the farmers' market does. What's that, lemon meringue pie? Why, don't mind if I do! Brownies? Toss 'em in! Sugar-filled juices and iced tea? Heck yes!

Well, today I decided that it's warm now, I have no excuse not to take the bus to the farmer's market each Saturday. I kinda-sorta-justalittlebit hoped it would rain, but alas, it's another beautiful day.

After making a mad dash to the ATM to pick up cash, we caught the first bus, my son cuddled on my front in a mei tai and my denim bag loaded with plastic bags. We got off one stop too late, ending up on the wrong side of the road...and missed our transfer by a few incredibly irritating seconds.

Harumph.

We walked part of the way, then sat at a bus stop and waited so as not to miss the next bus too. Finally we made it to the nearest intersection and walked the rest of the way, stopping on a patch of gorgeously green grass to move the boy from my front to my back.

First stop, the fish the lady. She remembered us! She commented on how big the boy is now, then sold us our usual salmon. We worked our way through the market - raw crackers for munching, sprouts for wraps and fake sushi, kale for green smoothies, apples, potatoes, and soup - then went to get the rest of the meat (yes, we're still very happy meat-eaters, and my husband just reminded me the other day that he fully intends to stay that way).

The beef man and lady remembered us! We picked up a few different cuts of beef along with the obligatory whole wheat cinnamon bun.

The chicken man remembered us! We picked up chicken breast and pork chops.

I felt so loved.

And I forgot what a great atmosphere the farmers' market is! Everyone offering to help you with this or with that, grinning at your kid instead of giving you a weird look for wearing him, smiling and talking cheerfully - and all sorts of guilt-free deliciousness just waiting to be snatched up!

After downing a glass of delicious green juice, we headed back to wait for the bus. All in all, a very successful trip and for about half the price we'd been spending at the grocery store all winter. Going by bus turned out to be no problem at all - looks like we'll be resuming our weekly trip to the farmers' market. Ah, summer. How I love thee.