I Was Mean Today

It's so hard to be a patient mom sometimes.  It's so hard to be positive and understanding and thinking about everyone but yourself when all you feel like doing is just curling up in a corner.  There are moments when all your patience is wasted and you're just grasping at straws.  And in those moments, sometimes you just have to face the cold, hard, guilt-ridden facts.

I was mean today.

I snapped when I should have taken a deep breath.  I pushed him away when I should have held him close.  I was frustrated when I should have been understanding.  I was angry when I should have been calm.  I stormed out of the room when I should have demonstrated patience.  I told him "I can't handle this" instead of "I love you."  Instead of being kind and loving, I was rough and insensitive.

I wasn't my best today.

It wasn't like that all day.  In the moments between my frustration, I was the kind and loving mother he's used to.  But then I'd turn on him again and he had no idea why.  There were a myriad of reasons. He'd been stick for days and hard to deal with, he was being mean himself, he didn't nap, he made me chase him in the store, I'm pregnant and having a particularly hormonal week, and his sense of order is so strong I can't even wear a sweater when I'm cold; the reasons go on and on.  They don't excuse anything, they don't make my toddler feel any better or make him understand more.  Maybe when he's older he'll know when his mother is having a rough day, but not yet.  No, today he laughed at me, or gave me a sad face of fear: who are you today, mommy?  He couldn't say that, but I know he was thinking it.  And sadly, I had no answer, because today I just wasn't myself.

The only thing I could do at the end of it all was apologize.  I came to him and held him in my arms. He asked to nurse and I obliged.

"Mommy was mean today," I said.

"Was mommy mean?"  The first time he responded with a yes, the second he responded with a no.  As always, he was in the moment.  So I did the best I could with the moment I had.  I told him that I thought I had been mean and that I was sorry, and that no matter what he does or how I feel, I love him always.

"Does mommy love you?"

"Yes."  Oh, thank goodness, he still knows that.  We nursed and snuggled and waited for his father to come home and hug us both into happiness.  Until then, we just had to both accept that neither of us felt wonderful and that's just the way it was.  I am so thankful for extended breastfeeding in those moments, because I know I can always bring him home.  But even if I wasn't, I know a snuggle would have helped too.

I was mean today.  But, I apologized.  And he forgave me.  Some days, that's just the best we can do.

What IS A Complete Family?

When you get to be eight months pregnant, it becomes an open topic of conversation you must have with strangers.  No longer do they glance at you silently, wondering but not daring to ask; their glances turn into outright questions and remarks.  Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining, entirely.  It's wonderful to hear "what a lovely pregnant belly."  Extremely bizarre, yes, but nice all the same.

The remarks vary from gracious and thoughtful congratulations to various types of questions.  Any given conversation, however, can meander it's way to the discovery that I'm having a girl.  And then, I almost always hear the same thing.  Let me give you a recent example:

Shoe Salesman: That's a boy, too *pointing at my large belly and gesturing towards my son*

Me: Actually, it's a girl; turns out I carry them all the same *recognizing that I'm carrying my girl like a basketball, just as I did my son, and gladly debunking that old wives tale*

Shoe Salesman: Ah, a complete family *smiling at my apparent great fortune*

Me: *dumbfounded look, weak smile, and no response*

There it is again: a "complete" family.  To me, this is the strangest remark, thought, utterance, (whatever).  What is a complete family???  Had I said she was a boy, would he have felt sorry for me?  Would my family be incomplete?  Would we be forever doomed to a life of incompletion because my husband and I decided that whether this child was a boy or girl, we don't plan on having more than two children?

I've heard this phrase so many times, even from family members. I know it is meant to be a celebration for my job well done (please detect sarcasm), but why do we go around perpetuating the idea that, unless you have one of each, then you are incomplete?  Why is one of each "better?"  And why is it okay to say something like that...aloud?

I googled "complete family" and no Wikipedia definition popped up.  There is no source to tell me where this idea derives.  If you click for the images, though, you don't find scores of families with a son and a daughter.  You find pictures of all kinds of families.  And they are all beautiful.  Dare I say...complete?

I wonder if perhaps people think I am getting the opportunity to experience raising both a girl and a boy, which are each a unique parenting experience.  But, why is that considered more valuable and uniques than the alternatives; thus, the idea of completeness?  I have many friends with two boys or two girls, etc.  They will get to see and support incredible sibling relationships: squabbles, closeness, jealousy, competition, empathy, and companionship that only two siblings of the same gender can experience.  They learn the uniqueness of their children in a special way, because they know its so much more than gender differences.  I have friends with only one child who have the wonderful experience of being able to give their child their full attention and never have to feel guilty that one is getting more than the other.  They have a special and amazing bond with their child.  Each of these parent's experience is like every other parent's experience: valuable, unique, and yes, complete.  Do they need to keep trying to achieve the opposite gender in order to have a fulfilling family experience? Not at all.  Are they incomplete?  Never.

And then it gets even more complicated.  What about step-families, and extended families, and married into families, families with no children, families with just pets?....well, you get my point.  Family is a complicated thing.

To get to a deeper understanding of the semantics involved, I looked up words like complete and family, and what struck me is that, particularly with the word family, there is no clear cut definition.  And, I think that's a true reflection of what family is.  Families are a support system (hopefully), designed to keep each other strong and social.  They come in many different sizes.  Sometimes, it's not even blood that relates them.  But that doesn't change that they are strong.  It doesn't change that they are bonded.  It doesn't change that they are complete.  What brings a family together are two simple things, two elements that makes all the other elements unimportant: love and support.  Love and support make a family; love and support complete a family.

I know this well; I know this deeply in my soul.  I'm not just spouting lovely ideas here.  I came from a "complete" family, but it turns out it wasn't complete, not even close.  My family has gone through many iterations since I was a child.  I have gained siblings and parents, and grown as a person from every relationship.  My family is larger than blood, and stronger, too.  It is special, because it is filled with that very love and support.  It has given my children seven grandparents, multiple aunts and uncles, and the love grows and grows as we do.  So, whether you have two boys, two girls, one of each, one total, a hoard, a couple of dogs or cats (etc.), no children at all, a blended family, an adopted family, etc., etc....let me celebrate the love and support that completes your unit, your family.  Let us rejoice in every kind of family working hard to keep each other afloat and make each other smile.  I'm full of love right now, I'm pregnant; it comes with the territory.


(Image in this post is "Family and Small Child With Baby Stroller" by Vlado, from FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

Here We Go Again...! Preparing for the Second Time Around

I've been absent for a long time again; I'm a terrible blogger.  I'd like to say it's because I'm not the least bit narcissistic and I don't jump to tell everyone my every thought...but, most people who know me well wouldn't say that's entirely true (and they need not comment about it here either...!).  There are a million drafts started, but I have never feel like I have the time to get clarity of thought.  And then, well, there's always something else to do.  Truthfully, it's because I'm easily overwhelmed.  I'm amazed at all the other mommy-bloggers.  How do they do it??  Toddler, household chores, part time job....

...and well, there's this:

Yup, we've been at it again.  The arrival of baby girl (yes, I said girl!) is around the corner; our family is growing.  Pregnancy has made me gear up and get all excited to go...directly to the couch.  It's a whole different ballgame this time around.  Ok, I won't lie, I spent the first pregnancy on the couch, too; but this time, I can't actually get to the couch.  No, the couch is like a magic land that I cannot reach because, well, there's no laying down when you have a toddler.  And then those cherished moments that I can actually lay down??  Well, I don't want to do anything, let alone touch a computer.  So, there you have it, I'm an overwhelmed mommy who just wants to lay on the couch.  And, a terrible blogger.

I was contemplating the other day, though, that this pregnancy, and this baby, are a completely new and different experience.  One I am ready to start sharing (without a hint of narcissism...).  Because this time around I know something that I didn't know before.  Something I thought I knew last time, but really, I had no clue.  It all comes down to knowing one simple thing about children.  THERE IS NO PLANNING.  There's no point in even trying.  Instead of planning in those small moments I have to myself, I just lay down instead.

I get asked questions a lot.  What are you going to differently this time around?  Where is baby going to sleep?  When will your son stop nursing?  Where will your son sleep when the baby arrives?  My answer is always the same:  I don't know.  Because I don't.  I have no idea what the answers are to those questions, I won't even try to guess.  Why?  Because I'm not my son, and I'm not my daughter.  I have no idea how my son will react as he doesn't either.  And I certainly have no idea what my daughter will do because, in most senses of the word, I don't even know her at all yet.

Instead, most of our efforts have focused on my son; we are trying to get him ready for this big change that will be coming.  And if there's one thing this little guy needs, it's slow transition to change.  We talk about the baby all the time, he comes to all the doctor visits to hear her heartbeat, we practice holding his baby doll, and we read stories to the baby.  We tell her how lucky she is to have such a wonderful brother already.  He gives her big kisses goodnight and talks to her softly.  We listen to other babies cry and talk about how his sister will cry too because she won't have words, and he'll have to help teach them to her.  We talk about how she'll need a lot of "nummies" because she can't eat food like he can.  He may have no idea what he's in for, but we hope that we've made the process as gradual as he needs.  Still, it won't surprise me if, three weeks from when she arrives, he asks "when's she going back in?" 

As for me: if my son has emphasized anything to me, it's that he's the map that I must follow, and I know she will be too.  And follow her we will.  She will create herself, and we will watch in awe.  And I will have to make my own transitions; I will learn what it's like to love two little people so deeply.  I cannot imagine it.  But, ready or not, here we go!

The Years Fly By! Celebrating A Second Birthday

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”
― Dr. Seuss, Happy Birthday to You!

My son is TWO.  I could not think of words more appropriate than those of Dr. Seuss (but, isn't that how it always goes?).  In two years, he has developed into an amazing and unique little person. We often remark on how the years pass so quickly, and how much our little ones change, but today makes me think back to two years ago and the person he's been all along.

The French philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin once wrote: "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience."  It is along these same lines that Dr. Montessori always spoke of the spiritual embryo.  From birth, our spiritual selves are present, holding within us all the elements we need to begin to create ourselves.  In the Secret of Childhood, she wrote:  "We should regard this secret effort of the child as something sacred.  We should welcome its arduous manifestations since it is in this creative period that an individual’s future personality is determined.”  But the child's secret is not without influence from the world around it.  In The Child In The Family, Montessori wrote: "The child thus incarnate is a spiritual embryo which must come to live for itself in the environment. But like the physical embryo, the spiritual embryo must be protected by an external environment animated by the warmth of love and the richness of values, where it is wholly accepted and never inhibited."  The process through which the mind and soul form is there from birth, but influenced by the love and care (or lack thereof) that we give the child.

From day one, my son demanded physical contact and attention.  He always knew what he needed and found a way to voice it...loudly.  Even in those first 48 hours, nurses would look upon him and remark "it's like he knows what's going on; what an old soul."  Over the next two years, people would continue to comment on how knowingly he takes in the world.  In those first days, I think we inherently knew my son would need extra: extra love, attention, patience, support, and sacrifice.  And in giving him extra, he has given us everything: faith, wonderment, trust, and a love I could barely imagine.

Today, he is full of laughter and mischief.  He is cautious, but still taken with a sense of adventure.  He is occasionally shy and reserved and, other times, talkative and charming.  He is dependent and clingy while still full of independence and drive.  He is incredible and complicated, frustrating and inspiring, infuriating and heart-melting.  He is a contradiction of wonders that has made my life unimaginably complete.  And that is truer than true.

Defenestration: Abandoning The Rules Of Our Own Childhoods

I heard something the other day that got me thinking about rules.

A parent was reporting about how dinner was going at home, and proudly mentioned that in this family's home if you did not eat your dinner you went straight to bed.  The child living by this rule was about 21 months old.  I do not know whether or not the child in question chose bed or dinner, but it made me wonder, how do you get a toddler to finish dinner or force them to sleep.  And more importantly, why?

This story reminds me that sometimes, no matter our good intentions and focused parenting, we can so easily be led astray by the traditions passed down to us, forcing and punishing our children over rules that have been handed to us but may not have any relevance to our own child's development.  Sometimes we consider rules of our childhood and attribute them to our successes in life, and so we find them essential to pass down.  Sometimes those rules are spot on, like "wash your hands after you use the bathroom," and sometimes those rules are just the continuation of a cycle of misunderstanding how the child develops or the perpetuation of a rule that once had a purpose but now makes no sense.

My first case and point: finish your dinner.  This rule has been around for decades, repeated in families over and over again.  Likely, this rule was brought on by the Great Depression, when families had very little and waste was almost a tragedy.  In fact, in 1917, a Clean Plate Club campaign by the U.S. Government began (revived again in 1947) to encourage Americans not to let food go to waste (food shortages being a concern after WW1 and WW2).  The youngest of children fail to understand the concern of a food shortage, and so the idea was to have them focus on cleaning the plate rather than explaining that they needed to eat now in case there wasn't food later.  So, clearly, this rule developed out of the desire to protect young children, but does that apply today??

Actually, today, most nutritionists and pediatricians will tell you that this very rule lies at the heart of the current American childhood epidemic: obesity.  Children who are learning to eat, and that means both infants and toddlers, are learning to listen to their bodies.  Their brains and bodies are learning to work together to understand what the "full" signal is and how to respond to it.  Their bodies crave certain nutrients and not others, so they will be fixated on certain types of foods and not others, eating what  they crave until they feel full.  And then they stop.  They do not care how much food you chose to put on their plate.  When you force a young child to eat more than his fill, you end up overriding his ability to listen to his own body, leading to overeating later in childhood and life.  Rather than punish children for listening to their bodies, it's far better to influence their eating choices by making sure that the choices on the plate are all healthy ones and then letting the child make the decisions from there.

This brings me to my second case and point:  no dessert until after you finish dinner.  A first blush, this rule seems to make sense; of course you need to finish all the healthy stuff before you get to the unhealthy stuff.  The problem with this rule is that it can often have the results of the last rule I mentioned.  Making dessert a tradition after a meal creates a habit, often ending up with children craving the sugar at the end of the meal.  Instead of dessert being a nice occasional treat, it becomes habitual, a necessity.  It also becomes a reward for eating the hbealthy stuff, changing all the reasons why kids should eat healthy things in the first place.  I once knew a parent whose toddler wouldn't eat more than a few bits of dinner.  Knowing that dessert would come at the end, she simply rushed the process.  A battle would ensue to force her to eat more dinner, thus creating the entire previous scenario of not allowing children to respond to their bodies.  By making dinner all about eating dessert, we change the whole purpose of nourishing our bodies.  It gets dangerously close to making some foods seem good while others seem bad.  What can we do instead?  Desserts can be a treat or a surprise, and they can happen whenever, so they aren't always tagged onto the end of dinner.  If we make dessert something healthy like fruit or kefir frozen yogurt (ProBugs for the win!), then we won't be stressed about how many morsels our children are eating either.  In the case of fruit, you can add it right into the dinner, so there is no before or after.

Another rule that has long frustrated me is the popular: you have to share.  The reality is, in my opinion, making children share is not sharing.  Sharing has to involve the desire to give to another person, and if you're being forced, it's not sharing.  This is often why most people hate their taxes, right?  Despite the fact that taxes are theoretically all of a society's members sharing resources to be utilized to the benefit of all, when you don't have a choice, it certainly doesn't feel like sharing.  

Developmentally, children who don't share are not ready to share.  As they become developmentally ready to share, they will ultimately begin to share.  Children actually like sharing.  And as they shift into higher planes of development (after the age of 5/6), their desires to share become even more evident.  If you want the educational anthropology on the matter, then read Michael Erard's story.  Scientifically, though, there is enough evidence to show that sharing happens somewhere along the developmental process; the older children get, the more likely they are to want to share.  A study involving the "dictator game,"gave children (aged 3 to 7) stickers to distribute to others.  Some of the stickers were ones they favored, and some were not.  The pattern became clear: the older the child, the more likely he would engage in prosocial (sharing) behavior, giving a good percentage of stickers away (nearly half sometimes).  The only difference was that they usually gave away fewer (although they still gave them away) of their favorite stickers.  

The reality is, sharing generates from concepts of altruism and fairness, which are developmental abstracts the brain doesn't more deeply form until the second plane of development (ages 6-12).  You will see these characteristics in younger children, but they do not become more obvious and engrained until later.  For this reason, you can encourage sharing without forcing it.  Your child probably shares quite a bit, and it often goes unrecognized.  Every time he offers you some of his food, or the dog some of his food, he's sharing.  Any moment he gives anything he has to another, that's sharing.  We can emphasize those moments with encouragement: "thank you so much for sharing with me, it makes me so happy!"  By giving the language for the actions and encouraging them, children begin to understand that this behavior is beneficial.  We can also encourage sharing by modeling it.  When we give our child a piece of our food or an article of our clothing, we can tell them what we are doing: "here, I'll share this with you."  Through our modeling of a behavior, children learn to demonstrate the same behavior.

Along those same lines, one rule I find silly to enforce, and deeply believe we should model instead is you have to say you are sorry.  I have written in length how I believe sorry to be a get out of jail free card.  It's just a word that has very little meaning when forced.  What's the point of saying sorry if you don't mean it?  Kids will only learn to mean "sorry" when they feel it and when we provide them with the language as we recognize their experience of compassion or remorse.  They learn the word when we use it, telling them or others when we are sorry.  It is our demonstration of compassion and remorse, and the word for it, that will help children learn to be sorry.  When dealing directly with a children's antisocial behaviors, we can ask children to make reparations for their actions (helping the person they have harmed).

Speaking of words, a rule I've always felt contention with is that kids can't say bad words.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not advocating we raise a generation of potty mouths or ignore swearing.  But, I do think we need to be realistic about these words that are used everywhere, and by us (no matter how careful we hope to be).  These words have power that can draw you in.  Personally, I think we need to talk openly about these words and make children aware of their meanings and how others feel about them.  The biggest problem with swear words is that they are often used as "hurting" words.  Rather than these be "bad" words, we can explain to children that they are words that can offend or upset someone.  My real issue with this rule is that it makes no sense to banish words from a child's vocabulary that we ourselves often use; we need to banish it from our language as well.  We need to openly admonish ourselves for the use of the words, talk about why we used them, and even request our children to help us think of better ways to say things.  No one in the family should say bad words.  And if there are consequences for using these words publicly, then the consequences should apply to everyone in the family, including the adults.  

Finally, the last rule that has always frustrated me: you have to be asleep by (insert time here).  I do believe in bedtime and routines, but I think we have to be realistic that children will fall asleep when they are tired.  All we can do is ask that they be in bed by a certain time, but we can't make them fall asleep.  I also think bed time needs to be adaptable, taking into account whether or not our children are tired.  If your child is wide awake, a few extra stories might be just what he needs to get him to that period of tired.  In the end, I'm a far bigger fan of routines (which are more about an order of events rather than specific times) than I am of schedules.

So there you have it, all the rules I throw out the window.  I have always had a rebellious streak.  W How about you?  What rules have you thrown straight out the window?

Nourishing Together: Sprouted Whole Wheat Pancakes!

On my journey into the world of nourishing foods, I have become familiar with the idea of sprouting (flour, nuts, etc).  While I had read of this, it had not truly entered into the forefront of my consciousness until I was thinking about my grandmother.  My grandmother was a Punjabi woman who spent most of her life making things from scratch.  Whether it was curdling milk to make her own paneer or making dough for rotis, the process was, from beginning to end, her own work.  As I was recalling things I have learned from her, a specific memory arose that made me think about how she already knew much of what I am discovering (ah, I only wish I had not lost her so long ago).  This memory was soaking almonds.

My grandmother would place a handful of almonds into a little metal bowl of water.  At the time, I did not know how long she soaked them, but she would hand them to me and I would easily peel the skin off and eat them.  I remember relishing in the lush smell of the soaked almond and my ability to slide the halves of the almonds apart (oh, children and their sensorial experiences).  I loved the taste of almond without it's skin.  Years later when I would buy my own bags of pre-roasted almonds, it never occurred to me that there was likely a reason she used to soak the almonds.  I just thought they tasted good.

Now, as I try to nourish my own son, I think to myself: why DID she soak those almonds?  And, off I went to discover the answer (I'm such an information junkie).  What I discovered surprised me, because it feels like knowledge I should have had already.  Grains and nuts (and beans and seeds) need to be soaked because they are less easily digested without soaking.  In a nutshell (pause for terrible pun), all of these parts of the plant are covered in phytic acid which acts to protect the seed from predators so that it has a chance to sprout and grow.  The phytic acid is considered an anti-nutrient, which means that it binds to necessary nutrients and prevents them from being absorbed.  Being less digestible, it can cause a lot of digestive distress.  Only when the grain (seed, nut, etc) is introduced to water will the phytic acid be stripped because the grain will be getting ready to sprout.  Thus, soaking and/or sprouting makes all of these amazing whole grains (etc.) more nutritious and beneficial!

Well, lately my son has been hooked on pancakes.  Apparently, something soaked in a sweet syrup is extremely enticing.  He is so my son.  I was worried about all that flour consumption and so I begin toying with the idea of soaking my whole wheat flour.  But then (pause for excitement), I discovered Arrowhead Mills now makes sprouted wheat flour!  I buy mine at Whole Foods or our popular local organic grocer, MOM's Organic Market (I promise, though, that I will try soaking my own flour one day).

Next, I found a wonderful recipe for Sprouted Wheat Flour Pancakes.  Not only does it include sprouted wheat flour, but also uses coconut oil and honey (in place of sugar).  I've also been intending to try replacing the honey with coconut palm sugar next time I make a batch so as to make the pancakes sweet but low-glycemic (coconut palm sugar is low-glycemic, has a lot of nutrients compared to other sweeteners, and is not high in fructose like agave).  In our family, paying attention to glycemic load is an important way to keep everyone calm.  This recipe is also very simple, so it's a great recipe for the little guy to participate in, and that makes this Montessori mommy happy.

Together, we grab our ingredients.  Here, you can see I purchased low-temp pasteurized non-homogonized whole milk from pasture raised cows, eggs from pastured chickens (Vital farms is a good source but pricey, normally I purchase less expensive local pastured eggs at MOM's), virgin coconut oil (not pictured), and aluminum-free baking powder (also not pictured).

I do the measuring while he does the pouring and the stirring (well, I take a turn with this, too).

Then I make small pancakes using coconut oil in the pan, and voila!  Healthy, nourishing, and very yummy pancakes (even husband enjoys!).

Whatever is leftover from the batch I just put in the freezer and then all week we can have pancakes in the morning for breakfast by just popping one in the toaster.  Serve with a side of whatever you love!  For me, that's always bacon.

A Nourishing Ideology

I don't know if being a Montessorian was just a beginning step on the road to "crunchiness" (as the people who love me most refer to it), or if all roads in my life would have led me there, but there's no doubt, I have arrived.

When I took my absence from writing, part of my motivation was that I was losing my voice.  I don't know that I was sure what I was writing about anymore, or what I was doing in general.  Following as many "mommy blogs" as I do now, I was starting to feel like everything has been covered or that I was becoming overly influenced in what I was choosing to write.  Now, however, I have found the clarity to just keep plugging along with what I am doing and what passionately drives me, wherever it may take me.  This blog is about being more than just Montessori, but making sure that I stay with those roots always, because let's face it, I am at heart, a Montessorian.

Montessori is all about the prepared environment; we create the appropriate environment to allow our children the freedom to operate within it.  This goes far beyond safety, but rather refers to the idea that what we place in the environment is what the child will use to create himself, stimulate his intelligence, and help him with the development of his foundation; what goes in the environment is what nourishes the child.  Lately, I've been feeling that more so than just what my son interacts with around him, but everything that goes into him is part of this same prepared environment.  Everything that he eats affects his behavior, his intellect, his mood, his self control, and his abilities; he is what he eats.  Food is medicine.

These beliefs have driven me to an ideology of nourishment; everything that goes into my son's body should be like the prepared environment around him, chosen to best provide the nourishment for his entire self.  This path has led me to the "Real Food" movement.  Books like Nina Planck's well-written Real Food: What To Eat And Why have changed the way I think about "healthy."  Rather than being dominated by thoughts of cholesterol and low calorie, Nina challenges that the problem with food is that it has become overly processed.  Ancient foods like beef and butter have been falsely accused, while industrial foods like corn syrup and soybean oil have created a triple epidemic of obesity, diabetes, and heart disease.  We need to return to the traditional way of cooking and eating things that are real.  Enter Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon and Mary Enig, based on the research of Dr. Weston Price.  This is the definitive cookbook on how and why to eat real, homemade, made from scratch food.  Dr. Price argued that we need to return to more nutrient-rich foods: we should be pasture-feeding livestock, soaking our grains, and drinking raw milk (yes, yes, this one is a charged topic and one I'll discuss at another time; here's how we currently stick with pasteurized milk, but I buy it pasteurized at low temps, non-homogonized, and from local pastured cows).  The argument is a simple one: most of the food you buy at the grocery store is overly processed and that means less nutrients.  If food is medicine and you are what you eat, then it's no wonder we have so many unhealthy epidemics right now.

How are the foods most people eat bad for them (and especially, bad for children)?  Well, besides the fact that processed foods are often filled with dyes, preservatives, chemicals, pesticides, and artificial flavors, much of it actually lacks nutrients.  In other words, if the entire purpose of feeding yourself is to nourish your body and operate at optimal levels, most of our food fails to do so.  It's just filler. By processing and mass-producing many foods, we suck the nutrients (the whole reason we are supposed to be eating them) right out of them.

For example, let us talk about eggs.  Eggs are a fantastic superfood, a very high-quality protein.  They have so many nutrients in them: choline for maintaining cell-membrane structure, vitamin D, vitamin A, vitamin B12, omegas, the list goes on.  However, how much of those nutrients are in the eggs you eat are entirely dependent upon how those eggs were sourced.  Studies show that pastured eggs have 4 to 6 times the amount of vitamin D than conventional eggs, as well as 1⁄3 less cholesterol, 1⁄4 less saturated fat, 2⁄3 more vitamin A, 2 times more omega-3 fatty acids, 3 times more vitamin E, and 7 times more beta carotene.  That's a lot of change in the egg just from a shift from a chicken's natural diet and treatment.  If the doctor offered you a brand medicine that worked 100% effectively and had less side effects (let's consider more cholesterol and fat to be a side effect in this analogy) or another that worked 40% effectively and had more side effects, which would you choose?

Nina Planck's book can give you even more information about nutrient-rich as opposed to nutrient-robbed foods.  The arguments are pretty compelling.  So much so, that is has changed the entire way my family eats.  Well, at least when I'm in charge of it; gotta remember Robyn O'Brien's "80/20 rule" from The Unhealthy Truth for balance in all things (speaking of another book that will change the way you look at the foods our children eat).    I find myself soaking grains in order to make them more digestible, using sprouted flours, cooking beans rather than buying canned, and generally, trying to cook from scratch.  I'm buying foods from pastured animals and organic when necessary (some foods need to be organic while others are less impacted).  The truth is, you might say it's easier because I'm a stay-at-home mom and have the day to do these things (although, if you knew my toddler, you might not think I really had that much time).  But women like those who write Food Babe and 100 Days Of Real Food will tell you that there are many ways to adhere to this ideology and still utilize convenience.  Sometimes it's more about what you buy.  For example, Ezekiel 4:9 breads are already a sprouted, whole grain source that you can buy at the grocery store (well, maybe not any grocery store) and Arrowhead Mills now makes sprouted wheat flour.  But, you'll also find that the make from scratch method can actually be a lot cheaper, especially if you've ever bought a can of beans compared to a bag of them.  If you can garden (oh how I wish I could right now!), then you've got an even cheaper way of harvesting nutrient-dense foods.

When I think of all the reasons to follow my new food ideology, I am also reminded that food and nutrition were extremely important to Dr. Maria Montessori.  Granted, she's operating from the knowledge of the late-1800s, early 1900s, but all the same, that's the roots we "real fooders" are trying to get back to.  In her first major book, The Montessori Method (which you can read online here), she devoted an entire chapter (the seventh) to "Refection: A Child's Diet."  While I don't agree with everything she says and feel that science has taught us more about some of them (I theorize that she would change her mind about some of these things), like her discouragement of snacking for children, discouragement of cheeses for children (what?!), and discouragement of green vegetables for children (double what?!), I find that most of what she wrote is in harmony with the real food movement.  She advocates foods straight from the source, emphasizing "freshly gathered."  She also advocates plenty of broth-dominant soups (bone broth being highly praised when you start talking about the value of nutrient-dense and healthy foods).  As I look for ways to feed my son, I find myself continually returning to this chapter.

This ideology has taken me on a new path of study, but I am finding that no matter where I go with it, it always reminds me of my Montessori principles, which I love.  Dr. Montessori wrote "we are here to offer to this life, which came into the world by itself, the means necessary for its development, and having done that we must await this development with respect."

As I continue this journey, I'll share more with you about how I do it, and also, how my little guy and I it together.

The Pitfalls of Praise

“Good Job!”  
“That’s beautiful!”
“I love your drawing!” 

Sometimes these sentences are out of my mouth before I can even think.  I slap myself on the cheek to remind myself: it’s not about me.

Why, you ask?  We say these things deeply and emphatically, with the best of intentions.  We want children to feel encouraged, loved, and supported by us.  We want children to be happy and know that we are paying attention.  We want children to know when their behavior is exceptional, and we reward them for it, with the praise of our words or with things they enjoy.

Unexpectedly, the very things that we try to accomplish with praise or reward are the very things we end up extinguishing: pride and motivation.  

There are a number of resources out there on why praise and reward have actually been scientifically shown to demotivate children.  When children are rewarded or praised for good behavior, then they begin to seek the praise rather than the intrinsic reward of feeling personally successful about their own activity.  The reality of praise and reward is that it takes the child’s personal action and satisfaction and makes it about the adult instead.  Instead of saying “how do YOU feel about your success?” we end up saying “here’s how I feel about your success.”  The child’s focus is instantly shifted from an internal sense of accomplishment to our approval (or disapproval) of the accomplishment.  We put ourselves in the way of the child’s relationship with his inner self, and in trying to create a sense of self-esteem, we undermine it.

Alfie Kohn, a leading figure in progressive education who writes about parenting and child development, can give you five [important] reasons to stop saying “Good Job!” and they are wonderful reasons.  Besides the idea that children become addicted to praise, now doing activities solely for the sake of praise rather than their own desire to succeed, there is also plenty of evidence to show that praised and rewarded children are less motivated to achieve and less likely to challenge themselves.  The result is almost always a dramatic loss of interest and a lower level of achievement.

One great study done on praise was highlighted in the book NurtureShock (honestly, a must-read for anyone who wants to know anything about children).  Citing Stanford University’s Carol Dweck’s research, the book discusses how children are demotivated by praised.  To sum it up, Dweck gives fifth graders very simple puzzles to solve.  After successfully solving them, the team praises one group for their intelligence and the other group for their effort.  When they bring the children back, they offer the children either a harder puzzle from which they would learn a lot from or a puzzle that was just as easy as the first one.  The result: 90% of children praised for their effort chose the harder one, while the majority of the “smart” kids picked the easy one.

If you find yourself compelled towards praise, you are not alone; research suggests 85 percent of American parents believe it's important to tell their kids they're smart and to praise them for their intelligence.  You may not even notice that you are doing it, compelled by a natural societal inclination towards praising and rewarding.  What is praise exactly?  It’s every time you insert judgment about something your child has done: telling the child that his drawing is “beautiful,” telling your child that she did something “good,” or qualifying your child in any way such as “best,” “smart,” “beautiful” etc.  What is reward exactly?  It’s every time you see your child do something well and give something unsolicited because you liked the outcome.  The key word here is outcome.  When we focus on and define outcomes as good or bad, our children become reliant on our opinions.  Now, if they don’t hear that a drawing was beautiful or that they did a good job, they begin to wonder whether or not is was.

By creating the reliance on our judgment and focus on outcomes, we create situations where children can no longer reflect on their own beliefs about their actions, thus ruining the very concept of self-esteem we thought we were creating.  Uncertain about whether or not they will be praised, children begin to stop trying harder, becoming less motivated.  In that manner, they become even more reliant on praise and reward, inevitably requiring it in order to succeed or not making attempts to succeed, too afraid they’ll fail and not receive the praise.  After years of stickers and grades and praise in school, children eventually become demotivated to learn.  In fact, the very reason we often find ourselves bribing high school students to get good grades is because of the very nature of the reward and judgment system.

Dr. Montessori was always against praise (in this instance, being a type of prize), seeing at the youngest of ages that it caused nothing but demotivation.  She wrote “prizes and punishments are, if I may be allowed the expression, the bench of the soul, the instrument of slavery for the spirit.  Here, however, these are not applied to lessen deformities, but to provoke them. The prize and the punishment are incentives toward unnatural or forced effort, and, therefore we certainly cannot speak of the natural development of the child in connection with them. The jockey offers a piece of sugar to his horse before jumping into the saddle, the coachman beats his horse that he may respond to the signs given by the reins; and, yet, neither of these runs so superbly as the free horse of the plains.”

So what is a parent to do?

In my opinion, all this philosophy and thought means we have to focus on two things: our children’s efforts and how they feel about their efforts.  We have to take ourselves out of the equation.  The truth is, we can participate in their achievements and triumphs without making it about how we feel.

Facts are facts.  When our children make achievements, there is nothing wrong with pointing them out.  My favorite phrase, the one I have replaced “good job” with is: “you did it!”  There is nothing qualifying in my statement, I’m not saying it’s good or bad.  And now, whether or not I’m in the room, my son can be heard yelling “I did it!” when he accomplishes something.  The same can be said for artwork, for example.  When we see our child’s drawing, we don’t have to decide if the art is good or bad.  We can simply describe what we see (“Oh, it’s a boat” or “Oh, that’s a lot of colors”) or we can ask questions to signify our interest, which is what they really want anyway (“What is this? Can you tell me a story about it?).

Encourage!  The thing to focus on is effort.  Instead of focusing on the outcome, let’s focus on the task.  This way, children can see what they really accomplished and be motivated towards challenging themselves.  We just need point out how difficult or complex the task was that they achieved (“wow, you’ve never done that before, that was hard!” or “oh my goodness, it’s not easy to do that, you must have worked hard at that!” or “you really challenged yourself!).  Even if they aren’t successful at it, but still challenging themselves, we should point out the braveness of their attempt (“you almost got it, wow, you tried hard this time!”).

Talk about THEIR feelings.  We don’t have to be the proud ones…they should be.  Let’s give them the language to talk about how they feel about their efforts.

“How did it feel to do that?”  
“Was that frustrating?”  
“I bet you are really proud of yourself!”

Just smile.  We can participate without words.  We can be a part of their success with just a show that we know how they are feeling and that we were there to witness it.

When you get it wrong, which you will sometimes, follow up with the right stuff.  I know all this information and “good job” still flies out of my mouth.  I slap myself gently on the face.  And then I get it right and say what I should have said.  The more I do that, the less I find myself praising off the bat.


So let’s all go out there and encourage those kids!  I know you'll work hard at it!

5 Things I Love About Co-Sleeping

You could say also that where infants sleep reflects the parents emotional needs as well as possibly childrearing goals or philosophies. There is no one way to arrange your baby's sleep, before you retire for the night and how well one approach works is, as always, determined by factors pertinent to each family depending on what parents want, hope for, and see as reflecting the kind of relationship they want to share with each other and with their infants and other children. -- Dr. James McKenna

We are a co-sleeping family. We arrived at this choice because it was the best way for my son to sleep, which meant I got more sleep, which ultimately meant my husband got more sleep because if I didn't sleep, then no one would. Though it's not the sleeping arrangement we anticipated when we first got pregnant, I have grown to love it.  Even if you don't co-sleep every night or all night, I bet you can agree that any moments your child snoozes in bed can be rewarding.  Don't get me wrong, I could just as easily come up with five things that drive me nuts (getting kicked in the head, losing all personal sleeping space, being woken to nurse, having to be quiet in my own bedroom, and not getting uninterrupted sleep...whoa, those came quickly), but still, night parenting in this fashion really has some amazing elements:

Never having to get out of bed.  I never get out of bed.  Maybe to go to the bathroom (isn't aging wonderful?), but never to parent.  With my son right there next to me, I can easily help him back to sleep, prop him up to breathe better when he's sick, or cover him with the blanket he refuses to keep on even though he's cold.

Listening to the sounds of sleep.  Ok, maybe not the snoring of a stuffed-up toddler on those occasional nights of illness, but when my son is sleeping he's very amusing.  For starters, my son talks in his sleep.  Every now and then he'll yell out random demands ("I want book!") and never wake.  I'm actually giggling at 2 am sometimes.  Additionally, there's just all those cute noises that accompany a sleeping toddler: soft breathing, little sighs, and the occasional moan of contentment.  I love all of it.

Being reached for.  Most of the time, unless teething pains or other events occur, my son just needs to know I'm there to fall back asleep.  He'll reach out his little arm, rest it on me, and then gently fall back into the oblivion.  It's a brief moment, but a wonderful connection all the same.  And, yes, I am ignoring the times a gentle reach becomes a smack in the face.

Never having to worry.  Since my son was born, I've always known how his breathing sounds and whether or not it's stable.  I never worry that he'll wake up fighting for air (like I've heard croup can do) and I won't be there.  If he's sick, I usually know before he does.  In the same way that he knows he's safe because I'm there, so do I.

Stealing kisses.  Watching my son sleeping soundly and peaceful often overwhelms me with love in the middle of the night.  I lean over and kiss him softly on the forehead so as not to wake him.  Sometimes the joys of being a mother are astounding.


What do you love about the family bed?

When Are You Going To Stop Breastfeeding?

"So, when do you plan on weaning him?"

I hear this question a lot.  Occasionally it feels like judgement, but most of the time it just feels like curiosity.  People are always imagining how they might feel if they were in your situation, and wondering how you feel about it too.  Honestly?  I have no idea.

If you asked me this question nearly two years ago, I would have emphatically told you that I would breastfeed for the first year, certainly, but after that I really couldn't imagine I'd go any further...maybe, I would.  If you asked me this question a year ago, I would have told you probably until a year and a half, but I really can't see myself breastfeeding past 18 months.  If you asked me this question six months ago, I would have told you that we'd gear up to wean in the next few months because I really can't see myself breastfeeding past two.

In five weeks, my son will turn two years old.  As of yet, we are not weaning.  As you can see, all those previous statements are solely from my perspective.  The reality is, there's a very clear answer to the question, and it has nothing to do with me:

"Ask him."

When I began this parenting journey, I had one clear path in mind: I was going to follow my child, wherever that might lead.  I think, so far, one thing I can attest to is that I have.  I was not aware when I made this Montessori oath to myself, that my child's path would always take us places much less travelled.  From the first month (day one, really), everything about him was different than many of my friends' children.  You couldn't put him down (ever, seriously, not even in the hospital), he quickly refused all forms of bottle or pacifier, and he was very, very, fussy.  Breastfeeding has always been his greatest comfort.  For a child who is so easily panicked, breastfeeding is the easiest method of relaxation.

I am not a cry-it-out parent, I am a follow-the-child parent.  When I say that, I don't mean my child never cries.  When he has a tantrum, he cries.  When we both get frustrated, he cries.  No still means no in our household, but my job is to mitigate the situation and help him through it.  Yes, he can't run with the scissors, but it doesn't mean it's the end of the world, I show him another way that can make him happy.  Our life is not a war, battles do not need to be won and fought.  We have to work together.

That said, self-weaning truly feels like the best way to follow my son.  I don't want this bond to break and this solace to end by force.  But, I'm not going to lie, it worries me a lot.  It's another reality of walking a path and not being able to see around the bend.  It's all an act of faith.  But it's hard, because while he loves it and is not ready to give it up, I can feel that I am closer to giving it up.  There are moments when we are out and about or I am doing something and breastfeeding is not what I would like to shift my attention to.  I can't breastfeed forever!

On the other hand, breastfeeding still has some amazing advantages that I almost feel sorry for other mothers at times (and please know I say that without judgment, there are many moments these same moms may feel sorry for me getting kicked in the face during a round of toddler breastfeeding acrobatics) who cannot or no longer breastfeed.  Children of the unconscious absorbent mind, the first three years of life, are still very much infants and they are ultimately reactive rather than purposeful.  There's no reasoning with a child of this age.  Breastfeeding a toddler can often making those tired falling-apart moments calmer, teething a little easier, and illness a little more comforted (not to mention I know he's getting my antibodies to help him fight said illness).  I never have to worry about my son's nutrition because if he's not eating the green vegetables on his plate this week, at least I am and so he's going to get some of it anyway.  When his recent ear infection flared and garlic-mullein drops were only getting us so far (don't make me mention the failed course of amoxicillin I refused to repeat), it was after the introduction of garlic pills into my diet that he stopped grabbing his ear.  Wind my son up on an airplane, and breastfeeding can still calm him back down, facilitate sleep, and prevent that ear pressure from building up.  When I remind myself of all these things, I certainly don't feel pressed to force him to stop; in fact, it makes me glad that we still can and do breastfeed.

I think a lot of my thoughts about weaning are more driven by the undertone of societal pressure, that there are people who think I should stop (although, I know I am fortunate that no one ever says anything like this to me).  The other times it's because breastfeeding a toddler is NOT easy.  It is frequently inconvenient, occasionally uncomfortable, and often a damper on any hope of a social life (my son is still far more comforted by me than anyone else because I can breastfeed him; and he nurses to sleep, still unable to fall asleep without it).  These days, when my son wants to breastfeed, I will come up with some other ideas that he might like also (are you hungry and need food; are you bored and need help finding an activity; are you thirsty?).  But when all else fails, I do not deny him and truthfully, I don't want to.  I want this part of our relationship to finish its course because he's ready, and I know, one day not too long from now, he will be (KellyMom will tell you that the average child self-weans not long from now).  We are already nursing much less than ever before, and I continue to show him there are many other ways to get comfort and his needs met, but as long as it's important to him, it's important to me.

When I worry that self-weaning will never happen or take much longer than I am comfortable with, worrying that I will ultimately have to force it when it gets too much, I search the internet and am comforted by the stories of other mothers.  Stories like those of Dirty Diaper Laundry, Melissa (found on KellyMom), The Parent Vortex, and the truly awesome Mayim Bialik (also here), remind me that I am not alone, I am not making crazy choices, I have options, and I can follow my heart (and my child).  The life of breastfeeding a toddler can feel very lonely, at least for me, and it's the stories of amazing women who stand up for their choices that make me proud to stand up for mine.  

And so, when people ask me when we are going to wean, for now I will tell them: "ask him."  Because it's his needs that tell me where to go.

{{ If you have a wonderful extended breastfeeding story (or any breastfeeding story at all), please share with me!! }}

My Absence: The Hard Times of Parenting

I haven't written in quite a while.  I'm not sure if it's winter blues or the life-sucking nature of a toddler in the throws of a sensitive period for order (a nice, Montessori way of saying the "terrible twos"), but I've been lacking the passion for sharing my parenting discoveries.  I think ultimately, I felt the need to unplug a little.  I'm amazed by mommy bloggers who are able to make the time to write, share, and keep up an audience.  I'm amazed by mommies who hold down jobs and come home to screaming kids, refusal to get in the bath, refusal to leave the bath, and just down right refusal for anything.

I'm writing again because it's time to pull myself up by the bootstraps.  But, this post is not going to be about children.  It's going to be about me.  And, hopefully, you, too.  I hope.  God, I hope I'm not alone.

Lately, I've been reading all about wonderful ways of being positive with the intent of letting gratitude make you a better parent.  The Abundance Mama Project is amazing, and if I wasn't such a hard pressed realist (who actually sneers at all things overly positive), I would be driven to spout all of the positive things about being a mother.  And I will try.  But, not today.  No, today, I turn my nose up at positivity and ask, can I just talk about the hard stuff for a minute?

When it comes to the hard times of being a parent, Creative with Kids does an amazing job talking about anger.  But, I'm not angry.  Ok, sometimes I am, but I don't need to tell you about it when she does so much better a job.  Yes, I'm learning not to yell (also a great topic running through the mommy blogs lately), but the Orange Rhino Challenge could tell you much more wonderful things about that.

But, for me, the hardest times of being a mother have nothing to do with the anger, the tantrums, the desire to yell, or any of those frustrations.  The hardest times for me are the days when I feel lost; the days when I feel like I am doing everything wrong and worry that all well-intentioned attempts will be for naught.  The hardest part with choosing a path is you never really know where that path will end.  And when you parent by following your child, you sometimes never really know where that path is going to go.

Even harder is when I feel like there's no time for me in this life I've created (and desperately want) to be driven towards my own accomplishments.  But, honestly, when there is time for me, I don't want to take it.  I don't want to invest myself in a thousand things.  I don't want to feel driven or accomplished.  I just want to sit.  For like five seconds.  And stare at a wall.  Is that okay?

Parenting is the most amazing journey I've ever embarked on.  I wouldn't change it for the world.  The output is always greater than the input.  The journey is making me a better person than I could have ever hoped to be.  But none of it is easy.  And that's obvious, yes, everyone will say it.  But, the reality of how not easy it is can be a little more profound than one realizes.  It's like climbing Mt. Everest (I imagine, since climbing Mt. Everest is an endeavor I am extremely unlikely to undertake): the view is breathtaking and the energy is exhilarating.  Only, you never get to the top.  Because there is no top.  This mountain goes on forever.

Alright, I'm pulling myself up by the bootstraps and setting myself on solid ground now.