Baby Fever

No, not expecting.
Not expecting to expect.
Well, maybe a tinge...but that's for another day.

Anyway. I wanted to share some more of my craftery.
I think I just made that up. See, I am crafty.
Here are a few things that I made for Zane Baby and his mama:

  Owl onesie for the little hoot.

Cute little owl guy...Noah has a matching yellow one.

Roll-up changing pad with matching pouch for diapers and wipes

I am pretty proud of myself and they seem to like them... when I say "they" I mean Heather, I don't think Zane is too picky. Yet.

And I can't remember if I put these on here or not, so here are a couple more of the felt wallets that I love to make. These bring me much joy:

  Yellow Bird & Yellow Peacock

These two have been surprise gifted in the past few days...maybe you are the lucky one?
I've been thinking about Etsy or something similar... any thoughts?
I also have thought about just making things and sending them randomly to people I like. I like myself when I do such things...possibly more than potential money in my pocket.
Hmm. Things to ponder.
We shall see...

The Breast Choice

I get a weekly email from Babyfit's Natural Mother that is full of helpful and useful information on topics I can relate to: composting, activities for baby, organic choices, diapering, baby food, etc. Like any other advice and information, I take it with a grain of salt and usually do further research if there is something that catches my attention. I was rifling through emails that I haven't had a chance to sit long enough to give a thought to this morning and came across an article about "self-weaning". Now, I have vowed to myself and Noah that I will breastfeed him for at least a year and will begin to wean him after his first birthday, given that he doesn't wean himself first. I am not opposed to going longer, however, I think that beyond a year is just bonus nutrition and often an emotional need for baby and mama. I love to spend this time with little dude, but I can also imagine the freedom that must be unleashed when the baby no longer wants the boob. I am sure I will miss the bonding time, but I also don't want to prolong the inevitable, potentially making it even more emotional and damaging the older he gets.

Disclaimer: I am not seeking approval or criticism, simply stating the way I feel about the topic of breastfeeding. If you choose to take the advice of what I am about to share, more power to you. You are an amazing and dedicated mama. For me, I could not fathom it.

As I mentioned, I received this article based on breastfeeding and self-weaning:

Self-Weaning
Self-weaning, or child-led weaning, describes the natural, gradual process that inevitably occurs when a child no longer has a nutritional or emotional need to nurse. Somewhere between the ages of two-and-a-half to four years, the child will begin to ask to nurse less and less often, gradually tapering off over a period of months until they are completely weaned.

Some people worry that, without a strong parental push to do so, their child will never wean. This worry is unfounded, however, for when children are allowed to follow their own weaning timetables, they all wean. According to Katherine Dettwyler, PhD, a professor of anthropology, "In societies where children are allowed to nurse ‘as long as they want', they usually self-wean, with no arguments or emotional trauma, between three and four years of age...The minimum predicted age for natural weaning is 2.5 years, with a maximum of 7 years."

Holy cow. Literally.

I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around breastfeeding Noah for another two years beyond this, let alone until he's SEVEN! There is something about the thought of him getting off the bus from school and having mama's milk and cookies that doesn't quite sit right with me.
Crazy.

I will say that the "emotional trauma" of weaning is probably very tiring and terrifying for all parties involved, and I think there is truth to allowing the child to lead the way. I can assure you there will probably be many emotions spilled all over this blog about said subject in the future.But I also feel that there could be more psychological repercussions if a child nurses until he is in elementary school...I mean, he is old enough to have vivid memories and recollections by the age of four. Can you imagine the torment from other children if they knew? And what do you tell the kid...don't tell your friends that I nurse you to sleep at night? Then it potentially becomes a shameful occurrence, which launches into a whole separate ball of wax.
I hope to take an approach to mothering that is as natural and as non-traumatic as possible for Noah and potential other littlefords. I hope to try new things and be open-minded to new adventures. I hope to step outside of the box to show my family that I love them uniquely and immensely. I hope to tackle obstacles, big and small, as a team with Chris that will only grow and strengthen our relationship. I hope to teach my littleford(s) to make good choices and be individuals.

I hope and pray that Noah weans himself at a year or a little later.
I really hope and pray that he doesn't still "need" me in the above capacity until he's seven.
Lord, help us all if that's the case.
And for anyone who makes this choice, let me know how it works out for you.
And your little one.
And your little one fifteen years from now.

Like Father, Like Son?

Rubber ducky, you're the one.

But I think daddy makes bath time so much fun.
Sorry, little duck.
Maybe next time.

Footnote: Chris is clothed from the waist down in this photo, despite what your eyes may tell you. Summer isn't here yet, the white of the shorts matches that of his thighs.

Because I Love Him

This is what true love is made of, folks... pure entertainment in the privacy of your own bathroom.
Who needs dinner and a movie when you get to share your life with this guy?



Faces only a mama could love.
And me, too.

A Hidden Gem

Warning: If your knees weaken and stomach quivers at the topic of bodily functions and odors, please stop reading now.
You've been warned.

As I have mentioned before, Chris and I have been trying in the last couple of years to make good and healthy decisions for ourselves and our growing family. We are up for just about anything (if we can afford it) and will try most things at least once. For example: gardening, one-car family, cloth diapers, homemade baby food, etc... Well, when we lived in Carolina we became "regulars" at the Mast General Store downtown, specifically befriending the guy who works in the gear section. He's a nice guy - asks about Noah, where we are now, checks in on the latest adventure - super friendly.
Friendly enough to talk body odor and remedies. 
Time-before-last when we were there Chris started chatting with him about the new Burt's Bees line of deodorant that they had recently put out on display. Asking questions about if he's used it, what he thought of it, does it smell good... you know, the usual small talk with an almost stranger. Apparently he was not impressed with the deodorant, it didn't really work for him. So he starts on this mumbo jumbo about some magical crystal that you wet and rub under your arms... it lasts for a year with daily use and can be found at most grocery stores for around five bucks. I didn't really pay that much attention until he said how long it last for what it costs...because most of the time these sorts of things are a little more out there than I am willing to go. But when "saving money" is involved, my ears perk immediately.
So what did I do?
I went out and bought it.

It is my new favorite thing. Ever.
I've been using it for about three months and so far, so good. No stink, no stick, no residue.
Now, we are about to get into the heat of the summer and I make no promises about the condition of my underarms, however, I am not sure I will care. You see, not only does it work but it is clearly better for you than other deodorants - no fragrances, no aluminum, basically nothing that will clog your pores (which some believe the aluminum can cause cancer, hence the pink ribbon on the bottle). And supposedly you can use it on your feet, too.
All I am going to say is don't knock it until you try it. Because it works.
And I apologize in advance if I stink, but it's just my armpits shouting joyfully at their freedom.

Look into my crystal ball...

There Are No Words

I love Pandora. A lot. It plays for a couple of hours in our house on most days. We have a variety of "stations" created including Dave Matthews, David Crowder Band, Old Crow, etc. One of my tried and true happens to be Jack Johnson, and today I find myself in a Jack kind of mood.
Well, as you other Pandora users know, the station plays that artist as well as similar artists...and usually I like them. On most days I find a new artist to check out and add to my list.
Today is not one of those days.

Today I stumbled upon this little jewel by ALO (Animal Liberation Orchestra):

The Womb

Little baby inside the womb
I wanna go back to my womb
I'm crawling up the canal back to the womb
I wanna go back to my womb

Nobody can bother me when I'm in my womb

Transitions can be tough
When your heart is torn
Sometimes you need to go
To a place that's dark and warm

Nobody can bother me when I'm in my womb
I got my posters on the wall and my stereo up inside my womb…
Back, back, back…
I'm getting closer to my womb…

What??????
Your guess is as good as mine...
Weirdest. Song. Ever.

Find me something weirder, I dare you.

Seven

I can hardly believe as I sit here and type that our little guy is seven months old today. Yikes.
Questions going through my brain:
Really?
How can that be?
Is this some sort of a silly prank?
Did I sleep through it?
Sleep...what's that?
Why do I not look as hot and fabulous as those famous gals who have seven month old babies...That's for another time, this place.

So another month brings on a plethora of new and completely adorable "tricks" that Noah has learned or acquired. With much deliberation I am sticking to the plan, carefully selecting seven of our favorites:

1. He has a pooping stance. And face. Holy hilarious. He typically assumes the position a couple of times in the morning, taking after his daddy (the time, not the position...I'd be concerned if Chris was on all fours with his head tilted down, almost touching the floor.). His face turns red. His eyes get all watery. He turns up the side of his mouth with a look of concern. So funny. And a nice diaper warning to boot.

2. Cantaloupe. He can't get enough. He grabs ahold of a slice with his chubby little hands and chows down like it's going out of style. If you don't replace his typewriter-looking eaten piece, he hollers out a high pitched request for MORE! Warning: Prepare to be doused in juices if holding baby while eating melons.

3. Noah has figured out the "I drop it and you pick it up a thousand times" game. I am pretty sure the picker-upper is on the losing end of this game every time. Even still, his subtle amazement is intriguing to me. He is a very curious little guy.

4. Little dude has a burning and growing passion for all things electronic. Not the crazy silly toys that light up and sing that parents pay big bucks for them to entertain their kid for a whole two minutes...no, he'd rather the remote control. Or your cell phone and camera even. He's not picky.

5. Our human garbage disposal has learned how to pick small pieces of food out of our hands or off of his tray and put them in his mouth. So exciting... he's not yet impressed with his own speed and gets a little cranky if the puff sticks to the back of his hands, but it's progress. We clap for him and say "yayyyy" and he gets this sheepish grin on his face. Preshfest.

6. He climbs. On everything. Anytime. Any place. It's ridiculous. I bet he spends more time standing than crawling or sitting. Makes baby-proofing all the more interesting with tile floors in every inch of our house.

7. Embrace it. We are a family who lives in the woods, the country, the sticks. I may be able to curb his use of "you'uns" and try to steer him away from the snuff/tobacco and moonshine, but the boy must learn to be true to his raisin'. Without further ado, I present to you, his first ride on a John Deere:

And I know for a fact it won't be the last.

So there it is, another month has come and gone. See you later, seven.
Memories are abundant and will last a lifetime despite times fleeting efforts to pass way too fast. Hold on to your britches, folks, eight is coming mighty quick.