Have you seen the pandemic-schooling schedule floating around?
(To give proper credit, it's from Jessica McHale, and I'm not posting this to call her out because I know what I'm talking about here is a common parenting mindset.)
There are joke versions crafted on this template that replace every slot with screen time or Frozen 2 or fighting over toys. That's all good and fun.
But I'll direct you to the last two slots marked Bedtime: Any kids who follow the daily schedule and don't fight are entitled to an extra hour before bed.
When I showed this to Alrik, he had the same reaction I did: "Why would you punish your kids by making them sleep? Isn't sleep something we all need?"
Before I had my first child 12 years ago, I worried about how I would balance my need for quiet alone time with the care of a baby. I have my skepticism toward those personality tests that purport to tell you who you are for all time, but I will say that every time I've taken one, the slider is always the full way over toward introversion. There are few people I feel wholly comfortable around, people I can sit in a room with and feel my batteries recharging rather than draining. By the time I had Mikko, I was down to one: my husband. How would a child fit into this system?
As it turns out, things were fine — for a while. Babies don't require a lot of back-and-forth. You can still have your thoughts while cooing their direction, nursing in long moments of stillness, changing diapers and giving baths.
It's more once they talk that you have to weigh how your conversational styles mesh. Do they enjoy long pauses? What toddler or preschooler does? Do they need time away from YOU? Very few little kids would voluntarily choose so.
I've been putting off writing Karsten's birth story, or even thinking it over and retelling it to myself. I can't say why. Maybe it's that it's my third birth. Maybe it's that I've been able to keep it more special and private if it's not recited or shared. Maybe I'm just not sure what to make of it. Maybe a little of all of those.
Labor lasted a long time. What does "long" mean? Weeks, folks. It lasted freaking weeks.
All right, technically that's called "prodromal labor," or "practice labor." Or "stalled labor" or "false labor" (grr … my uterus didn't think so). At any rate, that went for a good long while. I thought Karsten was going to be born around 38 weeks, but he hung in there till nearly 41.
So, every day, I had contractions, many times at regular intervals, and lasting for several hours at a time. And then they'd peter out, and I'd scratch my head and go "huh." Karsten kept bobbing up and down in my belly, at one moment so low I could barely waddle, making me sure he'd just, plop, fall out onto the floor, and then the next bouncing back discouragingly high up. I walked miles each day. I lunged and climbed stairs like a crab and did pelvic tilts and slept in the Sims' position, all to open my pelvis and engage that stubborn baby. I drank red raspberry leaf and nettle tea to tone the uterus and ate dates to soften the cervix. I always tried to get plenty of rest in case this was "the day." I kept myself well fed in case I needed the energy for birthing. I did all the techniques I could Google about how to kickstart a labor, turn a baby into optimal position, free my mind and spirit for birth, etc., etc. I tempted fate frequently: traveling far from home, doing activities that were interrupted when previous children were born, making firm plans in expectation of having them broken.
Karsten could not be moved. He was taking his sweet, sweet time, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I'd been hoping this labor would be more like Alrik's than like Mikko's. To recap, with Mikko I had 42 intense hours of back labor, culminating in a transfer to the hospital and finally a no-meds vaginal delivery. It was empowering that he came out through my strength alone — all 11 pounds, 13 ounces of him — but after the fact, we could guess that he had been posterior, we could see that he came out with an arm wrapped around his head (aka nuchal arm leading to an asynclitic head positioning, both of which are suboptimal), and, well, he was obviously huge.
My kids are all night owls, which means they tend to gain energy as bedtime approaches. To help them calm their bodies and minds, I started a simple nighttime relaxation technique with the older two. My nine-year-old appreciates it the most and will ask for it nearly every night. Mikko and I both have the characteristic of needing a looong time to fall asleep, and he can get anxious about it. This sort of relaxation time helps put him at ease.
If you already have a background of relaxation scripts, you can adapt ones you love. I called upon my own childhood, when my parents offered me some simple relaxation ideas when I kept stealing into their room each night to whisper that I couldn't fall asleep, and my experiences with Hypnobabies childbirth hypnosis, which helped me through three unmedicated births.
Have your child lie down and begin in a calm, soothing voice:
Squeeze your toes … and your feet … and your legs … all the way up to your bottom [or whatever word you use; we're a butt family].
Have them practice isolating each muscle in turn. Mikko has coordination difficulties so at first had to use his hands to assist him in highlighting each body part to contract; however a kid needs to do it is fine.
As a mother of three kids, I've had a lot of opportunity to reflect on how the truisms about sibling order come to pass seemingly by accident.
For instance, I find myself expecting ever more grownup behavior from Mikko, my oldest at nine years old, and considering my youngest, now two, as still a baby. But when I look back on my days with Mikko at two, I recall thinking how grownup he was even then.
Here's the explanation, and I think it's a simple one. It's not that we're callous and indifferent parents who can't let our older kids be kids and who can't have adequately high expectations for our younger ones. It just has to do with our experience of their growth.
When our first child is born, it's our first child. This might not apply to those of you who extensively nannied or babysat or co-raised siblings before parenting, but for the rest of us, we're experiencing each milestone as the first time it's happened.
When our firstborns smile, Whoa! Before they'd just gurgle and poop! Now they're social. When they sit up, Holy motor control! When they stand and talk and wave, everything's an obvious big leap forward, bringing them ever more distant from the last stage they were at.
Recently I was talking with a nanny who was telling me why the kids she cares for ended up with Sesame Street shoes. She was apologetic in explaining it: It was all they had left! They were on clearance, in their size, so we had to make do!
Meanwhile, she full knows my kids are nearly always in head-to-toe character-branded nonsense: My Little Pony Crocs, Minecraft and Five Nights at Freddy's and Star Wars T-shirts, Spider-Man and Power Rangers hoodies, plus assorted accessories. As if I would be judging her.
When I grew up, I wasn't allowed to wear characters. Well, that's too strong, but my mother "didn't care" for such fashion choices, and I was persuadable, so I had my Wonder Woman Underoos to wear in private but very demure and girly clothing to wear above.
Before I had children (and this is possibly the idealistic realm in which my nanny friend resides), I assumed their clothing would be similarly character-neutral. Not for me the Thomas the Train shirts and Elmo hats and Caillou sandals (I'm just making things up now). I eschewed even hand-me-downs and gifts that featured recognizable brands. My kids would wear cute things that wouldn't date them in photographs to a particular cultural period, clothing that was bright and whimsical and classically childlike.
And so it went…until my first child developed opinions.
This is a post I first published 5+ years ago, and I'm breaking it out for you as a helpful reminder: Let your kids teach you how to play like a kid.
Here are some recent examples to illustrate what I talk about below:
Clockwise from top right: Mikko decided we needed to jump into hay together hand in hand; Alrik tells us which My Little Pony to play and what lines to say; Mikko directed me on shooting a video of putting funny hats on his video-game characters; Alrik told me we needed to stick out our tongues for this selfie; and Karsten I included because it's pretty easy to tell what makes him happy — especially if there's a swing around!
From April 2010
Why are there a spatula, tongs, strainer, two ice cream scoops, mushroom scrubber, address labels, several dish towels, and child's chair in the bathroom? Only the two-year-old knows, and he's not telling.
Yesterday Mikko was directing us as if we were, as Sam put it, an improvisational jazz troupe.
It's hard to tell you what was so intriguing about this exchange to Mikko, and when I describe it, you'll probably be thinking, What the hey? But here goes.
There's a show called Dora the Explorer (yes, you may have heard of it and/or love/hate it, whatevs), where a fox character named Swiper comes up and tries to steal something. When he's foiled (through a clever tactic of telling him to stop), he slinks away, muttering, "Ohh, maaan."
This was, sadly, the best video I could find of our inspiration.
I was hiding on the stairs so Mikko wouldn't bug me while I was trying to do something on the computer. (Yes, this is on a post about responding to our children with sensitivity. You got something to say?)
I've breastfed in some unusual places in the past eight years of nursing my three sons. My philosophy is that breastfeeding can happen at any time or place, wherever I am and whenever my baby wants to eat.
That's led to some interesting breastfeeding locations! I hope you'll share some of yours in the comments, or even in your own post.
At a lavender festival
(I wanted somewhere to sit, so originally they directed me to a sheltered spot. But eventually I wanted to get back to work on my lavender crafts so I just propped Mikko up while I got to it.)
In a mountain village (And on the way there. My father-in-law was rather exasperated we had to pull over.)
On ferries
On a tour boat (That was during my only — failed — attempt to use a blanket as a cover — it kept blowing off!)
On a sailboat (I still question the wisdom of taking a newborn on a sailboat…)
On a motor boat
(That life jacket was pretty hilariously big for Alrik.)
At Pike Place Market (I remember how awkward I felt getting settled on a bench there with newborn Mikko, with strangers sitting and standing all around me, but we managed!)
Welcome to the June 2015 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Talking to Yourself
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have written letters to themselves. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.
Dear Lauren of 2007,
You have a new baby, and though he is indecently large, you know in your heart that everyone wishes their baby could be so impressive. You know precisely how you're going to parent, and it's going to be the right way. Enjoy feeling sure of everything you believe. Enjoy feeling just the teensiest bit smug, in fact.
Because eight years later, you'll know the truth: You don't get to decide what happens.
I'm not trying to scare you, just give you the honest news. Parenting is not a vending machine where you pay in your money, make your selections, and trust to the technology to drop what you desire at your feet. Or maybe it is like a vending machine, but one of those janky ones that keeps spitting your dollar bill back at you and for some reason won't take your nickel — even though it's a perfectly good nickel!! — and once you get the indifferent keys to respond to your request, it turns, turns, turns the spiral and then … your prize hangs. Just there, in your sight, but behind immutable glass.
Welcome to the March 2015 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Day in the Life
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have given us a special glimpse into their everyday.
This month is fun, because I get to give you a peek into what our daily life is like. Sam and I co-parent, co-homeschool, and co-run family businesses. It's an interesting balance!
The day starts before the camera and I are up. Sam wakes early and sneaks downstairs for time by himself to write, a blanket around his shoulders and a glass of coffee at his side.
Meantime, I wake up to this:
Which is not bad at all.
Karsten, 4 months, and I snuggle as he wakes, and then Sam comes to rescue me.
Sam and Karsten head downstairs for a diaper change while I stretch out the kinks in my back from a night of cosleeping and perform my morning ablutions.
Alrik, 3.5 years, gets up around the same time, so Sam carries him downstairs for snuggles and milk in a sippy cup. Once he's more conscious, he helps entertain his little brother.
I wrote this post in its entirety in November 2012 but hesitated to publish it, I suppose because the subject matter is so grim. But I think it's a worthwhile topic to consider, so here it is now, one further baby in for me!
I'd like to share some more of my notes and thoughts from reading Mother Nature: Maternal Instincts and How They Shape the Human Species, by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, a weighty tome I picked up in the immediate postpartum period after Alrik's birth and dutifully and interestedly crawled my way through — all 541 densely printed pages. I found it fascinating, and disturbing — informative and resonant (Hrdy is an anthropologist, so she knows humans) and yet frequently distressing (humans don't always play nice, even — especially — with babies).
Today's article is about the crowded foundling homes of Europe, which were most used in the 1400s to 1800s. I give you fair warning now to bow out if talking about abandoned children and high infant mortality rates is triggering or overly distressing for you. (I wouldn't blame you one bit. I sometimes wonder why I read Mother Nature when I had a newborn, but I actually think the discussion of maternal ambivalence dovetails perfectly with the sleep-deprivation period.)
Welcome to the December 2014 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Greatest Gifts
This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have suggested go-to gifts and gifting experiences for the holiday season for all your loved ones.
I couldn't resist when the topic was gifts this month — my mind turned to my sweet new baby, and I felt the itch to make a list of all the gifts we haven't gotten him.
See, the grandparents have been asking us what they can give Karsten. They asked when he was born in late October, and now they're asking as Christmas looms. And we keep answering them truthfully: We have everything.
This is the third baby, and the third boy. We're set!
But that means I've been around the block a time or two, and I know now what sort of natural-parenting baby registry I would make if we weren't living in Hand-Me-Down City and needed to start from scratch. My btdt experience can be to your profit! Just copy this list of must-haves and would-love-to-haves on over to your own baby registry or holiday wish list, and outfit your natural nursery like a boss.
Note that, since I'm constantlynak-ing a newborn, I'm going to veer toward minimalist (my preference for our small space) rather than comprehensive and crunchy, as is my family's wont. So this list will be the essentials we needed for breastfeeding, babywearing, cosleeping, cloth diapering, and other attachment parenting choices. If you made different parenting choices (and that's valid!), you might need to add and subtract to this list, but it can still be a good starting point as you consider your options.
Cloth diapering: Keep things super simple, and ask gift givers to pre-load gift certificates to a diaper service. Not an option where you live? Keep things still pretty dang simple, and go with prefolds and wool diaper covers, plus some wool wash and lanolin. If you're buying supplies yourself, eBay is a good spot to look for high-quality but reduced-price diapers and covers. You'll want at least six covers in small or newborn size and at least 18-24 of the small prefolds. Then you can move up (probably relatively quickly) to medium and park there for awhile, so don't blow your whole budget on the smallest sizes. The good news is cloth diapers have a good resale value! Throw in some wipes, use a small daypack as a just-right diaper bag (reasonable size and easy to sling on your back to have hands free for baby), and store your dipes at home, both clean and dirty, in a wet-dry hanging bag. I thought we'd need a diaper-changing pad or table, and I was wrong. You can (and will) change diapers any-old-where. If you want to throw in some elimination communication, add a little potty — it'll come in handy eventually either way.
Babywearing: My hands-down (hands-free, ha ha!) favorite carrier is my handmade mei tai (tutorial here if you sew, and tutorial for a no-sew option if you don't!). If you want something available for purchase, other magnificent options are commercial mei tais and soft structured carriers like the Babyhawk, Infantino Wrap and Tie (frugal option), Ergo, and Boba. Any of these will work well for little babies on up through toddlers, so despite the initial price tag, buying one is a thrifty choice. And might I recommend my book, The Natural Parent's Guide to Babywearing? It will help you learn to wear your baby with confidence and ease.
I thought I'd give a little update on how the big boys are handling a new little brother. In general, Mikko and Alrik (7 and 3 years old) can't stop swooning over baby Karsten.
Now, it's not all fun and games. Mikko's adapting really well. Alrik's much more prone to meltdowns and seems to need a ton of attention from both Sam and me (which is fair).
Alrik's been getting ready for his role as older brother
by taking care of his "baby box" (aka fox stuffie) —
we change his diapers, give him daily baths (with soap and gold doubloons
— don't ask me, Alrik's three and loves pirates),
and offer him lots of cuddles when he's crying.
Alrik even generously offers his own nummies for food.
Yesterday we found the doll mei tai I made for Mikko
(tutorial here — Olympic ice skating optional)
and Alrik carried baby box around quite happily,
only squishing him in a somersault a few times.
(I'll be sure to supervise once he gets near the real baby….)
I can already tell he'll be an amazing big brother.
I'm Lauren Wayne, writer and natural parent. I embrace attached parenting with an emphasis toward green living.
Riding the rails with my husband, Crackerdog Sam, and our hobo kids, Mikko Lint Picker (born June 2007), Alrik Irontrousers (born May 2011), and Karsten (born October 2014). Trying every day to parent intentionally and with grace.
by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, a weighty tome I picked up in the immediate postpartum period after Alrik's birth and dutifully and interestedly crawled my way through — all 541 densely printed pages. I found it fascinating, and disturbing — informative and resonant (Hrdy is an anthropologist, so she knows humans) and yet frequently distressing (humans don't always play nice, even — especially — with babies).
Babywearing: My hands-down (hands-free, ha ha!) favorite carrier is my 
I'm Lauren Wayne, writer and natural parent. I embrace attached parenting with an emphasis toward green living. 
