Toby

This is Toby.

He's Sebastian's woobie.  I think the technical term for it is transitional object and the hip term is lovey, but Mr. Mom says woobie and so say I.  Either way, he's been helping Sebastian get to sleep since he was about eight months old.

But lately Toby has taken on some new roles.

First and most importantly, he's the new BFF.  He goes EVERYWHERE with us, even if it's just upstairs or downstairs.  He helps Sebastian drive his trucks, chug chug his Thomas train, and read his books.  He stares at us while we eat now, too, because "Toby wants to sit at the table with you."

In proper best friend style, Toby cheers up Sebastian when he is mad at someone, bumps his head, or has to be apart from us.  Since Sebastian is pretty much climbing the walls these days now that it's crummy outside and his brother sleeps half the day away, there's a lot of this going on...

Me:  Sebastian, slow down, you're going to...
Sebastian: (bonking on the table or some other hard object in his way)
Me:  Are you ok?
Sebastian:  You need a kiss.  Right here (points to random body part that may or may not be what was hurt).
Me:  (giving kiss) There you go.
Sebastian:  (rushing back to get Toby) And Toby will help you feel better!!

All of this is generally pretty cute, and it has helped Sebastian feel better when he goes to his day care on Thursday mornings while Theo and I have our class together.  

Toby also regularly plays the part of The Baby.  Sebastian often tries to give Toby milk (from his arm, which is apparently how I give milk to Theo), or puts him down for his nap, or pretends Toby is crying so Sebastian can pick him up and bounce or rock him.  He has baby dolls, but Toby is the all-purpose toy these days.

Toby being picked up after "crying"

But then there is Toby, Sebastian's Evil Twin.  Toby doesn't want to go to school.  Toby doesn't want to share. Toby wants to eat some of Nyli's cat food. Toby does NOT WANT A QUICK CHANGE.  

Toby would much rather have a wet diaper and stay in bed and look at the aquarium.  See?

It's a good thing Toby's cute.

There, I said it. (updated)

Every week I get those emails from Baby Center about the development of one or the other of my children, and the ones for Theo often include a link to this poll:

Breastfeeding:
a) love it
b) hate it
c) some parts are great; some parts are difficult

I usually pick (c), but I think I'm going to come right out and admit that often I want to choose (b).

That's right, I'm going to take on the Nursing Nazis and this ridiculously controversial topic and say that I wish there were no such thing as breastfeeding.  Before I begin, I want to say a few things up front to put your mind at ease.  First, I think that for some people it is an incredible experience and... you know, kudos to them.  Second, I have definitely loved some aspects of nursing each of my boys and for sure it is easier this time around with Theo.  And third, I recognize that I don't have to breastfeed.  Which brings me to why I wish there were no such thing...

1)  You feel compelled to do it.  Many, many other talented writers have taken on this topic and poked fun at the enormous pressure we all feel and the crazy thoughts we have as parents that if we don't breastfeed we are dooming our children to lives of earaches and mediocrity.  We know intellectually it's not true.  And yet... the "breast is best" message is nearly impossible to ignore if you pay attention to anything related to parenting whatsoever.  And the data just keeps on rolling out to support that breastmilk is better than formula for so many reasons I don't have time to write them all down before someone wakes up.

So it's pretty hard to tell yourself that what's best for your children is also not having a mother who is insane (see reasons for insanity below) and that they will be just fine.  Even though you KNOW it's true, you've met people who are perfectly normal who had pretty much all formula and even if you've given formula to your older child.  You still feel this crazy guilt for not breastfeeding.  You feel the need to explain to people why you stopped or why you supplement with formula, because total strangers will parrot "breast is best" at you if you don't.  (I'm not making that up.  People are obnoxious.)

Even saying this out in the blogosphere leads to comments about the fact that you shouldn't have children if you're not prepared to make sacrifices for them, which is both rude and stupid since fathers get to become parents without this enormous burden.  I think the pressure to do it is one of the absolute worst aspects of this job.  If no one cared how we fed our children as long as we fed them, it would be a lot easier.

2)  It sets the mother up as the default parent.  I thought surely I had written about the default parent before on this blog, but somehow that topic never got out of my head.  But you know what I'm talking about, call it what you will:  Default parent, Parent of Last Resort, the Nursing Mom.  You are the person who MUST be with the baby every 2-4 hours or else you have to pump or supplement (see below about the breastpumps, a.k.a. the bane of my existence).  And how many of us have had the tired father hold out the screaming baby and say, "I'm pretty sure he's hungry," and you try not to have your head explode because seriously you just fed that kid an hour ago and two hours before that and SURELY he isn't hungry, but then you take him and he snuggles in and eats like you've been starving him and the dad looks at you like, "See?  Of course I couldn't calm him down," and it's a good thing you're busy nursing because otherwise you'd throw something at him.  {Or maybe that's just me.  But I don't think so.}  The point is that then YOU HAVE THE BABY, and in order to get any time to yourself you have to ask someone else to take him after you're done nursing, whereas everyone else has a clear endpoint to their time with the child - when he needs to eat again.  Sometimes you, the nursing mother, could have him all day before anyone else notices.

3)  Wardrobe malfunctions.  Honestly, having to spend a ton of money on special nursing gear seems crazy, but if you don't then you end up having to lift up your entire shirt every couple of hours, which is cold and also a bit much for people who have any kind of desire for personal privacy.  It's fine in the comfort of your own home, but who stays home all day every day?  And no matter what you wear out, you have to choose between using a blanket or nursing cover or risk snide comments about nursing in public, no matter how legal and supposedly acceptable it is.  Finally, I don't know how many times I have also forgotten to pull my tank top back up and walked around with half my bra showing without realizing it.  Using a bottle?  Rated E for everyone.

4)  Breastpumps.  Seriously.  I hate these things.  They have a zillion parts that have to be cleaned after every pumping, and they look like medieval torture devices.  Yes, they allow people to continue "breastfeeding" even if they go back to work.  But they don't let you truly skip a feeding because every time you don't nurse you have to pump or else you have less milk the next day.  So it's not like this is a free pass to get a day off.  You still need to be disrobing every couple of hours (see above).  I knew my experience of pumping at work was about to end the day I looked down while pumping in the conference room off my classroom and saw that I was pumping out my own blood.  I kid you not.  Apparently I had gotten some kind of cut earlier without knowing it and as I watched the pump go, red liquid was being squeezed out of me and into the little collector bottle.  Clearly I am still traumatized.

5)  Night duty.  This goes back to the default parenting, but really, if you're nursing then you're the one who's sleep-deprived, end of story, unless you night-wean or pump enough at some other point in the day.  I've tried to have other people take night shifts, but then everyone just ends up tired because I still have to get up to nurse even if the other person then changes the diaper, puts the baby back to bed, etc.  It's helpful once in a while, but for the most part it's all me, every night.  Every.  Night.

6)  Better bonding with bottles.  Everyone says that you bond more with your baby when you breastfeed because you have to hold him closely for every feeding.  You see pictures of these blissed-out mothers (who I'm convinced are mostly just massively sleep-deprived based on #5) and their babies gazing up at them.  I have never found this to be the case.  Both of my boys nursed with eyes closed or staring vaguely off in the distance.  When I give them a bottle, they stare up at me with all the adoration a mother could want.  So to me the bonding was a lot better when I gave up the breastfeeding.  I know, that's not true for everyone, which is why I put it last.

I know, I know, I've made it sound like it's all bad.  It's not.  It is awesome always having his food with me and ready to go, no bottles necessary.  I'm proud, knowing that all of Theo's weight gain so far is my accomplishment.  I love rubbing his soft little head while he eats and holding his tiny hand, neither of which I seem to do when he takes his evening bottle.  That's why I choose (c) on the poll.

I'm all for choices, and I'm happy that many mothers get to choose how to feed their babies.  But I wish there were no such thing as breastfeeding so that one choice wasn't considered better than another by overwhelming consensus.  And so OUR choice to have children doesn't feel overwhelmingly like MY responsibility for the first year (or so) of each child's life.

I'd come up with a clever ending here, but it's time for me to nurse the baby.

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Wow, I know I'm low on functioning brain cells when I forget two of my top reasons why breastfeeding is so hard.

7)  It hurts.  I'm going to interrupt you and your "If it hurts, you're doing it wrong," mantra and say that it hurts no matter what.  At least at the beginning, and occasionally at the start of each feeding, and definitely if you get horrible things like cracked nipples, mastitis, or a blocked duct.  Those last three caused major toe-curling pain, and I wasn't doing anything wrong according to the hospital's lactation consultant.  It just goes with the territory for a lot of moms.

8) The limited diet.  Sure, we know about not having a glass of wine too often (or pumping and dumping), but for some unlucky moms there is the realization that what we are eating is causing some gastrointestinal distress for our little ones.  That's the fancy way of saying they get awful gas and wake up many times a night wriggling their lower halves, crying, and tooting like an old Chevy.  It's no fun to give up most forms of dairy, I assure you, though it is worth the extra sleep we both get.  Still, when it's Saturday and I know I used to enjoy my Ben & Jerry's and relax after the boys' bedtimes, I do curse the power(s) that be for inventing this breastfeeding nonsense.

And now you know what I'll be doing the very day I finally wean Theo:  eating an entire pint of Chubby Hubby.

Right now

I've received many kind responses to my latest posts, most of which gently reminded me to count my blessings and enjoy the moment.  Cliché, but excellent advice nonetheless.  So here I go.

Top 10 reasons I'm grateful to be a stay-at-home parent this year:

10.  I can sleep in until 8 or 9 if one or both boys has had a rough night.
  9.  Each boy and I get to go to a fabulous parent-child class through Bellevue College once a week.
  8.  I don't have to spend five nights a week frantically packing lunches and diaper bags.
  7.  I only have to pump once a day instead of four times.
  6.  Rather than thinking about lesson plans, I can spend time with my mom discussing her cool doctoral project(s).
  5.  I've had time to discover the wonderful world of blogs and Facebook, all of which have helped me to make new friends, reconnect with old ones, and feel closer to my family.
  4.  I'm able to take a step back and think about what direction I want to take next in my career.
  3.  Being "free" on weekdays has allowed me to explore the lovely area in which we live: parks, playgrounds, museums, stores, and other fabulous places for families.
  2.  Instead of grading papers at night or on weekends, I'm able to talk to my sister after she's had a grueling day at the hospital, or to go visit Xavier when he's home.

and best of all...

  1.  I don't have to ask anyone else how Sebastian or Theo's day was.  I was there for (almost) every giggle, tear, and new discovery.

Halloween, his way

I should have known how it would turn out, and yet I was as surprised as I always am when the stories begin that way.

First, I should say that I LOVE holidays.  I was one of those people who was fortunate enough to have a happy childhood, and that childhood is filled with memories of the special events that surround special days.  Moving out west meant that holidays held a bittersweet taste for me as I had to figure out how to celebrate them away from the rest of my family.  And when I say "bittersweet" I mean that I cried on most of them for the first two years.

But then I became a parent.  Suddenly the idea of holidays was exciting again.  We could do all those things that I did growing up!  We could pass on traditions that the kids would love as much as I did!

Sebastian obliged for the first year, more or less.  He let us dress him in a pumpkin suit for the his first Halloween, took a bite of oatmeal on his first Thanksgiving, pulled on the wrapping paper for his first Christmas.  He did it all again with slightly more enthusiasm the second time around, but still with no real awareness of the holiday. Each time I thought how it would be even more fun when he was old enough to really participate, get excited with me, and actually do the traditions I remembered doing.  This is going to be the best year yet! I told myself.

The kid loves to eat and he's starting to play pretend, so Halloween is going to be awesome, right?  We'll get to go trick-or-treating for the first time!  Hurray!

So we go to the consignment store to pick out a Halloween costume.
"Do you want to be a lion or a tiger?" I asked him.  Those were the two that were the right size and not too odd.
"No tiger," he said.
"Ok, so a lion, then?"
"You don't want to be a lion."
I try to explain.  "You dress up as a lion or a tiger and then you go to the neighbors' houses and you get CANDY."
"You don't want to pretend to be a lion or a tiger," he tells me.

And that's the point at which I definitely should have known how it would turn out.  Because you already know, don't you?  You can see it coming, even if I could not.

I bought the lion costume.  We'll figure it out later, I told myself.  Some weeks passed.  I brought it up every so often, how he was going to be a lion for Halloween.  I even got him to say what he would pretend to be and what a lion says and he seemed all set.  But any time I tried to put the costume on him?  "You don't want to be a lion!" he said, in an admittedly good imitation of said beast.

As we got closer, we were looking for a bear costume for our baby bear and my mom stumbled across a Thomas the train costume.  Sebastian is all about Thomas, so we gave him a choice to be the lion or Thomas.  He chose Thomas, of course, and I thought that maybe the problem was just that he wasn't that into the lion.  But now he was all set and we could do Halloween!  Hurray!

The holiday arrived.  We had picked out the pumpkins, bought the candy, and chosen the costumes.  Except that Sebastian refused to be Thomas.  He would SAY he wanted to be Thomas, was going to be Thomas, but "no, thank you" to actually putting on the costume.

We tried to practice trick-or-treating so that he got the idea and got excited.  He happily trick-or-treated around the living room to each of the three adults, pretending to ring the door bell, saying the famous words, and getting his piece of candy for his little pumpkin pail.  But try as we might, we could not convince him to put on the costume or do anything really except state that he wanted whatever candy we had just given him.  We gave him a little piece of a Three Musketeers with his dinner.  He was sold on the candy part, no problem.  But the costume?  "NO, THANK YOU!"

We explained that you have to wear the costume in order to get the candy.  We practiced again and again.  He finally agreed to wear the hat.  Then as he practiced one last time, I slipped the costume on and took a picture while he examined his practice loot.

And then he was done.  I took it off, and figured we'd just carry it along with us as we went trick-or-treating.

It didn't really hit me until we were walking up the steps of the neighbor's house.  Practice wasn't going to matter in the least.  Sebastian wasn't going to do this.  He hates talking to strangers.  He gets shy if people say hi to him in grocery stores, he cries if they get too close to his personal space.  He loves his family and the friends he sees often, but everyone else is suspect.

So the idea that this kid was going to wear strange clothes, go up to anyone's house, say trick-or-treat and thank you, and do this repeatedly?  Was completely ridiculous.

We went to the house of neighbors we see often.  He stood, mesmerized by the bowl of candy she held out for him, completely tongue-tied.  We said the magic words and chose his candy, and he said thank you and practically flew down the steps and away.

But wait!  What's that you say?  You say they gave us M&Ms??

Ok, one more house.

This time he may have mumbled trick-or-treat, I'm not sure.  He definitely said thank you when he got M&Ms again.

And that was it.  It was time to go home.  "But there are more houses," we told him, "and we can get more candy."

He looked in his pumpkin pail and then up at me.  "You want some?" he said.

"Ok, let's go to a few more houses and then we can go home and have some."

He looked in the pumpkin pail again and up at me again.  "You want some," he said more firmly.

So I paused for two seconds that was more like two hours as I realized what was happening here.

I was trying to make Sebastian do Halloween.  I had spent half the day convincing him to dress up, to trick-or-treat, to get candy that I didn't even really want him to eat!  I had wanted the pictures, the celebration, the excitement, the moment.

Sebastian?  Just wanted to sit back and watch and see what this whole thing was about.  Well, that and the M&Ms.

So that's what he got.

He snuggled up with his Gramma, ate his M&Ms, and watched the bigger kids come and go, saying trick-or-treat in their excited voices and getting their candy and racing around our street.

I've had to learn this before.  That my children are not extensions of me; they are their own people.  That they won't always love what I love or do what I expect them to do.  That I have to let Sebastian be Sebastian.

And you know what?  He did love Halloween.  He loved it his way.


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Postscript.  His brother, however, did let me dress him up.  The bear costume we found was too big, so here is our little pumpkin.