Cloudbusting moments

When I started this blog I was thinking of my life in the foothills of the Dandenong Ranges, Victoria, Australia. I have since come to realise that life is a series of hills of varying topographical detail; some a barely bumps, others are the hill climb of the Tour de France that the faint-heartened never approximate. I have also come to appreciate the distinct advantage of setting hills in my sights with the aim of seeing life from the other side with a raised heart-rate. My 'comfort-zone' exists to be busted, and I intend to continue venturing far away and beyond my comfort-zones for as long as I have a reason to live. From the foothills of the Dandenongs to the foothills of the Strzelecki Ranges, and still cloudbusting, I hope. It's what I want my kids to do, so I'd better show them a bit about how it's done, and how to push up and over the hills they'd otherwise avoid...

Wednesday 13 October 2010

Natural Infant Hygiene (Elimination Communication)

This is a photograph of an element of a key parenting tool we have been utilising since Small Girl was 2 weeks of age. It's a chamber pot, to confirm your worst suspicions. A vintage, enamelled child's chamber pot. It's green. It's a bit chipped. It was a bargain at a local recycler.
I found out about such a thing as Natural Infant Hygiene, or Elimination Communication, not too long after Boy-child was born. I thought of it as a wonderful thing to try, just not something for us. But the concept nagged at me. And nagged some more. So I borrowed a book about it from the library, by Ingrid Bauer. It changed my view on a few things, and I decided that I would implement EC into Boy-child's night continence learning. He was out of nappies during the day by 2 years of age and I didn't like the idea of withholding liquids from him overnight, just to keep him dry; believing it was just dehydrating him, rather than learning continence.
The book backed up my thoughts and Bauer's explanations of the human elimination system and cultural conditioning opened up a new world for me. It explained night-wakings to me and I recognised various moments in Boy-child's life when I could have implemented EC. It was time to begin on night times, at almost two and a half years of age.
It took only a couple of weeks of sleeping in the boy's bed with him to wait for his body to stir so that I could prompt him for the potty. There was initial resistance to this new thing - moving from deep sleep to light sleep and then having pants pulled down and taken to the potty was a big adjustment. Soon enough, he knew what was happening and that it was much nicer to just get rid of the wee into the potty, and, eventually, to head to the loo (right near his then-bedroom) and stumble back to bed. I resolved then that the only major change to how I would parent the next child would be to start EC'ing much, much sooner. True night continence meant that Boy-child could still have his breastfeed or two overnight and also at bedtime without fear of having a wet bed, apart from the odd occasion of a missed trip to the loo.
So, in the lead up to our girl being born I bought a chamber pot. Dr Sarah Buckley writes about EC'ing her babies and that was enough inspiration for me to give it a red hot go. It took two weeks, however, for me to move from my comfort-zone into a new reality. The hardest part, it proved, was starting!
It was the week we decided to sell the house, and the day that we had the newborn photos done by Susan D'Arcy. I had been making my observations of Small Girl's body language and took the plunge.
The first time I caught a wee, and I was so excited that it 'worked'! I kept 'catching' wees so that it was no longer 'fluke' and it was a combination of timing and using cues (a 'pssss' sound to encourage letting go of the bladder function). I started catching poos, too, mainly in the mornings, but also through the days in the early weeks.
Soon enough, pooey nappies were becoming a rarity and more a reflection of the time I was spending attached to my baby via sling than luck or coincidence. I was really in tune with this baby and it was really enhancing this newborn caring that I had been resistant to whilst pregnant with her. 'Success' was also reflected in the significantly reduced washing of nappies required each week. Except that I was having to change my pants a couple of times a day when I missed moments during nappy-free times...ah, well!
The way I implemented EC was just one way to do it, and it has so many variations depending on lifestyle and budget. We have been predominantly full-time nappied, part-time EC'ing, sometimes full-time EC'ing and part time nappied, and sometimes full-time EC'ing and nappy-free, sometimes part time both. I have found that when I have to spend more time studying I rely on nappies more, because my attention simply cannot be on both my studies and on being in tune with my girl. I get sad about this, and it's just the way it has to be for a little while longer.
When we're out, we're able to hold Small Girl over a bush or garden bed. She's still mostly breastfed, so she's pretty organic! She hardly ever needs to poo when we're out, because we catch poos in the morning, as most human babies do, and most human adults will if given the chance. I don't carry around receptacles any more, because I've decided that most places we go have loo facilities I can duck off to with her, and if they don't, then there will be some plantlife that will appreciate a drenching.
When Small Girl was about 8 weeks of age we did our first long drive. 3 hours to East Gippsland. She slept until we got to Stratford, did a wee on the grass and then slept till Bairnsdale, wee'd on arrival and voila! Dry car trip! This has been the way travel has been conducted ever since. If she wakes while we're on a drive, we pull over and let her wee and then we have a happy camper thereafter.
EC'ing works best with babywearing and breastfeeding, but these aren't essential ingredients. EC'ing is another way to have a relationship with your child. For me, it makes sense. For us it enhances the way we relate to our children and is the best thing to happen to my parenting toolbox. It imparts empathy and responsiveness that I previously thought only breastfeeding and/or sling-wearing could do. It also connects me to my grandmother and the wisdom she practiced to raise my mum, aunts and uncles. There was no money for nappies (and I'm talking cloth nappies), no polluting water ways with the washing of soiled baby nappies. I love that when my mum first learned of my intentions to EC she thought it was brave and odd. As I continued and normalised to her what I was doing, her own mum's practices became more apparent to her and memories began to surface for her. We both felt more connected to my grandmother.
I'll split this blog post up and write next about how we've gone about EC'ing at night, EC'ing 'on the hop' and the progression towards continence in Small Girl's first year.
I'll leave it on this note. Yesterday, Small Girl was wandering around nappy-free and I lost track of her. I encountered her in the laundry, sitting on the potty:
And in it, was a respectable, definite, self-initiated wee.
Last night she breastfed about twice overnight and I didn't offer her the chamber-pot once until the morning. She remained dry. And I might mention that she was also nappy-free.
Whaddya reckon? Weird? Time consuming? Effective? I reckon it's a lost art that is slowly coming to the consciousness of more and more parents in our society. And it's truly liberating, for all involved!

Monday 11 October 2010

Head down, bum up

While I wait for a lecture to download I'll pop in a blog entry...
I was about to quit uni this week. After speaking about the logistics, ramifications, implications and risks involved with pulling out with intention to return to the course much later down the track with the postgraduate coordinator, I have decided to soldier on.
This will require doing something I have hitherto avoided - dragging friends into the fray. Expect a phone call, some of you! The next month will be insane. My kids may become temporarily alienated. I may not see much of the farm. I may not see much of humanity outside of Boy-child's activities during the week. I HAVE to do this unit. Then I'll have next semester free before launching right back into it for a final unit...the fun unit of Abnormal Psychology.
Ok, back to it. One day, this being a student caper is gonna get real old. Meanwhile, my lecture is ready to listen to and there is a blanket ban on kids or me getting sick until some time in 2012. OK? OK. I'm going in...

Thursday 7 October 2010

My fella

My fella brings me flowers and gifts, unexpectedly.
He says he loves me throughout the day.
My fella gives me unsolicited hugs and kisses that make me tingle, make me feel luckier than most.
He believes in me, more than I do and wouldn't swap me for another in a heartbeat.
He loves my giving body, unconditionally, and can't wait till I have another baby in my belly.
My fella's face lights up when he comes home from a long day, and he shares with me what he's done.
He asks me how my day was and helps me with my bags.
He hates to see me sad and he knows when something is wrong.
My fella apologises when he upsets me and brings me breakfast in bed.
He loves me in a dress and calls me a princess, believing no others can compare.
He is guilty of ignoring my needs and I often allow him to believe I exist to serve him.
My fella would buy me my dream horse, and ride alongside me.
He likes to photograph me and we laugh at each other's jokes, even the silly ones.
He can be a slob and doesn't always lift the toilet seat, and aren't most fellas?
He forgets my birthdays and can't recall the date we met. Typical fella.
In his eyes I see myself, and after a hard day I am his soft place to fall, and he feels safe falling apart.
Nothing makes me and my fella happier than waking up entwined in arms and legs.
He's a lover, not a hater and charms with his witty, articulate conversation.
I support him in everything he seeks to achieve, encouraging him to trust his instincts.
He brings out the best and the worst in me and he forgives my moods.
I hope I go before he does; life without him would burn my heart to ashes.
Sometimes I am defined by my relationship with my fella, and that's a great honour.
I'm so proud to be my fella's mama.
I held him in arms and slings until he wanted no more.
He watched his sister being born, feeding me water and nuts while I meditated her into water.
He takes from my breast to start his day and will until it's no longer important to him.
We shared sleep for so long and still do from time to time.
My fella and I have a magical understanding, he knows me better than all others.
I love you, boy-child.

Tuesday 5 October 2010

Was good...REAL good

Hark ye your minds back to a previous post I made about signing up for eight Zumba classes (via Jump On It). Well, tonight I bit the bullet, told the household I wouldn't be sitting down to dinner with them, for I had need to be elsewhere for an evening of group exercise at Fernwood.
First of all, I have to mention to you how beautiful Fernwood is. What a lovely environment to enter for one's fitness needs! No smell of man sweat, no know-it-all-about-weight-machines people hanging around specifically to have you feeling decidedly inadequate and way out of your league, and if I decide to do the Friday morning class, I could have a shower AND breakfast. I just wish there were a Fernwood in South Gippsland I could join...ach, well, the local gym offering Zumba will have to suffice.
So, back on topic. Zumba is a nice workout, indeed. It felt like the old clubbing days on my body, and like a collection of women assembling for a fun way to maintain general health and wellbeing in my head. It started out with some basic moves for the beginners in the class (hand up!) and progressed into more wiggly moves. I'm up for wiggly moves...it's the wiggling and then the moving sideways in a preordained fashion that I struggle with, and that also spelled the very quick end to my aerobics life, way back when I used to hold gym memberships (and actually used them, too). However, the latin grooves playing provided that little bit of inspiration to get my act together and give the coordination caper a red hot go. And I did. Give it a red hot go, that is. The coordination I will have to report back on, as sometimes I had it, and other times I lost it. Smiling all the way, though. I had to be careful with my foot and leg placement, as a few times I felt the familiar twinge in my pelvis, from my Symphisis Pubis Disfunction, and I had to modify my steps.
Zumba is FUN. Yes, I've only had one class, and if the first one has me feeling fantastic and wanting to find another 45 minutes in an already packed week to get to the Friday class, then it's gotta be a good thing, yeah? Yeah. That's what I thought :)