Hot Here. And other updates.

I have two freshly bathed, but already kind of sweaty kids. It's hard to coax them into bed tonight. As the sun sets, we can hear the kids next door splashing in their pool and the birds quieting down in the trees in the neighbors yard. Our house stays pretty cool if you keep the windows on the sunny side closed, so in the morning I open up everything on the street side, and then close them as the sun inches its way over the house. But still, it's hot and I haven't pulled the window AC units up from the basement yet. May seems to early to turn them on anyway.

Mark O will be 4 months old tomorrow. He rolls over from back to front and then inches around on his belly. He doesn't have very good control of his body yet, so sometimes he gets tangled up in the blanket he's laying on. He likes to suck on his hands and to pop a pacifier in and out of his mouth. He's nursing a lot this last week or so, maybe because it's hot now, or maybe a growth spurt. He has settled into a routine of 3 naps a day, with a bedtime around 7pm. He wakes up once or twice at night to nurse. He's really a pretty chill baby, unless I ignore his cues to put him to sleep. When he was a newborn, he would just conk out wherever he was, but now he likes to be put down in a quiet place. If I don't get him there when he's ready, he bugs out a little bit. He also hates riding in the car, which does not bode well for our many camping trips planned for the summer.

Laurel is 3 and a half. I just gave her a new chore of setting the table for dinner. She loves My Little Ponies, camping, road trips and ice cream. She's very vain about her hair, which I have to admit, is pretty gorgeous. She's amazingly insightful, and is asking us really tough questions now. (What is death? When will my nipples go away?) We are trying to find the balance between giving her accurate information and giving her age appropriate information. We have a set of rules for the house. She totally calls us out when we break rules, which is sort of annoying, but also kind of cool to have a kid who will really hold you accountable. She cries about everything, which we tend to ignore, unless she wants to talk about it. She's getting better about bedtime. She still ends up in our room almost every night, but has been better about staying in her bed in the evening. 

He fears her enthusiasm, I think.

 

Camping Season!

Got kids? Bring lots of snacks. Lots.

We've been holding off a bit on account of the cold weather and not wanting to give little Mark O any hypothermia. Last year Laurel was 2 1/2 when we braved sub 30 temperatures to sleep outside. It was fun, but it was a little bit of work to keep her properly clothed, dry and fed.

Although we may do a few little backpacking trips on the Laurel Highlands Hiking Trail, we are pretty much resigned to car camping these days. Not that there's anything wrong with car camping, it's just that we're used to getting by with what fits in our backpacks. Now there's all these kids, and all the crap we drag around with them. Last fall, while eating dinner under rainy skies at a state park in Florida, we realized that we might want to outfit ourselves a little better. My awesome parents bought us a dining canopy, and I'm working on organizing our camp kitchen.

The key to successful camping this summer will be to have everything packed up so that we can grab it and go for our weekend trips. (Have you ever tried getting ready for a trip while nursing a baby and entertaining a preschooler? Not enough hands.)

When I was a kid, my dad built a chux box, kind of like this. However, we drive a Honda Fit. The hatch is full even when I just go out for the day with the kids. With two car seats, there's no possibility of folding down the seats anymore. We're going to need to do an ultra light version of car camping, I think. When we backpack, we take a couple of sporks, a quart pot, and a stove made out of a beer can. For car camping, we like to carry a bit more - stove, frying pan, utensils, mugs, stuff to make coffee. On our last road trip, I put everything in a big plastic bin, but it soon became incredibly disorganized (especially since we were constantly throwing it all back in there when it started raining, which in Florida was every 12 minutes or so). I like the Grub Hub and this REI Pack-n-Prep, but I need to take some measurements to see what we have space for.

So, who camps with little kids? What are your must-haves for camping trips? Do you have any awesome camp meal ideas? What are your favorite campgrounds? What do you do with them when it rains?

Diving In To Motherhood

I read this essay and thought about how I sometimes feel reluctant to fully embrace this motherhood thing, because it's temporary gig. They are going to grow up and leave, right? And even though that's 20 years from now, there's still an end in sight. I don't want my mothering days to come to an end and have nothing left of myself.

I worry that I will lose myself in it, because raising young children is an all-encompassing task. Twenty-four hour on call duty. Relentless and repetitive in the nursing and rocking and wiping up after so many messes. Most of what I do in a day is quickly undone, and it's easy to leave very little time to think of anything else.

For me to be happy with this, the way it is now, I have to dive in. I have to let myself be changed by this circumstance, by these babies, by this work. Yes, it's temporary, but it's a long temporary.

Megabus (with kids): A Review

Megabus even has plugs
for your dvd player!

Every time I told someone I planned to travel from Pittsburgh to Washington DC on the Megabus with my two small children, their eyes widened a bit and they said something like, "you're crazy."

For the first hour of the trip, I felt confident that I would be loudly signing the praises of Megabus and was even mentally planning future trips. New York! Philadelphia! Toledo! I imagined trekking all over the country in a bohemian dress, with happy, well-behaved children in my arms, seeing the sights, while someone else drives.

It was very easy to find the stop and board the bus. We left Pittsburgh on time. I only paid eleven dollars for 3 one way tickets from Pittsburgh to Washington DC, hands down the cheapest way to travel that route. Amtrak was about $140 for a similar trip. The bus wasn't that crowded and the driver was helpful in loading my bag underneath the bus.

As we rolled down the highway towards Morgantown, I even fell asleep. Daytime naps for the win! Laurel was happily watching Finding Nemo on her portable DVD player and Mark O was conked out in my lap. When I woke up, we were going very slowly up a steep two lane road. It seemed odd that the route would take us on such a small road, but I didn't think too much of it, until a good 45 minutes went by and I pulled out my phone to see where we were on the map. This is when I discovered that we were circling Morgantown. Other people must have realized what was going on because soon another passenger began giving directions to the driver. We got to WVU about an hour late and found 50 or so people huddled and shivering in the rain. They are probably writing very bad reviews of Megabus right now.

How Mark O feels about
the Megabus trip.

We were soon cruising down the interstate again. It was about this time that Laurel slammed her dvd player shut and announced that she was tired of watching tv.

"Oh," I thought, "This could be a problem."

I only had one coloring book and three kids' magazines. I was really counting on her watching movies most of the way. Instead, she took great delight in going up and down the extremely steep stairs and visiting the bathroom many times. (You never know when a three year old is bluffing about needing to use the potty.) And how fun that was, with Mark O attached to my front in a carrier.

Eventually, she tired of the stairs, settled back in for Charlotte's Web, and was pretty good for the rest of the trip. I would have considered the bus trip a total success if it had lasted the 6 hours it was scheduled for. As it was, it took 7 1/2 hours, and Mark O was not loving the last 2 hours or so. Sorry, other Megabus passengers. Babies cry. Also, there was no space to change a diaper. (We did get one stop at a Pilot gas station that had a changing table.)

So, here's a few things I learned about traveling by bus.

1. Ditch the car seats. Unless you need them at the other end, the bus isn't really equipped to buckle them in correctly, and there's barely enough room on the seat. They recommend it, but don't require it.
2. Most of the Megabus seats are regular old small bus seats. There's no overhead storage bins on the second floor, so your bags have to sit under your feet. It definitely pays to get there early and get one of the seats that have a table.
3. The Megabus drivers get lost. A lot. I heard similar stories from several other people. You'll probably get where you are going, just not when they said you would. Bring your GPS because they might ask for directions.
4. The advertised Wifi is spotty. Nobody on my bus could get it to work.
5. Book early. That's when it's cheap. I felt like I got my money's worth for 11 bucks, but I'm not sure I would have felt the same way had I paid $50.
6. It was really awesome to be able to nap and look out the window (when my kids weren't freaking out).
7. People who have control issues would not do well with long distance bus travel. You really have to be able to roll with the punches. And pushing your kids beyond their comfort zones builds character, right?

This. Now.

I breathe the words in and out, rocking Mark O at 2 am. At 4:30. Picking up your baby calms him, scientists say. There is nothing difficult about most childcare tasks, but the sheer volume and on-demand nature of them occasionally swallows me up.

M and I did some yoga yesterday; we listened to a podcast while the children were napping. Well, Laurel was supposed to be napping, but instead she banged at the safety gate at the top of the stairs and shouted periodically, until savasana, when her calls reached a feverish pitch. The meditation of the practice was breathe in "This," breathe out "Now." It was almost comical because even as the teacher guided us through the poses, she was getting distracted and telling rambly anecdotes while we strained to hold warrior 2, and Laurel was shouting. But then she said that she had a sleeping baby too, and that we must commit fully to each pose because it could be the last one we could do, before we had to go and attend to someone. This. Now. I took the words to heart and found some new strength in not thinking about how long the practice would last and if I would get it all done.

I thought of the words again, later, when everyone else was asleep but me. Sleep when the baby sleeps, they tell you, which just seems like silly advice during the day when there is always a stack of dishes or a mountain of laundry. Or when you have a three year old that is only occasionally also asleep when the baby is. But at night, I feel guilty and anxious when I can't sleep. I should be sleeping. What is wrong with me? How will I feel tomorrow? I get caught up in the results of not sleeping, and I become more and more awake as I think about how I'll be tired tomorrow. Next week. Next month, until this phase is over.

I say the words. This. Now. And suddenly, I have permission to make a cup of tea, and write a bit. To listen to the quiet breathing of the rest of my family and the police siren off in the distance. Three am is very peaceful, and I am soon ready to crawl back into bed and enjoy every moment that is left of the night.

It Could Be the Weather...

I've got a serious case of bliss. It could be the weather...we've had a whole string of blue-sky days during the time of year when the trees are getting leaves and everything is blooming. This morning I packed up the stroller with snacks and diapers and we took off across the park, in search of a playground with kids at it. We found a bunch of kids at the playground next to the Children's Institute, which seemed to satisfy Laurel. On the way home, I took a short cut through the cemetery, which was really a long cut, because the paths are winding and deceptive and I kept coming up to a dead end against the iron fence. Of course the stroller is nice, but there is no way to squeeze through the fence posts, like we could if we were just on foot. Eventually, we found our way out and ran into some friends near the entrance. I had a brief time period where both kids were napping this afternoon and I took the opportunity to meditate. We had enough leftovers in the fridge for dinner (yum, shepherd's pie...why have I never made you before?), so the afternoon was really chill. We painted on the porch and visited with neighbors. We did a little grocery shopping for some food for the weekend and picked up M at work. While I put the baby to bed, M and Laurel went out to the park to run around for a while and now everybody is asleep in my dark, quiet house.

Just a regular old day, but really nice for its pace.

Restoration

It seemed like a long week. Mark O kept waking me up at 5:00am, big round eyes peering up at me through the darkness. He likes to sleep in a swaddle, so when he's ready to wake up, you can watch him shrugging his shoulders and wiggling his hips to get out. He babbles now, "mmmm mmmm mmmm" and sometimes it sounds like "mom" and we all gather around and coo at him to make that sound again.

Aside from the bicycle accident, nothing really bad happened. But that was bad enough to leave a sour note on the whole week. By the weekend we were in deep need of restoration. My parents came over to watch the kids and M and I went to our friends' house, where they were hosting a concert.  Mike and Shellie put out an incredible spread of food, a nice crowd of people showed up (always good conversation with those folks) and when it was time for music, we all crowded into their living room and watched Mike June and Jon Dee Graham play acoustic sets by candle light. In a club show, there's always the din of crowd noise behind you. Glasses clinking, someone who is a little too drunk babbling to their friend. It never stops. But here, in a house with 40 or 50 people, there was absolute quiet in between the notes. They told stories in between songs and there were some enthusiastic sing alongs towards the end of the show. By the end, I had totally forgotten how tired I was and was just thinking about the big, sweet life I have.

There was also something incredibly refreshing about hearing two guys do what they love, what they are called to do in this world. It gave me some courage to think a little more about doing what I am called to do, instead of going with the easiest path or doing what I think I'm "supposed" to be doing. American Dream and all that.

Then M went out to the mountains and ran a 50K (and placed 9th! Go M!) and I took the kids to my parents' house, where we ate some delicious food and sat around a fire on Saturday night. I also took 2 naps. Which my mom friends will totally understand to be absolutely amaze-balls. There is no other word.

So now it is Monday and although I am more tired than ever (remember when Mark Oliver didn't cry ever? Not so much anymore...), but my Spirit was restored at least.

Safe Passage for Bikes

Yesterday, we were enjoying our usual slow walk home from Laurel's daycare, when a young boy on a bike was hit by a car, dragged, and trapped underneath. He was traveling with his father and sister, on a designated bikeway, obeying all traffic laws. The driver simply didn't see him.

It was truly one of the most awful things I have ever witnessed. It will be a long time before I forget the metallic sound of his bike being dragged and the screams from his father.

People ran from all over the park to help. The fire fighters arrived within a few minutes. I understand from a news report that his injuries are serious, but that he is expected to survive. Blame seems to flow freely in the wake of such tragedies and I saw many people trying to process the event this way as the story was broadcast on the news and shared on Facebook.

Even Laurel was trying to make sense of what she saw by asking if it was a big kid or a little kid. We have this need to find out how the victim is different than us, so that we may feel more secure from such danger.

It's hard to know what to do in such a situation. Luckily, some friends had the idea to have a bike ride. No speeches. No signs. Just families on bikes, enjoying the beautiful spring weather, riding to show our support for the little boy and his family, and our desire to have safe passageway in our city.

The Ingredients of Nourishment

It is one thing to be fed, another to be nourished.

Michael Pollan has written a new book, and when I read this review of it in the New York Times, I thought of our tiny kitchen and how two cooks bump against each other in it. How I am constantly washing dishes, the old-fashioned way in a dishpan, while staring out the window at the neighbors kitchen window across the driveway. There are a lot of dishes, because there is a lot of cooking. Spinach omelettes for breakfast and lentil stew for lunch. Homemade yogurt and pickles and veggie burgers. Giant pots full of chili.

We buy ingredients, and when I say ingredients I mean it the way Bittman and Pollan speak of it....elements of food in their rawest, most natural versions sliced and diced and sauteed. Transformed, as Pollan calls it. We fill mason jars from the bulk bins with dried beans and quinoa, sugar and salt. We pick out radishes and kale and mushrooms. We buy five dollar a dozen eggs, with deep yellow yolks. We have well-worn cookbooks, stained with splatters from saucepans and drips from the jug of oil. Our  house smells like food, onions sizzling in butter or the pungent odor of cabbage fermenting, the starchy humidity of grains bubbling in a rice cooker, the buttery smell of cookies baking.

Before the whole Katy's-body-freaks-out-over-gluten thing, we didn't think so much about what we ate...not in terms of health, anyway. What we sought was a different kind of nourishment...food that was rich or filling or tasted of the land on which it grew. Food that was fun to eat. Food that we would be delighted to share with guests, should someone happen across our doorstep.

We spend a lot of money on food and we spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Sometimes I'm tempted to think that it is not a good use of time because it's hard to quantify in earning power or dollars how this is benefitting our family. It just seems like an expense we could be cutting back on, or time that could be spent working. 

Pollan argues, however, that this sort of behavior....cooking from scratch, as we call it....could be the answer to the epidemic of health problems our country is facing. There are no weird chemical preservatives in homemade food. No ingredients you can't pronounce. You pick out higher quality vegetables to chop up, and use them in a fresher state. It's a pain to deep fry potatoes, so you are less likely to make things like french fries and more likely to bake or boil them. 

Instead of fighting battles with big food companies to make processed food healthier, or labels easier to understand, people should just be encouraged to cook at home more. From scratch. With stuff they bought on the perimeter of the grocery store. 

It's going to take more than encouragement. People don't know how to cook. We need a giant home ec class for the whole country.

I'm a Little Tired Now

Thankfully, emphasis is on the "little." Mark O wakes up 1-2 times each night to nurse, but usually goes right back to sleep. When he cries, he is hungry, tired or needs a new diaper. Occasionally he really freaks out when he has to fart. Address those needs and he stops crying. Just like in the books. It's actually kind of awesome.

Newborn Laurel kicked my ass. She cried a lot. And loudly. I can relate to what this woman wrote about her experience with her newborn. It was painfully exhausting at the time, but in retrospect, it all seems kind of funny. In a blurry sort of way.

We had endless strategies for comforting her. She liked when we ran the vacuum cleaner next to her cradle. We listened to Yo La Tengo's Pass the Hatchet, I think I'm Goodkind on endless repeat, while vigorously rocking her stroller back and forth directly in front of the stereo speakers. We wrapped her up tightly against our chests in the Moby Wrap and bounced up and down on a yoga ball for hours in the evening. I stopped eating dairy. I nursed her more. I nursed her less. I gave her formula. We swaddled her in something called a "Miracle Blanket". I had a half dozen methods for laying her in her crib without waking her up. We became very superstitious about sleep. We tiptoed around the house and rigged up complicated systems for generating white noise (it had to be very, very loud white noise. Laurel scoffed at those stupid little stuffed animals that play"soothing" sounds). Despite all of these efforts, most days she just cried for 3 or 4 hours. Straight. For no discernable reason.

Strangers and friends offered us advice. Put rice cereal in her bottle! Let her cry it out! Try baby wearing!

I thought I must be a very bad mother. I cried a lot. There were many nights when I slept for less than 2 hours. Did you ever stay up all night partying and get hung over before you actually make it to bed? That's how I felt all the time. Shaky and nauseous.

But when people asked me how I was doing, I said the same thing that I do now. "I'm a little tired."