Posts Tagged ‘baby’

 

Relation-shapes

Monday, March 8th, 2010

A relationship is point to point – a three-dimensional line that grows or shrinks according to moods and swings. Add a baby and you add another line. You have a triangle: a love triangle.

There is no greater or more complex love triangle than the one created by having a baby.

Someone is always left out and there is a massive amount of attention grabbing … usually from dad who can’t bear the sight of ‘his’ boobs being used as a dairy, and often from junior who, like the dog, pushes in during an embrace.

No matter how strong the lines are – the individuals who make up the triangle – the points of the triangle are likely to wear over time … and very often they just snap.

But sometimes you have to break the points to notice how the individual lines can be stronger than the shape they make up.

Rekindling the nappy debate

Saturday, February 27th, 2010

There are some great innovations going on in the nappy arena:
Nature Babycare, designed by a Swedish mum who can’t even sell them in Sweden; Nature Boy and Girl, based on same; Seventh Generation and gDiaper, to name a few.

These new innovations are all fabulous, trendy and partly nature friendly … Most claim to be compostable although there is a claim by some that the tabs and elastic edges take as long as a regular disposable to biodegrade (500 years!)

But, until you actually try the straight terrycloth variety, you just can’t knock it in terms of cost, fit, comfort, ease of washing and the most important part: recycling. The most green disposable nappy is Nature Babycare and even that is only 60% biodegradable – the best there is but still not perfect and when our landfills are filling up at an alarming rate, we need way closer to perfection than that. And then there is still the issue of wood pulp – all disposables, eco or not, use wood pulp and here lies the obvious issue of sustainability.

The shaped cloth nappies are great for parents who believe folding a terry square is beyond them … but what do you use them for when baby is all grown up? The simple terry squares win the day when baby grows up – they become kitchen rags, DIY clean-up cloths and even gym towels. Now that’s eco savvy, totally waste free and sustainable.

Links for your info:
http://www.naty.com/uk/Products/tabid/55/Main/Nature-Babycare/Sub/Nappies/MainId/3/SubId/21/Default.aspx
http://www.gdiapers.com/gdiapers101/flush-compost-or-toss

http://www.seventhgeneration.com/Diapers

See my link to a previous article for ready-folded terrycloth nappies:

http://www.bhalababy.com/2007/10/14/dispose-or-reuse/

And if you have any questions about how to go about starting down the route of sustainable eco-friendly terrycloth, I am always available to help – the environment means the world to me and my boy.

Discomfort Zone

Thursday, September 11th, 2008

Remember the first time you farted in front of your partner? Remember when it became quite normal to sit on the toilet with the door open? Remember when things just got way too comfortable? It all happened slowly, with years of time to adjust.

And then you have a baby together and you will never see each other in the same light … ever again. There’s, oh so much more dignity in performing your daily ablutions in front of your partner than there is caring for a baby.

Off Limits …

Thursday, September 4th, 2008

So simple yet seemingly unique, these are two words I started using as soon as my inquisitive and tactile child began to crawl. I’m not entirely sure where I got the idea so can only guess at the fact that I probably used it when training my ridgeback puppy (who, by the way, only ever chewed one item not intended for him). It is only now, when entertaining mothers of infants, that I realize how this should have been the one piece of advice I imparted months ago. The use of ‘NO’ is more an over-  use and no child ever takes it seriously when repeated so many times with no follow through consequences. My child still understands ‘off limits’ but now it is not used frequently at all and he understands the actual meaning rather than just holding back on hearing the words. I’ve regressed with the dog and find uh-uh works just as well.

Love on the merry-go-round

Tuesday, August 12th, 2008

“I’d have more children if I didn’t have a husband”, says a mother of four.

This may be because there is just not enough love to go around … after all, when you run out of love … Who do you love more? The man you have been with—seemingly for an eternity—who has ‘gotten used to you’ or the child who has just rocked up in your life and ‘needs you more than you will ever know’.

This tiny little human who has stolen its mother’s every waking moment, and every last drop of effort and energy usurps your husband’s position and deprives him of a little bit of your love.

It transpires that something’s gotta give when there just ain’t enough love to go around. In my case, the fairground attraction ended when my husband, used to a high dose of merry-go-round, had to make do with the swings. Back and forth didn’t do it for him; he went tummy-butterfly cold turkey and ditched the fair completely.

Aaaaanyway, fair or not, he suffered without his full dose, dished out a fair amount of rejection and lost a fair amount of passion in the deal. The baby ended up getting all the love for a while … and the husband is only just managing to function on his reduced dosage.

Kick the dog

Monday, August 11th, 2008

Almost three years later I still haven’t gotten used to being pulled in so many directions. I like to think that mothers of more than one child treat all their children as one collective rather than separate people pulling her in different directions … mainly, I think, because I can’t even imagine having to deal with another human being wanting my attention.

And then the dog starts whining because he wants a walk and all I can think of doing is kicking the damn animal over the garden fence.

Humiliation vs. humility?

Tuesday, February 26th, 2008

I have dealt with people stepping over me as I trip on my new Jesus Lopez heels, tumbling into the gutter and spilling my piping hot coffee on my Hermes scarf. I have dealt with people glancing at me over the latest Marian Keyes novel as I hurl my guts out on the London Underground. That’s easy!

But when I am crouching to attend to my child, my general appearance in a state of disarray from lack of sleep … or effort … I falter when the woman, fresh from the SPA flashes a haughty look as she struts on down the road to her next appointment.

L-O-V-E

Monday, February 25th, 2008

I remember falling in love with my husband. I fell slowly and with little awareness of what was happening, and for a long time I denied that I was in fact falling for this man who I had first despised for so long and then shared my bed as a friend for many months after that. But I fell and it was beautiful.

I can’t remember when exactly it happened with my baby, that moment of falling. It could only be that it was the same gradual experience. The falling part takes a long time but the love; well, the love, it lasts forever.

Metamorphosis

Friday, February 22nd, 2008

Money has always provided me with a perfectly good reason to live. So, although I had a very meagre pay cheque, I now had my reason. Perhaps surprisingly, it was when I had finally rediscovered my reason to live that I realised I actually had two reasons to live.

I blinked and missed the moment that made everything change from surviving to enjoying. I had been waiting for this blob to transition into a real person and cannot even pinpoint the exact time when it felt like I had a purpose in being there for him.

Galleries in Paris

Monday, February 18th, 2008

If you have a baby and you don’t want that to get in the way of a good holiday, go to Europe where they are tolerated in even the trendiest restaurants and even woken up by friendly restaurant staff and fellow patrons … usually when you have just got them to sleep in their prams … people want them around. And if you are into a cultural trip to see great art, Paris is the place to be on even the busiest long weekend with the most popular masterpieces on show.

It seemed too easy – taking a 7-month-old baby on holiday to London and Paris had images of crying in queues, restaurants, planes and trains. People still claim I’m just one of those lucky mums with an easy child. I can’t claim to not have had luck, as I can’t claim to know what it would be like any other way. What I can claim is that, even if there had been an element of luck involved, it also had a lot to do with dedication, perseverance and tenacity (and that’s baby and me).

To digress slightly, there was an issue with dummy sucking as opposed to thumb sucking. My baby started sucking his thumb as soon as he could get it to his mouth (around 6 weeks) and I switched his thumb for a dummy every time due to the nattering of concerned friends and relatives. Once I realised that dummy sucking involved getting up in the night to replace the dummy every time it fell out (spiral staircase one unfortunate obstacle), I withheld the dummy until my baby learnt to either go to sleep without it or use his thumb or blanket (this involved only two sleep times worth of crying to sort out). But, back to the story …

I booked a flight to coincide as closely as possible with my baby’s sleep routine. Because he had a blanket (several actually but all pretty similar) that he was attached to at sleep time and because he sucked his thumb, he knew it was sleep time as soon as I gave him his blanket and promptly started sucking his thumb … to coincide with take off (and middle ear neutralising!) He then slept all night until the lights went on in the cabin, by which time he (as well as all passengers in close proximity) was well rested.

To digress again, we ordered a TwinArc Travel Cot by LittleLife online, which we had posted to where we were staying in London. This is the most lightweight travel cot you can buy and, therefore, does not reduce your luggage allowance by too much. And, while I’m on the topic of luggage, the pram does not get counted towards your allowance because you push your baby in it all the way to the plane where it gets put in the hold last minute (and not weighed in).

Because baby was following The Routine, there was no issue with putting the cot in our room as he was used to going to sleep at certain times and was not even unsettled by the different environment because we prepared him (never underestimate how much a non-speaking baby can understand) and never made a fuss about putting him in his travel cot to sleep. This gave us free reign to go out when we wanted to and because we were shopping and sightseeing every day, all we had to do was put the pram in recline mode, throw a blanket over the top to block out some light and, hey presto, baby would fall asleep effortlessly … because he was used to The Routine. There are certainly pros and cons to The Routine and I would never be able to convince someone to follow one unless they were that way inclined from the start … but being free to wander the streets of London and Paris with a perfectly rested baby is certainly one of the pros.

Where the luck came in was visiting galleries and exhibitions in Paris where the queues wrapped around buildings and stretched down streets for what seemed like miles. There was always a kindly guard wandering around, ushering all parents with small children to a special queue, which was immensely shorter. At the Picasso museum we even got a personal guide to show us the easiest route and help us into the private elevators.

If you are more geared for rave holidays in Goa and Ibiza, The Routine probably isn’t for you because what parent wants their baby to go to sleep at 7 p.m. and wake up at 7 a.m. when they only get to bed around 7 a.m. themselves?

Plus one

Friday, February 15th, 2008

So, there I am, sitting in semi-darkness, with my baby attached to my left breast. Again! I had tried using this time to do breathing exercises. I had tried using this time to rest. I had tried using this time to make up fantasy stories for him. I had tried using this time to sing. The problems with the above were: (a) it’s hard to meditate or rest when you are obsessed with knowing the exact time your baby is feeding from each breast; (b) without the rest, I could only think up one story before I hit the bottom of the barrel; and (c) I can’t sing.

I’ve always been good at math though and that part of my brain was still remarkably in tact. From three weeks old, my baby had the entire times table recited to him four times a day.

Baby OM, The Economist and Pavlov

Thursday, February 14th, 2008

My child now asks for Om Pady Hom … which, in case you still have post-baby jelly brain … is really Om Mani Padme Hom and is a Buddhist chant. To calm him through his crying fits – whether from the reflux, the sleep training, or my total lack of ability to be anywhere near him – I would either play the CD of chants (the very ones that calmed my nerves on many death-defying bus journeys through India) or chant to him in my very own off-key tone. It is a coincidence that he was trained like Pavlov’s dog but he now has his own chant and it is a relief to everyone that there is something that calms him instantly.

I chose reading to him, above the ubiquitous kid-friendly DVDs, which I couldn’t bring myself to watch let alone inflict them on my child. I only had one children’s book in the house at the time – Mr Happy (a gift I had bought my husband when we were in London and he was miserable) – so, when I was thoroughly sick of reading that, I turned to my subscription of the Economist and let him drift to sleep over the latest news of global economies and banking scandal. Turns out, it usually sent me into a deep, much-needed slumber too. Another Pavlov victory: he loves listening to me read to him and can sit still for hours while I read anything I have with me at the time.

Slop

Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

You unfortunately can’t give your child fillet steak and truffle sauce from day one. You also can’t be sure of the flavours your baby will enjoy … you have to get all the flavours and food groups in and everything comes in the form of slop. When you are giving the baby something that looks so frightful, you can feel free to experiment with all kinds of disgusting sounding combinations because, chances are, you will stumble upon something that baby truly likes while getting all the nutrients in. My baby liked the following combinations:

Mashed banana and avocado
Mashed chickpeas and banana
Mashed lentils and sieved pears
Cooked apples and chickpeas
Pureed rice with potato flour cheese sauce

They sound dreadful and who knows how I came up with them, but they worked and I managed in this way to keep him off meat, wheat and sugar for an entire year.

A Message in a Bottle

Wednesday, February 6th, 2008

Or rather, a message about a bottle … a bottle of cold pressed sesame seed oil.

I was too stubborn to do the baby-bathing test before I left the hospital. I was totally unprepared for how minuscule baby would be and the thought of trying to wash him in a bath of water while supporting him from head to toe was more than I could comprehend (on top of all the other stuff I couldn’t quite comprehend).

There’s a solution: a sturdy changing table with a comfy changing mat; a plastic bowl; a few facecloths; a baby massage book and a bottle of cold pressed organic sesame oil (there are other oils that can be used but this was the most lightweight I could find). At bath time, the naked baby is wrapped in a towel on the changing mat while you work on each part of the body separately, massaging the oil into baby’s skin (and even the head). Once complete, you use a facecloth and a basin of perfectly warm water to wipe baby down before drying gently and dressing.

This is not only a way around the cumbersome process of bathing, it is also better for baby’s skin – sorting out skin rashes and cradle cap, amongst other things – the massage is great for baby’s body, and it is an incredible bonding experience. While I hate to differentiate between the functions of mum and dad (mainly because it is usually a gross generalisation more than anything else and my husband proved to be a better mother than I was at times), it is a fact that there are men out there terrified of caring for their babies. This massage method brings an easy caring experience to dads as well, and at the right time of day too.

Naked

Thursday, November 15th, 2007

The volume on bhalababy has been muted for too long so I have decided to turn it up with a sample of freewriting from baby’s first photograph.

‘Please wipe my cheek’, she asks as another tear rolls down, dragged in the wake of the one that has gone before. Her husband leans in and, as he does so, a tear of his own drops down to meet those he is wiping away. These are not sad tears but tears of relief and joy and love. The mound on her belly has been slit open to release the yell of a tiny baby; and not only that but it has released the anticipation and apprehension that has been mounting for the six months since they had discovered their lives were going to change forever. The theatre, a usually sterile, white, odourless and lifeless place is transformed. Her joy bubbles into laughter; her head flicking from side to side attempting to make eye contact with someone; anyone she can focus on; anyone she can share another anecdote with to disperse these overwhelming emotions. The doctors and theatre nurses squelch in their wellington boots through the river of blood and amniotic fluid which is turning the floor her favourite colour. She takes the swaddled baby and smiles. Her nose wrinkles but the tears no longer flow.