Top 10 Parenting Must-Haves

I am sure you moms out there remember the drill: you're 20 weeks pregnant with your first kid (or waiting to bring your adopted baby to his "forever-home"), and you have it on the DL that some friends are planning a baby shower for you. So you grab your husband and jump into your (probably clean-ish, since you don't have kids) car, and head out to the local Babies-r-us or Target. You grab a registry gun (while your husband checks his email on his phone) and go.to.TOWN! 'Cause it's your first baby-- and of COURSE you need all that stuff that Babies-r-us recommends. A swing that records your own voice singing lullabies, rocks six different directions, and shoots beams of light across the ceiling? Check. Some new-fangled electronic crib monitor that sets off your smoke-detectors and simultaneously calls the fire department and the pediatrician if your baby ceases movement for 3.5 seconds? Check. A convenient hand-held Itzbeen timer that lets you record when you last fed your baby, when she last had a bowel movement, what her daily horoscope is, and a handy feature that randomly picks her lucky lottery numbers. Check check check.

Things are usually different with your second kid. And as we await the birth of Girl #3, I can already see where this one is headed. The thing is, I hate baby gak. I HATE it. (I mean, unless it's really cool... but it's usually not.) It clutters up my house, is usually done in tacky primary colors-- or, if you're a bit more "progressive", pink and brown. You spend $9394857495 on it (or assume that your friends should, when they throw you a shower), use it approximately 3 times each (until you realize that all your baby wants is a boob, a clean diaper, and you) and then sell it all at a yard sale for $2. In my very humble opinion, it's largely a brilliant marketing move on the part of baby-gak makers; they convince you that you need this stuff, and if you don't have it, your neighbor will probably call CPS on you.

That said, there are definitely some essentials that have made my parenting experience a much saner and more pleasant journey. So, in the spirit of preventing you from putting that Itzbeen timer on your registry, I bring you my Top 10 Parenting Essentials. Don't leave your postpartum period without them.

1) 7th Generation Lemongrass/Thyme disinfecting spray. Kids are gross. And this yummy smelling cleaner almost makes you forget that you are cleaning up petrified kid puke from the plastic base of the carseat. Almost.
2) Dishwasher. This is a new-ish one for me, since we never had one until we bought our house 6 months ago. Seriously, it changes my life. Throw one of those little jelly-looking tabs in it, fire it up, and git 'er done.
3) A good sling/soft structured carrier/wrap/mei tai. Different parents prefer different types, but whether it's an Ergo or a Storchenwiege (or both), it's the best piece of baby gak I have ever purchased (a good carrier is pretty pricey-- but a) I buy them used and b) if you're not buying the crazy seizure-inducing swing and the 17 speed baby bouncer, you're actually saving money in the long run.)
4) booze Diet Dr. Pepper (for me, not the kids). Since I have been pregnant for 3 out of the last four years, and breastfeeding straight through the last four, the booze is low on the list. But Diet Dr. Pepper. Yum-stinkin'-O. As my dad would say, it's like little angels dancing on my tongue. Yeah, yeah, I know... caffeine, artificial sweetener- not so good. But so far not associated with fetal alcohol syndrome, so I am feeling pretty good about this choice.
5) Yummy Earth lollipops. I'm not disillusioned here. I know that organic evaporated cane juice= sugar. But somehow when it's made organically with beet juice and "other natural flavors", I feel like I am making a more righteous choice. I distribute them pretty much indiscriminately at our house. And I mean, how can you say no to flavors like "pomegranate pucker" and "tooberry blueberry"? You can't. Case in point.
6) Lunchables. Which leads me to a less-righteous choice, one which I hesitated to include out of fear of the backlash. But I am just gonna lay it all out there. Ok, my kids have MAYBE had these 3 times; it's not like it's an everyday occurrence. I am not gonna lie, though-- there are times as a parent that I plan very, very poorly. And I find myself at Target at 8 pm and I haven't fed my kids dinner. Yes, I understand that it's processed cheese food and congealed pig fat "turkey" slices-- and it probably can't qualify as dinner. So shoot me. The few times I have bought them, they saved me from meltdowns of epic proportions, and for that, I am eternally grateful to congealed pig fat and processed cheese food.
7) Bumgenius cloth diapers. I am a big fan of both the organic all-in-ones and the Flip covers with prefolds. GREAT diapers, and way cuter than disposables. (Oh, yeah, and they don't fill up the landfills like the plastic trays that Lunchables are packaged in. I figure they cancel each other out.)
8) Bank drive-through. I used to work at a bank, and felt righteous indignation at the frazzled moms in their dirty minivans who came through the drive-through with 17 different transactions. The only difference with me is that I usually try to take as many detours through the DT as possible, breaking up my transaction into 17 separate trips. 'Cause I've caught on to the fact that, not only does it get me out of the house, but my kids get a lollipop each time through. This, in turn, buys me approximately four minutes of peace and quiet. Which to me, is vastly worth it.
9) Burts Bees Baby Buttermilk lotion. This stuff smells divine. And here's the thing: my kids don't get bathed all that often. (Again, spirit of complete candor here...) The first-born used to get bathed at least once a day, far more often if she happened to pee-out of her diaper or spit up her breakfast. Now we've adopted a more laissez-faire, "Little House on the Prairie"/once-a-week approach... minus filling up a tin tub in the kitchen with buckets of melted snow. I have found that if you smear some baby buttermilk on those dirty little chillins' and pat down their hair, they are pretty much good as new.
10) Nap-time. Seriously, does anything else need to be said about this? If I could go back in time, I would skip the Itzbeen and swing and register for 2636463436437 of these bad-boys. And never once feel a moment of buyer's remorse.

Even though we ain't got money...

So I know it's not just us. Nobody has money in January. In many cases, it's because we've overspent on Christmas gifts or spent a small fortune traveling to exotic locale for the holidays. In our case, it's neither. Although I would commit murder to be in an exotic locale right about now.

It's our first winter as homeowners, and predictably-- there are expenses that we underestimated, didn't expect, or didn't plan well for. And as any do-it-yourself-er could attest to, home renovations always end up costing more than you anticipated. Especially when that home renovation project involves turning an old, musty garage into an awesomely adorable abode. Crazy how that works. And there are always things that need to be fixed or tweaked or replaced; I spent a portion of yesterday, during our snowstorm-going from room to room- identifying new places where our ceiling was leaking. And then in true melodramatic, stir-crazy, wacko-pregnant-hormone fashion, I began thinking about all the other things that need to be done... and about how the oil man just came and left us some oil and a huge bill... and about how we'll need to fix the clutch/heat/radio in my car, oh, wait! get a new car so that when the new baby is born, I can fit all my kids in it. And my heart immediately began to give way to fear. "Lord, what will we do? How will we pay for these things? What else can I cut out of our budget? Lord, what will we do??"

Let me first say-- I think we live fairly frugally. We don't eat out, I am trying to learn to be better with coupons, we cloth diaper, we almost always buy used clothing or get hand-me-downs from generous people in our lives. We don't have a fancy car, we keep the heat at 62; we're typically not reckless with money. And while we are feeling the "pinch" right now more so than in other times in our lives, we are, by God's grace, not behind on anything-- and have always been able to pay our obligations on time. These financial issues are what my missionary sister calls "first-world problems."

But none of that is the point, because there are always things that we could do better, always ways that we could be wiser stewards of our money. It's not the point, because God is not so concerned with my finances as He is with my heart. And the moment that my heart began to fear, I began to accuse the character of God: "You have not been good. You have not been faithful, You have not kept Your promises." WHAT?! Let's quickly pass over all the material stuff-- you know, a house, job, clothes, food-- "little" things that I somehow feel God "owes" me, and consider this: my soul has been purchased with the blood of a spotless Savior. The deepest need I have, the only one of eternal importance-- has been secured at the expense of Another. What arrogance-- that I can accuse God of not providing for me! That I can accuse Him of not being good! What a wretch I am.

Today, as the girls were napping, I was painting a closet and enjoying having a few quiet, kid-free moments. As I was cutting in the trim, I was reminded of the Scripture, "Your Heavenly Father knows that you need them." You remember the story, right? Jesus is teaching on a mountainside, to a people probably well familiar with poverty, and He cautions them to not be like people who don't know God-- who run after food and drink and clothing as though their lives depended on it. He reminded them, "your Heavenly Father know that you need it." I immediately saw my sin and began weeping into my paint. God met my deepest need in sending a Savior, and yet He still concerns Himself about the minutia and lilliputians that can seem so pressing to me. In addition, He gave me a wise husband who works unfathomably hard for our family; and even though I know he sometimes doesn't feel it, He gives my husband wisdom to lead our family with shrewdness and purposefulness.

I look at the heating oil bill; He knows that I need it. I look at my growing daughter and think of spring clothes for her; He knows that I need it. I look at my little car and my growing family; He knows that I need it. I look at our leaking ceiling; He knows that I need it. I look at the state of my soul, lost in sin without a thought of God; He knew that I needed it, and send His Son so that I could be reconciled to Him. May my soul be quiet and still before my God; He is, by His very character, faithful. My God is for me. I have nothing to fear.

Another post about my kids...

I know, I am one of those super annoying people who only ever post about their kids. Well, KID, in particular. It's not that I don't love Cana to smithereens, but she's still kinda... you know, a baby. I promise that once she's bigger and cracking me up more (rather than just waking me up), I'll be annoyingly persistent in sharing stories about her, too. Shoot me-- my kids are cute. I can't be held responsible for that.

Today, Evie was telling me about a scene in Popular Mechanics for Kids, a series they carry at our library-- and that is currently Evie's answer to life.

She said, "Mom. There was a commercial in PMK... and this man was in the hospital and he had those sticker things all over his chest..."

"Oh, yeah?" I absentmindedly replied.

"Yeah, just like me--when my heart was broken!!"

"That's right, honey," I responded, "You did have lots of EKGs."

Evie paused for a moment, then added, "Mom, Jesus GAVE me that hole in my heart so that He could walk through it and LIVE there!!!"

*Sigh* I love that girly. I mean, I realize that her theology is in need of some serious adjusting in more than one area... but come on, people! This kid is awesome.

Evie: thoughts on candy and theology

Driving in the car to the grocery store, I hear Evie in the backseat consulting her "list".

"Mom," says the wee miss, "I have a list of all the kinds of candy that we need to get for Daddy at the store."

"Oh, you do?" I question. "Is it just for Daddy?"

"Well," ponders Evie, "My dad is a good man. I think he'll share with me. So, for Dad AND me."

Dubiously I reply, "Evie, I don't know that we are going to be getting any candy at the store today."

Incredulous, Evie asks, "Why NOT?!"

"For one thing," I respond, "it's not good for our bodies. Or our teeth. Or our skin."

Evie ponders for a few moments, then counters, "Mom... I guess I will just have my rules talk to your rules."

"Oh, you will?", a bemused mama snickers.

"Yes," Evie confidently replies. "And MY rules are GOD'S rules!"

Well, I guess there's no arguing with that.

Giveaway @ Our Adoption Adventure: 100th Post and A Giveaway

So honestly, I have only met Michelle and Herb a handful of times, though I have high hopes of gaining their real-life friendship at some point! ;) I can't really personally relate to Michelle's emotions and fears and hopes as she follows Jesus on an adoption adventure-- but I do know the unsurpassable joy of being a mama, and I understand that it is a position to be coveted. I love Michelle's honesty, and I can't wait to hear that they are bringing their baby home to his or her forever family!

Michelle is doing a giveaway over at her blog, and it's super cool! Check it out! (But don't win, cause I want to win!)


Our Adoption Adventure: 100th Post and A Giveaway

Agita

You'd think that I would have to break my blogging silence with some earth-shattering revelation, some clever quip, some great theological debate. But I'd rather not, thankyouverymuch.

I will, however, break my blogging silence to tell you that I might be leaving my husband for that nice little old man who works at the Habitat Restore. Only because it might get me a discount there. Forget it, it's pretty cheap anyway. Probably not worth it in the long run.

But marital infidelities in the ceiling panel aisle aside, I am pretty much in love with this store. How have I lived in Lancaster for more than 5 years and never been there??? Me, who gets a severe case of agita if I even just walk by a yard sale, flea market, or thrift store? My guess is that, not owning a house, I had relatively little incentive to go in and buy, you know, tile. Or light fixtures. Or really stinking cool old windows. Or old posts whose patina would make my grandmother swoon.

But folks, as of tomorrow--- Lord willing and the creek don't rise-- I will be a homeowner landlord slum-lord well, whatevertheheckyouwanna call it. And as such, I find myself in need of some tile. And light fixtures. And really stinking cool old windows. And old posts whose patina would make my grandmother swoon. (ETA: I just learned the word 'patina' and I think it's pretty swell, so you'll probably be hearing a lot of it out of me lately. Or reading it a lot from me lately, especially since I am not quite sure how to pronounce it. PAT-ina? Pa-TINA? Who knows.) I am most excited about a fabulous old sink I found to put in my brand-spanking new kitchen, which my way-cooler-than-that-nice-little-old-man-at-Habitat-Restore husband is putting in for me. Speaking of swell, he pretty much is. He's pretty much a miracle-worker, and I am super excited to see how our little crackhouse garage apartment is going to metamorphasize into a flippin' cool party pad ahem, family home.

And if it doesn't, here's hoping Old Mr. Re-Store man waits for me.

The Office Baby is Breast-fed!! (aka, Melody rants about nursing)

So, there are very very things on TV that I get excited about. I do enjoy a good Murder Mystery every now and then, but holy cow-- I love the Office!!! So much so that I started getting my kids ready for bed at 6:30 last night just to ensure that everybody was deeply asleep by the magical 9 pm (didn't work... *sigh*). So you can understand how, as a huge Jim and Pam aficionado, I was on edge all day-- waiting for the episode in which their out-of-wedlock-conceived-baby is born. (Yes, I am a heathen. I know.) As a whole, I was kind of disappointed in the show; it was fine, I had a few chuckles. Didn't change my life or anything.

However, I do think that, for such a mainstream show, it was interesting how accurately it portrayed the breastfeeding/attachment parenting culture in US hospitals. In one scene, Pam is frustrated as she tries to get baby to latch on. A nurse comes in, and strongly encourages taking a little break and bringing the baby to the nursery. She insists, "It will be okay; I will just give her a bottle in the nursery." When Pam argues that she's read about nipple confusion, and doesn't want the baby to have a bottle, the nurse rolls her eyes and rebukes Pam. Throughout the episode, the nurse is constantly trying to take the baby to the nursery, and continually dismisses Pam's breastfeeding struggles with a snide, "It's FINE. Lots of babies are bottle-fed!"

Now, don't misunderstand me: this isn't a tirade against mothers who, for whatever reason, choose to bottle-fed their children. This is, however, a tirade against health care professionals who, on one hand, write literature extolling the benefits of breastfeeding, while shoving a bottle of formula down your baby's throat with the other hand. As expectant parents, we read all the books about the whys and hows of breastfeeding, but modern health care does not equip us with the resources we need to successfully breastfeed our children.

But it doesn't stop with our feeding choices. We aren't allowed to be the parent anymore. Many hospitals require a litany of tests, the vast majority of which cannot be held in your hospital room. Our babies, who have been nestled safely inside us for months upon months, are continually wrenched from our arms and wheeled in a plastic bassinet to a germ-y, bright hospital room in which they are subjected to a series of loud beeps and heel-pricks. Jaundiced newborn Cana had to be placed under the bili-lights for hours on end; because of a new "security" measure at the hospital, I wasn't even allowed to go to the nursery to sit beside her bassinet and sing to her. My MOTHER was, but I couldn't be with my baby. We had to fight tooth and nail to try to prevent doctor-on-duty from recommending that Cana receive formula, believed to be beneficial for jaundiced babies. Newborn Evie was wheeled back from a test in the nursery, clutching a plastic pink pacifier-- one that I had specifically asked that she NOT receive.

There is no refuting, regardless of how you choose to feed your child, that breastmilk is-- hands down-- the best possible thing that you can give your baby. There are no close seconds. The American Academy of Pediatrics recognizes this. The World Health Organization recognizes this. Why then do hospitals so very thoughtfully send us home with diaper bags chocked with cans of formula and buy one, get one free coupons? Even the lactation consultant at the hospital mentioned something to me about "when I start supplementing with formula". Wait, what?! When did I EVER mention that that was in the plan? We are taught to trust our doctors-- we believe that our pediatrician's word is as good as gold. Yet, all too often, they give us advice regarding breastfeeding that is just plain bad! I feel so sad for women who badly want to nurse their children, and don't have a network of sisters and mamas and friends who will come along side them in this journey-- and talk them down when it just seems easier to warm up some formula. (It's not.)

I know this sounds like a bitter rant against modern medicine. It's not. There are a ton of doctors out there, a ton of nurses and midwives, who truly want to help facilitate breastfeeding. There is an initiative called "Baby Friendly Hospitals", which prevents formula companies from preying on exhausted new mothers; it instead sends mamas home with a tub of Lansinoh and some nursing pads. Sadly, this is the exception and not the norm.

The Office ended with a sweet victory as Pam gets fussy baby to latch on and nurse for the first time, in the middle of a busy parking lot. As is typical, TV depicts a drama that has a happy ending in a half an hour. Breastfeeding challenges may last way, way longer than that. But as I cuddle with my two year old, and my baby, and nurse them down for the night-- I can unequivocally say-- it is absolutely worth it.

---*ahem* steps off soapbox----