J'accuse! / Little things that make a big difference

It just took me three whole minutes to get the word 'diaper' into a text message and those are three minutes of my life I'm never going to get back.

Yes, my pre-child self says, because nobody wants to receive a text with the word 'diaper' in it. Well, missy. Let me tell you. The story is, last night I was at a high-stakes Rock Paper Scissors tournament and I couldn't very well compete with a dirty diaper in my hand. So I passed it off to one of the refs, who graciously dealt with it. I needed to thank her.

And of all people in the world, new moms don't have three minutes in which to leisurely spell out a six-letter word when auto-correct is being an auto-asshole.

Things need to change around here. In the tradition of middle-class feminism, I hereby declare a general strike against a few things that just really bug me needlessly provide barriers against new parents enjoying their lives.

In the words of Emile Zola: J'accuse!

1. The lack of changing tables in public restrooms. Where do we change our babies if there isn't one provided? On our laps (danger, rolling babies!) or on the floor (gross, rolling-in-excretion babies!). I even have a blog about it www.mamactivism.wordpress.com, showing all the ridiculous and unsafe places I've had to change Sweet Baby James' diaper. I also just ordered some 'Install Changing Table Here' stickers, which I will distribute to new moms (you can order them from the Cafe Press Mamactivism site or email me at svea.boyda.vikander@gmail.com if you want some).





I refuse to stay home all the time, keeping my baby and my person away from the view of polite society. And I refuse to quietly change my baby on a public restroom floor. The revolution is here.


2. Sharp corners on things meant for infants. Babies love to play with 'grown-up' things much more than real toys. My co-blogger, Sarah, wrote about her (foiled) desire to find 'real life' toys for her baby this week, and his obsession with inanimate objects last week. Sweet Baby James is no different. He likes to handle, mouth and generally bash around anything he sees us use, like the specially-made-for-babies sunscreen bottle.

I'm forever trimming the sharp corners off their plastic edges. It only takes a minute but it requires me to a) notice that there's a sharp corner, b) remove it from Sweet Baby James' hands (harder, and noisier, than you might think), c) locate the scissors, and d) manage to cut off the corner with one hand, without also cutting the baby in my other arm. Simply smoothing the edges during the manufacturing process would make a world of difference to any mom who's interested in introducing her child to the real world. And if you're going to charge $30 for some flippin' sunscreen, I think you can afford to do it. (Blue Lizard can charge that much because we're desperate for UV protection that doesn't contain chemicals that cause skin cancer, which leads me to my next point...)

3. Carcinogens in things meant for infants. I really, really care about my kid. I also really really don't like reading ingredient lists. It's so time-consuming to be googling everything he comes into contact with, and it pisses me off because I'd rather be playing peek-a-boo.

Here's the deal: when someone gives your baby an outfit, you have to wash it with special detergent because the dyes in most fabrics can irritate a baby's skin (and sometimes they come off in baby's mouth); if your baby is lying on a cushy foam mat (you know, those primary colour puzzle-piece ones we had in kindergarten?), it's probably off-gasing formamide. If baby's licking the floor or walls, there's a good chance he's also licking cleaning chemicals, floor varnish, and/or lead paint. Yeah.

Even if I mostly breastfeed and am careful (and privileged) to buy organic, there's still the chance that pesticides and GMOs are present in my baby's food. The special plastic Nuby Hot Safe Spoons
(which don't cut his mouth but are also somehow designed to change colour when they touch 'too hot' food – I am suspicious of them but they were the only ones available at the pharmacy) also probably release something icky. His super-absorbent overnight diapers have sodium polyacrylate in them (but he still pees through them on the regular). And now, even baby's shampoo (such as this Johnson and Johnson 'No More Tears' -- yes, I also remember this from the bad old days...) is a known evil. My family doesn't use it, but they gave us a good-sized sample when we signed up for a Babies R Us registry (don't sign up for a Babies R Us registry).

Can't we all just get along and agree to stop doing this? Is there really someone out there who's thinking, "Oh, this thing will give babies cancer. We should advertise it to new parents. We should also just give it away for free to make sure it disseminates widely. Leave no child untouched." To that person I say, take a step back and think about what's important. Just, stop. Please.

4. People who want to touch my sleeping baby. This doesn't happen very often but when it does it really gets my mama goat. What if it were really hard for you to get to sleep, but you also had a condition in which you NEEDED to sleep 12 hours/day, or you (or your mother) would meltdown into a hysterical, crying wretch? Would you want to be poked awake by a stranger who just wants to feel that special joy of having your momentary attention?

In our society, it's impolite to touch a baby without asking his/her caregiver first. I'm not always sure I like that rule, but everybody should know it. Those of you who just want a quick smile before you get off the bus: J'accuse! Let sleeping babies lie.

On babywearing

"Excuse me, sir! there is a tiny man in your jacket!"


Check out Too Hot For Stroller, our babywearing blog.

Babies: Can't live with 'em...

I don't know what it was today... The 416th consecutive night of broken sleep, or the constant whining coming from the baby backpack as I attempted our first ever mother-son hike in the canyon, an abortive effort that failed not during our walk through the grimy city to get there, but only once we'd reached the beautiful canyon itself? The blackish poop in the diaper which had dried all over Sweet Baby James' butt by the time we returned from this non-hike? The two-times wailing when he fell on his face, cutting his lip and drawing blood for the first (and second!) time in his life? The quick frustration with his sippy cup, this cup which had been on my to-do (to-buy) list for several days and which led only to soaked clothes, a furious baby and a dent in the new blue bookshelf? Or maybe it was the demoralizing experience of having bused over an hour across the city with a seriously tired baby last night to attend a La Leche League meeting that wasn't happening... And then busing, with a now hysterically tired baby, all the way back?

Whatever the case: at around 3pm today I had to sit down, take a deep sigh and admit something terrible to myself (and my husband, because apparently I was talking to myself). I really don't feel like being a mom today. 

Honestly.

The toughest thing I've experienced in being a new mom isn't any one thing in particular -- I can deal with endless kamikaze poopings, I can deal with sleeplessness, I can deal with sore arms when I carry him and guilt when I don't -- but it's the constancy of it. Like being pregnant, being a mom would be so much easier if you could do it just six days out of seven, or even nine out of ten.

But ya can't. It doesn't work like that.

And I'm not even sure I would want it to. After all, I could take a break if I really needed it. I could go on a quick vacation somewhere, leaving hubby or the grandparents to look after the little one. I could ignore him a little more often. I could buy a TV. I could put him in daycare. But probably as a result of my 'attachment' parenting practices and beliefs, I don't even want to (...yet). I feel good when I get a short (2 hours max) daily break from the baby. But I don't feel good leaving him for any longer than that, or even for a full day with regular check-ins.

Dr. and Martha Sears talk about this 'feeling right' when you're with your baby in their lovely book The Attachment Parenting Book : A Commonsense Guide to Understanding and Nurturing Your Baby. It shouldn't surprise any of us that babies feel 'right' when they're with their primary caretaker. But what about when mamas need (though don't always want) to be with their babies? There's a certain snideness in our culture about 'clingy' parents. You hear it from kindergarten teachers who have to "shoo" the parents away on the kids' first day of school; I've heard it from obstetric nurses who laugh at new mamas who are reluctant to give up their newborns to the nursery "just so she can get a few hours of sleep!"

I know we shouldn't have kids to fill a hole within us. Kids are not designed to make their parents happy, and anyway, they never do. They are designed to be themselves -- infuriating, discomfort-producing, entirely lovable little beings. I worry about unconsciously crossing the line from healthy attachment into the territory of (s)mothering enmeshment. Co-dependency is the last thing I want. Connection, compassion and understanding are the first (it's a three-way tie).

In fact, like a true modern woman, I want it all ways. I want deep attachment (but not enmeshment!) and I want a kickass creatively powerful life. The only problem is... How? How do I know when to 'give in' and spend the day eliciting smiles from my baby, and when it would be wiser to spend that time working on my other creative projects?

I don't know. If I'm not working on 'my own stuff' (like, ahem, this blog post), I'm not happy to be a stay at home mom; if I'm not connecting well with my baby, what the f*ck am I doing writing this self-righteous parenting blog? It's a fine balance.

Anyway.

I highly recommend admitting that you're not feeling great about being a Mama on the days that you're not. It felt so good. Like that staple of professor office doors: 'Today is not your day. Tomorrow doesn't look good either.' Today I'm not The Best Mama. Today I'm not picking your spoon up off the floor after you've thrown it there for the fifth time, on purpose. I don't care if you have to eat the rest of your apple sauce with your hands. Today I'm Distracted, Irritable, Grouchy Mama. And I can't wait 'til it's your bedtime.

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In this post:



Wordless Wednesday: THFS and Mamactivism


Want more 'I've Changed My Baby...' pics? Check out our Mamactivism blog: www.mamactivism.wordpress.com



Want more über fashionable (and sometimes historic!) babywearing? Check out
Too Hot For Stroller: www.toohotforstroller.wordpress.com . THFS!

The Tuesday Photo: 37 Weeks Old

Click here to see the Boyda-Vikander baby blog. We call it The Tuesday Photo because that's how it started -- a grandmother's request for a weekly photo so she could see how the little one was growing. The rest is history.



This week, Sweet Baby James rescues a neighbourhood puppy, wears a sombrero, investigates a donut, and breaks free of the chains of infant servitude.

The Tuesday Photo: 37 Weeks