About

Welcome to Mama to Mama, an open and accepting space for Mamas (and Papas!) to read, share, learn and discuss the best, the not-so-great, and the downright hilarious aspects of motherhood. Got a bun in the oven? A babe in arms? How about a large splotch of spit-up on your shoulder? Here's your chance to celebrate and commiserate, maybe pick up a trick or two from Mamas who've been there (hint: only crazy people wear white postpartum).

Motherhood can be isolating but it shouldn't be. We like to think Mama to Mama is as intimate as having coffee with your oldest friend -- your oldest friend who is totally baby-obsessed and uses the hushed tones of an international peace broker to discuss parenting strategies and the cost of her sister-in-law's stroller. You know, that friend. The one who smells like rancid milk.

Mama to Mama is co-written and edited by Sarah and Svea, two young mamas with our lives full of four kids, a couple of devoted husbands and a whole lotta poop. That’s what brought us together two years ago when we met on the board of directors for a non-profit arts organisation. We started Mama to Mama in November 2011 with the aim of both understanding and sharing our parenting experiences. What if, we wondered, there was a space for us to be entirely honest about the issues we face on a day-to-day basis? Like, why does my baby's Hallowe'en costume make me feel queasy? Will I ever stop worrying about my not-so-leaky right nipple? And is it normal that my baby has started quacking like a duck?

We are both newly married, hyper-productive (and sometimes just plain hyper – we keep saying we're going to blog about ADHD one of these days, yuk yuk), recovering workaholic attachment parents. We share the aim of raising socially responsible, well-adjusted, creative kids – the kind of people who can laugh at their own foibles, stand up for others, and don’t take shit from anyone. On our better days, we endeavour to be this way ourselves. Follow our daily failings on twitter @mamatomamablog.

Check back here for weekly updates, product and book reviews, tips for staying sane in those crazy postpartum weeks (all... 938.5 of them), and interviews with wise mamas who've been there. Also, check out our projects: 'I've changed my baby...' on Mamactivism, where we agitate for change under the radical rubric that mothers are people with the right to lead fulfilling, active, adult lives; and Too Hot For Stroller: a collection of the hottest, most stylish babywearing images you've ever, well, beheld.

Mother's Day: What I get out of it.

We talk a lot about sacrifice as it relates to motherhood. Mamas sacrifice their independence, their careers, their bodies, their personal goals, their marriages, their hairstyles... Pretty much anything you can think of to sacrifice, sometime, somewhere, a mama's done that for the sake of her child. I think we talk about this a lot because, a) mothers do make these sacrifices, and it's kind of amazing in an absurdist sort of way, and b) we're feeling a bit guilty because we don't really appreciate our moms, or motherhood, on a daily basis. So we have to idealize it and talk about its extremes.

But today, on Mother's Day, that most brunchy of holidays that doesn't rank high enough for a day off work, I'm going to write about what I love about being a mother. Not what I give it (that's for the other 364 days a year), but what it gives me.

Brunchy brunch-brunch brunch.
Women Laughing Alone With Salads (stockphotos at their worst best)

Meaning ~ 
I've always thought that children are the most precious things in the world. Precious and vulnerable. Raising children with love and respect is the most important thing. So, whammo! have a baby and never a day is wasted. Every day that passes in which I haven't maimed or traumatized our child, I'm helping him grow into a full-fledged person. Even on days that I can't get started, days when I'm *ahem* still sitting in my pyjamas and a milk-stained tank-top with a damp, milk-stained cloth diaper shoved down its front at 12pm. Life has meaning. This hang-nail, a direct result of not having time to maintain my appearance due to being a full-time mama? It has meaning, too.

Our new cloth-diaper-nursing-pad look, direct from Milan.

Company ~
It's hard to feel lonely with Sweet Baby James around. Sometimes I manage it anyway, but usually he's my pal who knows me (and my bathroom habits) like no one else (if you just clicked on that link, you are a disgusting, disgusting person. Just kidding!). The day before I found out I was pregnant I had just come back from a road trip. My new fiancé(!)* was still on the road. I spent the day alone, eating food from the freezer, unpacking, and soaking in the bath. I took a long walk up Mount Royal to see the season change into summer. I didn't talk to anyone. It was kind of blissful, but it was the end of an era. I haven't spent a day alone since. Spending them with someone who can't insult you and who wants nothing more than to entice you into a game of 'white plastic coat hangers look funny as a hat' is pretty darn nice.

*Ha ha ha, remember when Z was still my fiancé? No - you blinked? You missed it? Lolz.

Caretaking ~
I've always loved looking after people. This is not usually very healthy from a psychological point of view. I know, because my other job is therapist (which is kind of like being paid to look after other people). But anyway, having SBJ has been wonderful in this regard because I finally have someone into whom it's healthy and expected that I put almost all my energy. My friendships have suffered because mothering was pretty much the only way I related to people before (bossy, strict, nosey). But those dress rehearsals prepared me well for my onstage debut.

This is what never happens.

Movement ~
Becoming a mom has really changed my perception of my body. Yes, I would still like to be 10  (or 15, or 25...) pounds lighter, except that not really -- because then I couldn't carry my 30 lb. baby and I couldn't nurse him without body fat. As soon as I conceived, my body wasn't just something to be looked at and/or worked to the bone, it had a purpose. And it still does. Being a mother requires wrestling your son away from his self-appointed position as kitchen garbage inspector. Being a mother requires muscle.

For all these reasons and more, I feel blessed to be a mother. Happy mother's day!

The Etiquette of Babywearing

Some thoughts on how to babywear, and how to do it nicely.


1. Courtesy:
If you see a mama on transit and she's wearing her baby, offer her your seat. It's like she's pregnant, but on the outside. If you see a papa on transit and he's wearing his baby... same thing.

Too Hot For Stroller!

2. Superiority:
No babywearing method is better than any other. You might have one you like. This doesn't mean it's OK to tell an exhausted parent that their forward-facing carrier is harming their child. Have you ever tried one of those things on? Baby will be out of that carrier in two hours, max. I promise. Bouncing baby boy will survive the bouncing baby Björn.


3. Gender:
Men wearing babies is sexy. I get it. That doesn't mean you can follow my husband around with drool hanging out the side of your mouth. No, he doesn't do it just to turn you on. And no, he doesn't need to provide a free therapy session to you about your unsupportive ex and your breastfeeding and feminist birth practices. He saves all the good stuff for me, bitches.
On a similar note, I don't appreciate leering comments about how, "I wish I could be carried around like that," or "I'll have what the babie's having." No, sir, you won't.


4. Sharing:
If you borrow a friend's carrier, return it in the same condition. In the completely hypothetical scenario that it's become coated in a funky-smelling fluid, hand wash it in water without soap. Hang it to dry. Anything else will compromise the carrier's fabric. If you're two people sharing a carrier (like, say, a husband who's 6'2" and a wife who's... not), your partner has every right to adjust it to their measurements.

5. R-E-S-P-E-C-T:
When babies are being carried they go into the 'quiet-alert state'. This is the best mental state for learning, and it's also the most passive. If you greet a baby and she responds with a blank face, don't take it as a cue to shout louder. She's not deaf, she's ignoring you. She's not ignoring you by accident, she's ignoring you because it's good for her.

6. Sleeping, part I:
Is that baby sleeping? Don't touch it. DO NOT TOUCH IT DO NOT TOUCH IT DO NOT TOUCH IT.

7. Sleeping, part II:
Is that baby sleeping? Don't expect his mama to stop and chat with you. She has better things to do, like go to the bathroom without being stared at from less than a foot away.


8. Carrier Making:

Kamika, of Oh Sew Serendipitous, weight-tests her fabric
at over 35 pounds for hours on end, and you should too.

This could be a post all to itself. Don't steal someone else's carrier design. Don't sew carriers that can't hold up to 30 pounds (yes, some babies are 30 pounds before their first birthday, no they are not all bottle-fed infants in Idaho), or if you do, make sure it's clearly labeled. Use good fabric and good construction: if you wouldn't carry your baby in that thing, why should someone else?


9. DO NOT TOUCH IT (again):
Lots of parents use carriers because they don't want strangers trying to pick up their babies. Don't be that person they complain about at the La Leche League meeting.

10. Nipple Confusion:
Babies can be nursed while they're in carriers. You might see a nipple if you're hanging out with a babywearing mama. The nipple might even have milk coming out of it. That milk might even be spraying around like a garden hose turned up full force. Deal with it. It doesn't mean you have to look the other way, stop talking to her, or that she needs to hide in a dark corner (she is not a teenage couple at a makeout party). If mama was uncomfortable with you seeing her nurse, she would make sure you didn't.


11. Development:
Babies carried develop at the same or faster pace than babies who are not. Comments like, "I'm surprised she can walk, you carry her all the time!" or "It's going to give him a twisted spine!" aren't just silly, they're offensive. And ignorant. And rude. And... ugh.

12. Cultural Appropriation:

My father showing us how to use the cradleboard he made
and in which he once carried me. Cradleboards
are used by indigenous people in North America
(including the Iroquios, Panobscot, and Navajo) as well
as the Saami (once called Laplanders) in Northern Europe.

We all know babywearing has been done in some form at some point of time in almost all 'traditional' societies. But which society does the kind of babywearing that you do? What do they call it? Show some respect and know the history of your carrier. And for goodness sake, don't buy a carrier with a racist name ('The New Native', 'papoose', etc.) and don't pretend it makes you some kind of 'authentic' something. There is no such thing as an 'authentic' anything.

13. Baby carriers count as clothes, part I:
A baby in a diaper in a baby carrier is fully dressed.

14. Baby carriers count as clothes, part II:
A mama in pyjamas with a baby in a diaper in a baby carrier is fully dressed.

15. Safety:
If you know something about babywearing and you see a baby being carried in a seriously unsafe way, by all means go up to the parent/caregiver and politely tell them what you see. Bear in mind that many carries look uncomfortable and downright precarious from the outside; only the person wearing the baby can feel where the baby's centre of gravity is, and that, for example, baby can lift her head on her own, and won't suffocate from resting it on mama's boobs. Mama's boobs are the best pillows.

School-wtf was I thinking?

This is something I find I am constantly asking myself. I have come to the general conclusion, that loss of grey matter as a result of having children has rendered me unable to say no to situations that most people would consider crazy. Or perhaps the lack of grey matter has convinced the rest of my brain that I am invincible, and childbearing has bestowed me with innate super powers....

At either rate, whatever the cause, I have managed to convince myself that undergoing a second M.A., while breastfeeding, volunteering and working are a good idea. Ha! As I think about the way my days are carried out I wonder where the sane train was when I missed the stop. Let's take the first day for instance.

There is the usual waking, nursing, lunch making, showering and breakfast making-before the hour long commute into the city. Followed by the dreaded walk up the mountain, one three hour class followed immediately by a dash up another 2 floors to the next 3 hour class. If I'm fast enough I have just enough time to go to the washroom or pump breast milk for P. Since often because of lack of time it comes down to a decision between the two, the pumping generally wins. Good thing I have developed camel like tendencies out of necessity.

Usually the last class of the day is followed by a dash down the hill to the train in hopes to get a seat and not have to stand the hour home. After which I hop off and go home to nurse P, do homework and cook dinner for the night. After which comes bath time, cluster feeding bedtime and my own homework. Lunch making for the girls lunches the next day and then I hop into bed to do it all over again. Yup, this is a typical day. Not a harry hectic day, just a regular plain old day. Back to day one of second semester....

5 minutes into day one of my second semester of the Grad school walk up the hill and the button pops off my jacket. No, not the un-noticable, your jacket still closes button - the middle button over the chest that busts the jacket wide open. No biggy though, its only 5 million degrees below zero with the windshield factor....Did I mention I trek up a steep mountain to get to my classes in a building near the top of that mountain? And that its an ice rink? With no buildings to shelter the wind?

If this scenario wasn't indication enough of the way the day/semester would be turning out my dream should've been fair warning. Running through a playground riddled with cobra snakes barefoot past a lion in order to reach ones children is no easy feat. And that was all before 5am.

During the three or four hours I managed to sleep in a row. You see, P doesn't sleep through the night. In fact, he has never slept through the night a day in his life.

This is most likely due to the fact that my parenting style does not dictate that my child has to be on a specific schedule. Although it would be nice if P chose to sleep- oh I don't know- say 6 hours in a row. The reality of it is, he doesn't. I am not a fan of crying it out methods as I don't feel that they foster a relationship of trust between mom and baby. Some people advocate for this method, and everyone has their own way of parenting - its just not my cup of tea. G and I (much like my co-blogger Svea and her husband), subscribe to the attachment parenting model, which is a parenting philosophy that aims to foster long term secure bonding between children and their parent bodies. It is a more instinctive and intuitive parenting approach that encourages parents to be sensitive and responsive to babies cues. Within this model there are what the Sears (Martha and Bill) call the 7 baby B's (bonding, breastfeeding,

baby wearing, bedding close to baby, belief in the language value of your baby's cry, beware of baby trainers and balance). You can learn and read more about this approach on the Sears' website or by reading their book: The Attachment Parenting Book.

Although I am back to school, I still maintain attachment parenting concepts, adjusting to our particular situation. For example, we still co-sleep, wear P and I am still breastfeeding him, all variables that play a role in how I schedule my work and classes. These variables also dictate the amount of sleep I get in one night - which is not a lot. If I get 3 good hours to rub together I have won the lottery.

The beauty about parenthood is, you adjust. Yes! Parents have survived sleep depravation for centuries. While parenthood may not give you super powers, although I like to think it does come with a set of cool attributes not limited to eyes in the back of your head, extreme balancing skills and the ability to stop rowdy children with a single look- it will allow you to surprise even yourself. It is amazing how the body is able to cope with more stress and less sleep, digging into extra reservoirs of strength from the interstices of the soul. It also forces you to be organized.

Which is why I'm able to go to school and do other things while surviving on little sleep and possibly too much decaf. That and I am eternally optimistic that my efforts will pay off both in the form of a stable well paying job, and the example that will influence my children to carry on with their own educations until they achieve their dreams.

Looking back 12 years ago to when I was just 16 with a brand new baby and no job, high school or prospects, I never would have known where I would end up today. But I can tell you what I was thinking. I made a pact, with myself and my child that I would not be a statistic or be labelled. I would break through barriers and become more for J and any future children I would have. I was thinking I would do it for them. 12 years and 3 children later, I can say I have overcome adversity.

On days when I ask myself what was I thinking? I remind myself that I wouldn't trade the lack of sleep, ridiculously busy, hectic schedule, or toddler meltdowns that make up a regular day in my house for anything, because my kids are the strength that has fuelled me. As stated by Cornelia, mother of Gracchi, depicted in the 1785 painting by classical painter Angelica Kauffman - my children are my treasures.

Angelica Kauffman. Cornelia Pointing to her Children as Her Treasures, 1785

10 Signs You Need to Find Yourself Some Mama Friends

Can you still be close after you've had a baby and your friend hasn't? The featured article in my La Leche League magazine says Well, not really. But that's bullshit. It has to be bullshit. I love my old friends and since none of them have kids yet, I refuse to become a self-made social pariah just because I have a totally new life with drastically different priorities baby.

But there are differences. I don't have the time I used to. I don't have the patience I used to. And I definitely can't give my friends the kind of attention they're used to. I'm too focused on getting Sweet Baby James to stop eating that french fry he peeled off the cafe floor.

The writing's on the wall. I'll never leave my old friends but I need some Mama friends to share my pain /germs. Maybe you're in the same boat.

Here are 10 Signs You Need to Find Yourself Some Mama Friends
1. Your baby's been to the bar more times than he's been to the playground. He plays better pool than you do. He thinks the bartender is his father friend.
2. The bartender actually is his friend.
3. You discuss defecation at all manner of social functions. In fact, you discuss it at all social functions. The bartender knows if baby's pooped today.
4. Pregnant women cross the street when they see you coming. Your desperation to bond is only exceeded by their desire to get to yoga.
5. You sit down for lunch with your friend the party animal. She says she's 'exhausted'. You quash an urge to gouge her eyes out.
6. You update your status to say you're putting the baby to sleep. Your friends think this is a good time to call and say hi.
7. You refuse to have a conversation with anyone before you know their stance on vaccination and crying it out. The letter-carrier and cashier at your local grocery conduct their services in silence.
8. You start advising your friends to stick with Mr. Wrong because you're secretly hoping they'll get knocked up.
9. All those people who said they'd babysit when you were pregnant now define your baby as "the best form of birth control."
10. Your milk lets down and the only thing you can find to catch it is your friend's half-drunk martini. You call this ground-breaking. She calls it "a waste".