Second Children

I am an oldest child, as were both of my parents. My husband Jon is an oldest child, as were his parents. We are both oldest grandchildren, and our daughter Hannah is the oldest great-grandchild on every side. Oldest children are what my husband and I know. So when we welcomed baby Jacob into our family we were entering uncharted territory. We suddenly had a younger sibling in our midst.

Most first-time parents are very nervous and very attentive. I might say too nervous and too attentive. The plain truth is that you don’t know what you’re doing. In this day and age you might not ever have held a newborn, let alone cared for one until suddenly you have your own. So you channel that worry into documentation. You create baby books and baby journals and baby albums. You chart how many wet and dirty diapers your newborn produces as if your very life depended on it.

With each passing child the amount of worry and attention diminishes. Which is a good thing, really. In the past four years of parenting I know I have lightened up considerably. My preschooler eats ice cream and shows no ill effects. I have crossed the refined sugar Rubicon, and we all survived. I have learned what matters and what doesn’t. And I have a whole lot less time on my hands. So I don’t write as many baby book entries. I take just as many photos, but I don’t put them in albums. And I don’t keep track of things like which day Jacob first made the ‘g’ sound.

But I don’t think my second child is any less important. I don’t love him less. Not even a little bit. I may have less time to devote to Jacob one-on-one, but a lot of that is made up for by his doting older sister. Plus, I’m not sure it was terribly good for anyone when I had nothing to do but spend one-on-one time with my child every day. Sometimes a little bit of sharing is good for a kid. It’s a lot of pressure to be the center of the universe, you know?

I am slowly learning the ins and outs of parenting a second child. There’s a temptation to view the little one as the eternal innocent, the one who can do no wrong. I am fighting that. There’s also a temptation to draw out infancy, because now I really understand how quickly it will be over. I am fighting that, too. And there’s a tendency to put pressure on the older one to look out for the younger, set a good example, make your life easier. Even more fighting from me on these fronts. I guess only time will tell how I do. How well I approach parenting children with a different birth orders.

I’m curious how other parents view birth order and the role it plays. Where do you fall in your family? And how has that affected your parenting? Or, maybe it hasn’t. I’d love to hear!

My first and second children, dividing my attention on the swings

Something is Eating my Plants

A little more than three weeks ago I talked about my garden, and my wee lettuce seedlings. My 4-year-old Hannah had helped me plant the seeds, and so we had rather more seedlings than we knew what to do with. I did some thinning, but mostly just let the little plants grow and looked forward to lots of salad in my future.

Today I look at that photo and it makes me want to cry. Because slowly the wee lettuce plants disappeared. One by one by one, until there weren’t any left at all. I denied what was happening for a while, I suppose I didn’t want to face a future with no lettuce. Eventually I could no longer ignore that every morning there were fewer and fewer of them left. I tried planting more seeds, but those were eaten too, and even faster than the previous ones.

These lettuce seedlings are now only a memory

My lettuce isn’t the only crop that was hit. My carrots have also disappeared and now I have only two hardy plants left growing. Again I planted more seeds, and those little seedlings are just poking through the dirt. I am ever hopeful these will fare better. Also, the little parsley seedlings disappeared as well, so I gave in and bought some seed starts which are faring better. At least, so far.

One of my remaining carrot plants

My cucumber seeds have also been hit. I still have a few wee cucumber plants poking up through the soil, but I should have more than twice that. They have been disappearing, but thankfully more slowly. I planted more cucumber seeds that are also just popping up, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that a few cucumber plants will survive infancy. I’ve put down egg shells around the cucumbers, because I heard they deter slugs.

Replacement parsley

The thing is, I’m not sure it is slugs. I haven’t noticed any in my garden. I haven’t seen any tell-tale slime trails, either. I’ve seen a few snails, which I removed. I have lots of ants, worms, and wood bugs, which I’m assuming are not the culprits. I have also seen squirrels, but I thought they stuck with bulbs and the like. I know that there aren’t any rabbits or deer in the area.

Wee cucumber plant, with a hole in the leaf

I would love to hear opinions from more expert gardeners. Can slugs hide? Am I just overlooking them? And what do you use to control them? I’ve heard suggestions of garlic powder, cayenne pepper, egg shells, beer, and copper tape. Or, is it those pesky squirrels? I feel very sad going out into my garden these days, so if you have any non-toxic pest control suggestions, I’m totally game. I want to grow food for myself, not the local wildlife!

PS – Thanks to my husband Jon (who is the tech-savvy one), Strocel.com was added to Alltop. Alltop is a web directory that contains approved sites, it’s sort of like a ‘good housekeeping seal of approval.’ You can find me in the Moms category.

Making up Songs

I am a singer, it’s part of my soul. I’ve sung in choirs, and in church, and to pass the time. I sang a lot when I was a Girl Guide, and later when I was a Girl Guide leader. I sing along with music in the car. And I sing to my kids. Daily, sometimes hourly.

Sometimes it’s all that gets me through the day. When everyone is cranky and tired and I feel like running into the street just to get away from the noise, I sing. I make up songs. Silly songs, sad songs. I sing old hymns that I remember, bits of liturgy. I sing campfire songs and hair ballads. Sending music out into the universe, hoping for some kind of strength in return. A little piece of sanity to see me through.

The kids making music together

Favourite songs see my 9-month-old through diaper changes, or help my 4-year-old when she’s sad. They seem to love the music, too. As they say, it soothes the savage beast, and there are few beasts more savage than toddlers. I suppose music is in everyone’s soul, if you think about it. How can we keep from singing?

The thing is, most of the songs I sing are not ‘real’ songs. I’m usually making up words as I go along. I often use familiar tunes, or sometimes I create my own. And I don’t remember the songs most of the time, although I have my favourite personal compositions. Mostly I’m just singing to pass the time and get through the day, and making it up as I go.

Jacob playing the piano

So when I was in the baby music class with my 9-month-old, I found myself at a loss. All the moms were taking turns rocking their babies in a blanket. And we were asked to sing a favourite song or lullaby while we did it. The teacher joined in and sang along. When it was my turn, I realized that while I sing all day, I didn’t have a song that my baby would know, and other people would know too. The teacher was making suggestions and I hadn’t sung any of them to my little guy. So I went ahead and sang “Twinkle, Twinkle” and smiled.

Little drummer girl

This is the hazard of my musical approach. Sometimes you miss the shared foundation. Yes, my 9-month-old knows lots of songs as sung by his mother, but he hasn’t heard much in the way of “Baa Baa Black Sheep”.

But you know what? When I hear my 4-year-old making up her own songs, using her own words and tunes, I don’t care that no one else knows them. I love it. Her songs are the perfect expression of her self. Her joys and sorrows. And I wouldn’t trade them for a million renditions of “Twinkle, Twinkle”.

Saving the World Without Going Crazy

Like pretty much everyone else in the world I have become increasingly aware of environmental issues in the past few years. I use words like ‘carbon footprint’ and ‘food miles’ in my daily life. I think about how that Cinderella cake topper will persist in the environment forever, along with its hormone disruptors and its potentially carcinogenic components. I’ve been feeling concerned, and I wanted to take action.

I started small. I started spending my money more selectively, buying second-hand items, re-using what I could, reducing my overall consumption. We compost and recycle. I’m growing food in my garden, I belong to a buying club that carries locally grown organic food, and I visit my local farmer’s market. I cloth diaper and breastfeed. I buy products in bulk or choose items that come with less packaging. I carry re-usable shopping bags everywhere I go.

These are all good things. And lots of people will tell you that even these small steps can make a big difference. It felt good to me to make them. I felt a little self-satisfied thrill when I took out my compost, ate a local meal, or hung the cloth diapers outside to dry.

But then I read Ecoholic by Adria Vasil. And the enormity of the situation began to dawn on me. It’s well and good to reduce our consumption, but it only delays the inevitable. If we keep using our resources at unsustainable levels, we will run out. As I examined my life I began to feel as if everything I do is harmful. The waterproof covers on my cloth diapers may be toxic. The plastic that I so diligently recycle is poisoning people halfway around the world. The computer that I’m using is chock full of harmful chemicals and running on electricity that may come from burning fossil fuels. It left me feeling overwhelmed and sort of hopeless.

This is where I’m sitting now. Wondering if my actions even matter in the face of all the plastic in our oceans. Feeling helpless when I learn that frogs are disappearing at alarming rates. I don’t have a good solution. I tell myself that maybe what it takes is just lots of individuals doing small things, raising their own awareness. That I don’t need to solve all the world’s problems single-handedly. That my despair does no one any good. Some days I believe that, some days not so much.

I know I’m not the only one who feels very small in the face of very big problems. We all have our own methods of handling it. Some of them work some of the time, some not so much. Right now my old methods aren’t working, and so I’m at a loss. I would really prefer to maintain my optimism, because I think that feeling overwhelmed is rarely helpful. So I’d like to hear how you handle it. How do you face big problems like the environment or poverty? How do you maintain perspective?

Jacob’s Hair

You would be forgiven for thinking I talk about hair a lot. Because, well, I do. I like to claim that I don’t really care about hair that much, but the post count doesn’t lie. First I talked about my daughter Hannah’s hair. Then my hair. Then Hannah’s hair again. Then my hair again. And now I’m going to talk about baby Jacob’s lovely locks. I promise I will find something new to talk about after today.

Jacob was born with a respectable amount of hair. I kept waiting for it to fall out, but it never did. It just kept growing, and growing, and growing. By the time he was 5 months old it was getting pretty crazy. It was also becoming apparent that I would not be able to hold off his first haircut forever.

Jacob’s hair at 5 months

I loved Jacob’s crazy baby curls. After baths they would form little ringlets or stick straight up in the air. Little blond locks going every which way. And I think he loved his hair, too. When he was going to sleep he would often run his fingers through it as he nursed. It was very sweet.

Crazy curly baby hair at 7 months

The problem, though, is that when his hair wasn’t sticking straight up it was sticking straight down. It was obscuring his vision. It constantly had gunk of one kind or another stuck in it, since it was just everywhere. And unlike Hannah I didn’t feel comfortable just sticking a barrette or hair tie in it. I’m just not evolved enough to use accessories in my son’s hair.

Crawling up my leg at 8 months

But still, I held off the first haircut. I told everyone I would wait until his first birthday. Before then I didn’t think I could handle how much older he would look. While he was still in his first year of life I was determined to keep the baby curls, no matter how inconvenient they were.

Completely obstructing his vision at 9 months

Finally, I had to give in. Once again I was trying to pick some baby goo out of his hair, and once again Jacob was objecting. I hadn’t seen his eyes in days. I steeled myself and dug out my scissors while Jacob was still in his sleeper one morning, so that errant hairs wouldn’t get on his clothes. And I did my best not to completely mutilate my baby’s head.

The first haircut at 9 months

In spite of the constant wiggling, I think I did all right. He definitely does look older, but he’s still very cute. He’s still my baby, just slightly more boy-ish. And I can see his beautiful eyes again, which makes me happy indeed.

Paid Maternity Leave in Australia

I’m participating in the Carnival of Breastfeeding today. The theme is ‘Stories’, and you can find my own contribution and links to lots of other great breastfeeding posts. After you read all about the introduction of paid maternity leave in Australia, go check it out!

At present, Australia doesn’t have any type of paid maternity or parental leave. As I discussed in January, it stands out (alongside the US) amongst Western nations. The 2007 election was fought with paid maternity leave in the forefront, and the winning party had promised to implement a scheme.

In September of 2009 the Productivity Commission issued recommendations for implementing paid maternity leave. They suggested that mothers or primary carers receive 18 weeks of leave at $544 AUD (roughly $480 CAD or $427 USD) per week, which is the minimum wage for adults. They also suggested that stay-at-home mothers still qualify for the $5000 AUD baby bonus, currently paid to new families with annual earnings of less than $75,000 AUD.

But then the economy tanked, and the government started dragging its feet.

Finally, two weeks ago an announcement was made on Mother’s Day. In January 2011 Australia will implement paid maternity leave. The scheme is very similar to the one proposed by the Productivity Commission. Primary carers who make less than $150,000 AUD (approximately $132,325 CAD or $117,780 USD) per year will be eligible to receive the adult minimum wage for 18 weeks. Most workers will qualify, since you need only work one day per week over a 10 month period.

If mothers are not able to take the full 18 weeks of leave, a portion may be transferred to their partners. And stay-at-home mothers who qualify will continue to receive the $5000 AUD baby bonus on the birth of each child.

The paid maternity leave will be offered on top of any maternity leave payments offered by employers. Although it’s reasonable to assume employers may reduce maternity pay now that mothers will be receiving government benefits. Here in Canada some employers offer ‘top-ups’, to bring your maternity pay closer to your ordinary pay. No one is making more on maternity leave than they are while working, though, and it’s likely Australian employers would follow suit.

I’m glad that Australia is implementing paid maternity leave. It has been a long fight, and there is still a long wait ahead. All the same, it is a very important step in the right direction for Australian families.

Finger Friends

I spend a lot of time telling my 4-year-old Hannah to wait, to not touch things, to keep her fingers out of that. It’s not something I’m terribly proud of, but it’s a daily reality of life with a preschooler. They don’t have very good impulse control, they have a hard time waiting, and they don’t always particularly want to share. Who can blame them? I feel the same way a lot of the time, I just have the necessary social graces not to let on (much).

In the midst of the admonitions to keep her fingers out of the cookie dough we’re mixing or to stop throwing around dirt in the garden, Hannah has created some characters out of her imagination. They are ‘Finger Friends’. Finger Friends are just her fingers, but she doesn’t control them. They have minds of their own, and they can’t be stopped. It’s not Hannah who drew on the wall, you see, it was Finger Friends. They also pulled the flowers out of the garden and took the chocolate chips out of the cupboard.

The other day I said, “Finger Friends like to do the things they’re not supposed to, don’t they?” And Hannah replied, “Yes! They don’t like to wait their turn or share. And they like messes.” What can you do but laugh?

I actually enjoy the Finger Friends game. It averts a lot of frustration. Instead of me being angry and impatient with Hannah, I’m laughing at Finger Friends. I can say things to Finger Friends that I can’t say to my 4-year-old. Like, “Finger Friends! You guys are bad news! Hannah, tell Finger Friends why we don’t pull up flowers.” And then she tells them. Or she asks me to, and she listens. It’s much less stressful than if I were lecturing my daughter yet again, and much more effective.

I expect that as Hannah gets older Finger Friends will stop behaving so much like, well, 4-year-olds. Just as Hannah will no longer behave so much like a 4-year-old. But for now they’re a great way to share a laugh and deflect the tension. Even if they are sort of bad news.

Hannah’s Finger Friends, poised to strike

Wrap Me Up Mama

My 9-month-old Jacob is a sling baby. He doesn’t like the stroller much, probably because he hasn’t spent any real time in it. It wasn’t any grand design on my part, it’s just how it worked out. When you’re chasing a preschooler it’s often easier to keep the baby strapped to you.

So, I’ve kept Jacob strapped to me. It’s a rare day that I don’t use at least one of my baby carriers. At least one because I have, erm, several. More than three. I have my tried and true Maya Wrap and many mei tais. I also have a few wraps.

6-month-old Jacob peeking out from the Didymos

A wrap is a very long piece of cloth that can be used to tie your baby to you in all sorts of exciting ways . They come in different lengths and are woven or stretchy, filmy or heavy. I myself have only heavy German woven wraps, because I like structure and don’t mind the heat. I have 2 Storchenwieges, a 4.6 meter Vicky and a 4.1 meter Leo in red. But my most favourite wrap by far is my Didymos. I have a 3.7 meter Jan, which I bought when my daughter Hannah was a little over a year old.

3.7 meters is a bit short for a wrap, actually. But I am only 5′2″ and I tend to wear my baby mostly in the rucksack position, so for me this is plenty long enough. With my longer wraps I find I have too much extra fabric trailing behind me. If you’re taller or want to experiment with different carries you might need a little more length.

Jacob riding in a rucksack carry at 9 months

When I’m wearing the baby at home I’m all about the back carry. You simply can’t do laundry or make a peanut butter sandwich with a grabby baby on your front. And since Jacob is perfectly happy to be worn most of the time, it’s not unusual for him to ride around our house on my back. And for me, a back carry is where the wrap really shines.

I can get a baby on to my back and into a mei tai, but it requires that the baby is willing to not be too wiggly. With a wrap I can get even a wiggly baby up on my back no sweat. I spread the wrap in the corner of a chair, position the baby on top, and then back up so that we’re in roughly the right position for a back carry. Then I grab the ends of the wrap and stand up. Easy peasy, and no risk that he’ll wriggle off before I get him strapped in safely.

Working in the kitchen

There are some downsides to the wrap. It has a bit of a steep learning curve, although you can find great instructions online. And the sheer length can be cumbersome. I am not going to try to wrap my baby in a rainy parking lot. Although I do have close friends that use wraps almost exclusively because they love the versatility, so it can be done. Just not by me.

But the best part of the wrap is throwing your baby on to your back, working some magic with fabric, and seeing the looks of awe you get. It leaves me feeling pretty accomplished. And we all know, I do love feeling accomplished. Fun times all around!

If you haven’t checked out my photostream lately, drop on by. You can find lots of new snapshots of our daily adventures.

Terrible TV I’ve Known and Loved

I don’t have a TV anymore. Our one and only TV set died a little over 6 months ago, and we’ve been undergoing an experiment to see how long we can last without it since. And we’ve lasted. It’s been especially nice to not have twice-daily battles about TV with our preschooler. For the most part, the TV-less lifestyle is working for us.

But the lack of TV doesn’t mean I don’t see any TV shows. Not by a long shot, thanks to the magic of the internet and the streaming broadcast. And the sad truth is that, as always, the TV I do see isn’t always what you would call good.

As a teenager my favourite show was Beverly Hills, 90210. Watching that was seriously the highlight of my week. I lived and breathed Brenda, Kelly and Dylan. And Brandon. Such a dreamboat, and played by a former Vancouverite, to boot. Now that it’s almost 20 years later, I am sort of appalled by the old episodes. But they continue to hold a certain nostalgia for me, and I can never hear that theme song without feeling a little thrill down my spine.

So you know I was first in line to see the new 90210. And it has not disappointed me one bit. The kids at West Bev are every bit as angst-ridden and melodramatic as they ever were. And beautiful, don’t forget beautiful. I haven’t missed a single episode.

Still, I think the worst TV program I watched, and watched religiously, has got be Charmed. Like the original 90210 it was an Aaron Spelling vehicle starring Shannen Doherty. But I stuck with it long after she left, oh yes I did. The series was about three sisters who also happened to be powerful witches, the ‘Charmed Ones’. Together they used their magic to battle evil and truly horrific storylines, wearing completely impractical tight-fitting clothing and high heels. But it was such fun I couldn’t stop watching. I stuck with it to the bitter end, man.

Those are some highlights, but there have been many more shows I’ve loved and watched with the blinds closed, lest somebody should see. Like Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, Judging Amy and Dawson’s Creek. Does anyone else remember Sisters or Once and Again? (I am clearly a big fan of Sela Ward). Oh, and let’s not forget about Big Brother. I could literally feel my brain cells oozing out my ears while I watched that.

Now, please share. I know I’m not the only one who’s seen way more than my fair share of bad TV. Spill!

I was inspired to write about bad TV today thanks to Mommy Melee’s Girl Talk Thursday. For more TV confessions click the ‘Girl Talk Thursday‘ button.

Where Have all the Honeybees Gone?

Oh, you guys, I’m so excited! I have a guest post up at Fake Plastic Fish! It’s Beth Terry’s blog all about reducing the plastic in her life, and it’s awesome. Please stop by and say hello.

I have talked a lot about my love of local eating. I am not a hard-core locavore by any stretch, but I am finding more and more local sources of foods I love. And I’m gradually expanding my own garden each year, too. Along the way I’m learning things about food and trying new things.

One of the things that I’ve discovered since I started eating more local food is honey. Of course I’ve eaten honey nearly my whole life. But I always bought it at the grocery store, and it always tasted the same. Now that I’m buying it at the farmer’s market I’m trying many different varieties. Clover, alfalfa, buckwheat, wildflower, raspberry, blueberry, cranberry, and my favourite jewelweed. Each is different. Some are mild, some are strong. Some aren’t even all that sweet. I’m sort of amazed that I went through 30 years of honey eating before I realized that there was such variety.

So I was particularly saddened to learn about Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). In late 2006 beekeepers in North America reported unusually high disappearances of honeybees. And the phenomenon continued. In the winter of 2007/2008, 36% of hives in the US were lost to CCD.

Cases of CCD are characterized by a complete absence of adult bees in the hive, with no dead bees in or around the hive. All the workers just…disappear. Eggs and larva are present, and the hive is filled with honey. While bees do abandon hives, they don’t do it when there are young present, and particularly not when it’s still filled with food. There’s no explanation for where all the bees have gone. And this is not a localized phenomenon, colonies have disappeared across North America.

60 Minutes covered the story in October 2007:

There are a number of theories as to what is causing CCD. Everything from climate change, to cell phones, to pesticides, to mites and parasites have been blamed. The US Agricultural Research Service says that there is no single answer, although they do rule out cell phones. They think it’s most likely a biological cause like a virus, parasite, or mite, in combination with pesticides.

So what? We can live without honey, right? Well yes, but bees pollinate a lot of the food that we eat. Fruits and vegetables ranging from pumpkins to strawberries to apples depend on bees. If we don’t have them, we lose 30% of our food. This is not a small number. Even companies like Burt’s Bees and Haagen-Dazs are getting the message out:

So what can we do? Suggestions include avoiding pesticide use, supporting organic farmers (to further reduce pesticides), and planting flowers that bees like. The good news is that this year honeybee populations seem to have stabilized after beekeepers changed their practices. Although we’re hardly out of the woods yet. We need to remember that we are part of an interconnected web of existence, and we depend on other creatures for our survival. If we lose one piece, the whole thing can collapse in on itself.

I am hopeful that the honeybees will return. You can bet that I won’t be swatting any that come across my path anytime soon. And that I will appreciate the wonderful honey I eat all the more.