On attachment parenting in our house

My favorite part of the day, hands down, is bedtime. There is nothing more precious in this world than a sleepy baby.

We've really settled into a nice hour-long bedtime routine. Snack, wash up, quiet playtime and quick tidy, books and story time, into bed. Once we're in bed Dylan nurses and I usually hum to him or rub his back and belly. Then, he flops around a little attempting to get comfy but inevitably ends up right back on the breast. At this point he's so close to sleep it's comical.

On most nights he'll nurse for a minute or two more while I scratch his head and he rubs my side (because he can't reach my back), just the way I've rubbed his every night for the past 14 months. Finally, he pulls away and falls asleep. Sometimes he mumbles 'Dada' or 'Mama,' other times he'll sigh the sweetest sigh just before he surrenders to his sub-conscious and drifts off into the land of dreams.

At this point I usually alternate between giving him little kisses on his forehead and dutifully searching the top of his head for the illusive "baby smell" that just yesterday dominated his entire being. Once I'm sure he's asleep I roll out of bed and tiptoe away feeling clear-headed and calm, and so connected to my baby. Man, am I going to miss those moments.

When Daddy is part of the bedtime routine Dylan is usually eager to play no matter how tired he is. On these occasions, he will pull pillows on top of himself giggling, get himself tangled in the sheets, lurch toward the edge of the bed with complete disregard for objects or people that stand between him and the living room, and most recently, get himself worked up doing somersaults and cackling like a hyena.

He's a pro at getting us to play along with his games too. We generally try to maintain a cool, calm, and positive demeanor at bedtime so Dylan will consider it a pleasant and easy thing to do and hopefully mimic our behavior. But on those rare nights when he wants to play instead of sleep there really is no stopping him. Try as we might to maintain our cool and pretend to sleep, we all eventually burst out laughing hysterically after several minutes of Dylan's trying to get our attention with the most hilarious movements and sounds ever uttered and us choking back laughter and exchanging back and forth "Did you see that? This kid is insane. What did he just do? How on Earth did he make that noise? Was that the sound of his head on your hipbone? If he does that one more time I'm going to lose it." glances.

It's times like these when we have to ask ourselves Is it really worth making a stink about him not going to bed at exactly the same time every night? To us, it is a resounding no. At the end of the night what it amounts to is the baby going to bed an hour later than usual, in a wonderful mood, and both of his parents sore to the core from laughing so hard. What's so bad about that? Therein lies the beauty of attachment parenting in our house.

The alternative, letting him "cry it out" in a crib, probably to the point of throwing up or gagging, until he is beet red, tears streaming down his face, so physically and emotionally exhausted that he passes out, defeated, never has been and never will be an option in our household. No article in Time magazine, or any other publication could convince me that those things are okay for any amount of time.

In the former scenario, all parties are in good spirits at the end of the ordeal. Needless to say, in the latter scenario, the baby is distraught or at the very least unhappy and the parents inevitably feel guilty and may have even shed a few tears themselves listening to their baby scream because they were told or they read that attachment parenting is "weird" or that they might "spoil" their [naturally] dependent child.

For our family, the fun sometimes continues long after bedtime. Dylan is a sleep walker (sleep sitter upper?). After having been fast asleep for hours he will sit straight up, mumble a little and briefly rub his hands on the bed before plopping face first back onto the mattress. As long as Thomas and I can keep our giggling under control, that is. More often than not one of us will let slip a snort of laughter and Dylan sort of snaps out of it and demands to be nursed back to sleep. This kid is irresistibly funny; he makes us laugh until our stomach hurts every day and honestly, I can't imagine a better way to maintain a six-pack.

Do I know for sure how long I will co-sleep or breastfeed my baby? No, I do not. What I do know is that I will do it for as long as it works for my family and if it turns out that my son is three or four years old when it stops working, so be it. Don't expect me to apologize for privately breastfeeding my toddler and I won't ask you to apologize for letting your toddler scream himself to sleep behind a closed door on the other side of the house.

If you think I'm "weird" for responding to my baby's cries as a rule, nourishing him the way nature intended, like all mammals do, or cuddling him close all night instead of isolating him in a separate bed in another part of the house, then by all means whisper to your neighbor, gossip with your girlfriend, hell, shout it from the roof tops, I'll join you! Because I'm over the moon about all of these things and so is my husband, and as far as I can tell, so is my baby boy, and at the end of the day, that's all that counts.

Dylan turns his first page

Dylan loves to be outside. Loves it. When we ask "Quieres ir afuera?" He runs to the door and looks up at us grunting "eh eh eh" until we let him out. He especially likes carrying sticks and eating dirt. He never fusses when we put green things on his plate. He devours books literally and figuratively. He sometimes talks in his sleep. He has his Daddy's hair and his Mama's cheeks. He can identify his ears, nose, and belly button in both Spanish and English, and wants us to know that we have them too. Especially first thing in the morning, he grabs us by the nose and makes an insistent pig snort until it is reciprocated to his satisfaction. He spends every waking moment with Mama but his facial expressions lend that there's a special place in his heart for Daddy. He shares dad's passion for music. He stomps on the piano keys, bangs his head to any melodic sound, including car horns, wails on the harmonica, and even knows that a guitar pick is for strumming. He is stubborn like his mom. He knows what he wants and he won't take "no" for an answer. He runs from us, giddy, when we enter the room even if we aren't chasing after him. He can walk well in shoes but prefers to be barefoot. He can eat from a spoon and drink from a cup, just try and stop him. Dylan is one year old today, and although he is no longer an infant, he'll always be my baby.

Al Parque, Al Parque

In his very precious and very limited spare time (I hesitate to call it that, inbetweenworkandschoolandsleep time is more like it) Thomas tagged along with us to the park. I don't say it enough but I admire his ability to work as hard as he does and still make time to be a great dad to Dylan. I also think that even if I said "Thank you" one million times every day he would never know how much I appreciate him gifting me our son's childhood.

Applauding the birds, or perhaps Daddy for reminding us that Geese belong to the avian super order Neognathae, sub-order Anseriformes.

I'm starting to spice things up in the kitchen once again! Before my pregnancy I cooked twice a day every day. During my first trimester I couldn't stand the smell of anything on the stove so I counted on Amy's burritos from the oven, prepared hummus and fresh fruit and veg to sustain me until Dylan arrived. Since then, I honestly don't know what we've survived on because I certainly haven't been cooking.

I'm here to tell you today is a new day, we're all hungry, and since Dylan eats what we eat (except added sweeteners and salt) the heat is back on.

My current favorite technique is roasting squash whole. Any variety will do but today it was pumpkin.

This was painfully simple. Scrub, rub, bake, and out comes a delectable calabaza with skin so tender it's butter by any other name.

 I wasn't sure what to do with it when it came out so I peeked into our fridge only to find a pot full of lonely, boring, short grain brown rice that was practically begging to be made into risotto. Before you finish that thought, let me just say I know it's not traditional risotto if the rice is pre-cooked and non-arborio. I was just working with what I had and since I was a little over-zealous earlier in the week when I decided to cook two cups of rice instead of one, cheater's risotto is what became of this beautiful meso plant.

What you don't know is that I roasted a butternut squash alongside the pumpkin. Add Maritza's fresh roasted, pumpkin, butternut, cheater's risotto with sage, carmelized onions, and green peas to the list of food and (non-food) items that Dylan devours. And while we're at it add red grapefruit, kiwi, orange and yellow bell pepper, Muchi and other curries, broccoli, yams, and roasted garlic.

So far he's exceeded my expectations. I couldn't ask him for an inch more. He's already a foodie, and cute to boot.

They grow up so fast

It took him 10 months but last week Dylan sprouted his first and second teeth. One on top and one on bottom. It's pretty much impossible to get a photo of his gums but I managed these right before the top tooth broke through:

I know what this looks like but he's not upset at all. He just likes to scrunch up his nose and make like a piglet.

We bought his first tooth brush today. He seems to like it. We'll ask again in 20 years after twice daily brushing and flossing sessions...

His bottom one has surpassed his top the past few days:

Discontent to stay inside

The transition to stay-at-home people has been tough. Our new neighborhood is not condusive to walking and our neighbors aren't very neighborly. I snap on my baby carrier most days and haul Dylan outside in search of any sign of life. I just don't get it. There must be at least one thousand living people amongst us in this complex but I have counted maybe 10 out and about in just under one month.These people seem too willing to stay locked up inside, presumably staring at the tube, all day everyday. It feels like we're living in a ghost town. What gives?

There is a small playground nearby and I have only seen one family use it. Where are all the other stay-at-home moms? We're in the suburbs for crying out loud. Take your babies outside! Anyway, that's my rant for today.

Yesterday I spotted a young mom with a baby who appeared to be about Dylan's age on an adjacent patio; A guestimate, the baby was "cruising" and standing well but not walking on her (his?) own. If you're imagining me peeping out the window with binoculars pressed to my face and a pad and pen in my hands scribbling latitude and longitude feverishly, you're not too far off. I'll admit I thought about marching right over to them with a big goofy, desperate grin and a bribe for friendship. I thought better of it. It's probably best not to sneak up on a mama bear and her cub.

Of course I'm exaggerating, but only a little. Dylan and I have been getting out of the house at least once a week to attend a playgroup so we're not as pathetic as I made it seem. This week we went to his buddy's Mickey Mouse themed 1st birthday party.

(Photo courtesy Julia McAndrew)

(Photo courtesy Julia McAndrew)

Later in the week we were so stir crazy that we decided to tag along with Thomas to the dentist. What fun! Seriously, it wasn't half bad. We each claimed our own LoveSac in the kiddie corner and Dylan played with an activity cube that was bigger than him and even kissed (see also: licked) the penguins that were painted on the wall.

Thomas on the other hand wants nothing more than to spend one full day per week couped up inside. It's astonishing how different our daily lives are right now. He's out in the field mist netting and being pecked by cardinals or monitoring rodent species in deep East Texas while Dylan and I are at home in the Dallas suburbs trying to make sense of Dr. Seuss and fighting pirates in the bath tub. At the end of the day though we've got our eye on the prize and the future we envision doesn't seem too far away.

Good Eats, Good Eater

I am proud to say that so far Dylan eats what Mama and Daddy eat. As of yet, he's not a picky eater.

I brought along some blueberries to the park for him and when I sat the container out on the table open, Dylan lunged for them and relentlessly plunged handful after handful into his mouth, the other mom's mouths dropped open. His current favorite finger food is apparently not usually so popular with the little ones.

He literally licked the bowl clean!

He's 9 months old and he hasn't turned away from a single food item thus far. He loves hummus, sprouted bread, collard greens, garbanzo beans, raspberries, potatoes, avocado, winter and summer squash, pears, steel cut oats, spinach, brown rice, you name it! I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I lived on all of the above while I was pregnant.

One of the moms in my meetup group proclaimed "My kid screams if I give him anything other than cheese, he'll only eat cheese." I wasn't surprised to hear that, she was nursing what had to be at least 1 liter of soda from a gargantuan Whataburger cup which led me to believe she doesn't make the best dietary choices herself. Children learn what they live folks.

Anyway, in the past couple of weeks he has mastered his pincer grip as well as his begging face. He gobbles up anything we give him, and anything he finds on the ground, or on the bottom of our shoes. While bathing him this morning he went after a bar of cassia clove soap. Yum! Because of his proclivity to eat mud, soap, and the like, I've had to master the crooked finger mouth swipe. Unfortunately, Dylan has learned to keep my finger out of his mouth by clamping his gums together like a crocodile on prey. And when the teeth come? I can't wait for that magic.

This week Dylan has also learned to clap. He does it on command or after we tell him to stop doing something he knows he shouldn't be doing. "Clap! Clap! Clap!" It's amazing to me how similar babies are to dogs.

For instance:

They're usually cute and cuddly, but get near them while they're eating? That's a horse of a different color.

Transition to Minimalism

It's been less than three weeks since we left Florida and already so much has changed. It's a new year, we're in a new town, Thomas has had to adjust to commuting to both work and school, and Dylan and I are learning what it means to be stay-at-home people.

We're really loving our new apartment. We moved from a 750+ sq.ft. place to a 430 sq.ft. studio. We really don't need more space than that. In fact, we could get along with less.

Thomas found some minimalist blogs and an anti-consumer documentary and the content really struck a chord with both of us. The months leading up to the move we started selling and giving away our stuff on Craigslist. Before we signed our new lease we decided that we wanted to rid our lives of the material clutter that was surrounding us. To our delight we ended up with a pile of cash and a more serene space and mind.

We're carrying the minimalist philosophy over into all areas of our life, slowly but surely. We've downsized our wardrobe, furniture, dishes, and even sold over half of the books we own and pitched the TV and telephone. It's already apparent that this is the right thing for us right now. Minimalism means something different to every person; to us it's about saving money, breaking attachments to inanimate, material possessions, reducing our carbon footprint, and most importantly, thinking outside the conventional box.

For example, about two weeks ago, while I was packing up the old apartment, Dylan was chewing on the phone cord  and to my dismay, my insistent "Drop it! That's dangerous." only elicited giggles. I had been trying to convince Thomas that we should get rid of the phone for awhile at this point, so naturally that thought was in the back of my mind but it wasn't my first thought. My first thought  had to do with baby-proofing something or other and why we hadn't bothered to do it yet. Anyway, I thought about hanging the phone on the wall at the new place but the cord would still hang down a little so the point would have been moot. After some thought and several more unheeded warnings I decided to look into other options for long-distance communication with our family and friends in other states.

Of course, unlimited video chats via Skype for free was the best option, but unfortunately, not everyone we need to talk to has access to a web cam. The second best option was to buy a Skype subscription that would enable us to place outgoing calls as well as to receive calls from landlines and mobile. At first, I thought the plan was too good to be true. For the total price of $5.18 per month after ALL taxes and fees, we would get unlimited calls to/from any and all landlines and mobiles in the U.S. and Canada, free voicemail, caller ID, speed dial, and an online telephone number that we could pick the area code for. Plus, since we don't have or want a regular cell phone, we could just take the computer with us on road trips and use it as a mobile at any restaurant, coffee shop, library, etc with a WiFi signal. Yes, please! On top of getting rid of another useless possession (el teléfono), the Skype subscription will save us in the ballpark of $350 this year. Win, win.

There's still one big part of our lives that needs tweaking if we really want to save big. FOOD. And grocery shopping and impulse buying. Can anyone say 99 cent organic head-sized ciabatta cinnamon roll? We've been picking up these bad boys at least a couple times per week and the empty calories and buck a pop really add up. Not to mention we're total Virgil's root beer lushes, that's another $1.69 per bottle. And we're also complete Whole Foods Market snobs which is just the kind of branding we'd like to move away from. We're on the road to recovery, however. The word around town is that the local farmer's market stocks organic produce and the farmers are willing to bargain. Downtown, here we come!

Finally, and totally off topic, I took Dylan to a local park the other day with one of my mom groups, and he rode his first swing, fed the ducks, and went down one of the slides.

Home for the Holidays

I know this is completely after the fact, but I have a nine month old, you know?

Perezosos- you know what they say about acorns

Gramps

Grammie and Aunt Sarah

Dyl's primo Colton

Green Lemonade moustache. If you look closely you can see the red imprint  from the cup he had pressed to his face. So far, he loves his greens!

Ejercicio with Uncle Clint

On the water in Grammie's boat

He was a lot more excited than he looks. He squealed for pretty much the entire ride.

This sums up our attempts at a family photo

*The highlight of the trip for me was watching Dylan at the beach (Thank you "Tia Bert" and "Tio Hobbs" for capturing the moments!) He is definitely a water baby.

This is Mama warning Daddy that baby is getting too close to the surf. "He's fine, he's fine!" says Daddy...

This is Mama comforting baby after he took a tumble, or a roll more literally, in the surf.

Green Lemonade

(I am including this recipe because I made it most mornings while on holiday in FL. This is a variation of Green Lemonade from The Raw Food Detox Diet, and it also happens to be one of my favorite green juices...and Dylan's!)

1 bunch lacinato or dinosaur kale

1 lemon washed, peel intact

1 head crisp celery

1-2 fuji or gala apples

knob of fresh ginger, or to taste

2-3 handfuls fresh spinach

*Push all ingredients through juicer hopper, pour into glass, ENJOY!