Yes, the milk still runneth...

Yes folks, Cole is almost 16-months-old and we are still nursing. I didn't have a breastfeeding plan when we started other than to hope that I was able to even do it. I have astounded myself that it remains a part of our daily routine.

Cole never followed the "norm" for much of anything during his first year. He took bottles of pumped milk until he was about 5 months and then quit cold turkey on them despite my attempt at trying nearly every bottle on the market. We tried a vast array of formulas too to no avail. So I accepted the challenge to continue providing him with what I felt was the best for him, my milk. As long as I was able to produce the quantity that was necessary to help him grow I would continue to breastfeed. If my body decided otherwise then I would cross that bridge.

As we approached his first birthday, we began introducing cow's milk in his sippy cup which he promptly shoved away again and again over weeks and weeks of offering it. We finally opted to try an alternative and he accepted the soy milk in small doses. He was not drinking enough however to cut back on nursing until he was about 13 months.

Breastfeeding a young toddler is quite different than breastfeeding a small baby. For starters Cole would do acrobatics while nursing if he could. He is so long that it is quite a feat at times to maintain my patience as he karate kicks his feet over and over, flaps his arms like a bird taking flight, and wiggles his body around like a restless puppy all the while latched on sucking away. He normally settles down within 10 minutes but it can be a long ten minutes as I wrestle with him praying he won't turn the wrong way while attached and thus pull me with him.

We are down to two nursings a day, one in the morning and one before bed with the occasional third to mitigate a meltdown or to comfort my fussy teether. It is an instant soothing option for him (and me) when we are having a tough time. It makes parenting him on a bad day a bit easier. It is a tool in my mom arsenal that I will be reluctant to retire. Nursing only occurs in his nursery. It is our private place and moment. I decided on those parameters so that he would not be demanding feedings anywhere else.

Unfortunately, I am starting to feel the stigma that surrounds breastfeeding an older baby. I get the comment sometimes (that comes with the raised eyebrow or perplexed eye twitch), Oh, you are still nursing? People seem so surprised and quickly change the subject. I just think Cole is not yet ready to give up the breast. I notice he still has a need to suck and he does not use a bottle, pacifier, finger or thumb. It is a very natural calming mechanism and/or reflex and to prematurely wean him for no reason other than my convenience would be selfish. It has been a very surreal experience to be in such the breastfeeding minority. I know if we lived in Europe it would not be such a rare demonstration and yet I find myself awkwardly making excuses for why I am still doing it when it comes up in conversation.

There are many things I never expected to experience or feel as a first time mom. One of them is the bond I have formed with Cole through breastfeeding. It has allowed me to exercise the most natural gift I possess. I love holding his hand as he kneads mine. I smile silently to myself as I inhale the scent of his head, as I observe his facial expressions relax, listen to his breathe slow and soften and nestle as his body curls around mine. These moments are one of a kind and I want to etch them into my memory for eternity.

Cole runs around at mock ten all day long and though I enjoy the fact that he is very much a physical little boy making the most of his abilities, I revel in the continued opportunity to hold him close. Soon enough he will no longer need me in this way and I will be happy for him as it will indicate his maturing development. However, I will mourn the loss as that chapter with him comes to an end.

Change is in the air...

May 1st is less than six weeks away and I am feeling anxious about that. I have spent the past 16 months spending more time with Cole than anyone else in my almost 37 years. I have acted as his playmate, his chef, his stylist, his chauffeur, his librarian, his housekeeper, his nurse but most importantly as his steady companion.

It has been much to my surprise how becoming a mom has fundamentally changed my entire outlook on life. To explain my existence now in words is at times impossible as the emotions and deep bond are just too complex to organize into simple declarations.

I have been beyond lucky to be able to have stayed home with him and formed such a consistent presence in his life. That stated, my apprehension grows as the date approaches for Cole to begin his toddler Montessori program three days a week. My fears have begun to sprout like weeds and for a few moments every day I begin to question my/our decision to enter Cole at OMS. No one knows Cole like I do and that is a blessing and a curse for me. I find myself with a litany of concerns as we enter this new territory. My fierce protective mothering nature is going into overdrive. How will he be without me for hours as some days lately he can't seem to get enough of me? How will he adjust to THEIR naptime, not his? How will he be eating with and around other children? How will they discipline him when he doesn't want to share? Will they sing to him when they change his diaper like I do? Will they hold his little hand and smooch his tears away when he hurts himself? Will he thrive under the Montessori method and constructs or will it be too different than what he has become accustomed too?

So many of the things I have come to take for granted as we interact every day will change for him. I know this is vital for his continuing development but as his mommy it frightens me and makes me sad. The separation will be harder on me than him without a doubt. It is the beginning of making the thousand of choices that are in his best interest but require a release of control on my part.

So my uneasiness needs to take a backseat regardless of how valid my feelings are. His future caregivers come highly recommended and my various visits to the school have never been awkward or left me concerned on any level. It is time for Cole to be exposed to a new environment, to have fresh experiences, to make new friends and learn about his world outside of his mother's eyes. I have done my very best in providing a creative, sensory, variable and challenging "playground" but my capabilities only allow for one vision and my/our wish is to offer Cole as many as we can until he is able to uniquely formulate his own.

My mom togs...

I used to pride myself on dressing well and stylishly whether I was out for a casual dinner with friends, professionally attired for work or just out running errands. It is amazing how having a baby/toddler has changed my approach to what I wear in 15 months time.

In years past I spent money on Ann Taylor suits,leather shoes and fashionable jewelry. My weekend jaunts to the suburbs were for finding steals on designer clothes at TJ Maxx and Marshalls. Now my once relatively hip closet is full of cargo pants, cords and jeans with a vast assortment of machine washable t-shirts and fleeces.

Thus I have a collection of perfectly beautiful clothes stashed away in storage. I struggle with what to keep (or more appropriately with what still fits)in hopes that someday I can wear some of my pre-Cole wardrobe again.

The upside to my cotton and polyester switch is that our dry cleaning bills have been drastically slashed and are solely as a result of Dave's needs not mine. I rarely wear cashmere sweaters or anything silk as I normally have a shoulder of snot stains where Cole nuzzled after a tantrum and/or sticky fingerprint smears on my sleeves.

I told myself when I was pregnant that I would not get caught in the sweatshirt and gym pants "mommy look" and I have kept that promise. I did not want to let myself drop to the level of actually looking like I had a baby at home who has me running on fumes most days. I rationalize that only other moms can recognize the dried bits of carrots and peas and snail trails of mucous on my top that have me looking like an odd art project. I used to check for telltale stains before leaving to run errands as I normally had to grab a washcloth to wipe away what I could without changing. Now I don't bother half of the time as getting out the door is challenging enough. Occasionally while walking in Target, I'll catch a glimpse of myself in a glass case or long mirror and find a yogurt dappled handprint on the back of my pants. Months ago I would be mortified, now I just shrug and keep to my task list knowing I have limited time before Cole fidgets his way sideways in the cart and begins reaching for objects on the shelves. My priorities have shifted and getting errands done in record time is way more vital than worrying about what complete strangers think of my spotted apparel.

Catching Cole...

Cole is nearly impossible to capture on camera since he is in constant motion. I have to be able to walk backwards, sideways and leap over small objects blindly in order to take photos or record any video clip of him. It is like completing an obstacle course. I have a whole new resume of life skills since Cole became mobile. My reward is catching him in a random moment to share with you all. Here is one of him where he was slowed down by the body to boot ratio! Enjoy!

Spotlight on Cole...

Awhile back after a discussion with my mom friends during our weekly playgroup about professional photos of our wee ones I began to feel guilt lurking in the parental lobe of my brain. I had never signed up at any of the typical venues for the 3, 6, 9, 12 month photo packages. Dave and I have taken hundreds of candids with our beloved digital camera and up until now I had felt confident that we captured many of the moments, expressions and personality of our lil guy!

That said, I began to feel that maybe it was time to have Cole sit (HA HA!!) for a session especially since he has so much character and had reached his first milestone birthday. My hope was twofold, that having someone else photograph Cole would reveal a special alternative to the everyday photos I was used to taking AND in the process it would quell the silly guilt I was experiencing for not previously shelling out the cash for quarterly formal images.

With this on my TO DO list, and as always with a new endeavor I did my due diligence, researched several studios and found a photographer whose portfolio was in sync with my vision of more artistic and random photos of Cole rather than the posed versions that were common for his age group.

I was apprehensive that Cole would not be a cooperative subject as he rarely remains in one place for more than two seconds and prefers to meander when in a new environment. Surprisingly despite Cole being quite a crab apple and clinging to me like a monkey for the first fifteen minutes, Jennifer and her wonderful staff who were familiar with the unpredictable nature of an independent toddler managed to get Cole comfortable and thus he was able to show his many faces. Ultimately though Cole controlled the shoot and did what he wanted when he wanted. As you can see he is STANDING on the bench rather than sitting which he hasn't done since he began crawling. So I crouched off to the side so I could react if he teetered too close to the edge and chased him around most of our hour with our photog!

Invisible Moms...

I joined a listserv back when I first became pregnant with Cole that consisted of local moms (and soon to be moms) from our Capitol Hill (DC) neighborhood. It offered a phenomenal network of woman who were experiencing the similar life event of motherhood. Individuals post requests for all sorts of information (doctors, daycare, babysitters, playgrounds et al) and most often are instantly (literally 24/7) sent a digest of advice and wisdom in return.

I have kept myself subscribed to the group to continue receiving the fantastic daily summary. It allows me to keep tabs on some of the friends I made in my short time as a mom on the HILL and gives me insights on the myriad questions that I myself have as Cole challenges me as a mom. Along with the varied content, there occasionally is an entry forwarded along that speaks volumes to us moms and needs no further explanation. Below you will find one of those. It makes me think about what my future as Cole's mom will be like. I hope I can play the sometime invisible role of mom as I tend to be one to thrive on words of affirmation. I guess I will just have to remind myself that I am a key cornerstone and continuing collaborator of my own work in progress. In 18 or so years, my input in laying the framework and foundation of my own "cathedral" will be in large part complete. Wish me luck!


Invisible Moms

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Carol , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my daughter to tell the friend she's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want her to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

The same four walls...

Well it has been a doozy of a winter here in Minnesota. I can see why everyone warned me about catching cabin fever. It would be very easy to stay warm and cozy indoors and yet go INSANE! Thus, it is consistently on my mom agenda to keep a running calendar of activities for Cole and I to attend or participate in to get us out of the house even on the coldest arctic days. Something interactive, social or otherwise educational or engaging. My wish is to continue to trigger those growing brain cells in Cole's vastly expanding mind and expose him to something new as often as possible. However, these activities only kill two hours or so of a very long fourteen hour day with the little guy. If you add in the preparation time of getting dressed for the subzero weather, you knock off additional minutes but you are still left with a very long sometimes seemingly endless day.

A day in the life of Cole still begins way before sun up (4-5am) and ends around 7pm. Despite our desire to push his time clock closer to ours, a specialist has determined that Cole is nature's anomaly. He is a geniune early bird. I could go on about this revelation but in all honesty, I am so beyond conversing about our chronic sleep deprivation that it doesn't warrant another word.

We cannot escape our home by taking long outdoor walks due to the severe cold a large majority of the time. When we have a warm day (20 degrees) we do bundle up and head out to clear our heads. As for the other 28 days of the month, I struggle as to what to do for some exercise. Cole does not do well at the gym's daycare. They love him there but he has a tendency to begin screaming his head off AFTER I get on a treadmill and get my heart rate at its' peak with sweat streaming from my unconditioned body. At that point, the nursery assistant comes and finds me to wrap up my workout (without a cool down) to go collect my angel. As for the suggestion made at my mommy and me class of looping around the MOA (Mall of America), my idea of an endorphin producing cardio workout is not defined as dodging the thousand other strollers veering off course as mother's multi-task by talking on their cell phones while their wee ones zone out looking at neon retail signs, I think you can gather what my ONE attempt at this "fun" was. No thanks. I did it once and only once hence my personal analysis.

I know I should revel in being at home with Cole and I do 80% of the time. I cannot fathom someone else having shared his days so intimately with him over the past 15 months as I have but the isolation I feel some days at spending an inordinate amount of my waking hours confined to our house doing a lot of what seems like nothing is hard to digest. Simply at times I want to work again. My purpose as a mother is not measured and weighed like my workload as a professional working woman was and there are days I wish for my annoying colleagues and noisy office. I must remind myself when I crave my previous life that what seems like doing nothing with Cole day in and day out during these long winter weeks is actually doing more than I ever have before. I am shaping a life of the future and that is the most important job of all.

Our own personal video wall...

I am always searching for smart ways to archive video files taken of Cole with our camera. Since they are such large files and would jam up most people's email boxes, I choose not to send using that cybermode, so I had been using a website that compressed and stored them allowing me to send you all a quick link instead. However,ninety percent of the websites that have existed until recently have had low maximums on what the individual file size(100MB) could be which doesn't help me when most of my files are over 100 MB. So I kept looking until I found a cool new web service (www.dailymotion.com)that allows me to create a video wall of my personal videos, allows a larger file capacity (150 MB), does not charge me a penny and does all the design work for me. All I have to do is download the avi clips and voila! I am very excited to add to our library.

You should see a bunch of boxes below, I have downloaded two films. Just put your cursor over where you see Cole and it should just play without a click. Some of you may have to click depending on what internet browser you use (IE, Firefox, Safari etc).

A boy and his dog...

I saw this poem in a book I was recently reading and I immediately connected with it. Cole is absolutely fascinated with Tucker and all he does, hugging Tucker around his neck, laying on Tucker like a pillow, crawling over Tucker who lays there so patiently, throwing the ball (all but a few inches) for Tucker, picking up Tucker's toys and handing them gently to him (and Tucker ever so gently accepting them); listening to Cole's giggle as Tucker races around after coming in from the cold rubbing his face on the throw rug to get rid of the slobber icicles. They are such buddies and I look forward to watching their relationship grow. So the lines below provided me with a bit of melancholy as I fast forwarded to years from now.


It's tough on a dog when his boy grows up, when he no longer romps and frolics like a pup
It's tough on a dog when his boy grows older, when they no longer cuddle on the bed when it's cold
It's tough on a dog when a boy gets tall, when he's off with the boys playing soccer and baseball
They no longer paddle through the mud in the bog, hoping to find a stray turtle or frog
They no longer run through the grass up to their knees or roll in the piles of fresh fallen leaves
It's tough on a dog when a boy has work to do, when he forgets how to play like he used too
It's tough on a dog when instead of the woods or the field or the pond his boy becomes a man and that boy is now gone
Jean W. Sawtell

Going out in January...

January in Minnesota is truly not for the faint of heart. Our first winter here is one of the coldest since 2000. We had record snowfall for the month of December and near record breaking subzero air temperatures this past weekend. In order to venture out you need to spend 10 minutes putting on required garb. Even to take out the trash, you cannot just dash from the back door to the bin in anything less than a hat, boots, jacket and gloves. Your hands will stick to the metal on the screen door, your nose hairs will freeze and your skin will sting if exposed to the piercing cold. We look like bank robbers when we go out to walk Tucker with our black face mask and hat pulled low in our puffy down coats and insulated gloves.

With that said, it takes great planning to get both ourselves and Cole ready for a journey out of the house. Cole's snowsuit is so thick he can barely move once we wrestle him into it so you have to leave that until last as he doesn't like the inability to move. The problem is that once you have all your layers on, you begin to heat up quickly so the sheer exercise of putting Cole into his snowsuit leaves you sweating. This whole scenario can add quite a bit of time to getting out the door, so you have to begin ahead of when you think you want to actually pull out of the driveway and then add some more time for last minute diaper changes, meltdowns etc. Once you get into the garage and start the car, you now have to attempt to get him into his carseat with your gloves on. This is a futile act but I find myself attempting to manage in such a manner each and every time. The straps and buckles are just too tiny to snap into place with bulky fleece gloves. I find myself pulling off the gloves in a race to get him into his seat before he moves and I have to reposition the straps lengthening the time my hands are exposed to the icy air. In the "comfort" of our garage, this is tolerable. In the parking lot at Target as the arctic winds whip around me, I curse silently.

We when arrive at a destination, before you open the door, you plan your path which means whatever way is fastest. You must remember that the parking lots and streets are continually snow and ice covered so your footing is crucial as you race walk with your heads down to get inside. Once back into the dry overheated warmth you have to unzipper jackets and remove hats only to repeat the aforementioned process all over when we depart.

Shorts and t-shirts will never feel so good as they will approximately 100 days from now.

A winter walk in the woods...

With another big chill (we are talking highs in the single digits) due to settle in by midweek, I have learned to take advantage of clear, calm days with temperatures above 20 degrees to get out and fill my tank with crisp fresh air. So today Cole and I went meandering through the Nature Preserve which is all but 3 miles from our house. We have visited several times since our move here but not yet during the quiet winter months.

Yesterday we had a dusting of new snow which carpeted what was left of our record snowfall. The untouched snowflakes sparkled in the weak January sun reminding me of the power of glare. The winter informational signs were posted and I stopped and read about the often overlooked creation and shape of the six sided wonders.

We started off on the Marsh Trail which circled around the lake. My footsteps were softened and muffled by the fresh layer of snow. Cole babbled from his perch up in the carrier, all bundled in his downy snowsuit. He has been enjoying his new ride and perspective and I have enjoyed becoming more mobile with him without the constraints of using the stroller.

As we found our pace, my movement steady, Cole quieted and within 10 minutes he had fallen asleep. I had my mind to myself to clear out the cobwebs and I took the peaceful opportunity to make many an observation.

The trail looped over the lake in places via a boardwalk. Only three months ago, the cattails that surrounded the water were swaying in the autumn breeze. Now they were frozen in place as the lake was a block of ice, literally. Their once smooth brown bodies now frayed and swollen with their innards puffing out like an old couch loosing its stuffing. The creak of the boardwalk was now not the give and take of the floats that kept it above water but of my weight pressing the wood against the icy surface.

The big looming trees looked frail and weary posing stark and naked against the winter sky. The newly fallen snow lay punctured on the sharp brambles and branches, their hardness to protect those who would turn supple and green again in the spring.

As I continued on up the Pine Trail and we made our way through the trees, the trail was less traveled and the footprints of the wood's critters were visible; deer, fox, rabbit. I looked around and wondered where they all were hiding as there were few places to remain incognito.

The sound of my breath and my foot falls were all the noise that existed. No birds chirping, no water lapping, no wind whistling. Just the quiet and solitude of a winter day.

Cole began to awake with a few adorable sighs as if he knew our hike was coming to an end. As he began to chatter we engaged in conversation about all the things that I wanted to teach and show him about the wonders of nature and how some day I hoped that he would enjoy getting out whatever the season to enjoy some fresh air!

Something for the New Year...

I haven't had a lot of time lately to productively write and complete a worthwhile post. Ideas come to me at random moments normally while I am unable to capture them on paper or via my cyber pen. I say to myself that I will remember those quick flashes of insights but I never do *sigh*. So to put something on the board for 2008 in my quest to post every seven days, I am including the statement below which I got from a book I just finished. It took me 9 weeks to read the 400 pages *sigh* as I was only able to read 10-12 pages a few nights a week before I succumbed to my daily fatigue.

From "Because I said So" by Kate Moses

"Learning to surf is a lot like learning to mother. I have the gear, I understand the theory and I have occasional success. But the ocean doesn't stay still and neither do kids. Stable ground exists but only under powerful ever changing currents. Paddling out takes strength, persistence and the ability to roll under the crashing waves. I have days where I don't think I'm going to make it only to forget my worries as the sun shines in lighting up my kid's faces making me smile. I have the rest of my life to get this parenting thing down, meanwhile I am wowed by my kids laughter , amazed at their brilliance and the love that surrounds me"