This will be my last post to www.radcliffe-family.blogspot.com. You can continue to follow my thoughts on www.thinkbigmuch.wordpress.com. I moved all of my posts and comments to the new site. Some comments may have not accurately re-posted on the new site... nothing personal, let me know if you see something amiss! I'm still learning here!
I started a blog to have a platform to express my thoughts and write about things that are interesting to me. I have kept journals or diaries before for this purpose, but there wasn't any incentive to write in a journal. When I blog, people can read what I wrote and write back to me - how fun! So, I started www.radcliffe-family.blogspot.com to write about what was happening in our family. I discovered quickly that I had more to write about than what was happening between the walls of our little house. When my friend Jessie started her blog, she came up with a cool name for it - I started a quest to find a cool name for my blog, too, something that would capture the essence of why I wanted a blog in the first place. A series of e-mails with friends and brainstorming sessions led me to start thinking and listening to those around me. My daughter was the inspiration for my blog name. I used to tell her, "I love you SO much." One day she said, "I love you BIG BIG BIG much, mama." From then on, when she wanted to convey something very large, she used the phrase 'big much' (I want big much crackers, I want big much milk, I don't want little bit fruit snacks - I want big much!)
I try to write things that make people think. Think Big Much seemed like a good title for my blog! Blogger.com did not allow me as much flexibility as I wanted for customizing my blog, so I have been searching for another platform. Very soon I will be writing about ways that you can follow blogs easily so you don't miss any updates posted by your favorite bloggers. One way on Wordpress is to subscribe (look to the right of my pages) so you will receive updates in your e-mail inbox. Thanks for reading!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
On Wool Sweaters
When I lay down in my bed at night, I sigh and relax and think of the vastness of hours that spread before me in anticipation of a restful slumber. As I drift off to sleep, forgetting the stresses of the day, I feel my body and my mind relax... letting go... I doze off, peacefully. Then JOLT awake to the sound of a crying baby who decided to start fussing 10 minutes after I fell asleep... "Riley - you go," I say, as my body, now made of cement, will not allow me to get out of bed. Dutifully, he heads off to Baby J's room and spends 20 minutes patting his back. Baby J drifts off to sleep and Riley, ever so quietly tip-toes back into the bedroom, collapses onto the bed and sighs, closing his eyes, relaxing. Somewhere, in the dark beyond, a baby again cries. Can't... get... up... A discussion ensues about how the child cannot be hungry, no dirty diaper, not cold, not wet, not in pain, just not tired. And so, the baby fussed, off and on until almost midnight. I don't remember drifting off to sleep, but was woken up with a JOLT to the sound of a little girl calling her mama and the distinct sound of the frustrated, disappointed, uncomfortableness that follows an episode of bed-wetting. The time? 2:15 am. I feel my night shrinking. Shrinking away like a wool sweater that has been accidentally thrown in the dryer.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
On "Mamamamama"
I have been trying to teach Baby J that calling for someone produces more favorable results than just screaming until you get attention. I've been working on resisting the temptation to even look at him when he releases his blood-curdling yelps. So tonight (a.k.a. early this morning) when the clock read but 1:37 am, and I could hear "mamamamama" gently, yet persistently wafting from his bedroom, I couldn't really ignore him, now could I?
**ADDITION**
I posted the above at 2 am. I'm also trying to work on nighttime potty training with my daughter. She does pretty well with no pull-up but when I heard her say "Mama, I gotta go pee," the clock read 3:15 am. I couldn't very well ignore her either. Then the fateful words, "Can I just sleep 'wis' you?". Sure.
I must mention that Riley heard none of this and continued to saw logs. This morning he couldn't figure out why I couldn't get out of bed. Well, I hate mornings and 5 am marked my third one for the day. Sometimes being "Mama" is like being stuck in some sort of Groundhogs Day... It just keeps starting over...
Sunday, May 9, 2010
On Educating Girls
I came across an African proverb, then held on to it for a Mother’s Day blog post. I sat down to write and then I wasn’t sure what I thought of the proverb. It holds truth to me, but I am not sure if I can dissect it accurately and eloquently state it any better than it already exists:
“If you educate a boy, you educate an individual. If you educate a girl, you educate a community.” -African Proverb
Instead of trying to explain what this proverb means to me, I’ll give you some background and let you make up your own mind. This proverb has recently become popularized by Greg Mortenson, who is the author of the book Three Cups of Tea. Back in 1993, Mortenson had to give up on a dream to climb K2 when one of his climbing crew members needed medical attention. Mortenson took him back down the mountain and into a small Pakistani village where they shared tea and scraps of food with the climbers. In his book he says that if you have one cup of tea with a person, you are strangers, if you have two cups you are friends, if you have three cups you are family. While there, he met some children who were receiving school lessons not on whiteboards or fancy Smart boards or chalkboards or even paper, but written in the dirt with sticks. Right then and there Mortenson promised to help build these children real schools. The book is said to discuss the journey Mortenson took, and what he gave up in his own life, to realize this promise.
During his mission to build real schools for the children, mostly girls, of Pakistan and Afghanistan, he met a young girl who endured taunting and stoning on her way to and from school each day. She was the only girl who dared to be educated in her small community. She went on to read and write and eventually became trained as some sort of mid-wife and has saved many mothers and babies from death during childbirth. The young girl, now with a degree in maternal healthcare, educates other women in her village.
Mortenson also points out that “One thing you'll see is kids coming home from the bazaar with meat or vegetables wrapped in newspaper, and then you'll see mothers very carefully unfold the newspaper and have their child read the news to them. It's the first time they're able to get a dissemination of news and understand what the outside world is like. It's a very powerful, transforming thing to see that happen.” Children pass on their education to their mothers. And the girls, become mothers, and pass on the importance of education to their children. Mortenson said if you educate a girl to a fifth-grade level, infant mortality is reduced, quality of life improves and population explosion is reduced. And so, truly, educating a girl in turn educates a future mother, who then educates other future mothers…
Happy Mother's Day to the world's greatest teachers - mothers.
Sources:
http://www.stonesintoschools.com/2010/04/oklahoma_daily/
http://www.media.rice.edu/media/NewsBot.asp?MODE=VIEW&ID=11410
http://www.stonehill.edu/x13967.xml
http://www.iwu.edu/CurrentNews/newsreleases09/fea_2009PresConvo_00909.shtml
Photo from kcgotr.org via flikr.com
Friday, May 7, 2010
On Red, White, and Blue
My blog post for today is short and sweet. I think that, in America, a child should be able to wear any color or combination of colors he or she chooses on any given day. Cinqo de Mayo is not a national American holiday last time I checked. And, really? Would we send a kid home for wearing a Santa shirt on Halloween? I think not. (photo used with permission from jcolman)
Thursday, May 6, 2010
On Milwaukee County Mother
I came across this video on a web search. I found it very interesting in light of some of my posts in recent months. Watch and see for yourself... (and I wanted to see if I could be fancy and embed a video from another website in my blog... woo hoo html codes! I feel smart now!)
P.S. I guessed right on the little quiz. Intuitively makes sense to me...
P.S. I guessed right on the little quiz. Intuitively makes sense to me...
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
On Making a Decision and Being Okay With It (part III of III)
You might wonder where my opinion on the matter comes in, and why I was hesitant to post this stuff. Well, here goes. I am sick of the campaign “Breast is Best.” It makes mom feel guilty. For the most part, the people I talk to about babies are adults who have chosen to have children. They understand the importance of making good decisions. They understand the responsibility of raising a child. And yet, they dive in, head first, with the heart full of love and their head full of… well, questions. None of them would do something to hurt their child. None of them would deprive their child of any experience. They are all good mothers. You know how I know this? Because all of them have struggled over the decision of whether to breast or bottle feed… cloth or disposible… cry-it-out or co-sleep… pacifier or no pacifier… Robeez or shoes… and the list goes on.So, back to Breast is Best. Yes, I agree, breastfeeding is natural. It is produced biologically for our bodies to create the perfect balance of nutrients (unless it no longer produces fat). Our bodies were made for it (unless it causes excruciating pain or the child cannot properly latch on). And, its convenient (unless you have to go back to work and your production does not keep up with demand). Oh, and it creates a unique bond between mother and child (unless you cry while you’re doing it).
Two mom friends have called La Leche League for support, but those volunteer mom’s of the League were so busy knowing that “Breast is Best” that these moms felt WORSE after talking to the La Leche League volunteers. Really? Is that how we want to do things?
Am I against breastfeeding? Absolutely NOT! I support my friends and family who want to try it and I try to be honest and kind to them. I loved breastfeeding James. Am I against formula? Absolutely NOT! I had only formula, my daughter had formula. Many of my friends have given their infant formula after returning to work or weaning their child. Baby J now drinks formula.
But, I am against the “Breast is Best” campaign because, I think that every woman should have the knowledge and information available to make an informed decision. My opinion is that breastfeeding is best when it works out for mom and baby. My hope would be that every woman would try breastfeeding, but the truth is, it does work out for everyone. We need to stop making people feel guilty for their choices. We need to let them make a decision, and be okay with it! “Best” in my opinion is when mom is happy, baby is happy, and all is well!
P.S. In all of the situation listed above, the “baby” in question was a girl. I’m just sayin…
P.P.S. None of the names of these moms have been included, but you know who you are and thank you for sharing your stories with me through the years!
P.P.P.S. For all of you people who read my blog from Facebook, sign up for a Blogger account so that everyone can see what you're saying! You have great comments!
On Having a Friend Jessie
In honor of Jessie’s birthday today, I am going to blog about her. I think that’s the new technologically cool way to show affection. We’ve been friends for about 22 years, so I am honoring her by compiling a “pros” and “cons” list to determine if we should still be friends. So, here goes. Things I like about Jessie:
She is logical.
She is fun.
She likes Diet Coke and homemade caramel popcorn.
She teaches me about chickens.
She talks to me while I drive.
She lets me copy her when she has good ideas.
She’s always on my side.
She thinks right politically.
She likes Diet Coke. (Did I say that already?)
She taught me about being a locavore.
She taught me about cloth diapering.
She is good at making plans.
She didn’t kill me when I rearranged our room in college while she was gone.
She has a nice family.
She encourages me.
She got chocolate cake because she knows I like it better.
She showed me how to make the best Rice Krispie Treats ever!
She likes Great Big Sea.
She likes to help people.
She knows I'm mean and she's okay with that.
She only sometimes hates Dave Ramsey.
She found a non-mini-van vehicle with a third row of seats.
She has 2 kids.
She reads more books than anyone I know.
She’s 30!
Things I don’t like about Jessie:
She lives too far away.
Well, that solves it. We’re still friends. Happy Birthday, Friend!
Monday, May 3, 2010
On Making a Decision and Being Okay With It (part II of III)
Lately (and over the last 3 years) I have heard all kinds of stories of women, my friends and my family making the best decisions they can regarding breastfeeding and their baby.
One friend was determined to breast feed. Her daughter had a very difficult time latching on and had a tongue thrust. She tried nursing when she could and then pumped and fed her daughter expressed milk through a 5 cc syringe attached to a tube. Dad would tape it on his finger and try to get baby to latch on to his finger while releasing milk from the tube. They were advised to do this at 2-3 hour increments around the clock. The whole fiasco, from waking to feeding to changing took at least 45 minutes, which meant, once you settle back into bed and will yourself to fall back asleep, very little sleep at all. But, baby caught on and began latching and nursing properly. Mom was happy, baby was happy, all was well.
One friend suddenly stopped producing fat in her milk. This after successfully nursing for 10 weeks. If you know anything about breastfeeding, you know that the first milk the baby gets is foremilk, it is sweet watery milk designed to hydrate the baby. The second milk they get, from the same breast, is hind milk, this is fatty milk designed to fill the baby up, make them feel full and give them calories to burn. The hind milk also produces a type of laxative - thus explaining the constant pooping of breastfed babies! So, anyway, this mom’s baby suddenly became fussy, gassy and spitty-upy (after previously not gaining as much weight as expected), as she was trying to sustain herself on essentially sugar water. She probably felt a little hungry and did not have the fat to keep her full and help her keep the liquid down and digest it. This problem was discovered during a consultation with a lactation nurse for her county. The lactation consultant suggested that she pump, spacing her pumping out longer than her daughter usually ate so that she was not emptying her breasts as often as before, which sometimes would stimulate fat production. She also suggested that mom think about giving the baby some formula and see if it improved her fussiness. The formula did that, right away. No more gassy, spitty, fussy baby. And, mom continued to pump and mixed her bottles half-and-half. The doctor suggested that she could give herself injections of oxytocin to stimulate release of hind milk. With only 2 weeks to go on her maternity leave, she opted to wean her from nursing and switch over to formula, keeping her expressed breast milk for rice cereal later. Baby is happy, mom is happy, all is well.
Another friend had a baby recently and started nursing in the hospital. She had intense pain with nursing, but thought that was normal, so she continued. She endured it for her daughter. But, after arriving home, her daughter pulled off after nursing and had blood in her mouth. Blood from her mom’s nipple. Ouch! So, she has been consulting experts and trying different things to help her breasts heal, including pumping. She had to start mixing formula with the expressed milk because she wasn’t able to pump enough and wants to go back to nursing after her nipples heal a little, but is worried about supply issues since she is already supplementing. Baby is happy, mom is getting there…
And, yet another friend has a one week old baby. The baby wasn’t gaining weight like the nurses had hoped after leaving the hospital. This, of course, worried mom, who had been pumping the side that baby didn’t nurse on at each feeding to start stock piling milk for when she returned to work. Dad gave the baby a bottle of expressed milk between feedings and baby sucked it dry. She was having trouble latching on again and mom and baby decided that, to make everyone happy, baby would drink expressed milk. Baby is happy, mom is… guilty.
Mom is guilty. That’s the underlying theme in all of this trouble. If you could press “pause” on the baby’s hungry little tummy, figure out some solutions and then press “play” again, we could all nurse long term. But, let’s face it, while we’re learning, and hurting, and asking and consulting, baby is still hungry. And growing. And we’re trying to make a good decision.
Stay tuned tomorrow for the conclusion...
One friend was determined to breast feed. Her daughter had a very difficult time latching on and had a tongue thrust. She tried nursing when she could and then pumped and fed her daughter expressed milk through a 5 cc syringe attached to a tube. Dad would tape it on his finger and try to get baby to latch on to his finger while releasing milk from the tube. They were advised to do this at 2-3 hour increments around the clock. The whole fiasco, from waking to feeding to changing took at least 45 minutes, which meant, once you settle back into bed and will yourself to fall back asleep, very little sleep at all. But, baby caught on and began latching and nursing properly. Mom was happy, baby was happy, all was well.
One friend suddenly stopped producing fat in her milk. This after successfully nursing for 10 weeks. If you know anything about breastfeeding, you know that the first milk the baby gets is foremilk, it is sweet watery milk designed to hydrate the baby. The second milk they get, from the same breast, is hind milk, this is fatty milk designed to fill the baby up, make them feel full and give them calories to burn. The hind milk also produces a type of laxative - thus explaining the constant pooping of breastfed babies! So, anyway, this mom’s baby suddenly became fussy, gassy and spitty-upy (after previously not gaining as much weight as expected), as she was trying to sustain herself on essentially sugar water. She probably felt a little hungry and did not have the fat to keep her full and help her keep the liquid down and digest it. This problem was discovered during a consultation with a lactation nurse for her county. The lactation consultant suggested that she pump, spacing her pumping out longer than her daughter usually ate so that she was not emptying her breasts as often as before, which sometimes would stimulate fat production. She also suggested that mom think about giving the baby some formula and see if it improved her fussiness. The formula did that, right away. No more gassy, spitty, fussy baby. And, mom continued to pump and mixed her bottles half-and-half. The doctor suggested that she could give herself injections of oxytocin to stimulate release of hind milk. With only 2 weeks to go on her maternity leave, she opted to wean her from nursing and switch over to formula, keeping her expressed breast milk for rice cereal later. Baby is happy, mom is happy, all is well.
Another friend had a baby recently and started nursing in the hospital. She had intense pain with nursing, but thought that was normal, so she continued. She endured it for her daughter. But, after arriving home, her daughter pulled off after nursing and had blood in her mouth. Blood from her mom’s nipple. Ouch! So, she has been consulting experts and trying different things to help her breasts heal, including pumping. She had to start mixing formula with the expressed milk because she wasn’t able to pump enough and wants to go back to nursing after her nipples heal a little, but is worried about supply issues since she is already supplementing. Baby is happy, mom is getting there…
And, yet another friend has a one week old baby. The baby wasn’t gaining weight like the nurses had hoped after leaving the hospital. This, of course, worried mom, who had been pumping the side that baby didn’t nurse on at each feeding to start stock piling milk for when she returned to work. Dad gave the baby a bottle of expressed milk between feedings and baby sucked it dry. She was having trouble latching on again and mom and baby decided that, to make everyone happy, baby would drink expressed milk. Baby is happy, mom is… guilty.
Mom is guilty. That’s the underlying theme in all of this trouble. If you could press “pause” on the baby’s hungry little tummy, figure out some solutions and then press “play” again, we could all nurse long term. But, let’s face it, while we’re learning, and hurting, and asking and consulting, baby is still hungry. And growing. And we’re trying to make a good decision.
Stay tuned tomorrow for the conclusion...
Sunday, May 2, 2010
On Making a Decision and Being Okay With It (part I of III)
(This post got kind of lengthy, so I'm givin' it to you in parts...)
My sister wanted me to write a blog post on nursing and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. Its kind of a hot topic and people take it so personally, but recent events have led me to want to write about what I’ve heard, what I’ve learned.
The story starts with my first-born. I thought I wanted to breastfeed. Neither anyone on my side of the family nor anyone on Riley’s side of the family really breastfed. A few of my cousins tried it or nursed for a little while. I think one of my cousins breastfed one or two of her kids for more than a few months, but we do not come from a line of breast feeders. (By the way, none of us have permanent detachment disorders or anything, and some of us are even smart, but more on that later). When dear daughter was born, I tried nursing her right away. The pain was excruciating. Nothing could have prepared me for what that felt like, but I had heard that it hurt at first and I tried to toughen up. I listened to advice from the nurses and lactation consultants in the hospital, gritted my teeth and hoped that things would get better. It didn’t. I was sent home with this new little baby who wanted to eat every time she woke up. And, every time, I tried to nurse her. After the first few sucks, things felt better, but I still had to curl my toes for the first little bit each time. I was too nervous, private and, well, bull-headed, really, to ask for help, I just knew I didn’t like it. I sat in the afternoon and cried each time I fed her. This was not for me. I kept it up for 2 weeks, which was the goal I set for myself in the beginning and then decided it was not my cup of tea. I pumped a bottle for her and she took to it like a champ. So I continued to pump a little bit and mixed it with formula and slowly weaned her from breast milk. No repercussions. I was happy, she was happy, all was well.
Enter Mr. Baby J. Again, I decided to give it a try. I didn’t have a good first experience, but was older, wiser (ha) and maybe more determined the second time. Baby J and I had a distinctly different experience. We were totally compatible right from the start. I don’t tell a lot of people this, but, with him, it never hurt at all. Okay, so I was hopped up on pain killers from my c-section at first, but really, no pain, no tenderness. Just a simple connection. So, I nursed him. He had pumped bottles occasionally, but since I was on maternity leave (+ summer vacation) for almost 6 months, there wasn’t much of a need for bottles. I went back to work in December and, determined to make it to his 6 month “birthday,” pumped in the car on the way to work, and sat in solitary confinement to pump at lunch. Things went well. My production stayed just slightly ahead of his consumption, so I knew he wouldn’t starve. Just in case, I wanted him to be able to have some formula, in case I somehow ran out of breast milk in the freezer. So, he started having 1 bottle of formula per day over Christmas break. Then, I went back to work again in January, continuing my pumping regime. Only this time, I started getting less milk. Then I worried that I had less milk, which probably didn’t help me. I spent my 25 minute lunch pumping and sometimes only got 1.5 ounces… that plus the 3 ounces I got on the way to work would not for a happy boy make! So, I re-examined. Was 4.5 ounces, not even one whole bottle, per day of breast milk worth not carpooling and spending my lunch period alone in a 4x6 cement wall room? Not to me. So I stopped. I nursed him in the evening and in the morning and at night if he needed it. Then, one fateful day in the beginning of February, when life seemed to get suddenly busy, I realized that I had not nursed the child in 3 days. He didn’t seem to miss it and either did I. And, he was weaned. I really couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful breastfeeding experience. No one cried. I was happy, he was happy, all was well.
Stay tuned for more thoughts coming up!
My sister wanted me to write a blog post on nursing and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. Its kind of a hot topic and people take it so personally, but recent events have led me to want to write about what I’ve heard, what I’ve learned.
The story starts with my first-born. I thought I wanted to breastfeed. Neither anyone on my side of the family nor anyone on Riley’s side of the family really breastfed. A few of my cousins tried it or nursed for a little while. I think one of my cousins breastfed one or two of her kids for more than a few months, but we do not come from a line of breast feeders. (By the way, none of us have permanent detachment disorders or anything, and some of us are even smart, but more on that later). When dear daughter was born, I tried nursing her right away. The pain was excruciating. Nothing could have prepared me for what that felt like, but I had heard that it hurt at first and I tried to toughen up. I listened to advice from the nurses and lactation consultants in the hospital, gritted my teeth and hoped that things would get better. It didn’t. I was sent home with this new little baby who wanted to eat every time she woke up. And, every time, I tried to nurse her. After the first few sucks, things felt better, but I still had to curl my toes for the first little bit each time. I was too nervous, private and, well, bull-headed, really, to ask for help, I just knew I didn’t like it. I sat in the afternoon and cried each time I fed her. This was not for me. I kept it up for 2 weeks, which was the goal I set for myself in the beginning and then decided it was not my cup of tea. I pumped a bottle for her and she took to it like a champ. So I continued to pump a little bit and mixed it with formula and slowly weaned her from breast milk. No repercussions. I was happy, she was happy, all was well.
Enter Mr. Baby J. Again, I decided to give it a try. I didn’t have a good first experience, but was older, wiser (ha) and maybe more determined the second time. Baby J and I had a distinctly different experience. We were totally compatible right from the start. I don’t tell a lot of people this, but, with him, it never hurt at all. Okay, so I was hopped up on pain killers from my c-section at first, but really, no pain, no tenderness. Just a simple connection. So, I nursed him. He had pumped bottles occasionally, but since I was on maternity leave (+ summer vacation) for almost 6 months, there wasn’t much of a need for bottles. I went back to work in December and, determined to make it to his 6 month “birthday,” pumped in the car on the way to work, and sat in solitary confinement to pump at lunch. Things went well. My production stayed just slightly ahead of his consumption, so I knew he wouldn’t starve. Just in case, I wanted him to be able to have some formula, in case I somehow ran out of breast milk in the freezer. So, he started having 1 bottle of formula per day over Christmas break. Then, I went back to work again in January, continuing my pumping regime. Only this time, I started getting less milk. Then I worried that I had less milk, which probably didn’t help me. I spent my 25 minute lunch pumping and sometimes only got 1.5 ounces… that plus the 3 ounces I got on the way to work would not for a happy boy make! So, I re-examined. Was 4.5 ounces, not even one whole bottle, per day of breast milk worth not carpooling and spending my lunch period alone in a 4x6 cement wall room? Not to me. So I stopped. I nursed him in the evening and in the morning and at night if he needed it. Then, one fateful day in the beginning of February, when life seemed to get suddenly busy, I realized that I had not nursed the child in 3 days. He didn’t seem to miss it and either did I. And, he was weaned. I really couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful breastfeeding experience. No one cried. I was happy, he was happy, all was well.
Stay tuned for more thoughts coming up!
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