Towards living the dream

On honeymoon

We dream together. My man and I - we dream.

Growing up in a deeply dysfunctional, stifling household I dreamed of escaping to America. That dream kept me alive in my teens, when the bullying at home wore me down and freedom after freedom was being clipped from my life, like prison walls closing in ever further. It was about getting away, but it became a very specific place - America - and I worked towards it. The one freedom I knew they'd never take away was my academic studies, so I targeted everything I did academically to being able to move there. I chose a college where I would be able to get a recognised degree. I worked, I networked, and... I got there eventually.

Was it my salvation? No - by the time I went, the situation had changed and I was already free: but I couldn't stay, either. I couldn't not go after working so hard for such a long stretch of my life. So I went, I lived the dream, and while it was hard most of the time there (NYC is hardly an easy place to "make it") the knowledge that I was living the dream meant I loved it. After some years of struggle I was finally willing to move back to Europe, not because I gave up the dream but because I had fulfilled it.

I'm a practical person. To me, a dream is only worth dreaming if I have a hope of making it come true.

And so, my man and I, we have a dream too. It's not mine alone, or his - I never even thought of doing this before I met him, and I'm pretty sure neither did he. But as we thought about our life together and what we want out of it, this dream was born, and we are actively working on getting to live it.

Like my dream of America, it won't happen overnight. It will mean years of work. But I'm patient like that, I will work on achieving this. I will make sacrifices because they won't feel like sacrifices when they become stepping stones towards the goal.

On honeymoon

We dream of sailing.

We dream of the day that we swap our river boat for a yacht and just leave. We'll explore the world, but mostly the nice warm places - the Caribbean, the Southern Pacific. We'll dive. We'll live on very little money, we'll probably work seasonally, and we'll love it.

Why are we in this rat race? Why is my Mr. working long hours, getting ulcers with the stress, only able to see his daughter in the evenings and weekends? What are we trying to achieve by doing that? Whatever it is, it's not what we want, thanks very much. We want to grow old on the seas. Live on island schedules, not tight deadlines. Our child(ren) will have rich educational experiences, not only aboard, but every time we spend time on land. Maybe when we're working seasonally, they'll attend local schools for a while. They'll certainly not lack learning opportunities, as the Internet's everywhere now - and socialisation? A tightly-knit family provides that, and living aboard does not mean being hermits; it actually means you get to meet many more people than most land dwellers do. Boaters are an incredible community.

There are many things I'm thinking through already, that are years in the future. As I said, I'm a practical person through and through. This dream is one of the reasons we won't send our child(ren) to school here - that would take the flexibility away that we need. And we want them to be self directed learners anyway. The dream is why I'm learning how to sail. It's why we're paying off our mortgage next year. No ties, no debts, nothing to hold us back when we are ready to go.

On honeymoon

But we can't go tomorrow, or next year - and that's OK. Baby's grandparents have just moved to be near us, and we're so grateful that they are here and being supportive and enjoying being part of baby's life. We wouldn't want to walk away from that, not now. Also, there are a few more years Mr. has to work until his earliest possible retirement date, and we may decide to wait that out - but not sure yet.

There's also a possible intermediate step. Mr's company has a site in America at the Mexican Gulf coast; if it was possible for him to be transferred there, we might be able to get the grandparents to move there with us and live there for a few years, live on land and keep a sail boat to use on weekends and holidays - get into it slowly, so to speak. That would be a lovely, gentle stepping stone towards taking the full plunge. I'd like that.

We'll see. But what I know is, dreams are for living, and one day we'll be living ours.

Baby routine: no, thanks

My beautiful friend Kristy-Lee has started a Youtube Channel (link). She's a mum of five and puts up videos with how-to's on various topics, do have a look, she's great. With five kids, she's got lots of experience to draw from! What she does clearly works for her family - and knowing them, I can see it really does! One of her videos, "5 bedtime tips" is what prompted this post... I've been thinking lots about routines in the past few months.

Kristy certainly isn't the only person I've heard singing the praises of bedtime routines: everyone does, it seems! So why do I have an instinctive resistance inside?

Obviously every family is dfiferent and Kristy's way works for her family, but for mine, I can't contemplate any real routine apart from what happens naturally and organically anyway. I've thought about it a lot. And I think the vision that's beginning to form certainly isn't for everyone....

Hashing out the arguments

Feeding to sleep:
yeah, we do that.

A routine is something that happens every day, in the same order, and at (more or less) the same time. It's supposed to help babies and kids to get to sleep more easily, and give them a certain security - knowing what's going to happen next. I can see the argument for that, especially having worked with people with learning disabilities - knowing what's expected and what's going to happen next is helpful to many.

My instinctive reaction is based on not wanting to be chained to a routine, though. I see it in some friends' lives. Naptimes are off-limits each day; and come, say, 7pm, every single day, they have no freedom to do anything or go anywhere because the almighty routine demands absolute adherence. No matter what. And God forbid it's disturbed! The kids are seriously out of balance. Meltdowns and tantrums.

I don't want that!

Is it naive to think that having a loose approach can work? From what I hear from my routine-using friends, even with a routine there are daily battles and difficulties, as just because the kids know the routine does not mean they will follow it cheerfully! So a routine isn't going to give us an easy life. So I just fail to see what the advantage is of chaining ourselves to a timetable.

What I do want (all this and maybe a unicorn too)

Brushing her gums
(no teeth as yet)

I want to be able to go places in the evening and do things, with baby - and yes, with kids if and when we have more than one - and have her/them either go to sleep there or stay awake. I want naptimes to be semi-flexible, as they are now: we have a general idea when she'll sleep but she might her first nap at 10am the one day and after 12 noon the next, all depending on what we're doing that day.

Anyhow, where does the notion come from that children need to go to sleep early? Is this because the parents want the evening to themselves, or is there a developmental reason? I don't think there is, and for our family, I'm not worried about having our evenings child free. (In fact I wouldn't mind a lie-in, so if kids are up later, they might sleep in later too, no?)

We are one family, and if kids go to bed too early they'll miss out on dad time, anyway! So kiddo/s are welcome to be up when we are. Perhaps that might actually eliminate some of the bedtime problems, because if I remember correctly from my own childhood, part of the reason I didn't want to go to bed was because I was afraid to miss out on something! I don't want to exclude our kid/s from parts of our lives.

I want to include my kid/s in my life. We belong together. This does mean sacrifices on my part, being selective about activities, and certain things I can't do for the moment. But that is what I signed up to when I got pregnant: perhaps I'm swinging the other way from my own mother, who insisted on living her own life apart from us - I want to do motherhood not as a tacked-on part of what I do, but as very much who I am.

And that's not to say I want my life to revolve around my kid/s. Oh no! I see routine as much more limiting than what I'm proposing. If I had to be at home every day for a certain set of hours, doing the exact same set of things day in and day out, come what may: I would find that limiting. I'd feel trapped.

What I'm proposing is continuing to do what I love, socialising and church activities and friends - doing the things we do, together, as a family. Kid/s fitting into our lives, rather than our lives revolving around their routines.

Am I naive? Yeah, probably - I don't have any experience with kids. But perhaps, just maybe, we can make this work. We'll certainly try.

Simple Hip Cross Carry - Photo Tutorial

Hip Cross Carry

This is, in my opinion, the most underrated hip carry! It's pre-tied and poppable, meaning that you can put the wrap on and keep it on all day if you like, popping baby in and out as needed. It can be done with a woven wrap size 3 or 4.

This makes it great for toddlers, who can't make up their mind if they want to be carried or not; it's great for short walks to the car - basically anywhere that you need to take baby out without having to tie again.

No one ever seems to suggest this carry when people ask, and I think that's because all the videos I've seen so far make it look really complicated to do. But it's not! So I've taken a few photos to walk you through how it's done, I hope you'll agree it's super easy.

I'm using a size 3 here. If you use a 4 you'll have some hanging tails. As you make the knot in advance, you'll get to know after a while how much tail you need.

Let's get started! It's so simple....

Step 1: Make a knot.
So to start with, you just make a double knot towards the end of your wrap, creating a loop.

Step 2: hula hoop.
Put the wrap around your waist, holding it out away from you. The knot should sit at your waist, the same side of your body that you want the shoulder of the wrap to sit.

Step 3: cross over.
Now you're creating a figure 8 by crossing the wrap over itself. The front should cross over the back.

Step 4: Arm & head come through the loop
The loop you've created is where your arm and head go through.

You're done! You can wear your wrap like this all day.

But, I hear you ask, where does the baby go? I'll show you...

Back leg goes through the back pass	Front leg through the front pass
That's baby sitting there! If your baby doesn't like being wrapped, or you just want some relief for your carrying arm, you can just carry them like this. They'll sit safely, but of course you'll want to keep your arm on their back supporting them.	Spread the back pass first, all the way up and over their back shoulder.
Then spread the front pass. Notice - as you can easily see with this wrap - that the rail on top (grey) is the opposite from the other side (which is orange)! This is important...	Finally, grab the top (grey) rail and pull it down over your shoulder, so the wrap doesn't dig into your neck. This is very comfortable if you get it to cup your shoulder! If you've got the rails right, the pass diagonally across your back will be spread wide and without twists!

Have fun!

"So, will you raise your child to be a vegan?"

The questions have started.

They've always been there occasionally, but now she's 7 months old and we're just beginning to introduce her to food (not that she's particularly interested just yet), this question has become a regular one. My answer can't be given in just a word, though.

Firstly, being vegan is a life choice, not just a food choice. It means to abstain from willfully and unnecessarily causing harm to other sentient beings - and that includes not just eating them, but also wearing their skins or furs, using products that were tested on them, or exploiting them in the many ways humans have invented. But, let's keep things simple here and stick to the food, since that is what most people are thinking of when they ask the question.

A few thoughts on this.

I want her to be healthy.

I will do the best by her that I know how. This includes, but is not limited to, giving her the best nutrition to thrive. Why would I deliberately give her food that will, if not harm her, then at least be a burden on her system? Why not give her only what's good for her? So no, I won't give her animal flesh or secretions.

I want her to learn compassion.

I want her to grow up asking what effects her actions are having on others. Human and non-human. She'll learn that kicking the dog is not kind. She'll learn that hitting another child is not okay. And she'll know from a young age that eating parts of other beings' bodies means that they have to die, and because we don't need to eat those body parts to survive, that is not a compassionate thing to do. When she's old enough to handle the truth, I will show her where meat comes from. We'll go to the city farms and pet the animals, and she'll see what gentle, sweet creatures they are.

I don't want to lie to her.

Like the little boy's mother in this video - I have such respect for her! - I will be honest with my child. I'll be honest about Santa Claus, I'll be honest about the Tooth Fairy, and I'll be honest about her food.

I want her to think for herself.

This applies to everything. Obviously as a small baby, I make choices for her. I make them to the best of my ability in her best interests. But ultimately, I can't raise her to be a vegan any more than I can raise her to be a Christian - I am both, with all my heart, and when she is young I will make choices for her along those lines; she'll grow up in that environment, see my example, learn my reasons... but I cannot make her life choices for her. When she is able to, she will have to make a proactive choice and I can only hope (and pray!) that what I have shown her and taught her will help her make those choices. But I can't and wouldn't force her!

It simply is the right thing.

I could go into so much detail about why living vegan is simply the morally right thing to do (quite apart from health wise...) - now, I'm not going to lie, living vegan sometimes means you miss out on (nonvegan) birthday cake, or (nonvegan) ice cream, or other things we think of as indispensable in a childhood. But is my child's questionable, short-term culinary pleasure worth the suffering behind it? When there is absolutely no nutritional need, and if anything, those things I mentioned are health liabilities anyway - simply for the fleeting gratification of a desire? As I see it, she may want ice cream but she hasn't understood what's behind it - the animal bred to give unnatural amounts of milk, existing its miserable life long in a tiny cage, artificially impregnated every year so that the milk won't stop but her calf, as soon as it's born, taken away (to be killed if male, to be subjected to the same fate if female), discarded after a few years when the milk no longer flows so freely; if my girl knew all this, she would not want the ice cream. But that kind of wider perspective comes with maturity, a little child doesn't have it - which is why I make that choice for her for now.

I will make other choices for her to do the right thing when she doesn't know yet. I will keep her away from harm. I will stop her harming others. It simply is the right thing to do.

Thank goodness for the support I have.

I'm grateful that I not only have a husband who, though not actually (fully) vegan himself, doesn't just "let me" bring up baby along these lines but actively thinks this is what we should do. My in-laws aren't vegans but I am beyond blessed with them: I feel completely respected by them and I trust that they will go along with the way my husband and I wish to raise our child - grandparents like that are the best! They are supportive, not undermining. When our daughter is with them I do believe that, if I make sure they understand what we're looking to instill in her, will respect those boundaries. That is a huge blessing and not one I take for granted... my family is far away but if my parents were still around - particularly my father's side - I have no doubt they would continually undermine us and seek to sneak "treats" behind our backs. It's wonderful to not have to deal with that.

Wanted: good posture

Before & after...

I used to have very good posture.

In fact I remember my parents saying, many times during my childhood, that I'd never have a back ache because I had such good posture.

These days... not so much. Not a day goes by when I don't catch myself - multiple times! - slumping, shoulders drooping, bent over. I correct it and a minute later I'm back to slumping, having totally forgotten. Good posture is no longer my "normal" and it hasn't been for years!

There was a definite point when I went from good to bad posture. It was a choice, can you believe it?? I was probably just under 10 years old, and my family went on holiday with my aunt and uncle's family. I looked up to my cousins who are several years older to me... and they sat like hunchbacks. So that was obviously cooler than sitting up straight! I remember having to practice sitting like that, how it didn't come naturally and how I had to consciously work on it. I just thought they were so cool...

Silly, but there it is. The moment I threw away my always-straight posture. If only getting it back was that easy! Because my muscles are no longer used to it, sitting or standing up straight takes not only conscious thought, but becomes difficult after a while. What used to come naturally is now an effort.

I still don't have a back ache, but I do think it's only a matter of time and besides, I don't like how I look with bad posture - I see it in photos - head forward, shoulders hunched, belly stuck out. Not a good look! So here I am, putting it out into the public domain, friends: I'm working on better posture. Please tell me if you see me hunched over.

Six months making milk

There's something of a beautiful continuity in this mothering journey - in the space of nine months, my body grew a living, breathing baby of 6 lbs. 5 oz. from just a few cells....

So tiny, skinny and floppy

... and in the six months after that, my body continued to nourish and grow her from that to almost 20 lbs.

Added some healthy baby fat rolls!

I stand amazed at the fact that my body alone grew, and sustained, this human being all the way to today - and beyond, I can reasonably expect. She has gone from cells, to bean, to plum, apple, and various other fruit sizes, to a tiny skinny squish out in the world... all the way to a chunky, alert and communicative baby. I think that is humbling.

The journey didn't begin smoothly: while she was able to feed very soon after her birth, I just could not get her latched on without help for the 24 hours I spent in hospital after her birth. When I left, the discharging midwife said I was free to stay longer if I wanted (hah! - all I could think was LET ME OUT!) and when I declined, left me with the helpful thought that I'd be back soon anyway when baby lost over 10% of her birth weight and was hospitalised again. Thanks, lady.

She didn't lose 10%. Not even close. When we got home, in our own environment, we figured it out together, and she loved her food from the start.

It's a superpower, alright

But then the pain came.

In the first few weeks, the pain caused by her feeding grew, but it increased gradually so that - like the frog in boiling water - I kept going and didn't seek help until I finally broke down one day and said to Mr. that I may need to take paracetamol before each feed just to get through it. By then, my nipples were in serious and near-constant pain. Any touch was agony. Showering hurt; towelling off after a shower had to happen with a very small towel so that I could control exactly where it went, because anything like that touching my nipple would have sent me through the roof!

Baby was latching as well as I knew how, and health visitors said they could see nothing wrong there. But the pain, the pain! The day I decided I needed painkillers to survive each feed was when I finally realised I needed to do something. I could not wait this out. I was not tougher than this. I needed help.

I first went to a breastfeeding support group, the leader watched me feed and said she could see nothing wrong. But she referred me to a lactation consultant. She watched me too, and saw very little wrong; a small adjustment here, a little differently there. Nothing to truly change things. But she gave me one helpful piece of advice - I could cut down the time each feed took by squeezing milk into her mouth (breast compressions) which would limit the amount of time I had to deal with the pain.

Did I consider formula, you ask? No, I didn't. Unless it was for baby's sheer survival, if it came to that, I was not going to go down that route. I was going to feed my baby. So I hung in there, pain and all... and mere days after I finally saw that consultant, things did begin to look up. Today I know that the problem was simply that my daughter was very small when she was born, hence she had a very small mouth, which meant she could not get as much tissue into her mouth as was necessary to make it pain free for me. As she grew, the pain went, and I've been pain free since.

So I've exclusively breastfed my baby from birth to now, six months, and I will continue to breastfeed her until further notice - we'll start introducing her to food when she sits unaided, which isn't yet the case.

So the above is my journey, the facts of it. I'd like to talk about attitudes a little now.

There's a phrase I've seen used, again and again, that kind of bugs me: "Mothering through breastfeeding."

I don't "mother through breastfeeding".

Feeding to sleep?
Yeah, we do that too.

I mother through loving, cuddling, holding, babywearing, bedsharing, cooing, singing, chatting, caring, and a million other things... and breastfeeding. How can a thing as big, as all-encompassing, as motherhood be reduced to this one thing?

I'm as passionate as anyone about giving my daughter the best, and most natural, food for her - breastmilk. I have never given her formula; I have never given her a bottle of any kind, she's only ever had fresh milk direct from me. No expressing. No dummies. Just me and my milk when she wanted it. So it's safe to say I'm committed to breastfeeding. But that phrase still gets me on the wrong foot. How can all I do be reduced to breastfeeding?

Yes, breastfeeding is much more than a nutritional choice; it's comforting, bonding, tangible love. But I comfort, bond with, and tangibly love my daughter in a million other ways. My husband obviously doesn't father through breastfeeding: yet his parenting as a father is still equally valuable to my mothering, even without that one thing. (For example he's much better than me at comforting her through rocking, which is sometimes far more effective than shoving a boob in her face again). We could not do without one another in this.

So I'm not proud. I'm not proud to be a breastfeeder; I'm not particularly proud to have made it through the tough start either. It's just what was necessary to do the normal thing. I was, if anything, a bit disappointed that something so natural should prove so painful and difficult, but then again, birth is perfectly natural and still is painful for most women! And yet most of us choose to feel the pain to gain the reward, and for the sake of our children.

So I feel that I just did what I needed to do.

Today I enjoy the closeness, the connection, that feeding on demand - without schedules, bottles, or expectations - brings, and I look forward to the next six months when my little girl learns about all the tastes and textures the world's foods have to offer... but my milk will still be there for her, a safe choice whenever she wants it, a known quantity, nourishment for body and soul.

The strangeness of baby friendly strangers

Adorable, if I do say so myself...

They're everywhere - airports, supermarkets, cafes. They're everyone - men, women, old, young. And they catch me by surprise every time.

Baby lovers all over the place! Some talk to me... some talk to her... some just coo, aww, smile or make silly faces. Others elbow their friend / partner / neighbour in the ribs as we walk past!

Now I don't mind any of those things. I'm just surprised!

Not because I don't think my baby is impossibly cute and stunningly squishy. But in my head I usually think that's what I think because I'm her mother, and other people noticing her chubby cuteness catch me by surprise!

Obviously it's because I've never been a baby person. Babies were kind of cute, okay, as long as they remained quiet and preferably at some distance so that I'd be out of the way of any bodily fluid emissions. But all babies looked the same to me. And I would go up to a dog to fuss over it a million times sooner than a baby.

So because I'm not that kind of person, I just don't expect people to be that nice. Comments of how sweet she is, how cute, how quiet (ha!), how smiley... I love them and I treasure them but never, ever do I expect them.