What’s harder, going from 1-2 kids or from 2-3?

I often get asked, what was harder, going from 1-2 children or from having 2-3?
Neither! For me, going from 0-1 was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done as a human being.
When I see a mom struggling, just as I did, to get one clean and fed infant out of the house, I see her eyes widen as big as dinner plates to ask “How do you do it with three?” and I must say good news, gets easier! I mean, with more children in tow, it gets louder and in some emotional and logistical ways more complicated, but in general I am

1) improving as a mom through experience

2) learning to let them do more, which comes naturally when you have more than one since you don’t have the time to dote on any one child.

Not sleeping through the night is common with infants and yes, before you have had children, you probably pulled some all-nighters, but you didn’t have someone’s life in your hands the whole next day. You didn’t have anyone consistently crying in your ear, and you weren’t feeding anyone from your hands / breasts all day. Once you understand this deep level of sleep deprivation plus caretaking you expect it and prepare for it better the next time.

Take heart mama, you are learning every day. Even though you can’t see your improvement or actively appreciate it each day, your children do!

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Don’t want to raise entitled jerks? Be home when you have help.

No, I’m not saying that when you have a babysitter you should stare at your children instead of leaving the house. When you have help though, day or night, build in time when you are home with your caretaker to listen, learn, and advise your children on how to behave, unless you want to raise jerks.

Looking for a babysitter? Have one come over first as a ‘helper’ to be with the children when you are in the home. This builds a connection between you and the sitter, plus it’s a softer transition for a child because that person being there doesn’t automatically mean parents leave.

Do you have a nanny? We have someone that comes over two days/week, and Cristina is made of all that is magical, good and noble. She has the mind-blowing capacity to multitask and yet take loving care of our children in a way that never ceases to amaze me. I want to be more like her. Our children love her truly, madly, deeply, and they run to her with huge hugs when she arrives and leaves.

Even though our children respect and care for Cristina, when I’m home cooking or writing I keep my ears open. If I didn’t remind my children to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ a hundred times over they wouldn’t, even if it’s in our family’s code to do so. They would be bossing her around with wild abandon. I know this because I’ve heard it with my own ears, and I’ve seen it with other children around me, and this is NOT OKAY. Again, unless you want to raise a$$holes.

If you have worked in the service industry you know that you will be treated like garbage at times, and yet you still have to keep on keeping on because you are getting paid. I worked in retail as a teenager and in restaurants, first as a hostess and then as a server. I continued working as a waitress though college and at times begrudgingly beyond. I did not regularly stand up for myself because A) if I did I might not have a job anymore, and B) people acting like ungrateful, entitled jerks pretending that the world was ending because the sauce was different than expected was nonstop, so in a way you get numb to it.

Cristina never asks my kids to be polite, not only because she is being paid, but also she doesn’t like to see them in any kind of trouble and says they are just being regular ‘niños, no esta nada’ but impolite children are NOT going to magically become polite adults. 

If our world needs anything now it is evermore grateful, respectful adults who consider  the humanity of others. That, and it doesn’t hurt to have an ear to how the caretaker is treating your children at the same time.

So build in time to be around. Actively listen to your children and parent them when you have help. Teach them to be kind, or at the very least polite when you hear them behaving like douches. If you don’t, they will get away with it and continue that behavior elsewhere.

The future of kindness and gratitude in our culture depends on how these forthcoming generations turn out; let’s raise the bar and raise polite kids that turn into strong, polite adults.

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Postcards from the Edge

How do you feel after scrolling through your social media feeds. Amused? Annoyed? Bored? Connected? Disoriented as if you slipped down the rabbit hole?

screen-shot-2016-09-14-at-2-21-43-pmOn the radio program @themoms, women were debating if posting mainly positive parts of your life is fake and even dangerous, or if by posting negative things you are revealing too much about your life into the internet ether. On Instagram I tend to post positive images because I think of a social media post as a postcard. There is already so much negativity spinning around out of control around us, plus I don’t want to disclose too much about my life to the public (never assuming anything is ever private or just to friends online), or to the person I sat next to in Geometry back in the day. I’m not even that private of a person, it’s just all too much.

Receiving a postcard via snail mail every once in a while is a positive experience, hearing about the adventures of someone you’re close to and seeing a fabulous image or two on the front. Ahhhhh, you wish you were there, but you can live vicariously for a minute or two whenever you pass by the postcard on your fridge. These days I only get a real postcard once in a blue moon, but even in their heyday I would receive max a few at a time. Going through my social media feed is akin to receiving thousands of postcards per hour.screen-shot-2016-09-14-at-2-22-18-pm Instead of subconsciously comparing my day with the few people I know who are out of town, now hundreds of people I know are posting their vacation pics, getting married, having babies, having the most amazing coffee, eating the best food, grabbing a cocktail, going to a concert, or have their feet dangling from a hammock. Your personal virtual mailbox becomes overloaded.

People now post more information about themselves in one day than they would have ever stuffed into the annual Christmas newsletter, now moot for anyone with a computer. It’s just too much. Now everyone gets to see the snooze-inducing Back to School images of everyone else’s children. Last week I texted pictures of our kiddos to the only people who I imagine really have the time for them/will care: my husband, parents and two sisters. I wouldn’t even bother to send it to my brothers-in-law because why should they be buggered? Seriously. It SHOULD be boring to them. Not their kids!  It’s just too much.

Now before I sound too much like a nefarious Luddite, I do want to read about the trials and successes of my loved ones, I do want to read that Bill Murray quote and I do want to see adorable photos of your dog and progeny because they really make me smile and I feel more connected to you. Plus, on Facebook I don’t just keep it light and positive because it is a quality format to post about that boy in Aleppo and garner support for the brave Native Americans fighting the Dakota Pipeline. But sometimes, sometimes, in my darker moments when I’m overwhelmed, it’s just all too much. That is when I need to power off my virtual mailbox, go take a walk to run my fingers through some rosemary and smile at a flesh and blood neighbor. Ahhhhhhhh!screen-shot-2016-09-14-at-2-24-15-pm

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What I’m giving up for Lent

Yva_Lady_reading_newspaper_c1932Last year I gave up complaining for Lent. It went so well that even though I haven’t stopped complaining altogether, I do it decidedly less than before I gave it up. The volume of any complaints, as a direct result of my 2015 Lent challenge, has been dialed up to a Spinal Tap 11, which stops me pretty quickly from elaborating.

So this year I had a grand time musing about the new way I can hopefully make another significant change. Now that our son is finally weaning, a whole line of detox opportunities are open to me that haven’t been in a long while, but giving up something like processed sugar would mean giving up Lake Champlain 5 Star Peanut Butter Bars and I’m not at all ready to do that.

My final decision is that I’m going to give up reading the news for Lent. Today’s world of news is gut-wrenching and soul-sucking because 1) the amount of horrific global violence on full display and 2) it can be so shallow. Unfortunately these two types of news stories are not mutually exclusive. On one page of Time Magazine is a picture of dead bodies with a horrific story attached, and on the next is an ad for People magazine with the cover title that screams “How to Love the Way You Look!” Looks like Melissa McCarthy is on the cover, which is awesome, but the ad made me feel even worse about the war torn people’s plight I just read about because our culture somehow can say the words Bieber and Assad in the same breath without being embarrassed.

The best part of this decision is that it’s an election year so I am MORE THAN HAPPY to dump any news about Trump and most of the other candidates. I am going to have a very hard time however, not diving into my NYTimes app all day, every day. I am a subscriber and I just can’t get enough of it, so I now have one hour and seven minutes to read like crazy, and I just might check out vox, Le Monde, and BBC News too, my other favorite news sources. I have also realized, that as a SAHM part of keeping up my identity as someone who is globally-minded and literate, I do acquire personal puntos when I hear myself say “Yes, I DID hear the latest about Venezuela’s government!” but that just means I need to grow up and see my value beyond having those types of conversations.

No matter what, it will be good to break the overarching, powerful habit I have to pick up my phone relentlessly.

Besides the NYTimes and my other usual suspects, I will miss hearing about freaking cute pandas being born. I can still see pandas romping around on YouTube I guess, and hmmmm, I have a question, does watching Last Week Tonight count as news?!?!!???! Say it ain’t so!

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Let’s get real about Placenta Encapsulation!

IMG_6470RTI swim in many social circles, and one of my favorite waters to wade in is my midwife and fellow doula circle here in Venice beach. In this pond, talking about eating your placenta is absolutely as normalized as talking about grabbing sushi for lunch.

I also swim in other oceans where I get willingly paraded around as the weirdo/hippie chick, and I’m asked some really spicy questions about placenta encapsulation by an altogether shocked (and many times totally grossed out) audience.

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Placenta smoothie action on the night Emil was born

I had both of my placentas encapsulated, and with our first I also received a tincture. With our second, my doula and soul sister Paula made me a smoothie just after I gave birth with frozen fruit and veggies plus a small section of the raw placenta blended inside. Then one of my midwives cut and froze a few more quarter-sized sections for smoothies that I could drink during the time she was doing the encapsulation.

If you want to know why women are doing this, here are the Wiki reasonsPlacentophagy is the act of mammals eating the placenta of their young after childbirth. The placenta contains high levels of prostaglandin which stimulates involution (an inward curvature or penetration, or, a shrinking or return to a former size) of the uterus, in effect cleaning the uterus out. The placenta also contains small amounts of oxytocin which eases birth stress and causes the smooth muscles around the mammary cells to contract and eject milk.

For me, each time I took the pills it had a balancing effect on my emotions and made me feel like less of a victim of my ever-changing and raging hormones. My French husband didn’t think the pills would have any effect on me, but nevertheless he humored me and supported my decision to have them.  There were about a dozen times during the first few months postpartum when I forgot to take a placenta pill, and midway though the day he would reluctantly ask me (when I was in hormonal meltdown-mode) if I had forgotten, and each time he was right, which made him ultimately thankful he says, for the money well spent.

Only once in an article online have I heard an account by someone who had minor ill-effects, and to me the article read like it was mostly trying to vie for an attention-grabbing headline without having any really stunning news to share. There are studies that show positive effects of human placentophagy, but unless a pharmaceutical company invents a way to commodify placenta encapsulation I won’t expect any well-funded scientific studies to be done or any expensive marketing materials to be produced akin to the flashy and ubiquitous cord-banking ads.

As a doula I encapsulated a client’s placenta for the first time recently chez Paula, who showed me the ropes. I did it for my beautiful friend Jordan; her vibrant and bright son Camper suddenly passed away due to a brain tumor at the age of 2 1/2 during her second pregnancy. I couldn’t think of anyone whom I wanted to help emotionally and physically more than her (and her husband) and it was a true honor for me to encapsulate Jordan’s placenta and to curl their son Dillon’s umbilical cord into a little keepsake heart shape after he was born.

For Jordan, the main effect the pills had for her was to lessen the pain of the C-section incision. My clients and friends have experienced other benefits from more energy to increased breast milk production. My questions for you are, are you comfortable talking about eating placenta carpaccio? If you or anyone you know have experience with placenta encapsulation, what was that experience like?

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