BIOBaby: Breastfeeding at 48 Months

My cousin had a baby in July of 2008. I gave birth to Jack in August of 2008. A few months ago we were both invited to a hookah bar and my response was, “I can’t go! I’m still breastfeeding!” Her response was, “So am I. Now, what’s your excuse?”

The big difference here is that she she was referring to her second child born since July 2008! That’s right. In the time it took her to nurse one child, wean him, get pregnant and have another baby, I’m still breastfeeding the same baby. And you know what? I think it downright offends some people. I’ve received eye rolls and head shakes and that’s from family!

When I was pregnant I said that I would breastfeed for the first two years.  It seemed like a good length of time, and I suppose part of that decision was based on the guilt I felt for weaning Kali earlier than I’d planned. I left myself open to the possibility that I’d change my mind once I actually began.

Last February, when Jack was about six months old, my mother moved in with us. She is from the old school of feeding a baby pretty much anything that won’t choke ‘em and chewing up and feeding them the things that might. I was making Jack’s baby food myself (pureeing and freezing ice cube trays of carrots, squash, and apples) and as she made sure he was eating three squares (literally) a day, he seemed to become disinterested in nursing.

Oh, hell no. I increased my efforts, offering him the boob whenever I could, and it worked. He was back, firmly nestled in my breast where he belonged. A few more months passed and I thought 18-months-old might be a good place to stop. Then one day while on the phone with Sophie she asked when I was going to stop. I told her when Jack was 18 months. And she said, “Well, he’s 17-months-old now, you might wanna start weaning.”

Well, that was two months ago and I’m still “weaning.”

We tried the “don’t offer, don’t refuse” method. I wouldn’t offer up the booby during the day, but if he went for it, I wouldn’t refuse it either. I tried nursing only first thing in the morning, before nap time, and before bed at night. The problem was, he asked all the time!

And most times, he won’t even ask! I can be on the laptop, reading a book, watching T.V., or playing Halo and he’ll come and pull one out for a little pick-me-up. The boy has even pulled one out as I carried him on my hip, walking down the stairs. He literally lifted one out of my tank top, craned his neck, and started sucking.

“OK. You may need to start getting dressed everyday. No more wearing your P.J.s all day. No more tank tops. Start wearing turtlenecks tucked into your jeans… and wear a belt,” Sophie advised.

“Um, I think I need an armored vest!”

The majority of the time, I don’t mind that he’s still nursing. Sometimes it’s caused some pretty funny moments. Like, the other night when Jack and Donny were headed up to bed, and I decided to stay downstairs and watch Idol. Jack climbed out of my lap to follow Donny up the stairs. Just as he was about to climb up the first step he stopped, ran back to me, stood between my legs as I sat on the couch, pulled my nightshirt down and sucked, sucked, sucked, then ran back to Donny throwing a, “Bye!” over his shoulder. Donny said he just wanted “one for the road.”

Other times, it can be pretty inconvenient when he falls asleep and I have to carefully detach and then pray he doesn’t wake up as I transition him. And I’m pretty sure all these hormones are the reason behind my constant need to wax my face – but that’s for a whole ‘nother blog. I think what is worrying me is that I have no idea how to stop. A lot of people have said I should just let him decide. What if he decides he wants to be doing it till he’s 3? He’s already graduated from sippy cups to child cups with lids and straws, and recently he’s been pushing those aside and drinking from a lidless cup like a big boy, but he ain’t tryna give up the “bee bees.”

A lot of Moms who really advocate nursing will say, “You know, in other countries this isn’t such a big deal.”

Yeah, well, I live in America and I ain’t tryna be the mom squirting breastmilk in his thermos as he heads off to preschool!

Donny and I went to see 2012 and this trailer was shown before the movie. At the end of it, Donny turned to me and said, “That’s gonna be you and Jack.” No, it’s not! Right? RIGHT!?

BIOBaby: Jack’s First Haircut

I folded like a card table. Back in November, I took Jack to get his first haircut.

Two pics of early morning bedhead.

It has since grown back.

Next up: pics of Kali’s first haircut in ten years.

BIOBaby: Baby Boner

This is quite possibly the funniest, yet most disturbing, experience of my life…

So, last night Donny, Jack, and I are in bed watching TV. Donny and I are kinda sitting up with our backs against the headboard and Jack is lying horizontal with his head on Donny’s side and his feet against my leg. I notice that his diaper is kinda crooked so I reach over and undo one velcro side strap to fix it.

Jack pushes my hand away and decides to take advantage of having a now-open diaper by sticking his hand inside of it. He starts playing with his little penis and giggling. And not just regular giggles, but squeals of masturbatory delight.

It was as if all the other times he’d found his penis were warm-up and now, well now he meant business. Attempts by me to remove his hand and close the diaper were met with swats from the unoccupied hand with a precision and speed that can only be described as ninja-like.

I tried to be stern, but not too stern. I mean, I don’t want him to grow up with some weird penis complex. But the whole thing was actually quite funny so I’m also laughing like a fool. Donny responded as most men would.

“That’s my boy!”

And Jack is no dummy. Just when he sensed that maybe I was not fooling around anymore, and would no longer be hampered by fits of laughter, he would pull his hand out from the diaper, pat his tummy and say, “Belly. Belly.” As if reminding me that he was smarter than the average bear his age would make up for the fact that he was conducting his first spank-job on my bed!

And because I am like every other mother that likes to brag when she realizes that she is indeed the mother of a smarter-than-average bear, I did what any braggart would do:

I grabbed the video camera from my nightstand… which I realize as I type this sounds incredibly scandalous, delicious, lascivious, and other naughty words that end in -ous.  While my back was turned Jack proceeded to stick his hand back in his diaper and move it around furiously, laughing like a madman. I got about fifteen seconds of footage in which Donny and I can be heard laughing in the background. Jack continued to lie on his back, hand alternating between pulling on his penis and patting his tummy. It was at about sixteen seconds that I realized that we could very well be committing some kind kiddie porn crime.

I snapped the camera closed and voiced my concerns to Donny. This seemed to make the situation at least 35% less funny to him. He got all Caucasian on Jack.

“Jack Ian (insert last name here)!! Stop tugging on your little peter!”

His little peter?

I move Jack’s hand and get serious. I’m not tryna get peed on.

“Belly?”

“No. No belly. That’s not gonna work this time.”

I undo the other side of the diaper and open it up to adjust it properly and there, staring me dead in the face was my son’s angry, swollen, dog-dick red, baby boner.

“Donny, you deal with this!”

Who knew the male penis fascination began so early?!

BIOBaby: Halloween 2009

This was Jack’s 2nd Halloween and Kali’s 11th. I must admit that I kinda live vicariously through Kali when it comes to this holiday. With her biracial looks, she’s able to pull off costumes that I could only dream about. As a little brown girl, I would never really look like Wonder Woman, Lil Orphan Annie, or Dorothy. I’d look like a little black girl dressed up as Wonder Woman, Lil Oprhan Annie and Dorothy.

Kali and I do this delicate dance every year when it comes to her costume. At first, the struggle was getting her to dress up as a character I wanted. Unless Michael Bay or someone else in Hollywood “reimagines” the shows/books/characters we grew up with, most kids today wouldn’t know who they were. If you asked a teenage boy what the General Lee was before that God-awful Jessica Simpson movie, they wouldn’t be able to tell you. And girls that Daisy Duke was a pair of coochie-cutting shorts.

Then we fought over the definition of a costume. One year, she wanted to be Hannah Montana and the “costume” consisted of a blond wig, some leggings under a mini skirt, a denim jacket and a fake microphone.

“Ma, pleeeeease?!”

“No. Kali, that’s not a costume. No one will look at you and know what you are. You’ll just look like Kali in a blond wig with really bad mall clothing!”

Now, our battle is over what is an appropriate costume. Thanks to porn, even an innocent cheerleader’s uniform takes on a sexual tone. And it doesn’t help that costume companies are tarting up the little girls’ costumes younger and younger. This year Kali wanted to be a vampire witch. That’s some shit somebody made up. Another way to add an extra few bucks to the cost of a witch costume by adding plastic fangs.

We settled on a Japanese princess costume. I kept calling it a geisha until Donny said he thought that might be a Japanese whore, and then we just stuck with Japanese princess until we knew for sure. The costume consisted of a kimono, kimono belt, and two red sticks to place in her hair. Very simple, inexpensive and extremely pretty.

Jack was a baby devil.

So, Saturday gets here and I chose then, hours before they were due to go trick-or-treating, to make them try on their costumes. Jack kinda looked like the long-lost red Teletubby. And Kali, well, Kali looked gorgeous. I was so tempted to get a burlap sack and have her go as a 5lb bag of potatoes instead. She put on some black tights and open toe flippy-floppy shoes. I put her hair in a bun, applied the sticks and even let her wear a little make up.

It was drizzling out so my Aunt and I drove the kids from house to house… at first. Then the rain let up and Kali and her friends wanted to walk so we followed behind them at a slow crawl. Hey, that’s how they roll in the suburbs. Well then Jack kept trying to jump out the window to get to his sister, so we parked the car back at my house and busted out the stroller to hoof it.

After about three houses Kali started complaining about the hair sticks and wanted to take them out. I told her no and watched as she sulked her way to the next house.

“I don’t understand why I can’t take the sticks out! They hurt!”

When she was out of earshot…

“Because the sticks make the costume. Without the sticks you are just a ten-year-old girl in a silky dress with too much makeup on. The sticks make you Japanese. Without them, it looks like I let me daughter leave the house looking like a whore!”

Two houses later, the sticks were gone. A house after that, she had changed from her shoes into pink Converses. By the time she was hitting the last few houses, the bun was gone and her hair was flowing down her back in a ponytail. It looked like I sent my child out trick-or-treating in a robe and sneakers. *sigh*

Speaking of trick-or-treating, my aunt and I realized after a few houses that the girls weren’t even saying it as doors were opened.

“Are you guys saying trick-or-treat?”

My little sister replied, “No. We just smile.”

“For the love of… are you at least saying thank you?”

Kids today do not know how to trick-or-treat and half of them weren’t wearing real costumes! Pajamas aren’t costumes, people! Stop letting your kids leave the house in them.

The next day, Kali was walking around the house in her kimino with it unbelted. It looked like a silk robe. With her underwear peeking through she looked like that character that opens the door on an Law and Order: SVU episode. You know what I’m talking about. Stabler and Benson go to interview “a lady of the night” and she answers the door with her open robe, a cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other.

“Girl, if you don’t put some clothes on!!”

Halloween will be the death of me.

BIOBaby: Still Not Getting a Haircut

I will not be Delilah to Sampson. I know, I know. His hair is long. It’s curly. Everyone thinks you should cut a boy’s hair at one. Well, I don’t do what everybody else does. Everyone knows that!

I love Jack’s hair. It’s so… so… Jack!

He has years and years of haircuts ahead of him. He can be a baby a little longer. If I’m not in a rush, no one else should be.

OK, I have a confession to make: the other day he was in the bathroom while Kali took a shower and I looked over to the master bathroom and thought, “That boy needs a haircut!” It’s because the room was all steamy and his hair had kinda poofed out into a fro.

BIOBaby: Jack Updates

It’s been awhile. I’ve been busy with school and trying to get published. Thanks for your patience.

*

Jack is almost 14 months now. His vocabulary continues to grow. Donny has been upgraded from “Dada” to “Daddy.” It’s absolutely adorable and somewhat annoying. Annoying because I just realized a few days ago that he now says Mama when referring to me and when requesting food. My mom will be pouring a bowl of Cherrios for him and he’ll start chanting from his high chair, “Mama mama!” Kali will be pouring a cup of juice for him and he’ll be standing at her side, pointing at the cup, and screaming, “Mama mama!”

“This is because, to him, you are food.” Donny explained. “It’s kind of cute.”

“No. It’s insulting. A bit of my soul dies when my son affectionately calls a french fry, ‘Mama!’”

Donny has taught him how to say, “Belly.” He will rub his own, and sometimes one of our bellies, and say belly over and over again. Not to be outdone, I’m trying to teach him how to say, “esophagus.”

He’s a smart cookie and tries desperately to keep up with Kali and my lil sister, Bruklyn. The girls were outside the other day and Jack stood at the second floor gallery window watching them play. Suddenly, he began running a few feet to the wall, slapping it, and then running back to the window. I was standing nearby, on the phone with my Dad, silently wondering what the hell he was doing. Then, I looked out the window and saw that the girls were racing to the neighbor’s mailbox, tagging it with their hands, and then running back to the other neighbor’s driveway. Jack wanted to race too!

Yes, I’m still nursing him. He is not really feeling the cow’s milk, but will drink baby juice and water. He eats cereal, baby cereal, Gerber graduates meals, steamed veggies, and random things from our plates. He still likes to nurse at night before bed. I’m not worried about it because I told myself when I was pregnant that I’d try to nurse for the first 18 months.

He’s still sleeping with us as well. Some people seem to think that we are setting ourselves up for trouble later, but this isn’t our first rodeo. Kali was still sleeping with us at this age too. It’s even more convenient because he is still nursing. I’m not overly concerned with a rough transition to his own room because we have experience with it and did just fine.

Finally, Jack loves to dance.

Tomorrow: The Top Ten Most Ridiculous Things I’ve Said As a Mom

BIOBaby: Cry It Out

There are reasons being a parent is the hardest job in the world:

- It’s hard without any real instructions. I don’t care how many books you read by doctors and other experts, there are never any cut-and-dry answers. Well, besides the obvious “don’t put your baby in the microwave” or “don’t drown your children in the tub.”

- All kids are different. What worked for Kali may not work for Jack, and what worked for either of them may not work for any of yours.

- The rewards are massive.

As I follow many bloggers who happen to be Moms (I hate the term “mommy bloggers), I’ve come across one phrase over and over – “cry it out.”

“I don’t let my kids cry it out.”

At first I thought this meant that they don’t let their kids cry at all. But as I did some research and read several blogs, I found that they are referring to the method of letting your child cry themselves to sleep.

Jack has “cried it out” twice. He was about 5 or 6 months old and for two days he just gave me a fit at nap time. (I’m a firm believer in scheduled naps, by the way.) Normally, he’d go right to sleep while nursing or by being left alone on the bed. (And by alone I mean, no rocking or patting. I remained on the bed with him.) But one day he just wasn’t having it. And I tried EVERYTHING.

I knew he was tired, but it was like he was fighting sleep. He cried and cried no matter what I did. Donny and I had decided while I was pregnant that we weren’t going to start bad habits that we couldn’t stick with. We based this decision on 1. successfully raising Kali with the same methods and 2. watching other parents. We did not want to be those parents who were slaves to the child. You know what I mean. The poor child won’t sleep unless someone is holding him at a 45 degree angle, standing on one foot, and singing Ave Maria in C sharp.

The first day, I put Jack in the pack-n-play next to my bed and he cried for maybe two minutes. Then he laid his head down and went to sleep. The next day, I did the same thing and he cried for maybe one minute… and then went to sleep.

Did I feel good about it? No. Mothers don’t like hearing their babies cry. That being said, I don’t know that I’d try the “cry it out” method again, especially when we decide to transition him from co-sleeping to sleeping alone in his room.

Like spanking, it’s just not for me. Advocates against the method probably see little difference in what I did – rocking the pack and play, cooing at him, until he stopped crying and fell asleep – and leaving the crying child in his crib with the lights out to fall asleep alone. And that’s okay. We’re all just doing the best we can, when we can.

Here are some interesting blogs on the subject at phdinparenting.com:

Cry It Out (CIO): 10 Reasons Why It Is Not For Us

Cry It Out (CIO): Is It Helpful or Harmful?

Next week we’ll discuss “crying it out” in other situations.

But for today, what do you think of the “cry it out” method when trying to get your child to sleep?

BIOBaby: Ball!

Yesterday, Jack had his nine-month checkup. But, Nina, you’re thinking, he’s almost a year old. Yes, it was late but I took the first appointment I could get.

When we were finally seen (you wait forever), the doctor asked, “So, is he getting around okay?”

“Oh, yeah. He walks, he climbs off and on the bed and sofa, and he can climb up the stairs all by himself.”

She looked at me like I was lying.

I pressed on because really, I didn’t like the look on her face. “In fact, he’s been walking for two months.”

Her smile said, “That’s nice,” but her eyes said, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“How is his comprehension?”

“He’s really smart. He understands that remotes need to be pointed at televisions in order to have an effect. And when we remove the batteries so he can’t change the channel, he looks in the back to see if the batteries are there when the remote won’t do anything.”

This goes on and on. The more I tell her how awesome my kid is, the more she looks like she doesn’t believe me. She asks about his vocabulary.

“Some stuff he pronounces better than others, but he says Mama, Yaya for Dada, Bella, thank you, and ball.”

As she stares at me waiting for my nose to grow, it hits me.

“So, when should I think about giving him cow’s milk.”

“You have time. I’d say when he’s a year.”

“Well, you know he’ll be one next week, right?”

She looks at his chart, at the computer screen, and then finally back at Jack. No wonder she thought I was lying!

***

Jack loves to play ball. It’s funny because when Donny comes home that’s the first thing he wants to do and he calls for the ball like it will suddenly pop out from its hiding spot and yell, “Here I am, Jack!”

BIOBaby: Facts About Jack

You know how a boxer goes to his corner after each round and gets a squirt of water from his trainer? I think that’s going to be Jack. No, he’s not gonna be a boxer – I’d kill him. Instead, I imagine Jack at 8 playing T-Ball and running over to the bleachers where I’ll whip out a booby and give him a little pick-me-up before sending him back into the game.

Yes, here we are a few weeks shy of his first birthday and I don’t think this boy will ever stop nursing. He loves it. No, really. He LOVES it! He loves to nurse from one and fondle the other. While he’s eating he will rub the other breast, play with the nipple and squeeze it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out which part of the female anatomy will have his favor when puberty strikes.

He’s also fascinated with remote controls. Is it any wonder a child of mine loves TV remotes? What makes it so funny is that when we’re in our bed, he will actually lift his arm really high when pointing the remote at the TV. It’s like he knows he needs to line it up with the sensor on the cable box in order for it to work. What makes it not so funny is his dual fascination with batteries. I have three remotes in my bedroom… and two batteries. You do the math.

Almost a year and I’m still not used to baby wood. The other day I went to change Jack’s diaper and he had a little boner. Except it wasn’t so little.

“Oh my God! Donny!”

“That’s my boy!”

“Here, you change him.”

I tossed a baby wipe over his little business and it was like I just pitched a mini tent. A little baby powder scented tent. Baby boners make me uncomfortable.

His vocabulary now consists of:

Ma – when he’s really upset.

Ya-Ya – Dada

Bella – damn dog

Ball

Tan-Yow – thank you

He’s a genius.

Jack likes to climb the stairs, play catch, and dive off of furniture. He loves bananas, Mum-Mums (look ‘em up), Cheerios, and spaghetti.

His internal clock tells him when it’s Friday and therefore “Daddy time” for the weekend. From Friday night to Sunday night Jack is all about his Daddy… and that’s just fine with Mommy.

Ever since he was a few weeks old, Jack would kick the covers off. He still does it. No matter how cold it is in the bedroom, if he is aware of the blanket, he kicks it off. I have to sneak like a ninja to keep him covered at night.

The biggest fact about Jack as he turns one is this: he will not be getting a haircut for his first birthday. I don’t believe in a haircut just because he’s one. He’s still a baby and I’m in no rush to have him look “all grown up.” He’s not. Donny wants him to get a haircut. As I type this he and Jack are at the store. I wouldn’t be the slightest bit suprised, albeit very pissed, if they returned and Jack had a haircut.

And now, without further ado, because I don’t want y’all to think I’ve been lying. My baby walks and has been doing so since he was 10 months old.

And yeah, I’m making fun of Donny’s sagging jeans.

BIOBaby: The Possibility of Jack

We put a lot of time, effort, and money into Jack’s nursery. We also put a lot of love into it. We obsessed over getting the shades of blue and brown just right. I spent months agonizing over the furniture.

The end result?

He spends very little time in it. Like, almost none. I’m not that bothered by it. He’s still young. There will be plenty of time for him to build forts, not make his bed, and hide pornos in it.

I do get this bittersweet feeling any time I go in it though. See, it has this smell. I’m not sure if it’s the new furniture or all the baby stuff, but it has this smell unlike any other room in the house. It smells fresh and clean and quiet. It smells like newness.

And so every time I go in there it takes me back to this time last year when we wondered about our baby boy and what he’d look like. We wondered what he’d be like. We wondered if he’d like his room and us. We avoided themes of animals and planes or sports. Instead, it seemed better to let him discover those things on his own and decide what he liked and what would fill his living space. We were so anxious and curious during this time.

When I go in there now, I have those feelings all over again and it’s like he’s not here yet. I get to be an expectant mother again and he is back inside of me safe and warm. He can’t skin his knee or bump his head. I don’t have to worry about choking hazards or school yard bullies.

And then I feel guilty for loving that smell and swimming in that time. Because he’s here and he is beautiful. He is no longer faceless. He has personality and dislikes. He has attitude and preference. He is lovable and difficult. He is here. And it is work.

All of the possibility now has shape. It is real. And it is scary.

Next Page »