Crib Sleeping

By: Megan Dobkin

“What do we do now?”

It is 11pm which, to my sleep-deprived husband and me, feels more like 3:00 in the morning.  In between us lies a 3-week-old Jake, swaddled in the Snuggle Nest – a co-sleeping aid that provides a walled incline for the baby.  Jake has been restless all night, but now he is outright crying.

He just ate.  He has a fresh diaper.  He had some gripe water, so we’re pretty sure it isn’t gas.

“Let’s try the co-sleeper.”

As soon as we settled Jake into the co-sleeper next to the bed, he settled down and fell into a deep sleep.

It’s been like this for awhile.  He’s only liked the co-sleeper when it has all four sides up, i.e, standing alone, NOT when it was actually attached to the bed.

It took us another week or so before we finally admitted that Jake was, in fact, more comfortable having his OWN SPACE.

We were not prepared for this.  Being the over-researcher that I am, I had spent the latter part of my pregnancy reading up on a grand spectrum of early childcare books.  My husband and I were moved by the concepts behind Attachment Parenting, and I read them all: The Continuum Concept, Jay Gordon, William Sears.  We were very taken with the concept of being the baby’s consistent pillars for as long as he might need.  Not in that RUNAWAY BUNNY way, where the parent keeps following the kid who just wants to explore.  But in a way that would help build a sense of security, allowing him to feel free in the outside world.  “We are here.  We are in no rush to stop being the ones on whom you depend.  You decide when you are ready to explore.  We will be here if you need us.”

I breastfed for as long as I could.  I wore Jake in a sling for the first year of his life.  I gave him infant massages at night before bed.

But that little bugger just did not need us while he slept.  Perhaps a different baby would have.

So, in this way, I am really not Pro-Co-Sleeping.

Nor, am I Pro-Crib-Sleeping.

I am, however, PRO-LISTENING.

It was the best and most fundamental lesson I have learned so far as a parent.  Two and a half years later, the need to listen and be flexible still comes into play at least once a day.  Like when I have decided that Jake and I are going to have a really fun afternoon at the museum, but he really is just in the mood to stay home.  Or when I don’t think he has eaten enough, but he tells me “all done.” And like when I try to put him in a nice button-down shirt for our holiday card, but he has other fashion plans.

They all come into this world as different beings with different needs.  All we can do is better understand our own interests and philosophies, and then listen really closely for theirs.

PRO-LISTENING.

All around.

vs.

Co-Sleeping

By: Rebecca Martin

We have two cribs in the garage. They are wooden, perfectly set up, gathering dust and webs. One of them was a gift; the other we bought at Babies R’ Us when I was overcome by a feverish nesting urge, unaware at the time that I was four hours away from early labor. We didn’t plan on it, but two babies (still in the bed) and two cribs (still in the garage) later, we are a fully committed, co-sleeping family.

It just felt so natural to have Noah, our first, cuddled between us in our bed. Someone told me it’s best for babies to hear the heartbeats of their parents through the night. Maybe they fall asleep to the rhythm, or maybe it’s like a cheering section saying “Yay! You were born! Keep going! See how great it is to have a heart?!”

We bought one of those “snuggle nests” so he would be safe between us, and read all the articles on how to do it right. Everyone was so worried about rolling over on baby, but that just didn’t seem possible, with the way our sleep lightened (for better or worse) to awake at our baby’s smallest need or movement. And once I discovered the wonder of night nursing –where I could just roll over and we could all stay in a semi-dreamy state of sleep –I didn’t want to move him to a crib where I would have to actually wake up to get him. I felt so overwhelmed at this new person being here with me permanently; to sleep with him helped me tune in to his needs and helped me to feel more confident about reading his cues. It deepened our bond.

Somehow I thought we would still use that shiny crib and get back on the path with most of our friends, but instead it became the best unfolded-laundry-holder ever. And Noah stayed in the bed.

We loved waking up to his smile. We loved being able to give in to the unstoppable early-parenting urge to check his breathing. We got to make a nest for him and it felt right.

Living in a one-bedroom house also supported this.  A kids’ room was not an option. But what started out as a space adaptation became a choice. I think we’re like animals -  we like to sleep in packs, we like to feel each others’ warmth. Maybe kids don’t really want to be down the hall. All those hours alone in a room, on some level, must register in a negative way. Whereas all those hours with the people you love, hearing their breathing, knowing they are right there, must register in a positive way.  It’s especially nice if the parent is away most of the day working; they get their secret sleepy baby hours. My husband surprised me -he ended up loving it as much as me.

Now Noah is four, and his little brother is 22 months old. We put the largest memory foam mattress we could find on the floor. We all pile on it, like a big raft in the middle of the room. My husband and I stay up later than they do for a little grown-up time and when we go to find our place, it’s amazing that two small boys can take over a whole bed. We did have a co-sleeper crib when our second baby was brand-new, mostly to protect him from rollovers from the big brother. But once it seemed like time, we were all back in it together.

This makes traveling much easier. Wherever we go, as long as there is a bed, no routine is broken. We go camping and throw a mattress in one little tent – just like home! So far, they seem to be more adaptable than separate-sleeping kids. And they don’t wake up as early. I feel secret guilty pleasure when people complain of early wake-ups from kids who maybe just want that extra cuddle.

As much as I love it, I do feel a little jealous when friends talk about putting their babies to bed, closing the door, and going to their own rooms. There are probably less kicks in the night, and it probably teaches kids to be independent sooner. But then, I think our culture rushes everything anyway, so slowing things down probably might bring it closer to balance.

If someone had told me when I was buying that crib that I would be like this, I would have laughed. But now I treasure the feeling of safety, the closeness of the family, and the fact that I gave into something that, even though I didn’t plan it, felt completely natural. I know the days of co-sleeping are numbered, like everything in this parenting journey. So for now, I am looking forward to another cuddly night with lots of warm toes in the bed.

Artcile from The New York Times

For over a decade, the issue of same-sex marriage has been a flashpoint political issue in the United States, setting off waves of competing legislation and ballot initiatives attempting either to legalize or ban the practice. Rifts have also opened among religious groups over the decision to recognize same-sex marriage or condemn it.

Proponents of same-sex marriage say that the institution is a unique expression of love and commitment and that calling the unions of same-sex couples anything else is a form of second-class citizenship; they also point out that many legal rights are tied to marriage. Those opposed to same-sex marriage agree that marriage is a fundamental bond with ancient roots. But they draw the opposite conclusion, saying that allowing same-sex couples to marry would undermine the institution of marriage itself.

Gay rights supporters felt the tide was turning in their favor for much of 2009. With President Barack Obama they felt they had an ally in the White House, and the movement was making remarkable progress in state legislatures, with lawmakers in Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire approving bills allowing gay marriage in 2009.

More on this article go to New York Times

By: Jillian Lauren

The Chronicles of Weezer 2009 Tour Cont.

I love this picture because in Scott’s glasses you can see the reflection on the sky as seen through the bus window. My boys love to sit together and look at the sky.

35,000 fans showed up for yesterday’s show in Columbia, MD. The free Virgin Mobile Festival was held at Frank Gehry’s soaring Merriweather Post Pavilion, though I didn’t get much time to admire the architecture because I was too busy trying to keep Tariku from eating smooshed french fries out of the dirt and playing with used beer cups.

I was looking forward to this tour date, because my cousin Andrew actually organized the whole festival. Andrew is one of my fave relatives, though his wife Maria gives me a complex. She’s an MD who does research into women’s public health policy, while looking and dressing like a supermodel. I have a friend who was attacked in New York and woke up in the emergency room at Bellevue looking at Maria’s face. He told me that he seriously thought he was looking at an angel. Barf. I wish I had a picture to share, but T blew by everyone so fast I barely had time to give my family a hug. He made a mad dash for the barricades and I spent the next three hours chasing him while he romanced teenage girls. He likes to charm the ladies by pointing out airplanes, then he leans in and tries to bite their thighs.

We did catch Richard Branson’s parachuting escapade, which was impressive. We also got to spend some time with my old friends writer Shawna Kenney and guitarist/hubby Rich Dollinger, the self-titled baby roadies for the day. On most days they’re stars in their own right.

We missed the Public Enemy show, but T had his ‘fro tousled by Flavor Flav on Flav’s way off stage. In his short almost-18 months on earth, T has had his ‘fro tousled by Sir Paul McCartney, Brian Wilson, Flavor Flav, Jeff Lynne, the Blink guys and all the members of the Weez, of course. That’s a lot of icons to have up in your hair.

My photographs are suffering terribly as a result of my mom duties. My iphone is all I can handle most of the time. At my friend Danica’s suggestion, I got this toy camera application, which puts random filters on pictures. Cute, right?

By: Brandy Black

My daughter has taken to only wearing tank tops.  Every morning I try to slip a T-shirt or god forbid a long sleeve past her and she screams “Tank Top Mama, NEED the tank top, WANT the tank top!”  I can’t figure it out, but even through our rainy trip to San Francisco, she insisted on being dressed for the summer.  So I’m doing laundry like crazy and searching the stores for summer dresses and tops.  I have even tried buying very thin comfy shirts, which I prefer because I too run hot, but Sophia won’t have it.  I just know in a month when we are fully stocked for her new style and the sun is starting to peek out again, she’s going to want mittens and scarves.  Oh the plight of a toddler-bearing mama.

A week ago, in response to a question in Florida, President Obama declared his belief that LGBT Equality is founded in the Constitution.
The President then went on to acknowledge that Social Security short-changes America’s same-sex couples:

“…the notion that someone who’s working really hard for 30 years, can’t take their death benefits and transfer them to the person they love the most in the world, and who has supported them all their lives, that just doesn’t seem fair, it doesn’t seem right…”

Here is a video put together by Rock For Equality on Portraits of Discrimination

By ELISABETH MALKIN- An article from The New York Times

MEXICO CITY — Angela Alfarache and Ivonne Cervantes met at a party 16 years ago and have been a couple ever since, filling their lives with books and writing and friends. After their daughter, Constanza, was born six years ago, they became a family.

Mexican law never saw it that way. Only Constanza’s biological mother — the pair will not say which one gave birth to her because, as they explain, they are both her mothers — is her legal parent. The law does not recognize the other mother.

In a few weeks, that will change. A new Mexico City law goes into effect March 4 that will allow same-sex couples to marry and adopt children, propelling the city to the forefront of the global gay rights movement.

“We want society to change its chip that says there is only one kind of family,” said Ms. Alfarache.

But fierce opposition erupted almost as soon as the law was passed on Dec. 22. In his final homily of the year in Mexico City, Cardinal Norberto Rivera Carrera said, “Today the family is under attack in its essence by the equivalence of homosexual unions with marriage between a man and a woman.” Roman Catholic groups asked the conservative federal government to intervene.

President Felipe Calderón said the Constitution defined marriage as between a man and a woman, although legal experts disagree. His attorney general filed a challenge before the Supreme Court, arguing that the law violates a constitutional clause protecting the family.

Under its left-wing mayor and city assembly, Mexico City has stretched the nation’s limits in acknowledging just how much the conceptions and realities of family have changed here. The city legalized abortion in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, untangled its cumbersome divorce laws and recognized civil unions.

But while many families have been fractured by migration, teenage pregnancy, divorce and abandonment, most Mexicans still cherish the ideal of a nuclear family.

More on this article The New York Times

By: Ann Brown

You gotta make me a promise. It has to do with my death.
You in?
I am a daughter, a good one, one of two. Therefore, it goes to say that my mom has her own death and funeral covered. My sister and I know the drill – when Mom looks as if the Grim Reaper is nigh, we are to (in order of importance): take all funky underwear out of the dresser drawers and discard it immediately; take out the eggplant – which will be in the oven, this is a given – and turn off the oven. Don’t throw the eggplant out, however, just leave it on the counter to cool. Never mind that Karen and I live a thousand miles from Mom and by the time we get to LA the eggplant will be quite well-done, not to mention full of e-coli, we are not to throw it out because someone at the funeral may be constipated and it will be a welcome buffet offering (wait, what am I talking, someone may be constipated? We’re Jewish. Someone may not be constipated); look in all Mom’s boots and coat pockets for twenty dollar bills; and, most importantly, check that underwear drawer again. Also, if there is chicken cooling on the kitchen counter, don’t throw it away. This last item is aimed at me because my mom believes I am neurotic about throwing good food away. And it’s a lost cause to argue because my sister agrees with her.
When I pick my mom up at the airport I can find her luggage by smell. Her bags are filled with Tupperware containers of leftovers from her refrigerator that should have been dumped days before she left on her trip and they languish – untouched – in the back of my refrigerator for the week of her visit after which my sister, who has the intestines of a feral dog, tosses them in the sun-baked trunk of her car while she drives the four hours to her house. She leaves the leftovers on her kitchen counter for the afternoon and enjoys them for dinner the next three nights.
Her husband, a human, will try just a spoonful at Karen’s insistent urging and spend the night on the toilet, clutching his abdomen and crying out for mercy.
So when it comes to saving or dumping the post mortem chicken on Mom’s counter, I am outnumbered.
This, however, is not pertinent to what I am asking of you at the time of my death.
I need you to check that Robin and my sons have sent me to my Maker wearing pants. I have reason to be concerned.
When Robin’s mom passed away this was an issue. Evidently, when the burial outfit was brought to the mortuary, pants were forgotten. This wouldn’t make a particularly worrisome story but for Robin’s description of the event. He said to me, “It didn’t seem necessary. I mean, it was a really long drive back to my parents’ house to get pants for her, and anyway, the coffin was only open from the middle to the top.” Really, Robin? That seems a reasonable reason to bury a person in just a nice blouse and shoes? He was finally persuaded when the Hungarian woman who prepared the body admonished him, “You vant Mama should fly to Heaven vit no pents?”
Vit no pents, indeed. I am taking no chances. I have no daughters. I have two good sons, however, but every time I remind them to put pants on me as soon as I die, they look at me as if I am asking them to pour hot tar up their noses.
So I am counting on you now. Pants. I will probably be able to fit into the beige Jag jeans in the back of my closet after a day or two of death, so put me in those, please.
Oh, and if my mom and sister outlive me, a word to the wise: don’t eat the chicken from the buffet.

Dr. Strangemom

By: Cyndi Whitmore

Tyler was sent out of his class again for disrupting. Instead of going to the main office (as instructed), he went banging on the Assistant Principal’s door… where she was in a conference with a parent. After going to the office, he decided to pull the pin out of the fire extinguisher and then proceeded to set it off. He has been suspended. Fortunately he just aimed it at the floor, didn’t hit anyone or spray any walls/papers, and it’s only one day. I asked him why he did it and he said he wanted to see what would happen. They have a student desk sitting right underneath and facing that fire extinguisher – with as much time as he spends in the office I imagine he’s a had a lot of time to wonder how it works. I’m almost surprised it took over three months for him to give in to the temptation. He was having a good week this week, and most of last week. Until today, it had been eight days since he’d been in the office.

Curly Mama

By: Rosy Barren

I’m in the nail-biting stage of waiting, in limbo, wondering if I will be lucky enough to find out, in 4 days, if I’m pregnant.  This is my favorite time, waiting.  Although it’s excruciating, it’s a happy time in which there is no bad news and only the possibility of a life-changing miracle heading my way.  I have no choice but to give my belly positive energy.  It feels so good to think that I might have a partner in crime walking around with me, eating, drinking and sleeping. I don’t feel alone as I did last week.  So I wait.

By: Jillian Lauren

My husband and I were early for dinner plans in Chelsea and it started to rain. We spotted an intriguing storefront across 10th Avenue between 21st and 22nd and made a dash for the doorway. The sign outside read “Printed Matter,” but at first glance I couldn’t tell if it was a bookstore or an art gallery or an obsessive shrine to a band I’d never heard of called Destroy All Monsters. Turns out it was a bit of all of those things.

Printed Matter is a non-profit dedicated to the promotion of publications made by artists. Their website states that they “foreground the book as an alternative venue – or artistic medium- for artists’ projects and ideas.” The friendly clerk (don’t be put off by the fact that he’s cooler than you, he’ll still take pity on you and answer your questions) told me that there is an open submissions policy. Anyone can submit their book, whereupon a committee decides if they consider it an art book or not and whether it will join the mind-boggling collection of thousands of art books on Printed Matter’s shelves.

I picked up book after surprising book by artists I hadn’t heard of, including a minimalist poet, a Dada-inspired mail artist and a lesbian collective who paper neighborhoods with posters full of provocative self-identifiers. I opened a couple of the books and had that odd experience of seeing an image reproduced from a dream I just had, or of reading a line of poetry that echoed the exact sentiment running through my brain on the subway ride downtown.

For example, I had been walking through New York for days thinking that I kept seeing people I knew. As if parallel universe doppelgangers of my eighty-four year old neighbor and my old boss and my first boyfriend were all hanging around in Central Park. Then I happened upon a book in Printed Matter called New York: Everything Reminds Me of Something, a book of photographs by Sissa Marquardt and Markus Schmolz. It’s a gorgeous little gem that I decided to add to the weight of my suitcase.

The other serendipitous aspect of my browsing experience involves the psychotic shrine I mentioned, which is actually an art installation called Hungry for Death. It showcases the work of the band Destroy All Monsters, a Michigan collective consisting of Cary Loren, Niagra, Jim Shaw andMike Kelley among others. I happen to live two houses away from the warehouse that serves as Mike Kelley’s studio. We bought the DVD of his film Day is Done.

As I was purchasing my treasures, I admired a little round book bound all the way around with a spiral binding. It was entitled Boundless, which is a good word to describe Printed Matter as well.