Enjoying the Moments

One day I will not wake up to the crying of children.  I will wake up, and it will be after 6am, and nobody will have disturbed me all night long.  I will drink an entire cup of coffee while it is still hot.

One day no one will reach out arms for rescue from the crib-prison and spin circles around the room in a celebration of freedom.  No one will wake up overflowing with dreams and ambitions (what she has decided for her next birthday cake and when she can change her name to Elsa).  I will no longer cling to my coffee as the sweet nectar which sustains all life.

One day I will lie down on the couch and read a book.  Just uninterrupted reading, for more than thirty seconds.  No one will try to sit on my Kindle or suddenly discover a DIRE band-aid situation (can't you see the teeny, tiny cut I got last week??)  that needs immediate attention.  There will be no screaming.

One day no one will bring in a pile of slightly-chewed books saying, “Read! Read!.”  No one will climb on my belly and demand 20 games of "ride the horsey" which end with everyone in helpless giggles.  The chubby laughing face will have become too busy for silly games.

One day I will eat an entire meal in peace.  I will sit down, eat leisurely, and not get up until I'm done. There will be no screaming.  No one will steal the best parts of my food.  My husband and I will hold entire conversations not broken by a single "mama-mama-mama-MAMAAAAAA!"

One day no one will climb into my lap with a mischievous grin while slyly reaching for my bread.  No one will give an animated account of what happened at kindergarten.  No one will say incredibly funny things and then get mad at us for laughing.

One day no one will wipe boogers on my shirt or pee on the couch or talk about poop at the dinner table.  No one will shriek with frustration because the Stupid Puzzle Piece Won’t Go IN!!!

One day no one will dance wildly to "Pop Goes the Weasel," no one will beam with pride over a wobbling tower creation or laugh with joy when it falls down two seconds later.  No one will nuzzle a soft cheek against my chin.

One day we will get out the door without hunting for socks and shoes and waterbottles and toys.  There will be no sunscreening squirmy faces or last minute trips to the potty or how-is-your-face-still-covered-in-breakfast-oatmeal-at-4pm.  There will be no juggling of bags and strollers and babies up and down flights of stairs.

One day we will decide to go somewhere and we will just...walk out the door. We will go out to dinner and then say, "Hey, let's see a movie.  Why don't we walk around the lake?"  And then we will just do it.

One day we will go to concerts and coffee shops and whatever places adults go to.  We won't plan our vacation around the hotel with the good playground and the amount of insanity required to get there.  We will get on an airplane and just watch a movie or read a book.  Maybe we'll even fall asleep.

One day we will stop to point out the playground or the cows or the really big dump truck and no one will care.  One day no one will beg for hide and seek, or plant twig trees in the ground, or ask where the worm lives.  We will get on an airplane and nobody will be wildly excited about the little buttons and the window shades and the teeny tiny bag of pretzels.

One day we will not hurry back from dinners or forgo evening plans because little ones are melting down.  No one will take 30 minutes to put on a pair of pajamas or demand the door cracked at a perfect 13% angle and the right light on and the covers straightened out again and the waterbottle placed just so...   And there will be no screaming.

 One day no one will make a last minute pajama escape, running giggling through the living room exulting in nakedness.  One day no one will cuddle in laps for another reading of Goodnight Moon. There will be no "Jesus Loves Me" and prayers and sweet kisses through crib bars.

So I won't enjoy the 2am wake ups or the 3am throw ups or the 4am attempts at morning.  I probably won't enjoy most of the happenings between 1-5am, because seriously, I'm not crazy.

But I will enjoy the thousand other tiny, sticky, loving, learning, out-of-control-silly moments that fill the day.  Because one day is sooner than I can ever imagine.

[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Enjoy]

Tale of a Second Nursling

A few years ago I wrote Juliana's nursing story, and I wanted to record and remember my nursing journey with Adalyn as well.

I think even Adalyn was shocked by the speed with which she entered the world.  She wailed loudly, protesting the harsh transition. But as soon as the excitement died down, she happily settled down to nurse. I loved being able to provide her with such a safe place in the strange new world - the warmth of mama's skin, a known voice, a familiar taste, a first and continuing connection.

But after her good start, Adalyn was sleepy and not so interested in nursing. The hospital's lactation consultants offered assistance, but when we left the hospital after two days, she was still not nursing well.  I wish I had asked for more help, but I figured we could work it out at home.  Besides, I had already done this before so surely I should know what I was doing, right?  Of course, Adalyn was just learning everything for the first time.

My milk came in by the second or third day, and since Adalyn wasn’t nursing so efficiently, I quickly became super, painfully engorged.  It caused a high enough fever I had to trek back to the doctor the day after leaving the hospital so they could rule out uterine infection.  Armed with pain medicine and cabbage leaves, I improved over the next few days.

The first weeks were rough.  I contracted mastitis twice in two weeks time - super high fevers, painful swelling, the whole works.  I have rarely felt so terrible in my life, but a hungry baby was always waiting, and of course nursing - the last thing you want to do - is one of the things you have to do constantly both for your sake and the baby’s.  During the worst of it, Kevin laid Adalyn next to me in bed and helped get her latched on since I couldn't sit up.

Thank goodness we were still with my family.  My mom, who has years of experience dealing with sick kids in the middle of the night, took over when I couldn't think clearly.  She helped get my fever down, called my midwife, and made trips to the 24hr pharmacy for more antibiotics, and she took care of everyone during the days of recovery.

Around this time, The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding arrived from the library.  I read it practically cover to cover, even the parts that didn’t really apply to me.  I realized how much I had forgotten about nursing from the first time around.  It was so affirming and normalizing.

The mastitis finally improved but I was left with what appeared to be a plugged duct.  After working at it for days with no success, I went back to see the hospital lactation consultant and was examined by my midwife, who thought it seemed more like a cyst than a plug.  She scheduled an ultrasound and mammogram.  We spent the afternoon at the hospital, but fortunately the cyst turned out to be harmless and didn't need any extra attention.

Finally we reached the end of the first month, and things really started turning around.  During that first month, I was so grateful for my previous nursing experience to look back on.   I kept reminding myself, "This is worth it. It will get better. You really loved nursing."

Even in the pain and difficulty, there were sweet moments during that first newborn month.  The wailing impatience of a hungry baby instantly satisfied by the breast.  The milk-drunk baby who cannot resist drifting off into sleep. The tiny hands that reach and knead.  Waking up to discover you and baby have both fallen asleep nursing side by side.  Such closeness.

And things did get better after the first month.  At least until the second month, when I discovered another plugged duct.  After working and working at it with no success, I finally went to see the doctor, who ordered an ultrasound.  The results of the ultrasound were inconclusive, so a biopsy was done.  The whole process took weeks since it was over the holidays, so I had plenty of time to imagine tragic scenarios.  Finally I got the results - everything was normal!

And then, it really was smooth sailing.  Adalyn was a faster nurser than her sister, averaging 20 minutes a session instead of 45, which made a big difference, especially during the night!  She nursed often during the day but went for longer stretches during the night, so I really couldn't complain.

As Adalyn grew, she was also a much calmer nurser - perhaps because she was used to constant distractions.  She focused without too much difficulty and attempted much less acrobatics.
Her first birthday passed by with no thought of weaning.  What was a decision with Juliana - extended breastfeeding - was never a question with Adalyn.  It seemed perfectly natural to keep nursing, not “extended” at all.  We gradually reduced sessions until she just nursed before nap and bedtime, or occasionally during the day if she was fussy.  I would sometimes bring her into bed in the morning to nurse, but she rarely settled back down.

She derived great comfort for nursing, and I loved the connection with my busy toddler.  She loved to hold my hand or play with my fingers while she nursed. When she was feeling tired or sad or lonely, she would cry, "Naptime! Naptime!" Which I eventually realized meant nursing.  

Then one day at about 19 months, Adalyn abruptly stopped nursing.  One day she was happily nursing and the next she refused. I thought it was teething, which were obviously making her miserable, but as the days passed with no further interest in nursing, I knew she was done.

She nursed longer than many babies do, of course, but I was still sad for our nursing relationship to end.  I wish I had warning so I could capture those last days of special closeness.  I missed our time of cuddling, which she now had no patience for, and we had to work out a new bedtime routine.

Now I sit beside her crib and sing her a few songs while she sits up and pushes her face between the bars for kisses.  It's not the most calming routine, as it keeps us both laughing, but it's also irresistible.

I am grateful for the 19 months I had nursing my sweet second baby! 

Ruvin the Second

I told Juliana, "We have something exciting to tell you!" She looked appropriately excited and asked, "Is it a present?!"  It will be like a present, arriving awfully close to her birthday and all, but we'll have to wait and see how excited she actually is.  Come September (Juliana's third birthday give or take a few days) Juliana is going to become a big sister.

We had our first appointment in Thailand where we got to see the baby for the first time.  When we went into the hospital Kevin told Juliana, "We are going to find out about your baby brother or sister."  Juliana said, "We're going to find a baby brother or sister!"  Then spotting a young girl she cried out, "There's a sister!"  We have reason to believe she doesn't really understand how this works.

Ultrasound from my 13 week appointment

 We are excited, particularly in the moments when I've not been violently ill.  Pregnancy has not been super kind to me thus far.  I was sick with Juliana, but I have been much sicker this time.  I have figured out why they call it morning sickness - one morning you wake up feeling really sick...and then it never goes away.  This week I have seen a little improvement though.  I've started to make it through some days without thowing up - a wonderful feeling.  I've even been able to do some things like take a shower and do some laundry without feeling sick!  I have also been managing to go to class every day, though I can't say a lot for the study outside of class.  It's funny, but studying Chinese doesn't seem to help the nausea.

I am also hesitantly venturing beyond my 4 safe foods: eggs, bread, cheese, and milk.  Today I actually made and ate spaghetti!  Unfortunately this pregnancy, I can't handle Chinese food at all.  Even the smell is completely sickening.  This is really a problem when you live in China.  Kevin is having a hard time with food too, mainly because I haven't been cooking anything.  Fortunately there is a lot of take-out available.  Unfortunately it is all Chinese.  I hide in the bedroom while he eats and then burns candles and fans out the room.  I don't know if you've noticed, but Chinese food SMELLS.

I'm really looking forward to feeling like a mostly normal person again because these past couple of months have been pretty miserable.  I think I'm starting to turn a corner though.  After losing 6+ pounds, this is the first week I have actually gained back weight!  It's not often in life you get to be really happy about that.

We have planned to stay in America this fall, deliver the baby in Georgia, spend some time with our families on both sides of the country, and return to China after the winter holiday next year.  This means the baby will be almost 5 months old before his first international travel!  Pretty strange if you think about it.  It will be nice to not rush home from the hospital to apply for a passport, and it will also be nice for our family to have more time around the new baby - and for us to have lots of help. :)

And in case you were wondering, yes, we will buy Juliana a real birthday present as well.

Mole Hills

(Or part 2 in my little mini-series)

It's funny how parenting a toddler sometimes makes me feel like a toddler.  When Juliana is having a bad day - whining and clinging and generally falling apart, my thought process goes something like this: "I have ruined her.  It will just get worse and worse.  I will lose all control of her by the time she is 5.  I should have made her pick up her toys earlier.  I never should have given her that cracker when she was crying for it.  Now she's spoiled for life." (and I call Juliana melodramatic!)

When Juliana has a "good day" - playing well on her own, sweetly saying thank you, taking a good nap and actually eating dinner, I think, "She is such a great child.  I'm such a good parent.  Why do people parenting is so hard?  Maybe it's just that their children aren't as delightful as mine.  Remind me to tell them that if they just do exactly what I'm doing, their children will turn out great."

It's easy to get caught up in day-to-day moments of life and completely lose perspective.  I don't know about you, but I tend to make a big deal out of little things.  The other day a friend told me about taking her young barely-toddler boys to an event where they ran around enthusiastically.  Nearby another family's six children sat quietly watching the other people, looking exceptionally calm and well-behaved.  The whole way home she bemoaned what a terrible parent she must be that she hadn't taught her one year olds to sit still and quiet.

I tend to react similarly when I hear about people's children who sleep 12 hours straight at night or love to eat vegetables or play on their own for an hour at a time.  I think (and sometimes they say), "If I just parented the right way, surely my child would do that too!"  When we see a glimpse of those "perfect children," it's really hard not to freak out a little.

I remember when Juliana was 2 months old I started to become concerned that she wasn't sleeping well.  Now I laugh thinking, "My goodness, she was only 2 months old!!" but at the time those two months seemed like a really long time.  When Juliana was 8 months old and waking up an insane number of times a night, I was convinced she would never sleep well.  Seriously, I was just holding out hope for the teenage years when I hear people say their kids never want to wake up.  It sounded wonderful.  Now Juliana sleeps really well almost every night.  But when she has a bad night - usually because of a cold or similar disturbance - I instantly become afraid that this past year of sleeping through the night was just a ruse.

Similarly, I make a big deal out of my own parenting choices.  I think that breastfeeding is great and I really dislike leaving babies to cry-it-out, but I really don't think these are the end-all-be-all issues of parenting.  Some people get really, really passionate about these things.  Both sides draw lines and become bull-headed.  "If you don't breastfeed your child she will never get into college!"  "If you don't let your baby cry he will never learn to sleep!"  It’s important to think things through and make informed decisions, but these areas aren't quite as life-altering as people make them out to be.

Here is what bothers me: In America we argue about the ethics of “hiding” vegetables in our toddler’s food while millions of children go to bed hungry every night, some of whom never wake up.  We are so busy judging others discipline styles that we miss the signs of the child in our church or school who is being abused.  We are so embroiled in a “circumcision/no circumcision” debate that we don’t realize millions of girls worldwide are still undergoing female genital mutilation (“female circumcision”) a painfully unnecessary procedure that can cause severe bleeding, infertility, and childbirth complications.

The next time I am frustrated because Juliana refuses dinner once again, I want to pause and be filled with gratitude that I have food to offer her.  When I am tempted to get involved in a petty debate, I want to save my energy and passion for the things that really matter.  There are plenty of issues in the world that should make us angry, zealous, indignant, and grieved; most of them don't even enter our radar.

The fact that we have time to stress about the little things means that we aren’t facing the big things.  We are so blessed.

The Myth of the Perfect Child

"But the grass is greener over there!!"  My wonderfully imperfect child can reject a vegetable from a mile away, spot the sunrise from hours away, and has been known to collapse on the floor because she couldn't have another cracker.

I have many friends who are parents and most of them I would consider to be good parents.  Some of them are incredible parents whom I admire and want to emulate.  But most of them frequently feel like they aren’t doing a very good job.  Some days it seems like things are going well, other days they are plagued by doubt, and some days they are convinced they could win the World's Worst Parent award.  Why is it that so many good parents feel like they are failing?  I have been thinking lately about this question and want to share a few of my speculations.  Since my speculations are more numerous than my time, I think this will turn into a mini-series.  Besides, “mini-series” makes it sound like I really know what I’m talking about. :)

1. The Myth of the Perfect Child

I have a friend whose baby was sleeping through the night at 3 months old.  At 7pm she happily laid down in her bed and slept peacefully until 7am, then entertained herself quietly for another hour before alerting her mother with happy cooing.  At 6 months old this baby sat peacefully on her own, playing with toys for half an hour.  At 10 months this baby never threw food on the floor.  At 15 months she was speaking in full sentences, most of which started with the word "please."  At 18 months she self potty trained.  At 24 months she never threw tantrums and happily reached for another carrot stick, no dressing needed.  At 3 years old she was not only dressing herself, she was also doing her own laundry and picking out color-coordinated outfits.

Do you know someone like this?  Actually, me neither.  For one thing there's no way we would still be friends.  For another thing that child doesn't exist.  Our vision of the perfect child is just a compilation of all the enviable traits of a dozen children we've heard of and then dangerously expect our child to be.  But one thing we forget is that the child who was indeed a terrific sleeper had a tremendous difficulties with nursing.  That independent player is 18 months and barely talking at all.  The toddler who loves carrot sticks and brocolli won't potty train until 4.  The 3 year old did do her own laundry...flooding the washer and staining all her clothes in the process.

When I hear people brag about their child's enviable traits (or bemoan their less enviable ones), I have to think, "What is our idea of the perfect child?"  It seems to me that the perfect child is one who interferes with our life as little as possible.  He sleeps so much we hardly see him in between naps!  He plays so well on his own we don't even have to interact with him!  I often think of how much I could accomplish if Juliana didn't want to be with me all the time.  There are certainly advantages to encouraging age-appropriate independence, but is a "perfect child" really one who doesn't need her parents?

The perfect child is actually a miniature adult.  Sure, you get to dress her in cute clothes and she says funny things, but she thinks and acts like an adult.  My friends (and I) often express frustration about our children's irrational behavior.  If you were happy to eat it yesterday why won't you touch it today?  If you stick your finger in there again, of course it's going to get pinched - don't you remember the last time?  We expect our children to think the same way as fully rational adults do (forgetting how many times we also do dumb things over and over again when we should know better).

The perfect child also seems to be rather lacking in the personality and emotion. He is compliant and passive, happily agreeing to whatever we suggest.  She has no opinion (or better yet, she has our opinion) about what to eat and what to wear.  She doesn't get upset when things don't go her way (perhaps because she's so  rational).  Instead she calmly accepts life and lets it wash over her.

Sometimes I'm not sure if we've actually gotten over the idea that "children should be seen and not heard."  A good child is still considered one who looks nice but doesn't mess up our lives to much.

When our children do act like children, when they have big needs or a large personality, we start to wonder what is wrong with them -- Or perhaps more so, what is wrong with us that we can't control them.  Everyone else's baby is sleeping through the night.  Nobody else's child is screaming in the middle of the supermarket.

As parents we have a responsibility to help our children to behave appropriately, handle their emotions, and do things they don’t want to.  Some of their actions do reflect on our parenting.  But no matter how good of parents we are, we will never have a perfect child.  It is unfair to expect it from them or from ourselves.  And honestly, if we did have the perfect child, everyone would probably hate us.  Is that really what we want?  Enjoy your friends (who secretly feel relieved that your child also throws tantrums).  Enjoy your imperfect child.

Silencing the airport noise

by Kevin

After a few bad experiences with poorly designed Chinese airports, last week we finally found something good about one of the worst. Flying through the Guangzhou airport -- where you often have to leave the secure area and run completely across the airport if connecting from a domestic to international flight -- we discovered the nursery.


We arrived from Bankok with almost four hours to kill until our next flight (we had just missed the cutoff to use a special "layover lounge" offered for those with layovers of more than four hours). We weren't looking forward to the prospect of trying to entertain Juliana for that entire time. Just yesterday, Juliana kept an entire crowd of waiting passengers entertained as she threw her little ball across the floor and chased it, tossing out gleeful squeals of delight or  "ut ohs" with every toss. Then I spent some time trying to divert her from the trash can and evoking pained screams when I blockaded her from following mommy into the dingy bathroom. By the time we got onto the plane, we were probably more tired than she was.


So, at the Guangzhou airport, when I noted the nearly empty baby nursery, I figured it was worth a try. Ruth seemed apprenhesive: "do you think they would just let us hang out in there?"


The answer is yes.


When we walked into the carpeted room, which is lined on three sides with 18 comfy plush chairs--the kind airports only supply in some posh first-class lounge--a pair of Chinese grandparents were changing their newborn granddaughter's diaper while her baby's parents quietly looked on. The restrooms were spotless -- better than anything I've ever seen in a public place in China.




And in another corner of the room, an airport employee had pulled a chair cushion onto an armrest, propped up a newspaper, and settled in for at least an hourlong xiuxi in spite of the noisy squelches eminating from her walklie-talkie every few minutes.


We fed Juliana some yogurt and she excitedly imitated the newborn's coos. When the family and walkie-talkie toting napper left, we decided to close the doors  and try giving Juliana a nap.


It was like shoving cottin into our weary ears. Immediately, the hustle and bustle of the airport was muffled. Flight announcements disappeared, squeaking luggage wheels faded. We were left with near silence.


Within a few minutes of rocking her in my arms, Juliana was asleep. And Ruth closed her eyes to rest. For a good 20 minutes, the silence remained.
Until another airport worker arrived. Pushing a wheelchair-bound passenger, she thrust the doors wide. Airport noise rushed in like water from behind a dam. Seemilngly oblivious to the napping baby in my arms, she made no attempt to quiet her walkie-talkie, which blared incessantly while she smugly clanked tea cups and scrawled something into a log book. I scoweled at her and scrambled to turn on Juliana's white noise ocean sounds to drown out the clatter. Thankfully, she kept on sleeping. Then, as suddenly as she arrived, the worker hurriedly left the nursery, leaving the doors ajar.


Ruth got up and shut them and the quiet returned. Ten minutes later she returned, now with three young children in tow.She again propped the doors wide. I scowled and again worked to drown out the noise, which clung to her like a shadow. When she left, Ruth again shut the doors. But again she returned ten minutes later and again she smugly propped the doors wide and sat down to sip her tea and chat with another airport employee who had come in moments before.


Soon, a mother with an infant wrapped in several layers of thick clothing joined us. Juliana finally succumbed to the clammor and woke up, but boarding time was approaching, so it was OK. As I changed her daiper, the doors stood open.
But everything changed the moment the Chinese mother started peeling away the layers of her child's clothing. Suddenly, the smug door-flinger-opener became concerned about a draft coming into the room. "The baby will catch a cold," she exclaimed as she hurried to close the doors. Again the room grew quiet as we walked to the gate to begin boarding our plane. Still, I think it was the quietest place we've ever found in an airport -- certainly the first time since Juliana hit six months that she's taken a decent nap in one.

Juliana goes for her first walk in the snow

by Kevin

It snowed a few days ago here, so Juliana had her first chance to walk in (a little bit of) snow. Enjoy...

Baby Swimming in China (with better music)

My first attempt at music for Juliana's swimming video was so-so. I found some better songs:



Or, if you're seeing this imported to Facebook rather than at http://ruvin2007.blogspot.com, here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CXUCfLy92C0

Swimming video

by Kevin

Here is video of Juliana's swimming debut. Enjoy...

Bobbing baby goes for a swim

By Kevin

Today we did the unthinkable. We took Juliana swimming. As we noted a few weeks ago, a student was telling us about the latest rage among parents in China – baby swimming. Since Juliana loves taking baths, we decided to give it a try, so we gave the student a call and asked her to come with us.

As we waited 20-30 minutes for the waist-high infant pool to fill with warm water, we watched one baby boy bobbling up and down in the water, supported only by a specially-designed innertube. In spite of warnings that you should wait 12 minutes after a bath before feeding a baby (I don't know why they were so precise), the boy sucked down an entire bottle of formula as he bobbed in the pool. Several more babies screamed at the top of their lungs during their after-swimming baths. Several of the parents whose children were bathing stopped to take a peek at the foreign baby. As we waited for Juliana's tub to fill, she napped.

Once we got into the pool room, they began by giving Juliana a personal exercise routine. The helper served as personal trainer, rotating her arms and legs in circles, stretching them back and forth, and moving them in a swimming motion. They said that we could have this personal trainer service every time as well if we liked (for an additional fee).

When her time came, we put Juliana's head into a specially designed infant inner-tube that wraps around her neck to hold her head above water. Then, we gently lowered her into the warm tub. She was a bit perplexed at first, but soon, she was wiggling her way in tiny circles, supported only by the head floatation device. Really it was more like wading in with a life preserver around her neck, but they still called it swimming. Thankfully, her head never even came close to getting wet. Eyes wide, Juliana slowly spun in circles. Before you knew it, her 12 minutes were up, so the helpers scooped her out and whisked her off to her bath. They scrubbed her and cleaned her and she smiled, seemingly unaware of the sensation she was causing. Undoubtedly, her photos will soon appear on billboards for baby swimming.

The room was like a sauna. Washcloths were spread over the radiators. Chinese people are terrified of the cold, so thankfully they made the room warm for the naked babies, but this was beyond warm. Unfortunately, Chinese people don't wear short sleeves ever in the winter, so the faces of most people in the room were glistening with sweat. Beads of sweat built on the nose of the helpers. Parents who insisted on leaving their coats on were wet. Ruth and I immediately whisked off our coats. I was wearing short sleeves underneath, to the astonishment of everyone in the room. A few minutes later, a 50-day old was unwrapped from two quilts, plus three layers of thick clothing, the helpers scolded us for allowing Juliana to come out in one thick layer of clothing plus a thick “baby bag.” “You should wrap her in a quilt too,” they insisted.

“It's good for their IQ and EQ,” our student interpreter said as she got into the water, weighing the benefits of weekly “swimming” sessions. I presume the latter is her equilibrium. Apparently a recent Norwegian study has linked infant swimming with improved balance. However, it seems that the infants in this study actually swam. Their heads weren't placed in flotation devices.

The helpers suggested that we'd nearly waited “too long” for Juliana's first trip to the pool. The babies who begin their weekly visits around seven days are better swimmers, according to the workers. Since Chinese babies aren't supposed to leave the house for the first couple months, I'd imagine that bringing your newborn to take a swim on a cold winter day might be frowned upon.

That said, apparently it's popular. In spite of a price tag of 50 RMB ($7.50) per session (you can also buy 6 sessions for 200 RMB or 13 for 400 RMB), a line of parents with tiny ones waited for their chance to take them swimming. It's a bit expensive for China. Granted, we did see one family pull up to the store in an Audi, so maybe this attracts a wealthier clientele. Our friend got them to knock 10 RMB off the price tag since it was our first time.

For more photos, go to www.flickr.com/kevsunblush. We hope to post a few videos soon as well.

Parenting

by Ruth

I was only partly joking when I told people my goal for the first year was just to keep the baby alive.  Before Juliana was born just the basics of baby care seemed daunting - nursing, sleeping, diaper changing, bathing.  Well...after a year of working with 2-year-olds I felt pretty confident about my diaper changing abilities, but the rest I had lots of questions about.  Toward the end of my pregnancy I realized that at some point I was actually going to have to raise this child too.  Discipline, get her to sleep on her own, teach her to share and not throw fits - you know, Parenting.  And I realized I really didn't know anything about that.

Two and a half months into things, I am glad to report that Juliana is not only alive, she seems to be doing well.  The basics are starting to become more natural.  She has gotten down the eating thing pretty well, evidenced by her nearly 5lb gain since birth.  I've gotten even faster at diaper changing...at least the times when she doesn't decide to poop all over me.  And I've decided if she doesn't get bathed quite as often as the books say, nobody's going to die.  I am surprised to realize that, while I still have no idea about things like discipline and sharing (and of course, she's too young for that anyway), I already have a little bit of a parenting style, which I decided it is characterized by several things.

1. Breastfeeding
 I always assumed I would breastfeed since that's what seemed "normal," but I never thought much about it.  But as of a few months ago, I have become a big proponent of breastfeeding.  Getting started certainly had its challenges, and I can't say it's completely been smooth sailing since then.  Sometimes it is difficult to schedule absolutely everything I do around, "When is the baby going to need to eat?"  It would be nice to not have to be the one getting up with the baby all night long.  But overall, I love the connection I feel to Juliana.  It helps me to feel like a good parent when I have a definite way to meet her needs and comfort her when she is upset.  And - the main reason I think it's so great - there are just so many benefits.

For example, I learned that a mother's milk changes to meet the baby's changing needs.  The consistency and fat content of the milk changes over the course of a feeding.  The milk also changes as the baby grows to meet its changing nutritional needs.  If your baby is born premature, your milk is even specially formulated for  them.  Pretty spectacular, huh? 

2. Co-sleeping
I didn't think I would want the baby sleeping with us.  After all, that's what the cute little bassinet and crib were for.  But after about the first week I started to notice a trend.  Cute little bassinet = 30 minutes sleep.  Snuggled up next to mommy = 1-2 hours sleep.  Baby sleeping = mommy sleeping.  Mommy sleeping = moderate sanity and functioning ability.  So cute little bassinet became a convenient storage for diaper supplies.

I was very concerned about safety, since co-sleeping seems so controversial.  Every time before I fell asleep I would think, "Is there anyway she could suffocate?  Is there anyway she could get smushed or fall of the bed?"  At first, I would wake up frantically looking around, trying to figure out where the baby was.  I would experience a few minutes of confused panic before realizing she was right beside me, still in my arms, just like when we fell into an exhausted sleep.  And I would do the typical new-parent "Is she breathing?" check.  With time, I discovered there was really no fear of rolling over on her or something, because I always woke up in exactly the same position as I fell asleep.  The baby was also swaddled tightly every night and couldn't really move if she wanted to.  I was also hyper aware of her.  I could be dead to the world but would wake up if she so much as squeaked.

We have now started working on getting her to sleep in her crib sometimes, realizing we won't always want her sleeping with us.  She now sleeps the first part of the night in the crib and then I bring her to bed with us for the rest of the night.  She would probably now be okay with sleeping more in her crib, but I still like sleeping with her.  When she is sleeping in her crib, I usually have a hard time going to sleep since I am listening to see if she will stir (and if she is too quiet, still sometimes wondering if she is breathing).   A sleeping baby cuddled up right next to me has a very sleep inducing affect, however.  I can see that she is right there and okay.  If she stirs I can just rock her gently, smooth her hair, or rub her nose (like a cat!) without having to move.

3. "Baby-wearing"
I think it's funny how all these age-old things have spiffy new terms now.  At least, I had never heard the term "baby wearing" until a few months ago.  Personally, I don't know how people get anything done without a sling or wrap.  Maybe they have babies who are actually okay with being set down once in a while.  Juliana has gotten better at being able to play on the floor or in her crib for a little bit, but she still loves to be held.  She will hardly ever take naps unless she is held - even if she appears to be sound asleep, she will wake up the moment you set her down.  So I find that a sling or wrap (or in my case, switching between the two) is very handy.  Two free hands, less stress on the back, and a happy baby.  The downside is feeling like you're still pregnant, but at least there's no heartburn.


4. The Happiest Baby on the Block
You already know that I love books, but I am usually pretty skeptical of anyone who claims to have the right method or the 7 steps to success in any area.  So I was a little surprised to find this book that I really love - the ideas in which have really worked for us!  The author believes that for the first few months, babies can't be spoiled and don't know how to manipulate yet.  You need to respond to their needs and let them know they can trust you.  They also find the outside world a little bit crazy and are comforted by things that remind them of the noise, movement, and confinement of being on the inside.  He talks about the "5 S's" - swaddling, swinging, sucking, shushing, and side/stomach lying - all things that help activate a baby's calming reflex.  The author has turned this idea into a method of sorts and is now making tons of money off of it, but it is basically all things that people have been doing for a long time.  Swaddling is the big thing now, but it's been around forever (think Jesus).  Nursing on demand.  Carrying your baby in a sling or wrap.  It is really nothing new just things that have been neglected or fallen out of popularity in recent generations. He also has a DVD, demonstrating his calming method. We watched a tiny clip during the class we took just before Juliana was born. Very impressive.



5. What Works Around the World
Having not lived in America for a few years, I think that a few things about our child raising ideas are a little over the top. Like trying to teach your 3 month old to be independent or putting your little baby on a strict schedule.  In some ways, thinking "globally" helps me to be a bit more relaxed about parenting too.  It's good to remember that babies are born and raised all over the world, and most of them even live.


In America I would never stand with my baby in the middle of a busy street while cars passed on either side.  But in China, it's really hard to cross a street without doing so, and usually you have plenty of company from other pedestrians hanging out on the double yellow line.  From the other side, despite the disapproval a billion Chinese people, I still think my baby can be warm enough without six inches of padding all around.


You may have noticed this global idea weaving its way through the other areas too. There are lots of places all over the world where the whole family sleeps together and certainly not many places where the baby has its own separate room.  In many cultures babies are routinely carried around on the back or in a sling.  Many people breastfeed just because it's natural and there isn't another good option (and they probably aren't looking at the clock all the time to figure out when is the 'right' time).

Despite all this, I am still American.  I won't want Juliana sleeping with us forever.  I'll even move her to her own room, if for no other reason than those cute curtains I bought.  I will put her on more of a schedule as she gets older because that's how we operate.  And I won't nurse her 'til she is 3 because that would just feel too weird.  But hopefully I can remember to be flexible.  Like in two months from now when half of my cleverly constructed methods don't work any more and I have to figure out this parenting thing all over again.

Chinese Grannies

On pleasant days, Chinese grannies congregate on the benches outside our apartment complex, chatting and sunning themselves (if it counts as sunning when you are wearing 2 layers of long underwear).  Today as we headed out for a walk, our path took us right through the center of the group.  I was wearing Juliana in my Moby wrap, so it took them a minute to notice her.  Once they did, they eagerly swarmed in.

They touched her cheeks, plucked at her clothes, tugged curiously on the wrap, removed her pacifier, and pulled up her hat to examine the foreign baby's hair.  They smiled and exclaimed and talked excitedly about this strange little foreign baby.

And they criticized.  "Tai leng le!" (Too cold!)  The baby could probably be so layered she looked like a ball and they would still say she wasn't wearing enough layers.  When they heard she was only a month and a half old, they exclaimed, horrified, "Tai shao le!" (Too small!).  In Chinese tradition, babies don't go out until they are three months old.  They expressed their concern that the baby should not be curled up in the wrap.  They said a bunch of other stuff we didn't understand, but tongue clicking and head shaking seem to be universal signs of disapproval.

Sometimes it's hard to receive continual criticism, but I have to remember that giving advice and being critical is a cultural way of showing you care about others.  You could say that criticism is a Chinese love language.  And the grannies weren't mean about it - they smiled despite their disapproval.  We smiled, accepting the criticism, and continued on our walk.  It's hard to argue with a billion people and thousands of years of tradition.  Some battles you're just never going to win.  So we smile and nod and keep being the crazy foreigners that we are.