Audaciter Matris

I was attacked last night in my sleep.

Attacked.

On my FaceBook page.

A simple status update: “Sign of an unvaccinated child: when given a toy syringe to play with, uses it to do “shots” of herbs in their mouth.”

My kids got a doctor dress-up kit for Christmas. Since they haven’t really ever been to the doctor that much, they weren’t really sure what to do with a lot of it. Once I informed them that you don’t normally get shots in your knee on a regular basis, they assumed that it was for doing shots of herbs. I thought it was cute, so I posted.

Another incidence occurred recently. In honor of breast cancer prevention week, a friend of mine posted that breast feeding can reduce your risk and your daughter’s risk of getting breast cancer.

She was also attacked, but by someone different.

Imagine with me, if you will, what it is like to swim upstream. Imagine what it is like to constantly be questioned about your choices and subjected to the unsolicited opinions of…..ohhhh…. EVERYONE…. about how your baby sleeps, how and when you feed them, what you do and do not allow to be injected into them, or even where you chose to have them.

Imagine if the tables were turned and I was the normal one.

{{Insert sparkly dream music here.}}

A mother states that she has just had her baby in the hospital.

“GASP! You had your baby in the hospital?!? Aren’t you worried about unnecessary intervention or disease? I could never be brave enough to have my baby in the hospital. I’d just be so terrified that doctor would cut me or that my baby would have a horrible immune system because of the IV drugs and injections, or have asthma because of an unnecessarean…”

Next scenario:

I walk up to an unsuspecting mother at church: “Hey there. Boy, what a cutie. So, your baby is healthy enough to wake up during the night to nurse, isn’t he. I mean… you aren’t doing anything crazy like sticking that little guy in a room all by himself where he might die or something, right?”

Next scenario:

A bottle feeding mom simply states that she really enjoys bottle feeding because her husband can feed the baby sometimes. She is berated with the following comment: “I really wish you would stop shoving your bottle feeding nazism down everyone’s throats!!! Everyone isn’t able to bottle feed, OKAY?!? Not all of us are rich enough to be able to afford formula like you are.”

Next scenario:

Parents make a comment that indicates they have recently taken their child in for their routine shots. The unsolicited advice they are immediately met with: “Well, I just worry about all those poor poor children suffering paralysis, or Guillan Barre syndrome (sp?), or autism, or the ones that have DIED because their parents got them vaccinated. I just get all scared thinking about what could happen when a kid gets injected with formaldehyde, aluminum, mercury, and various strains of disease. I heard that it causes Alzheimers and Parkinson’s disease and lowers the body’s ability to naturally fight off diseases the way that God made it to.”

{{Dream music fades out.}}

If you sleep with your baby in another room, have them in a hospital, or vaccinate them, you probably found the above hypothetical statements somewhat offensive…and rightly so!

I would never make statements like that to someone! However, I am subjected to unsolicited advice from others much like that over and over again. Simply because I’ve chosen a different lifestyle than most people.

I have thick skin, but it still doesn’t seem right to me that folks seem so comfortable with the verbal attacks that many of my friends and I receive.

The attacks I first mentioned?

After sharing what I thought was a funny laugh with the facebook world, a heavy debate ensued. Someone responded with comments about unvaccinated kids needing iron lungs after they get polio, and an offer to pray that my children don’t die because I haven’t vaccinated them. I’m not exaggerating (why would you say I’m exaggerating?!? ). I was blissfully sleeping when this occurred, so my chiropractic doctor put on her cape and came to the defense. She kept her arguments to stating the facts about vaccinations and explaining why this other person’s statements were simply unfounded. Those statements were met with a response that was based on fear mongering, about all the children dying from disease. As if I don’t know about them, or care about them for that matter.

My friend who had shared information about breast feeding preventing breast cancer was attacked by another mom who accused her of pushing her breast feeding mentality down every one else’s throats and of saying that everyone who bottle feeds their baby is going to get breast cancer. Not what she said at all, in fact.

Here’s my point: I would never ever come at someone like that, even though I know in fact that their parenting practice may be detrimental to their child’s health. Should they ask me, I would be more than happy to have a helpful conversation about their choices.

Don’t forget what Audaciter Matris is all about. Fearless Mother. Bold, daring, a bit untraditional with no restriction to prior ideas. Just because folks have been doing it for years doesn’t mean that I’m going to do it. I question, I seek, I educate myself. My husband and I consider ourselves (and God, duh) the experts on our children. This is not to say that we do not hesitate to ask advice of those older and wiser of us. But it also means that we aren’t going to be put in the passenger seat when it comes to our children’s health and we certainly aren’t going to get willy nilly about our decision making. It also means that I consider you to be the expert on your child’s health. I would never be presumptuous so as to assume that I know why you make the choices you do or what information you have been confronted with that caused said choices.

We’ve educated ourselves and we feel so secure in our decisions that we don’t feel the need to make everyone else feel the same. This makes me wonder why people feel the need to tell me about the kids dying of Polio or Hepatitis, as if I don’t know? Are they disturbed by my choice to not vaccinate? Absolutely.

Because my choice to not vaccinate insinuates that they may have been wrong in choosing to vaccinate their child. Maybe it was done out of fear. Maybe it was done on the advice of the doctor. Maybe it was done out of flat out ignorance.

Because my choice to home birth may suggest that having a baby in the hospital was not the safest choice for them.

Because my choice to breast feed my child infers that bottle feeding is not the best for their baby.

I can only wonder if those that are so defensive about their choices must somehow feel insecure in them somehow.

Am I saying that all children should be born at home, co-sleeping, unvaccinated, breast fed, and home schooled?

Absolutely not!

I’ve made my decisions regarding these things, and I’m comfortable with them. I’ve got a community of people who believe similar things and I can talk to them about them without receiving harsh judgement. Heck, even my parents are comfortable with my choices, and they fly in the face of some of their own child raising decisions.

Because I’m comfortable about my choices (and not because I’m trying to hide) you will often find me in conversation with another mom, smiling and nodding. she may be going on and on about a hospital birth and have no idea that I’m a home birther. If asked, I will gladly offer my opinion. But you’d never find me responding like in the hypothetical situations above. That’s just down right rude.

We should respect one another’s decisions. There is a place for thoughtful discussion, and fear mongering or just general ignorance spewing is not going to provoke that.

Read my disclaimer here before you comment anything mean please. =)

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This table has seen a lot. It was one of the first pieces of furniture my parents bought when they began their journey together. I bumped my head on the table edges as I learned to walk, I bet. My little brother’s high chair was pulled up to this table and we all sat around and watched him try to stuff Cheerios into his mouth for the first time. I blew out the candles on my 16th birthday cake at this table.

At some point, it had 8 or so chairs. We’re down to three now. The rest have all fallen apart and busted. (And I remember every single time my Mom and Dad warned me about leaning back in the chair and breaking it. They are definitely breaking now!)

I’m a habitual person. I like for things to be the same. I always put my babies in a high chair at the table around their first birthdy. Then, around 18 months old they graduate to a booster seat and the high chair is put back out in the shed. And a little after their second birthday, we put away the booster seat for the next kid. I’ve used the same high chair and booster seat every single time.

I love how the seating arrangements around our table change. It’s like a hanging baby mobile… you know those things you hang over the crib for them to gaze at. Generally, at each meal we all sit in the same place. Arwen and Charis sit on the piano bench (since we are lacking several chairs), Ezra at one end in his booster seat and Brent at the other. I sit across from the girls. We still have another leaf that we can add to make room for more people.

Today our table changed. Ezra is ready to graduate out of the booster seat. We won’t talk about what was stuck to the chair under the booster seat when we removed it. Now, Ezra and Arwen share the bench.

And Charis now sits in the chair that once held Ezra’s booster seat (once Brent was done scrubbing it out).

Evie hangs out in her beloved swing for now, but soon we’ll be dusting off the high chair and making room for her too.

“Blessed is every one who fears the Lord,

Who walks in His ways.

When you eat the labor of your hands,

You shall be happy, and it shall be well with you.

Your wife shall be like a fruitful vine

In the very heart of your house,

Your children like olive plants

All around your table.

Behold, thus shall the man be blessed

Who fears the Lord.

- Psalm 128:1-4

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This is just the sort of gossip that makes a blog juicy, so forgive me for not sharing sooner.

Brent evidently went wild on the streets of Calera while I was in Atlanta.

He got a traffic violation.

Our neighborhood resides just past a small train museum which sits just behind downtown, the crime district of Calera. It’s bad ya’ll… people throw trash out their car windows, walk their dogs without leashes… and while his family was away, Brent went on his own crime spree and did a rolling stop. Shameful, I know!

While he was in the process of disgracing the family name, one of the two cops on duty was sitting in the parking lot of the SavMor (where you can find a plethora of foods under the name brand ShurFresh. I’m not kidding. That just screams “quality” doesn’t it? I digress.)

So the cop pulls Brent over, and once he had assured Brent that he was issuing a ticket, Brent let loose on him. He explained in so many words, the ridiculousness of him sitting in the parking lot just waiting for someone to do a rolling stop (on an incline no less). Brent has strong opinions about cops enforcing traffic laws… or rather, about traffic laws in general.

The cop responded patiently and said that they had been getting a lot of complaints about folks running that stop sign. Seriously. If you saw the intersection he was referring to, you’d laugh. Out loud.

Brent’s response? “Sir, you wanna know why so many people roll through that stop sign?

…it’s because there’s no one coming.”

While we may be paying that ticket, we can sleep good at night knowing that we stuck it to the man in our own little way… and that one of the three stop signs in the crime district is being heavily policed.

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I’m not saying I’m going to do a “Works For Me Wednesday” post every week, but I’m feeling opinionated helpful today.

First up: Pacifiers! None of my children have ever taken a pacifier. I’ve narrowed down the reason to be that I spend more time trying to build up a good milk supply and avoid nipple confusion than I do trying to get an artificial nipple into their mouths. Since I don’t take my newborns anywhere for the first few weeks, and generally try to do nothing, I have no need of a pacifier until they are old enough to look confused when I suddenly jam one in their mouths. This results in much gagging, choking, and spewing.

Then I found this little jewel at Whole Foods Market:

And it works! Not perfectly, mind you, but if for some reason I need her to suck on something, she’s taking it pretty well. I still have to hold it in for her a bit, but she doesn’t ever ever choke on it, and I don’t have to worry about weird plastic residue going into her system. The thing is 100% allergen free rubber. Don’t have a Whole Foods? (Bless your heart!!!) Get one here.

See?

Moving right along, because I need to work out before my kids get up.

Hand Towels.

I use to pick up the hand towel in the downstairs bathroom fortyleven times a day. It’s a little half bath and it gets used all.day.long. The kids not only potty in there all day, but also use that sink for handwashing before and after meals three times a day, not to mention tooth brushing after breakfast (which I promise I’m going to start doing…uum… tomorrow).

Anyway. If you ever happen to be at a red neck church bazaar, or the thrift store, keep your eyes out for these handy things from the 70s:

A little crochet work has been attached to the top of an old kitchen towel and a button holds it in place over my round towel holder thingy. (This would also work with a towel bar, but not with a hook, because it could just slide right off the hook. Kids are smart like that.)

Long enough for my kids to reach, and they can’t pull the stinkin’ thing off! Voila! (That’s fancy for, “Check that out, ya’ll!”)

Because I’m a little eclectic, I love that it has retro butterflies on it, and that sassy orange splash of color also forever associated with hippies just makes me feel happy.

Eventually I might make some with newer hand towels and better choice of yarm (Ooooohhhh….I could do an organic set. So soft!) But for now, the ones I have keep Ezra from wadding up the hand towel and saturating it in the sink, and everyone else from throwing it on the floor for all eternity.

And I’m happy.

Edited to add: Thanks Michelle, for the link to the towel topper patterns. All you crafty folks, get em here.

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When the baby won’t stop screaming

When ALL of the Leapsters have dead batteries

When you feel like you are up to your earlobes in poop

When you’ve had but 2 nights good sleep in 2 weeks

When your 2 year old ate all his breakfast…and yours too

When you can’t even catch a break to go to the bathroom

When your house is such a mess you have no idea where to start

When all you’re getting is sass out of your five year old

When you are cleaning up one.more.spilled.drink (despite the fact that the thing had a lid and straw this time)

When you feel all alone in your struggles

When all y0u really want is a hole to stick your head in

When you discover that the postal worker was too lazy to walk your package up your somewhat-inclined-driveway… AGAIN

When the batteries in the baby swing are dead. AGAIN.

When you have no idea what to feed your hungry brood for lunch

When it seems that all you’ve done is break up squabbles all morning

When you realize a little one has kindly mixed all the forks and spoons together in the caddy

When you realize a dream isn’t going to be fulfilled just yet

When the baby is STILL screaming

and When you have the nerve to look under the couch cushions…

PRAY FOR GRACE!

“…plead with you not to receive the grace of God in vain. For He says: “In an acceptable time I have heard you, And in the day of salvation I have helped you.” Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation. We give no offense in anything…but in all things we commend ourselves as ministers of God: in much patience, in tribulations, in needs, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in sleeplessness, in fastings, by purity, by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by Holy Spirit, by sincere love, by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armor of righteousness on the right hand and onthe left, by honor and dishonor, by evil report and good report; as deceivers and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.

2 Corinthians 4:1-10

Chambers says:

When you have no vision from God, no enthusiasm left in your life, and no one watching and encouraging you, it requires the grace of Almighty God to take the next step in your devotion to Him…in your family life, or in your duty to Him. It takes much more of the grace of God and a much greater awareness of drawing upon Him, to take that next step, than it does to preach the gospel.

Every Christian must experience the essence of the incarnation by bringing the next step down into flesh-and-blood reality and by working it out with his hands. We lose interest and give up when we have no vision, no encouragement, and no improvement, but only experience our everyday life with its trivial tasks. The thing that really testifies for God and for the people of God in the long run is steady perseverance, even when the work cannot be seen by others. And the only way to live an undefeated life is to livelooking to God. Ask God to keep the eyes of your spirit open to the risen Christ, and it will be impossible for drudgery to discourage you. Never allow yourself to thing that some tasks are beneath your dignity or too insignificant for you to do, and remind yourself ot he example of Christ…

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Evelyn and I were out late last night for a fundraiser. Brent waited up for us, and all three of us were sleepy.

Evelyn had only gotten up once before in the night (!!!) and woke up bright and early at 6 a.m. I was in the rocking chair nursing her back to sleep around 6:30 when I heard the kids’ door open. Trying not to raise my voice and wake Evie back up, I threw the nearest thing I could reach at Brent, who was still nice and warm in bed…. my brush. Luckily, it landed right next to his head. A series of charades communicated to him that the kids were up too early. He made them all lay back down, and the three of us went back to sleep.

I’m not sure at what point all of the kids went downstairs, but Ezra came into our room and saw us sleeping and left again. Arwen followed after shortly to tattle on someone for something. We just kept sending them back downstairs and going back to sleep.

And the baby slept through it all.

Sometime later Ezra came in with a clementine and quietly handed it to me. I peeled it for him (sneaking a piece for Brent and I), he whispered a thank you and shut the door behind him with the quietest thud he could muster.

We all went back to sleep.

Ezra came in again and held his sweet little hand up to my face. I could see that there was a hair stuck around one of his fingers. After I pulled it off for him, he whispered another thank you and shut the door with a soft thud. Again.

And the baby slept through it all.

Brent and I went back to sleep.

Ezra came back in and sweetly tucked himself in beside me, cuddling close. Occasionally he would turn his head towards me, literally eyeball to eyeball. His big brown eye just stared straight into mine and he sighed. After he had his fill of lovin’ he left again.

And the baby slept through it all.

Suddenly I heard Arwen’s voice and looked around the room. I couldn’t see her, but I also didn’t have my glasses on. As it turns out, she was talking through the bottom of the door, so it just sounded like she was already in there. Brent told her to open the door and come on in. Of course when the door opened, all three of the kids tumbled into the room.

Arwen had been making a book all morning, and Charis confessed that I hadn’t been the only one peeling clementines for Ezra. (She said he kept tricking her into peeling them. I asked how one tricks a girl into peeling a clementine. She said he just kept giving them to her. I guess she gets it from her mother, because a that moment I found myself peeling another clementine for the boy.)

The kids all piled into our bed and it felt better than Christmas morning. All of the love and sweetness.

And the baby woke up. It was 8:30!

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Arwen was 17 months old when Charis was born. At that point, I was still rocking her to sleep every naptime and evening. Then I had a newborn. And not just any newborn, but one that choked, stopped breathing, and turned blue anytime I let her cry for too long.

All of my wee little ones have always had a fussy period (in Evie’s case, a screamy period) that lasts pretty much from their last nap of the day to the time when they go to bed in the evening. It’s like they are totally upset about having to be awake for that time period. What normally goes on during this window of time is dinner and bedtime routine for the other kids.

So, with a baby like Charis, that I couldn’t just let cry for a few minutes, I was presented with some challenges that reduced me to a puddle of tears and frustration. At this point, Brent’s position with Whole Foods required him to be gone most every night at this time.

I cried. Oh, how I cried! I either was nursing the new born with the toddler crying in her bed or rocking the toddler and praying that the newborn didn’t start crying and choke again. What usually ended up happening was that I would rock them both at the same time. I would have Arwen in one arm, resting on my shoulder, and Charis draped over my other arm in that popular colic-y baby hold and bouncing. When Arwen finally fell asleep I would stand up with both of them, plop Charis onto the changing table (and pray pray pray that she would not wake up), lay Arwen down (and pray pray pray she did not wake up), and pick Charis up and run out of the room before either one of them made a noise that woke the other. And if that did happen, I started the routine all over again. What am I going to do when I’ve got four kids?!? I couldn’t help but think.

Mommy of only one or two, let me tell you, you learn a whole lot of tricks by the time you have your fourth baby! =D

I thought of this the other night when Brent was working (he’s gone 2 or 3 nights a week at bed time). I frequently hear from Mammas of just a couple that they just don’t know how I do it with four. Much as I’d like to think I do, I don’t have any super powers. It just. gets. easier… and more delightful, with each child.

Here is how evenings go without Daddy in our home right now.

During dinner prep, I have some of the kids doing Starfall and Arwen likes to help. (I can’t have all of them in the kitchen with me, or I turn into the wicked witch.) And Evie is on my back, usually fussings and pulling my hair, while I bounce and hum. Eventually she falls asleep.

We eat together at the table for every single meal. They have to get their last drink of water when they are done eating. That’s the rule. I don’t go back in after bedtime for drinks of water. Mercifully, Evie usually sits in her swing for this and if I’m really lucky she’ll doze long enough for me to get them all ready for bed.

… which isn’t that hard. The girls dress themselves and brush their own teeth while I change Ezra’s diaper and put his PJs on him. He’s learning to brush his teeth. =) Evelyn usually screams her face off while I do this, except for the one time on the extremely rare occasion that she is sleeping in her swing. I change her diaper and clothes and then we head upstairs to join the others who are probably hanging from the bunkbeds and tossing light bulbs at each other quietly waiting in their beds to be tucked in. (The three big kids all share one room, the girls in the bunk bed and Ezra in a toddler bed.)

I check everyone’s teeth and settle into the rocking chair with the baby while everyone else gets on their beds. We read a book or two, or a chapter or two out of a bigger book. Ezra gets in and out of my lap and crawls into and out of bed during this time. We have the light off in their room and the hallway light on so I can see the book. They calm down a lot easier if they are in the dark for a bit before bedtime.

Someone gets to get up to turn out the hallway light, and this is a big deal to them. A treasured position, I tell you.

Then I take requests for songs to sing. Lights out.

I head into my room with Evie to nurse her some more and lay her down. At which point I usually have to go back into the kid’s room to knock a few heads because someone has gotten up and disturbed someone else, someone is singing, someone is kicking the wall.

But, this is usually all accomplished by 8:30, so that’s not so bad! And I pass out at 9:00 pm have a couple hours to myself to wind down or get something done.

Baby steps. Luckily, most of us don’t have them all at one time. And it gets a little bit easier day by day.

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This is my very favorite outfit to put on Evie. When she outgrows it, it will forever be retired to the box of baby things I’m saving for each of my children. I love the little mary janes at the bottom of her footsies and I layered a shirt with little birds (from the $1 section at Target!) on top of it just because I can.

I’m beginning to see that vivacious is going to be the word to describe her personality.

When she’s sleepy, she’s really sleepy. When she’s happy, she’s really happy. And when she’s upset, the entire neighborhood hears it she’s really upset.

Evie sleeps on her belly still, nurses whenever the heck she feels like it, spends most of her awake time “talking” and the rest of the time sleeping. She only poops once every few days (She’s efficient!), is adored by all of her siblings to the point that she barely gets a decent nap, and spends half of her day on her Mamma’s back (“where she’s supposed to be” according to 4 year old sister, Charis).

She’s also started to reach out and grab toys, noses, nipples, etc. I caught her grabbing the toy bar on her swing the other day!

And if she’s not on my back or in my arms, chances are you’ll find her there. She loves her swing. I will always remember Evelyn Rose as the baby who lived in her swing. We won’t even speak of the number of D batteries we go through in one month.

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We don’t have very many “family rules”, but one that we do follow is You Must Be (at least) Four Years Old to Crack the Breakfast Eggs. Charis has been looking forward to the morning when she could make scrambled eggs all by herself for a very long time, as Arwen’s been doing it for a year and a half now!

First, I helped by putting my hands over hers and demonstrating proper technique. Then she got to try on her own and she did it perfectly! However, she quickly found that she did not like the feeling of egg yolk on her fingers. She salted, peppered, and scrambled like a pro!

And Arwen shared in her joy. (Really, Arwen was excited to get to do the next level in breakfast prep now that Charis has relieved her of her egg position: Bagels.)

She’s an excellent bageler. And I’m a happy Mamma.

As promised, that afternoon we took Charis to Build-A-Bear to make her very own custom… Hello Kitty (?). She was very adamant on this choice. Charis attaches very easily to items like this, and I know that she will love it forever and always remember her 4th birthday when she got to go to the mall and pick out pj’s and design her own stuffed animal.

Prior to these birthday festivities, we had a little get together with friends and family.

The cake requires some explanation. I started asking about 2 weeks before her birthday, what sort of cake she wanted. Her answer was never anything other than, “a cake with Rosie the pterodactyl on it.” I googled, ya’ll. Who is Rosie the pterodactyl? Evidently a figment of Charis’s imagination.

Grammy and Grandpaw fancied her up real nice with a whole box of Fancy Nancy dressup and books!

Charis is the sunshine in all my days. She’s a sensitive soul, but so compassionate and caring more so than easily hurt or offended. She loves to sing, and has a beautiful little voice. She forces us all to slow down and smell the roses on a daily basis. I will always remember Charis as my easiest baby. She’s just happy to be here and we are so happy to have her!

Happy Birthday, my sweet sweet Charis. Mamma loves you!

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I’ve decided that I need to adopt a 2 year old and a 12 year old.

Certify me on that one. I must be certifiably insane if I just said I wanted to adopt a 2 year old, right?

Ezra needs a buddy. Everyone is either bigger and more capable, or smaller and cuter than him. Evelyn gets loving and attention, because she’s cute and she cries really loud. The big girls get to do fun stuff that his little brain can’t wrap around, and his chubby little fingers don’t work like theirs do. And we won’t even get into the pink butterfly wings and purple sunglasses, or how he lines up for barrettes in his hair when I fix their hair.

So, I need a 2 year old boy to add to our brood.

And of course I need the 12 year old for my own companion. I like 12 year olds. I don’t know why. They aren’t quite 13 yet, and they aren’t 11 either. That’s why. A 12 year old girl.

So, I was telling Brent all of this, and he suggested we just go snatch some from a local day care.

So you see… Shopping for kids, not Day Cares, technically.

I’ve totally lost it, haven’t I?

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