Photo Friday: TANSTAFL

There ain't no such thing as free lunch. Actually, I beg to differ. If you knew me during my college days, I could be found attending a variety of campus symposiums, lectures, workshops and special events purely for the purpose of receiving a free lunch. It is also how I happened to learn about topics I never knew interested me, like mindfulness, Buddhist ashrams, kundalini yoga, study habits and the human brain, anger management, biofeedback...

Yes, in my college days, I spent a good deal of time (and effort) thinking about my next meal. And once I got married, those thoughts extended to thinking about my husband's next meal. The first Shabbos we spent at home as a married couple I made about 15 kugels and a cholent big enough to feed an army. The leftover cholent actually took up coveted space in our deep freezer for the next six months. I don't even like cholent and I have not made it since; that's my husband's job!

And once I had my first child, my thoughts about food extended (bordered on obsession) toward feeding that chubby cheeked little baby. Breastfeeding was my priority and while I had gone into that journey knowing it would be hard, I had not intuited how hard it would be. How the very act of striving to feed this tiny human could be at once so empowering and dis-empowering. How every other hour I was full to the point of engorgement with nourishment, confidence and doubt. And then came the pumping. I was planning to go back to work and S would be 5 weeks old. But no matter how much time, effort, begging, bargaining and denial I put in with that sucker (pun intended), I was not producing anything worth writing home about in those bottles. I contacted my lactation consultant again (and again) to no avail. "Just do it" she would say, Nike commercial style. And the night before my first day I had a whopping 3 oz bottle that took two weeks  of pumping multiple times a day to fill. I called the pediatrician. We were told to supplement with formula and when I contacted the aforementioned lactation consultant about this, we had a messy 7th grade style over the phone break up. I cried and cried and cried and went to work with puffy eyes leaving behind a tiny baby who ate and grew nonetheless. And continued to breastfeed until after the age of two, when (ironically during National Breastfeeding Week) he self weaned. Three weeks before I finished work for the year, I realized my pump was defective. It wasn't me. It wasn't something I could "Just do it" through. I'd been pumping every single day for nearly a year on a broken device.
With Y, I embarked on my second breastfeeding journey. I had such an oversupply at first that he couldn't latch. I called in the troops--a new lactation consultant, this time going in with a bit of precaution to avoid any messy emotional breakups. Things went much better on that end, but I had to pump again (on a new device) to decrease supply. And the freezer stash was growing to the point of overflow with Pesach drawing near. I made some calls and was connected through lactation consultants to another mother with a baby about the same age with chronic low supply and a thyroid condition. Her son refused to take formula and she was down to her last ounce of donated milk, literally praying and crying something would come through. And it did--a whopping stash of my freezer overstock. After that, thank G-d, my supply stabilized and Y continued to breastfeed until (doubly ironically during National Breastfeeding Week) he self weaned at about 16 months.

And then came little C, so little in fact that she could not yet coordinate sucking and swallowing so efficiently. And pair that with a low supply this time, another pump and another visit with the lactation consultant. But by this go around, when we had to supplement with formula and expressed milk bottles, I didn't care so much. I just want to feed my kid; it doesn't matter what it takes and how that has to happen. And no, it's not always easy. I hate pumping. I am a couch prisoner right now, nursing on the hour throughout the morning, supplementing with bottles through the afternoons and evening and, thank G-d, getting a lot of night help from my husband. By next month, she may be able to exclusively breastfeed. She may not. And I am reminded of one thing I learned so well in college (even with my unique talent for scoping out well catered campus events): There ain't no such thing as free lunch.

In other words, the beginning is just that; the beginning. The battles over mealtime don't go away, they just evolve. In the photo above, you can see my two fully weaned sons' eating habits in a nutshell, or rather, atop a pizza crust. There is Boy Who Eats Only Cheese and Dough and Boy Who Eats Just About Everything. S knows what he likes and likes what he knows. He won't touch a chicken nugget with a ten foot pole, but he will drink green kombucha with chia seeds floating in it. The only thing Y likes more than his food is your food. And the only thing he likes even more than that is covering it with a hefty portion of ketchup.

So as I sit here, prisoner to my couch, with a football hold on C that has given me the confidence not only to get through this season of our lives but also to potentially join the NFL, I give a shout out to all the parents feeding tiny humans out there. At all stages, ages and in all possible ways--TANSTAFL but here's some food for thought: we're all just thinking about our next meal. On my wedding day, I wasn't thinking about whether I was bottle fed or breastfed. I was thinking about the fact that I'd put a lot of thought and planning into the catering and while I got up from my seat, the overly efficient caterers had whisked away my unfinished dinner plate. When I was in labor with all three of my children, I was not thinking about how many fights I'd had with my parents as a "picky eater" growing up. I was thinking about how my current level of starvation must be why other mammals eat their young and what I wanted to eat once this baby was out of me. And if you think I was hungry through pregnancy, labor and delivery, no one knows hunger like the kind when you're feeding a tiny nursling around the clock. I've eaten granola chunks, jello, even yogurt off my babies' heads (no crumb left behind) while breastfeeding. So if this meal isn't the one, there's always next meal. We've all bitten off more than we can chew at one point or another, but when it comes to feeding the tiny humans in your life, whatever it takes to do it (and please know that I once attended a Thanksgiving meal at the home of two pediatrician parents who got their children to try turkey by allowing them to act like cats and crawl under the table, meowing while being hand-fed chunks of the new food)--YOU'VE GOT THIS!

Bon Appetit & Happy Playing!

Sowing Seeds of Literacy & Art in the Garden

Plants are not the only thing that grow in our garden. Literacy and art come to life with garden signs throughout the space. Pictures and print allow pre-readers and early readers alike to "read" about our gardening experience and lending a hand in the creation of garden signs gives a personal artistic touch from all of the hands that help to dig, sow, pull weeds and harvest here.

In fact, our garden plan itself started off with a literary experience this year. At the beginning of the season, S and I had a date to the garden shop after reading the book Pizza Day by Melissa Iwai. To be clear, he's not such a fan of pizza (unless it's literally just dough and cheese!) but he wanted to plant a pizza garden, nonetheless. We chose a couple of tomato plants, a pack of sweet pepper seedlings, some oregano, some basil and some nasturtiums and dill to help invite beneficial insects and ward off less preferable ones. And the same boy who won't even try a grilled cheese sandwich, who once cried in a restaurant because one showed up with pesto on it, loves eating basil leaves right off the plant! (Go figure, it wasn't the pesto that made the sandwich a problem, it was the sandwich itself. Next time, we'll just order a dish of pesto...)

Well, once the raised bed was built (thanks to help from S, Y and their Tatty) and the seedlings replanted, it was time to add some signage! Both boys got busy with this activity (and so did I). At the very least, labeling our plants helps to keep track of the "few" things I'm growing this year. (Ok, ok, I admit it, I may have surpassed "a few." Again.) It also infuses our outdoor space with a print rich environment and adds an element of art and beauty to the garden.

 There are so many ways to create garden signs. Pinterest has a wealth of ideas to peruse! Wooden paint sticks, craft sticks, actual sticks, rocks, plastic forks, clothes pins, purchased plant tags... I've even seen refurbished plastic animals and dinosaurs painted a solid color and printed with plant labels! (This idea may show up again in my own garden!) I got pretty busy during breaks between C's busy eating schedule painting and printing garden labels...

I decided to get more hands on deck for our pizza garden. I printed off some black and white images of a pizza pie and set out oil pastels, cut up photos of tomatoes, peppers and herbs from seed catalogs and some glue sticks. Each of the boys got busy in his own way. S used oil pastels and first colored on the sauce. Then he colored in the crust and last, he added in an abundance of his new (and only) favorite pizza topping--basil!

 Y started off with oil pastels. Then he walked over to the art center and grabbed some ink and rubber stamps, adding layers of flowers and garden themed stamps to his pizza. And, continuing to layer, he next got very busy with the glue stick and magazine cutouts. At last, he was done!

S cut out his pizza on his own and Y had some help from me. We ran them through the laminating machine and duct taped them to wooden paint sticks on which I'd printed the words "Pizza Garden." S wasn't feeling done yet. He's recently discovered he loves art and wanted to continue to create garden signs. He decided to "recycle" the scrap from his pizza cutout and noticed the outer edge of the circle created two arches--the perfect shape for a rainbow. He carefully colored each color of the rainbow, in order (asking for some help to remember the order) and then added in some pink as well. He cut that out, we laminated it and he dictated what he wanted written on the stick. He's decided it is a sign to hold up whenever he sees a rainbow. We "planted" it with our cucumbers. I know, I know, I was only going to grow a small pizza garden...but pizza goes so well with salad...and berries...and herbal teas...and loofah sponges...and peanuts...and flowers...and blue potatoes...fairy gardens...broccoli...mammoth sunflowers...

So I may have gone a little overboard on the plants this year. Again. But with school ending in just over a week and all three Sprout Scouts home for the summer, we will have plenty to keep us busy outside (and if we're lucky, in the kitchen as well)!

Happy Planting & Playing!

Get Outside And...Roll! With Ramps, Tunnels & Balls

Scrap wood meets cardboard tubes meets ping pong balls in this fun and simple to set up outdoor activity and it's truly a match made in heaven (or at least a match made in the recycling bin)! Building and constructing larger scale marble runs outdoors is a great way to encourage STEM related skills in kids (and adults) of all ages using simple to attain and inexpensive loose parts.

We used a collection of recycled hard cardboard tubes a friend gifted us, some scraps of wood and broken down boxes and a basket of ping pong balls from inside. I told the boys they could also use whatever they wanted from outside and they both got busy right away.

Quite quickly, S discovered that our sidewalk is on a downward slope to the parking lot. He skillfully found things to use (with a little help with heavier lifting) to blockade the sidewalk...

Y loved throwing and rolling the balls down and even built some smaller scale ball runs. S worked on a larger scale, including a maze like setup that almost turned our walkway into a pinball machine!

The photos truly don't do justice to this activity, although I did get some video footage. It was so beloved by both boys that S spent most of the morning outside even while Y took a nap building, launching and building some more. They both had fun doing this again inside later on and with such a simple to set up activity at our fingertips, it's likely one we will repeat again and expand upon.

What else might you include? Water? Other materials? Different surfaces? The options are as vast as the imagination and as much as it's tempting to quickly join in and demonstrate, I learned a lot by watching what the kids were doing!

So this spring and summer, grab your recyclables and some ping pong balls and get ready to roll!

We'll be back soon and until then...

Happy Playing!

Get Outside And...Paint & Wash The Fence!

The dust is slowly settling here as a family of 5 now and we've even started up our garden plus some great additions to our outdoor space to get everyone busy playing and learning outside this season. And while I haven't quite gotten back to new activities outside yet, here's a peek back at a great one we did a while back!

When this white fencing was put up in our shared grassy area out back, I was perplexed. It created a semi-private space in our yard and our neighbor's. It didn't completely block off our own yard or even any part of the big field. But more important than the function and aesthetics to me was what we could do with it... And the bell went off in my head over one Shabbos! While other mothers nest toward the end of pregnancy, I head to the hardware store. On this occasion, I picked up some large utility buckets, some squeegees and some big sponges from the automotive department. Meanwhile, at home I grabbed some paint trays and brushes and filled them up with washable tempera paints. I filled the bucket with soapy water (dish detergent is great).

And we all got busy painting the world red...and orange, and yellow, green, blue and purple... Even my more reluctant painter, S, was enthralled with the novelty of this unique vertical surface! But the fun wasn't over after painting alone--next it was time to wash the fence clean again--and this proved to be just as much fun, if not more fun than painting it in the first place.

I was asked if this activity is one that might confuse children and encourage graffiti. To touch on that topic, I did actually discuss this with my boys when we began--that the artwork we did in this space was to be temporary and only done with permission/supervision from myself or my husband. We talked about the fence being shared property that belongs to the apartment complex and only using the space in our yard. I don't feel giving children a space like this to work with is any differently than teaching them to use an easel indoors and not the walls or drawing with sidewalk chalk in designated areas outside, etc. However, you must also know the personalities of the children you're working with and decide accordingly. Alternatively if this feels uncomfortable you could use plexi-glass outdoors for a vertical work space that is also washable.

I will say that I think the fence came out cleaner when we were done than it was when it was put up in the first place! This is definitely an activity we will be repeating and modifying throughout the months to come. Stay tuned and until then...

Happy Playing!

Officially Outnumbered!

Well, this post is a bit off topic from my usual discussions of play and play activities, but we are excited to announce the arrival of our newest playmate, a beautiful baby girl born this past Sunday afternoon at 4:33PM, weighing in at 6lbs, 11oz. And while we've been outsmarted from the start, Baby N officially makes us happily outnumbered parents! And since I love a good story, here's the story of her eager arrival...

We seem to have a Family Mold...

S, Version 1.0

Y, Version 2.0

Baby N--this girl is gonna need some spunk and a bow!

Netflix & Gestate: I think whatever you binge watch while pregnant translates into your labor and delivery experience. During my pregnancy with S, I binge watched Call the Midwife. The plot line of his labor was a bit slow to unfold, involved a lot of background details along with some setting and character development. The narrator (OB) had a soothing voice and stoic demeanor (he was a lawyer before entering medical school) and the last 15 minutes was utterly exhilarating! During pregnancy with Y, I binge watched Grey's Anatomy. Labor was text book. He arrived on his due date in the OR via c-section. I, however, was heavily medicated after 3 hours of trying to push his giant head out the other way while doing astonishing stunts and Yoga poses with a hand up me like a puppet. Quite clinical, lots of medical terminology and blue scrubs, but super thought provoking and inspiring. And once I finally got to hold him, he was totally McDreamy. With N, I went back to basics and binge watched Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, fully preparing myself to naturally deliver in the woods while in full colonial garb, perhaps using a feather from the hat of my scruffy husband to cut the cord. And while I did (barely) make it to the hospital from the woods, I also had a natural delivery and no epidural. My gown had a few less ruffles, my petticoats were disposable mesh (which is a good thing because I was fresh out of laundered petticoats at home) and I did cut the umbilical cord myself, but I used medical grade scissors and my midwife's name was not Sully, it was Laura.

A Girl Scout is Always Prepared but I dropped out of the Girl Scouts after the second grade and joined 4H... So we obviously knew we were expecting. (Anyone who's ever had contractions on a toilet must question those on shows like I Was Pregnant and I Didn't Know It who actually give birth on one...) But, we may have been a little sluggish on getting certain things ready. I mean, we bought a minivan. But we didn't replace the infant car seat. Or pack a hospital bag. Or have any clothes washed to pack in that proverbial hospital bag. And Pesach preparation and celebration kind of took over. And we had some babysitters lined up. For three weeks from now, around the due date. Two out of three were out of town for the holiday. And while most women nest in the end of pregnancy, I go waddling around the hardware store looking for DIY projects involving nails, wood and garden stakes. I pitch and write a few blog posts. I organize my teaching materials and sort my seeds. So...yeah... We had some running lists of things to do, food I might want at the hospital and afterward (being strictly Kosher and gluten free means we bring all of our own food from home). We sort of had a plan in place, and here's what actually happened...

Speaking of Planning... Having had two very differently sized babies previously, one natural delivery and one C-section, we knew we wanted to be a little more prepared for what to expect and how to proceed this time. We also like a little element of surprise, so we refrained from finding out the gender. I, however had a very strong feeling we were having a girl. So much so, that I would not have been angry or disappointed had things turned out the other way, but I would have been kind of upset I was wrong! (I love being right! I've been right three for three now.) We did, however, do an ultrasound last Thursday to get a sense of size and position. Baby was (not giant) head down and closer to S-sized than Y-sized. I talked to the OB and we planned, knowing that the threshold for waiting would be shorter, to try for a natural delivery. I had been cooking all morning to get ready for the second yomtov days of Pesach to begin at sundown that evening and having monster karate chop in the uterus contractions that subsided only when I turned the (filled only with soapy water) food processor on for 20 minutes to scare the boys out of the kitchen and ate half a Pesach cake by myself. I mentioned this to my doctor and she said "I'm fine with you going into labor tomorrow, you'll be 37 weeks and full term." I said, "tomorrow doesn't work for me, it's a holiday, but Saturday night would be fine." Then I made a plan to help a friend with something briefly on Saturday night and we went into the final days of the holiday.

Ok, OK, Just Get Outta Here! In the story of the Exodus we retell each year at Pesach, we recall that Pharoah and the Egyptians were given 10 plagues, 10 warnings before Pharoah finally consented to let the Jewish people go. So you'd think that meanwhile we'd be packing and preparing. You know, gathering our stuff and maybe baking some bread for the road? Our eventual plan, no matter how long it took, was to leave Mitzrayim, right? But, no! Instead, we busted out with only enough time to bake some crappy cracker from only flour and water because we didn't quite manage to head to the grocery store either for additional ingredients. We'd been pretty busy with some DIY projects and building stuff, you know... Similarly, we also hadn't quite made it to the grocery store post Pesach. We hadn't done laundry. I never packed a hospital bag and our suitcases were in the storage unit. And as I mentioned earlier, with no car seat we couldn't even come home from the hospital if we did end up going! So during those last two days of Pesach, when I woke up with those killer karate chop contractions again and again, I willed them off with threats, ultimatums and grape juice. I had plans on Saturday night, remember? I was also extremely sleepy. I took more naps in two days than I have in the last 2 years. But when Saturday came, I fulfilled my plans, came home and went to bed. At 2:30 my water broke. The same thing happened (even at the same time) when I went into labor with Y.
I went back to bed kind of paralyzed by my lack of planning and preparing. I did cancel my playgroup event scheduled for this week. I renewed my library materials. I mentioned the pending concern to my husband. He went back to bed. I decided to pack a bag. A very small bag. Because that's all we had a home and I had a very small amount of clean laundry including absolutely nothing for a baby. I willed those contractions to wait because I wanted to stay until morning. We needed to get a babysitter for the boys and that proved a little trickier than planned, so guess whose entire family got into the van and came to the hospital the next morning? And guess who held (very gently) her 4 year old's hand, walking to the entrance through a very strong contraction? And guess who is so religious now that she basically ate only pesachdik food for 2 extra days?

My kids are so literal. They take ultimatums very seriously. And when I said "Saturday night would be fine," she went for it. On Sunday morning, we all started together in the labor and delivery room. As much as I didn't plan for the boys to come along, I'm so glad they did. S and Y were a little scared and very excited. S had really wanted to see an ultrasound and hear the heartbeat and he finally got to. "It's so quiet!" he remarked when he heard the monitor. Then they started singing the Baby Shark Song. It was time for everyone to go home. Contractions were very sporadic but the midwife on call was comfortable letting me keep going without intervention as long as 24 hours to see if things would kick in naturally. I listened to music. I texted friends and family members and my husband. I walked. I bounced on the ball. I even did crunches on the ball, you know, to get my body beach ready...and get some contractions going.
Everything seemed to be moving along slowly at the hospital that morning. I overheard nutrition come deliver a grilled cheese and fries to the lady next door. I was jealous. Until I also overheard she'd been there for 2 days. TWO DAYS! And she was still in labor. (But she was also still eating grilled cheese and fries. Did I mention I'm jealous?) My husband was running around frantically trying to get things ready at home (including turning our kitchen back over, finding sitters, buying a car seat and helping with the boys...he's pretty good at multitasking). I had a great nurse helping and I was initially sad it wouldn't be my own OB on call, but the midwife was incredible. G-d really puts the people you need in the room with you in the room with you!

Plot Twist: And Guess Who Walked In Next? When I was in labor with Y, I had an incredible L&D nurse supporting me. She labored with me for all 12 hours of her shift. She had a million tricks to try up her sleeve and she held my hand when I cried after 3 hours of pushing and knew we'd need a C-Section. We waited one more hour after that for the OR to be ready and her shift was ending in 5 minutes. I thanked her and wished her well going home to her own then 18 month old. She'd made an intensely vulnerable experience one of the most empowering ones of my life. And then, as I was wheeled to the OR, she met me in the hallway, after her shift, scrubbed up and ready to join in off the clock. I had a thank you note for her and a gift I held on to for 2 years and was embarrassed to never have sent. When the door opened and my new L&D nurse walked in and said she'd had a change in her shift and a new nurse would be taking over, she apologized and added "but I think you'll like your new nurse--it's the same one who was there when your son was born!" I couldn't believe it! Two years and one week later, here we were again!

"Comfort" Measures During Labor Tuvia finally made it back before 3PM. Things were still slow. I have a lot of comfort measures that work for me during labor, but mostly I was feeling great, if not a bit bored. My nurse came to check in and I mentioned that three things seemed to bring on contractions for me. Being really hungry. Being really thirsty. And being suddenly stressed out. I'd already been hungry. I was so thirsty I was drinking like a fish. It was time for some stress. And it came! My husband got a call from home and our meat oven had inadvertently just become treif (unkosher); S was eating a cheese sandwich from it! So we currently had no oven at all. The dairy one was still in storage. We also had no food to cook, so that was pretty much a moot point. Did I mention I was hungry? I had such a craving for a grilled cheese and fries... I asked him to call a Rav and fix it. And also not to take anymore phone calls in the room. So, meanwhile, phone calls from a particular family member that he didn't take in the room started to come to the front desk with angry and embittered demands to know information on our status and the whereabouts of my husband. Aaaaand there it was. Stress. The contractions started to progress. I asked for an epidural and the nurse called anesthesiology. I needed a bag of saline for 15 minutes and then I could have my epidural. Meanwhile, I sent my husband out to call a certain family member, thinking we'd all be back together getting that epi-goodness in just a bit...

But... things went a lot faster than expected. And by a lot faster, I mean that in 15 minutes or so when the bewildered anesthesiologist came in with his magical cart of pain management, I had just enough space between pushing out my baby au natural and the next contraction to say "sorry 'bout that" and push again. And it was shocking. And I was tired. I'd felt oddly compelled all morning to listen to two songs by Vienna Teng on repeat: "Soon Love, Soon" and "Daughter," but now my mind was silent. The world was at once standing still and rushing by me. And the only thing that kept me going was to say "soon, so soon" with each push because I knew it was almost over and I'd hold my baby and be done.  And that Johnny Cash song "Ring of Fire" does not do justice to the Ring of Fire, but I hummed it in my head anyway. And then she was out. And she was a girl! And I was right! (Did I mention I love being right?) And I was done! And I didn't throw up! And I don't have to make a bris on the 8th day! And my experiences of labors and delivery and our family all felt so incredibly complete and whole.

It Wasn't How I Planned It, It Was Better We all know the saying "we plan, G-d laughs." I had a lot of plans about how this would go down. Some of them panned out. Some didn't. I couldn't have asked for anything better than what actually happened. I never felt strongly pro or against epidurals. I used them with my first two labors because it felt like the best option when labors were long and I got tired. I assumed I'd have one at some point with this labor and I didn't. It was so incredibly amazing to have that experience in my repertoire. I was never glued to delivering one way or the other. My hospital board had two items under the "goals" category: Healthy Baby and No Vomiting. I achieved both, thank G-d. (At one point my husband had to choose quickly between holding my hand and staying with me or leaving the room to get a bucket. Either way, if everything failed, he was going to have to wipe #2 off the board.) And everything happened as it was meant to. Everyone in the story was meant to be there. Every detail was just as it needed to be. There may have been a script and a plot line, but our Holy Babysitter is in charge of that. We just carry out the roles and lines down here. And I am so over the moon with our bundle of joy; we all are. Baby N's first same means "Comfort" and she truly lives up to it. Through a very uncomfortable pregnancy and a whirlwind of being so ready and not ready at all and through the settling of the dust at home and a roller coaster of emotions and hormones, she is Comfort. Her full name is after a great and inspiring Jewish leader and I have no doubt she will live up to that as well. She is already full of squish and spunk. Some pink and bows will be added in due time...

Welcome to the family, sweet girl. May you grow to Torah, to Chuppah and to Ma'asim Tovim (good deeds), and, of course, years and years of happy playing!