Hanging Up The Sling

When my second child was born, my first was just two years old. Life with a baby and a toddler was a lot busier than life with a singleton, and I didn't have the luxury of spending hours sitting in the glider rocker nursing or lying on the floor watching my baby wave her arms in the air. Because of that fact, one of the most important pieces of baby gear was my ring sling.

Appearance wise, it looked so simple. A long piece of olive green fabric attached to two silver rings. The non-ring end had a pocket with a zipper. (People said to stay away from black because it gets hot, and also linty. I thought the green color might be less girly in case my husband ever wanted to use it. He didn't. I should have gotten the purple one I wanted.) And people were amazed that I paid fifty dollars for it. But I got so much use out of it, that fifty dollars was a steal.

With my ring sling, I was able to breastfeed my infant hands free while making a sandwich for my toddler. With my ring sling, I was able to carry my toddler across my back while pushing the baby in the stroller to get across a busy, dangerous street. With my ring sling, I was able to keep my baby, born during cold and flu season, tucked up against me and away from germy, poking fingers.

The kids are bigger now though. My son is almost 6 and long past the stage of being carried. My daughter is 3 1/2. I've used the sling twice in the past year. Once was when I took both kids and a friend of my son to see Disney On Ice by myself. I used the sling to carry my daughter on my hip so I had both hands free to help the boys navigate the parking garage and crowded arena. It worked great.

The second time was this past week. My daughter had been napping and I had to wake her up to go pick up her brother from preschool, but she was still groggy and sleepy. Rather than waste gas to drive the five blocks to school, I used the sling to position her so she could lay her head on my shoulder, draped the long end of the sling over her face to shield her eyes from the sun, put my keys and phone into the pocket and walked.

Some of the other moms were surprised. They thought she might be too heavy, or that my back must be aching. And that really wasn't it. She is small for her age, but my back felt fine. And while carrying her for five blocks in my arms would have been difficult, the sling was doing most of the work.

On the way home though, I started to feel uncomfortable. Again, not because of her weight, but because it was 80+ degrees and despite my shorts and tank, carrying her was making me hot. Seriously hot. As in glug water and lie on the couch to recover hot.

It may be time to hang up my sling. At almost 6 and almost 4, we're approaching not having kids small enough to carry. I'm done having babies. I'm done babywearing. I'm done breastfeeding and co-sleeping.

At this point, I'm curious how parents with older children continue to practice attachment parenting. I never thought much beyond the baby and toddler years, but I'm looking at it now. And contemplating how to incorporate the principles into my parenting style as I raise older kids.

Those of you with elementary age children, tweens and teens--how do you continue to use AP practices into those later years?

*crossposted at API Speaks

First (Unauthorized) Haircut

Johnny was 18 months old before he got a haircut. John took him to the mall, and somebody thought he was a girl, despite the obvious boy clothes. So he got a little trim later that day. About a month or two later, he got an actual haircut with clippers.

Maureen, however, has not had a haircut. Partly because she was born bald and stayed bald, but also because she's got curly hair that mostly grows out instead of down, and because she's a girl and girls can have long hair and not be mistaken for a boy.

She has not had a haircut, that is, until Tuesday.

Tuesday morning, Johnny said goodbye to the woman who has been watching him once a week for most of the school year. She had a gift for him, an art project, which he wanted to do that day.

Maureen is in the process of stopping her nap, so afternoons are a bit sticky and the best way to deal with that is to separate them. She was upstairs working with perler beads and Johnny was downstairs working on his new art project. His turned out to be pretty complicated though and he needed my help and I got distracted. When I realized it was a bit too quiet upstairs, I went to investigate and found...


Yes, my darling three-year-old got ahold of a pair of scissors and cut her hair. Thank goodness I interrupted her, or it would have been worse.

I Freaked Out. My husband thought the house was burning down or something. I snatched away the scissors, held her up in front of the mirror so she could see what she did, then put her in her bed for time out. I'm not sure if she was scared, embarrassed or both, but she lay with her face in her pillow for nearly half an hour. She wouldn't talk to me, look at me, acknowledge me in any way. Eventually, she decided she was hungry and came down for dinner. And I'm fairly certain that she'll never try it again. I told you...I Freaked Out. But I'm keeping a better eye on the scissors anyway.

My husband was impressed with her fine motor skills. And his response was, "What's the big deal? Hair grows back. She gave herself bangs."

I guess it's not that big of a deal. She cut off about a 6-inch chunk of hair, but what's left is curly, so it doesn't show much. I can disguise it with barrettes and headbands. And I was comforted by the fact that so many of my friends either did the same thing as kids or have children who did the same thing.

Here she is today in the grocery store. See if you can spot where she barbered herself.

Photo Dilemma

Last summer, I took the kids to the mall and attempted to have their photos taken by a pro.

Except Maureen took one look at the photographer and started to cry. You'd think someone who worked at a place specializing in kid photos would know what to do, but she sort of halfheartedly waved around an Elmo doll and then gave up. So I was okay with settling for some single pictures of Johnny, but the poses she put him in were so incredibly unimaginative that I could have done better myself at home. And we waited forever to get the few pictures I decided to buy. After that, I swore we were never going back.

The other day, Johnny asked if we could go back to the mall for pictures. And my blood pressure spiked and I asked why. Apparently he thought it was fun.

It HAS been nearly a year. Both kids have matured a lot.

If you point a camera at Maureen, she does this:



But when you point one at Johnny, he does this:



I've got my gut reaction. I'll leave the rest to you guys. Stay at home and take my own photos? Or attempt the pro again?

My Mother's Day Gifts

Johnny brought home a package from school on Thursday, told me I wasn't allowed to open it until Mother's Day, then hid it under my bed. I resisted the urge to peek, and on Sunday I opened this:


Maureen's class made these:


My gift from my husband will be a much needed mani/pedi. But I nearly froze to death at softball this week, so that can wait until real sandal weather gets here. And since I'm still battling with a nasty, snotty virus that will NOT let go, my real gift was being able to lie in bed for half the day.

As usual, the dads get slighted in the school project realm, since school will be long out by the time Father's Day gets here. So I guess I'll need to some up with a project on my own. Any suggestions?

There Are No Losers And Everyone Wins

I haven't been around much lately to blog, and there's a good reason.

Softball.

We're a pretty athletic family, so now that Johnny is old enough to play a team sport and actually learn something, I signed him up for community softball. Not only is it cheap (15 bucks!), but the season only lasts 2 months. They have two practices a week for about a month and then two games a week for about a month and then it's over until next year. I figured if he hated it, we hadn't gotten into a big money or time commitment, and if he loves it, we can continue to play elsewhere.

So far he is enjoying it, and it's pretty fun to watch 5 to 7 year olds play softball. And when I say that, I mean that they haven't yet grasped that you're NOT supposed to dive on top of the ball when it comes your way and then wrestle over it with your team members. But hey, there are rules in place to make up for the lack of skill. I'm also pretty sure that the older teams ditch those rules.

But speaking of rules, while the coaches and assorted admin-type people keep track of runs and outs and strikes, the kids are told that they tie the games.

I didn't find this out until last week, when Johnny's team won and I had already told him they won. Whoops. But I'm a little conflicted about this practice.

On one hand, these are teams of 5, 6 and 7 year olds, just learning to play. It's supposed to be about going out there, learning how to be part of a team, and having a great time. It's not about who loses and who wins. And having witnessed sporting events where the parents got way out of control, I'm glad that, for the most part, all the parents cheer for all the kids.

But on the other hand, in life there will always be a winner and a loser and kids need to learn that. Sooner, rather than later, preferably. And what's the point of keeping score if no one loses and no one wins?

Since I had already told Johnny that his team won last week, I answered him truthfully when he asked about tonight's game. They lost, and they got hammered. And when he asked why they lost, I said, "The other team played harder. They got more hits, ran harder and got more outs." But I also told him if his team plays hard at the next game, maybe they'll be the winner then. And he was fine with that.

What do you think? How do you feel about the "everyone wins" trend, and at what age do you think that needs to be eliminated?