parenting

Eight Years of Marital Awesome

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

I forgot my eighth wedding anniversary. It was on Tuesday and I had no clue until my aunt texted me congratulations. Honestly, even if I had noticed the date, I’m not positive that I would have recognized its significance.

I’d blame it on sleep deprivation brought on by someone’s teethy sleeplessness, but I know that’s not the only reason. Instead, I know two other holidays eclipsed it in my mind: Father’s Day and Sprout’s first birthday. Sprout’s due date was the day after our anniversary. Instead, he arrived five days later, at 3 pm on Father’s Day. Preparing for these holidays, I bought Chris a Father’s Day gift, decided where we were going to eat brunch, ordered Sprout’s birthday gift and planned his birthday party. My mind was so occupied with making these new holidays special that our anniversary didn’t cross it at all.

Thankfully, Chris made up for my deficiency and wasn’t disappointed at my incompetence. I suspect he was a little thrilled that he was more on top of something than I was. While we usually go to a really fancy restaurant, neither of us made reservations and we still haven’t found a trusted babysitter anyway. Instead, we found a little Latin American place in an industrial looking part of town with amazing authentic food. I had the best chimichanga I’ve ever had and Chris had steak with tomatoes and onions. While we brought Sprout’s dinner, he also enjoyed beans and rice off of my plate, as well as a tortilla chip, even though he tried to eat it sideways. Rather than a place where people would look askance at bringing a baby, our waitress and fellow patrons were totally charmed by Sprout and his big blue eyes. It was a wonderful family dinner.

When we got home, I put Sprout to bed then and read the Interwebs for a while, like any other night. Chris kept asking when I’d be done, but I thought he just wanted me to watch Wil Wheaton’s new show with him (yes, we are uber-nerds). Instead, his supposed act of “putting the kettle on for tea” was a feint. He was actually pulling an adorable tiny ice cream cake out of the freezer! Who knew Ben & Jerry’s made 2-person cakes? He remembered me talking about wanting ice cream for the last week (damn you Ben & Jerry’s ads on the Metro) and ordered the cake the day before. Because it was too little to write “Anniversary,” it said, “Happy 8th” with a heart. He even bought me a card, something he hasn’t done in ages. I was terribly impressed with his thoughtfulness.

Overall, it was a really good day to celebrate a really good year together. Some moms say they resent their spouse after giving birth, but I (almost) never did. Chris has offered everything he has in the last year, always being there when I needed him, even when it involved puking, sleeplessness, or hospitals. He held my hand through all of labor and metaphorically hasn’t let go. We’ve supported each other, offering encouraging words when the other person has the “I suck” monster running loose in their head. We see each other more than we have in years and work to both carve out time to be with each other and be alone. He’s even gone on multiple bicycle rides with me, which is a major sacrifice for him. And we’ve both learned to trust ourselves and each other more than ever before, even when the situation seems helpless. I haven’t actually read his book (yet), but this quote from Jason Good is totally true: “When your co-parent says, ‘Come help me,’ what she or he really means is, ‘Please join me in suffering through this situation neither of us can control.'” As frustrating as the situation can be, for me, the key there is “together.” Because I can’t imagine doing this – the good and the bad – without my husband and would never, ever want to. I married Chris in part because I knew I wanted to experience all sorts of adventures with him and this is the ultimate one.

The Play’s the Thing

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

Play is a curious thing. Before I was a parent, I would have never thought someone waving his arms randomly or shaking an object would be considered play. But after almost a year of playing with my baby, I have a much broader definition these days.

Playing “with” newborns is a bit of a stretch. Most of our non-feeding or sleeping activities with Sprout were limited to shaking things at him while he laid on his back. When you don’t have the motor control to reach for an object, the options are limited. Despite that, we tried to be creative. Even though we knew he couldn’t understand us, we made up songs and stories. We’d imagine personalities for his stuffed animals and have them talk to him. We’d read him books, even when it was obvious he wasn’t paying attention. I’d dance with him, cradling him in my arms and swaying to our collection of children’s music. In those early days, finding different activities entertained me and kept me sane, helping me feel like more than just a source of food.

With Sprout developing more strength, especially in his neck and back, we were able to play in a much more physical manner. We love playing “flying baby,” whether under our arms or above our heads. When I’m lying on the ground, he lies on my stomach, our faces nearly touching as we roll from side to side. My dancing has become much more varied, carrying him on my hip, waltzing or shimmying across the room with an occassional dip thrown in. We get the best laughs out of these activities, a high-pitched giggle that sounds a little like a cartoon character.

As Sprout’s mental capacity has developed so has his sense of humor, as rudimentary as it is. He no longer laughs just because we’re laughing; we have to work for our audience! Peek a boo became much more fun once he gained object permanence. Finger games like I Am Thumbkin started to make a lot more sense once he understood the idea of conversations. Recognizing when something differed from normal opened up a whole range of possibilities. I’ve greatly expanded my silly expressions and frequently resort to putting ridiculous things on my head. I especially like putting his monster or shark hooded towel on my head and making chomping noises right before I take him out of the tub.

Along with his physical and mental capacities, his ability to be engaged and proactive in playing grew. His first mode of play – and still a favorite one – was shaking things. If he could pick it up, it was bound to go in his mouth or the air. He also considers banging things totally awesome, as is knocking down or taking apart things, like my block towers. Once he got used to crawling forward, he started chasing objects. Now, his favorite toys are anything that he can scurry after, from a pullback train to four different large balls (squishy with tags, hollow with a rattle ball, mini beach ball and a bouncy ball).

Lately, the biggest leap has been Sprout’s ability to understand the idea of playing with other people. The first time it started to sink in was when he was just on the edge on crawling. One day, I got down on my stomach and mimicked his motions. When he hit the floor, I hit the floor; when he babbled, I babbled. After a while, he realized that what he was doing and what I was doing were related. He looked very intently at me, and then smiled. As we went on, he laughed and then inexplicably became upset. Obviously, I stopped, but do wonder what was so upsetting. More recently, he’s decided to play the classic toddler game of Dropping Things on the Floor For Mommy and Daddy to Pick Up. What’s particularly funny is that he doesn’t even look at what he’s dropping, as if we won’t see him drop it if he doesn’t see him dropping it. But Chris and I aren’t willing participants, so that game has a pretty short lifespan.

But the advance that really excited me was when Sprout really followed “rules” of a game for the first time a few weeks ago. All three of us were sitting on our living room floor and Sprout was playing with his new mini beach ball. He handed the ball to me, which is rare in and of itself. He thinks feeding us is hilarious, but doesn’t usually share his toys. Seeing an opportunity, I handed the ball to Chris, who then handed it back to Sprout. Who, much to my surprise, handed it back to me! We went around in a circle for about 15 to 20 rounds. Finally, Sprout either got bored or distracted and bounced the ball somewhere else. But I never knew I could be so impressed by such a simple game.

While all of this is fun, I can’t wait until Sprout starts playing imaginatively. I want to hear his stories and songs and puppet shows and everything inside that marvelous little head of his.

Out-Growing Mommy’s Favorite Things

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 6 Comments

We all hold certain childhood objects fondly in our memories, even if we no longer have them. But until I became a mommy, I didn’t understand the relationship between the parent and the child’s possessions. Lately, Sprout has grown out of a number of things that are my favorites. Even if we have another child who uses them, knowing that he will never use them again makes me a little sad.

Most recently, Sprout got too big for his whale baby bathtub. I had needed to switch him into the real bathtub for weeks. By the last bath, his legs were squashed to the point where he had no choice but to bend his knees. Depending on his position, either his legs or butt were on the slanted section, throwing him off balance. While I kept saying that he couldn’t switch because the bathtub desperately needed to be cleaned (which it did), at least part of it was that I was sad to move him out of the little tub. I remembered picking it out for our registry while pregnant, charmed by the marine mammal theme. (We also got the whale faucet cover.) I remembered his first bath, when I gingerly laid him on the padded section, worried he would slip and drown. He spent the whole time frowning, punctuated with occasional crying. I remember him learning to sit up in it and discovering the joy of splashing. And by the end, I remembered him nearly crawling out of it, pulling up to his knees. So now it’s at least temporarily retired, well-loved, with its padding pulled off and its sides scratched.

Sprout has also grown out of a huge amount of clothing, much of which I was fond of. The first one that I really missed was a onsie my sister-in-law gave us a few days before he was born. It has a picture of the earth and says, “Hi. I’m new here.” The thought of that phrase in my tiny baby’s imaginary voice was so sweet and hilarious. We planned to bring him home from the hospital in it, but it was way too big. Once it fit, I dressed him in it in often because it brought some light to those difficult early days. Although he swam in it at first, he grew into it quickly and then out of it just as fast. He was no longer all that “new here” anymore. It was probably the first thing I was sad to put in storage.

More recently, we had to retire the most awesome pajamas ever. Over the winter, he regularly wore fleece footie pajamas with rocket ships. They were the epitome of everything kids’ pajamas should be – warm, fuzzy, comfortable, a little retro, and fantastical. I actually Googled “women’s fleece rocket ship pajamas” to see if I could find similar, non-footie ones for myself. Unfortunately, they do not design the same pajamas for grown women as they do baby boys.

Packing up these items did help me better understand a conversation I had with my mom a few years ago. I was sorting through a number of things in my old bedroom at my parents’ house, deciding what I wanted to keep and what to get rid of. Having decided not to keep a set of ceramic bear figurines, I told my mom she could give them away. Much to my surprise, my mom got rather upset. To me, they were just some cutesy knick-knacks that had always been on a bookshelf and didn’t reflect my personality. But she struggled with the fact that they didn’t hold any nostalgic value for me because they had so much for her. She bought me one each year for my birthday, so they symbolized all those passing years watching me grow up. For her, they evoked the memories of all of those birthdays that for me as an adult, were hazy at best. The bears had much more tangible echoes of the past for her.

It’s funny how even the simplest things – a bathtub, a pair of pajamas, a ceramic bear – can have such meaning imbued in it when it’s your child’s. I know we have so far to go, with so many clothes and toys yet to be bought, used, and retired. But those earliest things of Sprout’s will always hold a special place in my heart.

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust. – Peter Pan

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 4 Comments

I’ve been working to win back Sprout’s trust since I returned from my work trip two weeks ago. Since then, he’s been somewhat skeptical that I wouldn’t leave him again. While Chris and I connected on FaceTime every night, seeing Mommy “in the box” just wasn’t the same as being in my arms.

When I first arrived home, Sprout’s reaction was subdued. It was close to his bedtime and Chris hadn’t been able to play with him much because he was sick, so Sprout was already in a bit of a mood. When I lifted him out of his car seat, he hardly cracked a smile. Certainly not the enthusiastic welcome I’d hoped for.

The next morning, once he realized I was back for good, his whole attitude changed. Then it became All Mommy, All the Time. When Chris was holding him, he’d reach his arms out to me. If I was present, I’d be the only one who could comfort him. If I was in the same room and not paying direct attention to him, he’d soon make sure I was. While I dislike Family Guy, I started to realize how true the bit where Stewie just says “Mommm, Mommmmmy” over and over again is. In general, his clingyness was getting really annoying. But because I appreciated Sprout’s need to feel attached to me and be reassured, I tried to be there mentally and physically for him as much as possible.

Of course, the worst was at night. At first, I tried to pick up where I left off on our sleep routine. When I left, he was able to fall asleep completely by himself with a little bit of babble-whining. After needing to go in and reassure him several times the first night, I realized I needed to back up a few steps on the sleep training. I think he associated me leaving him alone in his room with me Leaving Him. So I went back to sitting next to his crib with my eyes closed, present but not engaged. While we played the up-down game more than I would have liked (Sprout stands up, Mommy puts him down, Sprout stands up again, repeat up to 30 times), he eventually got used to the idea that I’d still be there when he went to sleep.

While we gradually worked our way back to a level of independence at bedtime, his reactions in the middle of the night have been far more unpredictable. While I was gone, he actually slept through the night a couple nights, much to Chris’s relief. The first few days after I returned, he either slept through the night or only woke once and went back to sleep after a reassuring hug. This calm lulled us into a sense of security and then his sleep schedule totally fell apart. He would fall asleep at bedtime, but then wake up in the middle of the night and not go back to sleep for hours at a time, no matter what we did. If I was holding him, he wouldn’t cry, just look at me with his big blue eyes. Nursing, rocking, holding – none of it worked. By training him not to rely on any of these methods, we seemed to immunize him against them being effective. And if we put him in his crib by himself – especially if I put him in his crib – he would start hard crying. As I really don’t believe in cry-it-out, it was horrifying. I either had to listen to my baby scream or not go back to bed – either way, I wasn’t getting back to sleep. I chose not to go back to bed, dragging Chris in for reinforcement. Because he takes much longer to fall back asleep than I do, I hate having to wake him in the middle of the night, but I didn’t have a choice.

We thought we had moved beyond this last week, but then Sprout got a cold and it reared its ugly head again. A few nights ago, I was so desperate that I tried to bring him into bed with us, but he was even less interested in sleeping there than he was in my arms. Instead, he thought it was playtime and promptly pulled Chris’s hair. I ended up sleeping on the couch for three hours with him in my arms.

As I respond to him during the day and night, Sprout’s feeling of security in my presence should continue to increase. In the meantime, I hope that we’re past most of the growing pains.

Just Saying “No!”

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 3 Comments

Sprout is wobbling on the edge of being a toddler. While he isn’t walking yet, he’s cruising from piece to piece of furniture and has more and more non-basic wants. This emotional development is leading to the introduction of the dreaded D word – discipline, along with its cousin, “No.”

For the most part, we try to limit how much we need to say no. Although Sprout is starting to understand what no means, he doesn’t really grasp it yet, so we don’t want to overuse it. It doesn’t mean that Sprout can do whatever he wants. Rather, we try to avoid the negative situation in the first place or change it. Instead of telling him not to put the remote control in his mouth, we just put it out of his reach. Other situations may be annoying, but are tolerable and not worth fighting over. We gave up on putting a bib on him because it became a tug of war where he ended up with more food on his shirt with the bib than without. Sometimes he wants to be picked up when I need to get ready for work, so I at least try to give him a hug even if I can’t carry him around.

On the other hand, there are certain behaviors that are simply intolerable and that Sprout actually can control. When he was first born, he would randomly flail his arms and legs. But now even when he doesn’t have the capacity for self control, but he does have the necessary fine and gross motor skills to avoid hitting me in the face.

Along these lines, most of the intolerable behavior is actions that hurt other people. I’ve been saying, “No biting,” “No hitting,” and “No scratching” a lot. But the most common one is “No pulling!” He loves playing with my hair while nursing, but I can’t tolerate him yanking it.

The other two behaviors are really annoying and gross, albeit not physically harmful. The first one is blowing raspberries while he has a mouth full of food, spraying it all over himself and whomever is feeding him. Similarly frustrating is his insistence on flipping over when we’re trying to change his diaper. While neither are the worse thing in the world, they both interfere with essential activities and we want to discourage them.

With all of these behaviors, I truly believe that Sprout doesn’t have ill intent. He doesn’t understand that other people have thoughts or feelings yet, so the idea that he’s causing someone else pain is pretty incomprehensible. Being gentle or careful requires a lot of focus, so when he doesn’t, he’s just in default mode. This is especially true when he’s really tired and just wants to flail. As he gets older, we need to keep reminding ourselves that he doesn’t always understand how the world works or have the emotional maturity to make certain decisions.

Also, I realize that the things we’re asking him to do are relatively complicated and difficult to understand. He can touch my hair or face – as long as it isn’t too violently. He can blow raspberries – except when he’s eating. He can flip over and crawl – except when we’re changing his diaper. Putting together the “if-then” combination is pretty challenging for him to comprehend, even though adults do it all of the time.

With this in mind, we’re generally taking a “positive parenting” approach, with some tweaks as necessary. While there’s a lot written on positive parenting, the Bible of the movement (as far as I can tell) is How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk. While I adore this book, most of the tools require your kid to speak fluently and as such, are of limited use with a not-quite-yet toddler. Fortunately, Dr. Harvey’s Karp’s The Happiest Toddler on the Block provides some good advice on transferring these skills to parenting toddlers, even if I wish he would acknowledge his sources far more.

A major aspect of positive parenting is setting the stage by encouraging and praising good behavior. When he touches my hair without pulling, I tell him, “Nice, gentle hands!” When he allows us to change his diaper without flipping over, I blow raspberries on his stomach, which makes him laugh.

If he starts up with the frustrating behavior, our first step is to respectfully acknowledge and if needed, voice, his needs and desires. Unfortunately, even Sprout’s non-verbal communication skills are limited, so sometimes we don’t know what he wants. This part is often about us figuring out what he’s trying to tell us through the annoying behavior. While sometimes he’s blowing raspberries to be silly, other times it’s because he’s done eating. Although I thought he was hitting me in the face for no reason, it turned out he wanted me to turn my head to reach my hair. We don’t want to reinforce the behavior, but at the same time we shouldn’t ignore what he’s trying to express, even if it’s not in quite the right form.

Next up, we provide alternatives. When he’s too tired to keep himself from pulling my hair, I offer him my hand to high five or slap. If we make funny sounds while feeding him or let him hold onto a toy bird, he doesn’t spit out his food everywhere as much. And a steady round of funny noises and This Little Piggy keeps him focused enough while changing him that (sometimes) he doesn’t want to turn over.

If he continues with the annoying behavior, we then communicate our feelings to him, saying “No!” and when appropriate, combined with “Ow!” (sometimes involuntarily!). We try to use a stern voice and facial expression to express how serious we’re being; I summon up the voice I used when I was substitute teaching.

If Sprout still continues the behavior after a couple of warnings we then proceed into mild discipline territory. The most common approach is taking away whatever is causing the problem, like tucking my hair behind my ear if he keeps pulling it or putting him down if he’s biting us. If it isn’t an object that’s a problem, but our attention, we remove that for a moment. We just turn away from him briefly to communicate that what he is doing is not acceptable. (This is especially important when what he is doing is genuinely funny but something we don’t want to encourage!) Dr. Karp calls this “gentle ignoring,” and I think it’s a useful tool.

As Sprout gets older, we don’t anticipate integrating punishment into our methods except in the most extreme circumstances. Instead, we hope to work our way towards participating in more joint problem solving and allowing natural consequences to work themselves out. Positive parenting requires a lot of patience and empathy, but I think all of us will be better people in the end.

Baby’s First Movie?

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

While I was proud of Chris’ handling of Sprout’s and his own illness last week for a number of reasons, I was particularly impressed that he didn’t pull out the big gun of baby entertainment: video. As much as Chris loves TV himself, he didn’t even think about it. Because video is so rarely part of Sprout’s life (except for regular FaceTime), the few times we’ve shared it with him were supposed to be particularly special. Unfortunately, they haven’t always gone as planned.

The first time Sprout really watched TV was during the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special. Both Chris and I are giant Who nerds and had specifically put down Sprout for his nap (in his TARDIS onsie!) just before the worldwide live simulcast began. Of course, he woke up from his nap early. Most of the episode was already over, so we stuck him on the couch next to us. I don’t think his eyes once left the TV. I hope to reintroduce him to the show in a few years, once he understands it better and isn’t so mindlessly mesmerized.

About a month ago, we decided to bring him to his first movie. We missed Frozen in the theater, but a local neighborhood was showing it as part of an outdoor film series. Chris and I both wanted to see it, with our shared love of animation and the glowing reviews from traditional and activist pop culture critics. We’re also visiting Disney World this summer, so I wanted to see it before being bombarded by Frozen merchandise. (Plus, Chris was only slightly obsessed with watching adaptations and mashups of “Let It Go.”) The outdoor venue was a perfect opportunity because if Sprout got upset, we could head out without disturbing anyone or losing any money. We found out about it weeks ahead of time, so we were really looking forward to it.

Because the movie started near Sprout’s bedtime, we went through his whole bedtime routine so we ready to put him to bed as soon as we got home. We even dressed him in his pajamas in case he fell asleep during the movie. (So cute!)

Once we got there, the lawn was filled with families, looking at a giant inflatable screen. They had some technical glitches, at first, with the operator switching the closed captioning back and forth. Just before 8 pm, they finally started the movie and the antsy children started paying attention.

Unfortunately, the sky had been growing darker and darker and not just because of the dusk. Clouds blanketed the sky and the wind started whipping the screen in and out. The characters and scenery were warped and obscured, despite the organizers trying to hold the screen still. Whether because it was hard to see or there were more interesting things to look at, Sprout didn’t seem that interested in the movie.

Then the inevitable happened – the sky opened, sending down rain. A minute or two later, the screen completely collapsed, falling on one of the handlers. We think they were trying to take it down on purpose – just not in the manner it happened. Fortunately, the guy seemed fine.

To the tune of complaints from preteen girls, we packed up our stuff and hustled back to the car. By the time we got home, the rain was torrential. After sprinting inside, we put Sprout right to bed. It was already a half-hour past his bedtime and watching it on our TV wouldn’t have the same excitement as the outdoor venue. Part of the whole experience was supposed to be his First Movie and our couch just wasn’t going to cut it.

Instead, we rented the movie through On Demand and watched it from the comfort of our living room with a snoozing baby in his crib. It was very good and I really enjoyed both the themes and plot. But as lovely as it was, I was a little disappointed that we couldn’t share a special experience with our little boy. It just means we have the opportunity to make it even grander next time. Perhaps we’ll catch something at the grand Uptown in D.C. or even the Frozen sing-a-long version they’re showing near us this summer!

Travels Without my Baby

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 7 Comments

I left my baby last week. I left him in his daddy’s very capable hands, but nonetheless left him overnight for the very first time. And of course, everything went to hell.

Normally, I travel about twice a year for work. I work with people all over the country, so it’s nice to connect in person once in a while. However, between my pregnancy and maternity leave, I hadn’t traveled since January 2013. So when my bosses suggested that I travel to a conference in California, I thought it was a good opportunity. I would have preferred being away for one night instead of five days, but that’s not how conferences work.

I did everything I could to prepare. I stocked up milk in the freezer, so Sprout would have plenty while I was gone. I looked up the nearest Starbucks with wifi so I could FaceTime in case I couldn’t get it at the conference center or hotel. I booked a 7 AM flight on Friday with a 4:45 AM hotel pickup to be home before his bedtime. I steeled myself for being away, kissed my baby goodbye, and got on the Metro to the airport.

The first day went very well for me. The hotel had free bike rentals, so I took one out and toodled around bike-friendly Long Beach, free of a trailer. (I also had the exciting experience of using a single speed bike with no hand brakes for the first time!) Later in the week, I took a bike down to the beach, where they have a multi-use trail split into separate lanes for bikes and pedestrians!

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Long Beach's bike and pedestrian path

Afterwards, I went to dinner with my co-worker at an adorable coffeeshop without needing to worry about how many literal spoons I needed to entertain Sprout. I strolled along the street without a concern, looking at all of the neat art along the way.

Wyland mural in Long Beach

I took note of the many vintage shops, local art stores, and boutiques I looked forward to visiting. I laid down in my hotel bed at 9 pm and slept until 6 am, for a glorious 9 hours of sleep. I felt a little guilty at how little I missed Sprout and Chris, but welcomed the rare freedom.

The only bad part was all of the pumping. Oh, pumping, the mother’s reward for trying to keep up breastfeeding. To keep up my milk supply, I needed to pump 5 to 6 times a day, including on the plane and at the conference center. As I thought it was more likely I would spill the milk, break my expensive pump, or expose way too much of myself standing in a bathroom than sitting in a non-conspicuous public spot, I went for the latter. I threw my nursing cover over me and intensely stared at my phone, hoping no one would bother me. It was particularly fun on my two flights to California, both of which I had the middle seat. Nothing to see here; just ignore this absurdly awkward lady attached to a small motor.

The second day started as well as the first, going on a pre-conference “field trip” to an alternative fuel station and going to a conference session. I even got to see my baby live over FaceTime, feeling like I was living in The Future. Chris had a challenging night, with Sprout wanting me instead of him, but we hoped things would calm down.

Instead, everything fell apart, at least for Chris. I was out to a late dinner when I noticed I had five missed phone calls and several texts from him, far past midnight Eastern time. The first message wasn’t exactly comforting: “He threw up. A lot. I don’t know what to do.” Of course, I called him even though there was little I could do to help. As I talked to Chris, I found out the story was even worse – Sprout had actually vomited multiple times. Fortunately, by that time, the pediatrician’s office had responded to Chris and said because Sprout didn’t have a fever, it was probably just a stomach bug. They advised Chris to feed him clear liquids and only to check back if the puking started back up. The next day was somewhat better, but Chris still had to deal with a cranky, sleep-deprived baby and the last of the bug clearing his system via diarrhea. Needless to say, I felt terrible that Chris had to handle this situation on his own. Besides the stress, it’s physically difficult to handle a squirmy sick baby by yourself. On the other hand, I was relieved that I didn’t have to handle it.

My conference continued on the rest of the week, as I fit FaceTiming with my family in-between attending sessions and staffing our booth. By Thursday, I really started to miss Chris and Sprout and was glad I was leaving the next day.

Everything seemed to settle down at home as well – until Friday morning. At 4 AM my time, I checked my phone and saw another dread-inducing text from Chris: “I’m sick.” He had caught Sprout’s stomach bug. Now I felt really guilty and wished without reservation that I was already home. When I was staying at home with Sprout, I had a nasty fever with serious dizziness and it terrified me. I told Chris to call on help if he needed it, but he said he was fine. Thankfully, he managed to survive until I arrived at the Metro station at 6 pm that evening.

When I finally did arrive home, Sprout had a surprisingly muted reaction. Picking him up for the first time, he kept looking at other things. Fortunately, that apathy changed the next morning, when he greeted me with a huge smile. Seeing me then was the real confirmation that I was home and wouldn’t be leaving again. He was quite attached to me the rest of the weekend. When he wanted to be picked up, I obliged of course. We had some nice bonding time on Saturday afternoon playing and listening to music when Chris took a mental break and got out of the house.

While the circumstances of me being gone were terrible, it really highlighted Chris’ abilities as a dad. I’m proud of how well he handled the situation and am so grateful to have him as my husband and father of my baby. He worried about getting me a Mother’s Day gift, but I told him that his caretaking last week was better than anything he could buy me.

Cookie, Cookie, Cookie Starts With C!

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 2 Comments

I kicked off Bike Month 2014 on Saturday with a lovely day, cookies, volunteering and a baby who was less than enthusiastic about biking.

I volunteered for the now-annual Tour de Cookie, a fundraiser for the children’s charity the Treehouse and my town’s biggest bike ride. It’s purposely oriented towards being family-friendly, which is pretty unique for large organized rides. It has both a short route and long route that feature 10 different cookie stands, making it a bit of a “rolling bake sale.” There was a number of families with kids on trailers, kids’ seats and tag alongs. They even had a kids’ ride around the parking lot for little ones on tricycles and training wheels. Considering the number of people with small children, I was excited to promote the Kidical Mass rides I’m leading this summer.
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While I rode it last year, I chose to volunteer instead for a couple of reasons. I rode it last year to prove to myself that I could and show the world that a 7+ months pregnant woman could. While I wasn’t able to finish the route due to a broken spoke, I still considered it a success. This year, I lacked the pregnancy restrictions, but would still be carrying the baby weight in the form of my actual baby in the trailer behind me. Between the start interfering with his nap schedule and the fact that I didn’t think he was ready for a 12 mile ride, I decided not to participate in the ride itself. Instead, I signed up to staff the Rockville Bicycle Advisory Committee’s outreach booth at the ride’s family fair at the start / finish line.

Even though I wasn’t officially partipating, I still planned to bike over to the ride. As it was a beautiful day and the start wasn’t that far away, I even convinced Chris to come with us against his general preference of “not biking.” After Sprout finished his morning nap, we stuck him in the trailer and headed out.

The ride there was very pleasant and Chris did quite well for himself on the hills. We pedaled past a couple of cookie stands and even though we weren’t riding, mooched cookies off of them as volunteers. They were equal-opportunity cookie distributors. The cookie stands weren’t the only ones mistaking us for riders. As I rolled into the after-ride “fair” area, I happened to cross the finish line and the DJ called me out as a finisher! He said, “That has to count for two people!” in reference to the trailer. Obviously, I wasn’t going to correct him, but I felt a little weird about it.

The ride had a rather substantial set-up for the fair compared to the year before. Besides our booth, they had a huge variety of sponsors, including a local nursery school, Starbucks, a doggy-day care, the Bike to the Beach ride, a children’s book company, and the ever-ubiquitous Gutter Helmet. (Seriously, those folks were at the wedding show I was at years ago.) They had the Cookie Monster costume that RBAC used last year at our stand, along with a woman also dressed as a giant cookie. They also had a magician, a balloon artist and a really amazing lady on stilts.

Unfortunately, Sprout didn’t appreciate the festivities that much. He got upset when the magician made a loud noise during the reveal of his trick and then again when I yelled in his ear by mistake at the start of the kids’ ride. He was fascinated by the lady on stilts though.

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Compared to them, our bike maps and community ride flyers weren’t that exciting. Unfortunately, this meant that we didn’t have as much traffic to the booth as I had hoped. We gave out some information, but I’m not sure how much of our target audience we reached.

Fortunately, RBAC’s other efforts seemed more effective. The SAG van got plenty of usage between broken-down bikes and people realizing that they weren’t ready for the 40 mile ride that early in the season. Our group also helped with the ride marshalling and signage, which was substantially better than the year before.

After a couple hours there, we packed everything up and headed home as the clouds started to loom. After only a mile in, as I was heading up a steep hill, Sprout started to cry. I stopped to see what was wrong and the only things that seemed to be issues were that his helmet was over his eyes and he was overtired. I tried to comfort him, but as soon as I began pedaling again, he started wailing. As I couldn’t do much about the tiredness, I made the difficult executive decision to take off his helmet. I was more concerned about him choking himself with the strap from thrashing around than it not protecting him in some very unlikely theoretical accident. I felt horribly guilty – I could hear my mom’s voice ringing in my ears – but I didn’t know what else to do. Even though he was still displeased – he was giving me a grumpy baby glare – he stopped crying. About halfway home, he fell asleep in the trailer, able to lean his head back in a way that he couldn’t with the helmet on. When we got home, I lifted him out of the trailer and put him in his crib, managing not to wake him.

In some ways, this year’s Tour de Cookie was a logical follow-up to last year’s. Whereas I was pregnant last year, I had a baby with me this year. I shifted from being a rider to being a volunteer. I hope that as years go on, my role can continue to evolve and that one day Sprout will enjoy it as much as I do.

Raising Sprout

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 4 Comments

Gardening has been on my mind a lot lately.

Last weekend, we visited the White House Garden, during one of the two days a year they open the gates to the general public. While Chris had previously been there for a sustainable food event in culinary school, I had never been. Although I was temporarily confused by the presence of tulips in the Rose Garden (roses are out of season), I enjoyed seeing the location of so many big announcements. I eagerly peered around crowds for a view of the White House kitchen garden and tried not to be stung by an occupant of the White House beehive. Meanwhile, Sprout was completely uninterested in the plants. However, he was enamored with holding on to the black lacquered security fence. No accounting for taste!

The next day, I worked in my own garden while Chris played with Sprout on the lawn. I planted sunflowers, arugula, chives, and peanuts, all of which are new to my garden this year. Next week, I’ll be transplanting my seedlings and sprouts of tomatoes, peppers, melon, beans, peas, and squash.

Because everything relates to parenting for me, I started thinking about how starting seeds is like parenting: you need to build good soil, be willing to get your hands (and everything else) dirty, and provide gradual transitions.

I believe a gardener’s job is more about cultivating good soil than growing plants. It’s all about creating the right conditions – plenty of light, the right amount of nutrients, the right amount of water, and the right temperatures. Not too little or too much of any one element. If you’re thoughtful about where you place your garden and prepare the soil well, even a large garden doesn’t need they much upkeep.

Just like I can’t actually make the seeds grow, I can’t and don’t want to have complete control over my son. I want him to develop at his own pace, without rushing or pressuring him. I want to model and create the circumstances around him that inspire a love of learning, enjoyment of nature, and compassion towards people. I see a child’s ideal soil as lots of hugs, physical and mental space to explore, play with kids of various ages, time spent outside, exposure to arts and music, and quality time with parents and other caring adults. While parents should try to provide as much of this as possible, they can’t do it alone. Fortunately, we have wonderful parents ourselves, a strong church community, activities offered through the town, and friends that support us. As with a garden, we hope a thoughtful approach and hard work up front will pay off later in a capable, caring kid.

In both cases, building good soil involves getting your hands dirty. My gardening style is literally earthy – I’ve always enjoying playing in the dirt. I don’t wear gardening gloves because they make me feel clumsy. Sometimes rather than use a trowel, I scoop potting soil out of the bag with my hands. After I garden, my hands and nails always have dirt ground into them.

Similarly, you can never escape the mess as a parent. Sprout has peed on me, sneezed ground bison on me, sprayed tomatoes and beef on me while blowing a raspberry, wiped snot on my shirt, and caused me to get poop on my hands. He has bit me on the nipple, knee, and arm. I’ve wiped drool off of his chin more times than I can count and have already committed the ultimate mom sin of using own spit to clean his face. (I swore I never would!) I’m far too familiar with the sticky pink goo that is Ora-Gel. I’ve looked like the walking dead after near-sleepless nights. I’ve been in my pajamas far too late in the day and changed into them far too early in the evening. Not that I was ever fashionable, but pumping and nursing drive a surprising amount of my wardrobe choices. I happily sit in the grass, watching Sprout rip up weeds and inspect leaves. Getting dirty is what we do around here.

Lastly, I think we need to respect the cycles and transitions of nature and children. When you raise seeds in early spring, you need to harden them off before you transfer them to the soil. Inside, they stay one temperature with consistent watering and light. If you take them from that controlled environment and plant them outside without first exposing them to the elements – sun, wind, temperature changes – they go into shock. They then die or are weaker than they would be otherwise. Like the baby plants, kids also need to be at first very protected then slowly exposed to the real world before adulthood. That small amount of exposure and gradual transition makes them far more resilient in the face of difficult situations.

Approaching change as a series of slow transitions works for less dramatic changes too. While it took about six (hard) months, our sleep training approach of moving from nursing to rocking to holding to being present and then to laying him down by himself has paid off. We made it through with a minimum of crying (albeit a lot of whining). Now, he’s asleep within 10 minutes and usually only wakes up once a night. Similarly, we think he’ll do pretty well when we go to Disney World this summer because he’s used to the busyness of the city and crowds of people. While some people refer to these in-between steps as a crutch, I would rather supply him with a crutch and transition away from it than have him fall hard on his face at first and be discouraged from trying again.

While most of the plants in my garden only last a season, how I treat Sprout will last a lifetime. Thankfully, he’s pretty forgiving and there are always more opportunities to get down and dirty.

A Tale of Two Day Trips

/ Shannon Brescher Shea / 1 Comment

We’ve had a lot of visitors the last few weeks with my parents visiting two weeks ago and my in-laws visiting last weekend. While they both came to see Sprout, no one really wants to sit around the house the whole weekend. So we took some day trips: one to the National Zoo and one to the Maryland side of Great Falls. While both were good ideas in theory, they did teach us about the right – and wrong – ways to bring a baby on adventures.

My mom was very keen on bringing Sprout to the zoo for the first time. After the success of the aquarium trip, she justifiably thought he would enjoy seeing the animals.

Unfortunately, we totally botched the timing – we went on peak Cherry Blossom weekend, the height of tourist activity in D.C. On top of this annual surge was the massive interest in the baby panda born earlier this year. On top of all of this, it was also the first nice spring weekend, as we’ve had weather alternating between unseasonable cold and unpleasant rain most weekends. It added up to a big honking mess, with both us and the zoo being unprepared for the people swarming the place. Between the crowds and the poorly-designed map, it took more than an hour to get a very overpriced and under-flavored counter-service lunch. While my mom, Dylan and I sat on a bench and waited (and waited and waited), Chris and my dad walked almost half-mile looking for a food stand before ending up exactly where they started. Then, they waited 45 minutes in a line with absolutely no shade. To add insult to injury, every single vending machine was out of ice cream, soda and water and all of the water fountains were broken. As my mom doesn’t like crowds, Chris wilts in the sun, and I get cranky when I’m hungry, we were destined for disaster.

Even our baby’s beautiful smile couldn’t cheer us up much, because he wasn’t all that happy himself. When we were in the vaunted panda exhibit, he didn’t even seem to notice them, decided that he was really hungry and started crying. The elephants were too far away to make much of an impact of him – they could have been cars, for all that he could tell. Even in the gorilla house, he was far more interested in the little girl’s braids in front of him than the animal. Of all of the exotic species, his favorite part was the farm animals and even there he seemed more interested in the split wood fence than the cows or llamas.

In contrast, our trip to Great Falls went beautifully, although not without its hiccups. It certainly helped that the temperatures were cooler and the crowds less dense. We took the stroller along the C&O Canal, then a series of waterfall overlooks. Sprout seemed fascinated by the waterfalls, leaning forward in his stroller and watching them with real focus. The loud noise, expansive view and constant motion held his attention, even though he didn’t know what he was looking at. The only quirk in the trip was that I hadn’t learned from the weekend before and once again failed to bring any food or drink for the adults. And of course, the water fountains were also broken there. (What the heck, federal government?) We ended up eating at a nearby restaurant, but if we had planned and brought a picnic, we would have saved some money and possibly been able to go on the boat ride.

Thinking about these experiences, I think I’ve learned some lessons about going on trips with the baby:

1) Know your own limits and be flexible to accommodate them. If there are a bunch of different factors that don’t mesh well with your group – crowds, heat – just say no to that trip. I really should have known better than to go to the zoo on Cherry Blossom weekend.

2) Pick destinations based on what everyone wants to do, not just on what the baby might enjoy. What infants like or comprehend is really unpredictable. We thought Sprout would like the zoo because he liked the aquarium. But that’s thinking like an adult. While we thought he liked the animals, it’s more likely that liked the fish’s close-up quick movements and bright colors, which the zoo lacked. Even if it’s guaranteed to be baby-friendly, the kid might just be in a mood that day. At least if you pick something everyone has some interest in seeing, you’ll enjoy it even if the baby is apathetic.

3) Remember to pack for yourself, not just the baby. We packed a bunch of stuff for Sprout that we didn’t use, but we didn’t pack any food for the adults either trip.

4) Be aware of strollers’ limitations. The limits on where strollers can go wasn’t a big deal on either of these trips because the zoo houses that banned strollers were too crowded anyway. However, this has been really important in the past when we visited the aquarium and art museum, both of which didn’t allow them. In addition, strollers really limit kids’ ability to see. Sprout would have been able to see everything much better in both locations if we had the baby backpack. Instead, we had to keep taking him in and out of the stroller.

5) Be thoughtful about timing. We left for the zoo after Sprout’s morning nap and hoped we could get him to sleep in the stroller in the afternoon. As a result, we hit everything during the busiest, hottest part of the day. For the Great Falls trip, he refused to take a morning nap, so we left a lot earlier. In the future, I think we’ll be better off if we try to do the morning nap en route and get home for the afternoon one.

Of course, all of this could change tomorrow! But that’s the nature of parenthood, whether you set venturing out or staying at home – you learn what you can from the past and adjust on the fly as necessary.