No More Cribs...For Now

Cute, isn't he?

At 14 months old, little Rhett is transitioned over to a big boy bed. At night he sleeps in a low twin. For naps, a toddler bed or the twin, where he puts himself. He doesn't roll. He doesn't fall out. He has done very well so far. Oh, and he loves pillows. He finds those suckers in two seconds. 

I know most people keep their kids in a crib as long as possible. Well, you see, Rhett decided to start breaking his. Yes, breaking it. He shakes the bars so hard that they snap. Soooo, off comes the side and a toddler bed we have. He couldn't climb, but breaking was bad enough for me. 

This is what happens when he's in a crib for any amount of time

I've always transitioned my kids early, by 18 months. My first and third were probably right at 18, second earlier around 15, and my fourth was by about 16. I don't see the need to keep them confined. They can walk and are beginning to talk. I'd rather them come find me quietly than cry to wake me. It's easy for us. Well, nap time is not easy. Tears and toys and door kicking. 

Or maybe this is what happens?

My oldest four still need me to sit with them during nap time for their volume level to be quiet enough for others to sleep. It's a joke some times. But, it's a nice rest time for me too. I don't complain. I like my nap time, too. And it usually happens every day. 

So, no more babies in my house for the next 6 months. Yes, the second crib with become the primary now since Toddler Muscle tore his apart. But for now. No cribs thank you. I like it this way.

Santa Who?

We did a very unpopular thing right before Christmas. The week before actually. I had been going back and forth for weeks about Santa. Adults know he's not real, but parents get joy out of lying to their children about his existence. Well, not me. I felt guilty every time the kids talked about this magically man. Finally I couldn't take it. 

"Guys, we have to talk to you about something very important. Mommy and Daddy don't want to lie to you about anything. So we have to tell you something. Santa isn't really. We put your presents out. We buy them and set them up."

One child cried in disbelief. Two looked at me as though they never thought some fat, jolly stranger came into our house. And one, well, he told me he still believed (it took days of explaining to convince him Santa just isn't real). After that, everything else came out.

No tooth fairy either. Mommy sneaks in for your tooth. 

No Easter Bunny, though we never did that. 

No, not even Jack Frost is real (thank you Rise Of The Guardians)

We are a magic free house now...not really. We are an honest house. We realize that our choice is unpopular and many of our friends still do those things, but we feel good about our choice. We are honest about life with our kids. Dogs don't go to heaven people. And my kids will tell you so. They told the cashier the day after Christmas that Santa isn't real and Saint Nicholas is dead. They told the dentist and dental assistant the tooth fairy isn't real and that lying to kids about it is bad. At least my kids are honest. 

I have been worried about them telling other kids that's those "mythical beings" aren't real. I had a friend tell me that she would be upset if my kids told hers. Well, if you want to carry that on, then you better get ready because someone is going to tell them some day. All we can do is tell them that some people carry on this story of Santa (I told them parents just don't want to wrap those presents, which was rather satisfying for them). So far, it's been ok, other than the cashier and the family behind us.

Santa isn't real. The Easter Bunny is a myth. Tooth fairy, not sure why we pay our kids for normal life processes. Jack Frost, a great story and fun character, but no sir. Our house, is not fun any more. Just ask the kids who live here.

On Motherhood/Parenthood Debating: Breastfeeding

I believe the breastfeeding is best. I have breastfed all of my children for various lengths of time. My first was only weeks (which is hard when your child is in the NICU and PICU). My second was about 2 months (after which I developed a kidney infection that stopped me in my tracks). My third I pumped for because she had latching issues, but I did so for 10 months. My fourth child nursed for 19 months. Now, my fifth, who just turned a year, continues to nurse. I will probably nurse him as long as he wants, even if it is years.

My journey started nearly 7 years ago. I wanted to breastfeed, I was planning on it. However, my son was born with several heart defects that required surgery. I pumped faithfully around the clock while he was in the NICU and PICU for three weeks. After he returned home, I couldn't handle it. I tried nursing but he had been on the bottle too long and I was a new mom. I had no idea what to do. So, I dried up from lack of pumping and nursing and he was formula fed for 14 more months. He did fine and continues to do well.

The second time around I knew I would breastfeed. I was eager to and I did for the first 8 weeks. My husband was deployed when I had my son. It wasn't a big deal to me. When he came home on R&R, I ended up in the ER for a kidney infection. I had been fighting it for weeks at that point and it was finally time for some stronger antibiotics. I stopped nursing. I just couldn't handle the pumping and dumping, the feverishness, and the stress of R&R all at the same time. So, two months of nursing and pumping was enough.

The birth of our first daughter, I thought it might be our last child, so I was committed to nursing. I left the terrible Army hospital I had my c-section in without any help or advise for breastfeeding despite asking for it. So, when she wouldn't latch, I was without help or direction. I bought a $400 pump and pumped for 10 months. My nipples cracking and bleeding were the only reason I stopped. That day, I felt like a failure. I wanted to make it a year. It was time to stop though and my body was thankful.

My first successful nursing experience was with our second daughter, and fourth child. I had her at a civilian hospital about an hour from our home. They had two full-time lactation consultants, one worked a rotating shift which meant she worked some nights. The first night there, she was with me for most of the night. After that night, we got it. My daughter nursed for 19 months. That was one month before my son was born. I had been hoping she would nurse after my son was born because I had heard it would help us continue to bond after his birth. That didn't happen, but I am eternally thankful for the time she nursed.

My youngest is still nursing at 14 months old. It has been so easy from day one. I had 21 days of no nursing between my daughter weaning and my son's birth. I think that was a huge for my transition back to nursing. It was so easy. He latched and we were off. It's been an amazing adventure ever since.

We are currently struggling through sickness at home and my son's nursing is driving me crazy. He wants to nurse all the time and I don't have time for that right now. He wants to nurse all day...everyday. I am committed though

Adding a Topic Near and Dear to Me

Hello Online World!

Isn't this new hair A-Mazing!

It's been awhile, but that's because life got hard. We are financially struggling because of mistakes the military has made with my husband's pay. No money means Mommy has to figure out how to make and save money all at the same time. Stresses, I tell you! We are expecting baby number 6. Combine that with the first stress and we are just being forced to trust God with everything in our lives right now. What else? I have to declare my intent to homeschool in February for my oldest son. I don't know why that's stressful, but it is. 

My kids are all excellent. Learning to read and write in their own time, but being pushed ever so slightly by Mommy. They are learning about money and the tough parts of growing up poor (no money for playing hockey this year, which is fine since the association is run by a bunch a rich shit for brains who only care about their kids and completely neglect the youngest kids...no, I'm not bitter). We are busy planning a major garden this summer, debating chickens, and painting the walls so they are a more neutral color. My kids are enjoying life as kids and learning a lot about life every day.

Now, this new topic. Well, one Jes Baker over at The Militant Baker has been inspiring me for some time. You see, she's all about body love and acceptance. It's infectious really. I heard all my life about getting fat or being fat. It was all bad and negative. From early in my parenting journey, I decided I would never frame any body type as bad or ugly. It's been difficult as my husband has the mindset of "fat is bad". The kids hear it every now and then, but overall, my kids are very accepting of everyone they encounter, no matter how they look. One of my daughters told me when she grows up, she wants to be fat because that's how mommy's are. Melts my heart! I present myself as perfect the way I am. I talk positively about my body, my husband's body, my kids' bodies, and other people's bodies. I give every person value beyond their bodies of course as we are more than a body, but our body imagine impacts how we interact with the world. 

Body Love...it's coming. It's important. It's life changing. It's world changing. I want to share my journey and experiences with you. See, I have a history and some people in my family who tell me every time I turn around that I am simply not good enough. However, a few months ago, I decided I can love them and have them in my life even if they don't see just how fabulous I am. I am 200 pounds of baby carrying, baby birthing awesomeness who is the way I am because of my fabulous fertility. I am squishy and warm when my kids need comfort and love. I am strong and sturdy when my kids need safety and strength. I am always there when my kids need their Mama and that's the most important thing to me. They ask if I'll get skinny again, but when I explain that I probably won't, they tell me that's okay. Some people are fat and some people are skinny. But, they always tell me I'm beautiful (something their Daddy has done super right!). I am FAT! That's okay. If you don't like it, don't look. I know others look because I hear them talking as I walk past in my A-line skirts that hugs my beautiful booty. It's okay even if they don't look. My husband notices. He likes it.