July, 2008

I’m starting this post tonight because if I don’t, I won’t write again for a few weeks. I’m not writing much. I know. There may be about a dozen reasons for this, I’m not sure, but I do know that I am not the person who started this blog so long time ago. That doesn’t matter though, what the hell. Of course I’m not the same person.

Reading old archives is horrible though.
Boooorrrring.

Speaking of archives, I’m missing a huge chunk – have you noticed? Yeah. They are missing out there in cyberspace and my host has a copy of them but won’t post them up unless I give her money because she’ll have to do it manually. So I think, jeez, finally a do-it-yourself project I can… Do. My. Self. Give me the posts. I’ll post them.

However, have I emailed her to tell her this? No.
Have I paid my tuition to the university for the last three courses I’ve taken? No.
Have I got back to the federal government about our 2007 tax return? No.

Things are crappy here in our home. My life seems to be upside down and I am not the one who is actually going through any real trauma. I’m such a pussy of a mother. Seriously.

Franklin’s best friend is moving to Japan on Friday. That is in two days. Just writing this has my stomach in knots like that time the Love of My Life At Twenty-Two told me he wanted to break-up. My heart physically hurt and for once in my life, I wasn’t fascinated with the fact that I was feeling emotion. I was just sad. Really, really sad.

Tonight, I am sad.
Really, really sad.

Franklin screamed at an adult today – his friend’s mother. He was hurt. He wanted his friend to stay and she had come to pick him up earlier than he expected. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do with how he feels right now, I know. Still, this wasn’t okay. It was utter chaos and I had to keep my shit together to talk him off of hysterical mountain while getting Eliza to bed for her nap and helping his friend and his three year old sister out the door.

I want to help Franklin so much but sometimes I feel that we are so fucking connected that I am more harm to him than anything else. What I damn fine dork of a mother I make. I just want to hang out and be sad with him. I can’t think of anything else to say other than, “this sucks, man”.

Yeah. I know.
I should teach parenting classes, write a book, film late night infomercials of myself talking on a stage with a face mic and a big power point projector.

Dickson is confused, I think. Strange thing is, he went through this. He moved away from his best friend at the same age that Franklin is right now. He knows what a big deal this is – five years old and watching a piece of you leave your world. Maybe he knows and therefore is aware that life can go on. He said tonight that things will get better. I know this. I do. But right now? Right now, things are horrible and I can’t fix any of it. Life will go on but for me, Franklin has had one too many things change in his life and… and…

I’m the Mom! I’m supposed to keep everything together, right?
Wow. I sound like I’m six-bloody-teen years old.

I don’t remember having a best friend that I really connected with at Franklin’s age. To tell you the truth, until I met my friend, Joelle, I didn’t connect with really anyone. I watch Franklin and this other boy and wonder how two children can any more similar. They are both so sensitive and creative and scared and amazed at the world. They worry about the same things. They are proud of the same things…

Earlier this month, Franklin wet his bed. It happens. Whatever. Franklin wasn’t concerned. His friend came over to play and about an hour in I hear,

“Hey! I wet my bed last night!”

“Yeah? Me too!”

And then returned to playing like they had just talked about the weather.

See?
Really, really sad.

Drool

Originally uploaded by iamilk

So I was thinking about how we were going to further de-chemical our home as I was wiping my daughter’s butt for the third time this morning (she is a champion pooper and if I were wise, I would figure out when she is finished her entire load but alas, I am not) and I realized that although I use cloth diapers, they are cotton – regular cotton, not organic cotton.

Cotton is everywhere but the farming for the material is so hard on the environment. It’s popularity and the competition among producers has increased the use of pesticides so much that cotton is the most pesticide-dependent crop in the world – it accounts for 25% of all pesticide use. The impact this makes on our environment and our health is horrible. One adult T-shirt made with conventional cotton requires ¼ lbs of harmful chemicals.

Add to this are the dyes used in fabric. Coloured dyes, even with organically grown cotton, are still a problem. These are also toxic chemicals and their use and disposal are also harming our health and the environment. When I think of how much Eliza sucks on fabric I cringe to think of what she could be picking up. We received one of these dolls as a baby gift and I bought an organically dyed wrap that she sucks on while I walk with her but her bibs? Her blankets? Naturally coloured cotton is harder to come by but much more important in terms of babies, in my opinion, than adults due to the amount of time they spend sucking and getting their mouths, chins and necks washed.

Now, I’m not about to run out and buy a whole new set of cloth diapers, sheets, and clothing. I am not insane. However, it got me thinking. Organic cotton is all fine and good but for the majority of the population, cloth diapers are enough of an investment. Add organic to the bill and we are talking serious cash. The same goes for organic bed sheets, organic mattresses and organic clothing. As adults, wearing organic is a lot more economical. We don’t tend to grow. For children – jebus! I already need to resort to hand-me downs and thrift stores!

So, I have found an alternative – recycled cotton. I can’t always buy organic cotton but I won’t support pesticide production by purchasing new cotton. Of course, I was basically boycotting new cotton by necessity beforehand. However, the bottom line for many processes to change is demand. Manufacturers will do what consumers dictate, right? I’m hoping those who can buy organically will and those who can’t will as least buy reconstructed, recycled or just plain used cotton until things are more affordable. In the meantime, I will also be changing Eliza’s bibs – her favourite chew toy at the moment – as it is readily available and easily grasped. Anyone have a source to recommend?

(All my statistics and facts came from the Organic Trade Association website)

Shampoo-less

Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

To the right is a photo of me after a week or so of shampooing my hair with baking soda. I have to say, there is very little difference between using a cleansing shampoo and using baking soda. Perhaps there will be a honeymoon period? I guess there is only one way to find out. Some people I know who do this tend to mix up just using water and brushing their hair (100 strokes each side). They use the soda mixture only sporatically. This prevents the build-up, apparently. We’ll see.

There are about 6 or 7 I-told-you-so’s coming to me after this post goes out. I know too many people who no longer use shampoo. I had always thought I would break out. I always break out when things get too oily. I had just assumed that this would also take an oily period and while I am working and seeing students on a regular basis, I’m not all that interested in looking… oily.

This isn’t oily (and I’m not seeing students while on maternity leave).
In fact, the entire family is now using baking soda. Well, the two of us that were actually using shampoo. I was the one who used it on a regular basis, Franklin was only once a week, Dickson has hair too curly for shampoo and Eliza is only 4 months old and not using anything, really.

So that’s the shampoo issue. We are officially off shampoo.

In another area of my life, I feel like we may have come across a major discovery. Baking soda shampoo is great, don’t get me wrong, but pain management without drugs?

Amazing.

Eliza’s second round of immunizations were this week. I was dreading them. For all the chubbiness of her thighs, she was in so much pain the first time that I was sobbing along with her. Babies cry when four needles are stuck into their legs, I get that and this isn’t the problem. It was her ability to get over the initial pain that was so extremely difficult. Franklin’s skinny little legs didn’t cause him as much harm as her first dose of shots (and let me tell you, Franklin’s not one to hold back in the discomfort arena).

So yes.
I’m a firm believer in immunizations. I can have the debates with any of you if you wish. Many people I know don’t immunize. When the subject comes up and people want to try to convert me I am always game. We immunize our children. Deal with it.

However, the pain? So hard!
But! Get this! My father, the man whose heart is made of soft gooshy gold jello pudding sent me this article on pain management a few weeks ago. It’s hard to get through. I had to read it several times and then ask him a few questions later. I was still sceptical when the dreaded day came around but Dickson was gung-ho so I figured, what’s the harm in trying? I certainly wasn’t looking forward to either other scenario – watch her scream for 10 minutes or numb her down with Tylenol. The research was sound and if it worked for neo-natal infants… well, enough with the justifications, on with the show…

My father, Dickson, Franklin, Eliza and I crammed into the public health nurse office armed with a solution of sugar water and a spoon (we like to do things in groups). We brought along the article to show the nurse but hell, this is Victoria. She was all, “whatev, man, sounds cool”.

Before the shots, my father spoon-fed the sugar solution to Eliza (who, by the way thought she had won the sugar lottery) and the a few minutes later… the needles. She cried. Yes. It didn’t stop all the pain. However, neither does the Tylenol. She didn’t shake in fear though. She stopped crying by the time we got to the waiting room as well. She handled it so much better.

Now! I know what you’re thinking!
Who knows really why she was better this time, right? It could have been the extra chubbiness she has added to her body (she now weighs 14 lbs!), it could have been the fact that her brother was there or it could have been that she feels more secure in the world than she did two months ago. We thought that her quick recovery could also have been due to the fact that the sugar was given to her a bit too late. Perhaps the effects kicked in only after the immunizations?

Whatever the case, I will try it again next time as well. What I’m most impressed with is that there are people out there washing their hair with baking soda because they want an alternative to what we are expected to buy. As well, there are medical researchers (and my parents) out there giving sugar water to babies because they also want an alternative to what we are expected to use.

Edit: Seems that you will need to create a (free) account in order to see the article. Sorry, I forgot about that. Here’s the holy terror of an abstract for those not interested in a subscription to a medical journal:

I know. Crazy vocab.

Self portrait with East German / Soviet respirator

Originally uploaded by macspite

I wonder if I’m just out of the blogger mode but it seems that the nights that I have the time and the space to write a post has me often sitting here wondering what to write about. I used to have no trouble with finding things to write.

Now I’m realizing that I rarely ever sat down with a specific post in mind. In fact, more often than not, I would just start writing. Topics would pop out of my fingers and there it would be, a post. Probably not the most coherent and eloquent post, but I had some semblance of an idea there and a few digression deletions later, I would be heading off to do whatever I used to do with myself when I had one child and… lordy, what did I do with myself?

I think I asked myself that exact question after Franklin was born. What kind of valuable time did I waste before I had a child? I could have been saving the world. I could have had a PhD. Two, even.

Anyway – coulda woulda shoulda.

I’ve been thinking a lot about genetics these days. Franklin seems to have developed an allergic reaction to latex. My father thinks I may be off the mark about this but it has been twice now that my son has opened a new toy and had an allergic reaction much like that described for those allergic to latex.

When plastic is made it usually involves chemicals or other agents to allow the plastic to release from the production molds more easily. Sometimes these are not rinsed properly. Someone I know has mentioned to me that we may want to keep an eye out for potential latex allergies, as sometimes a latex based dust is used in these molds.

My father is allergic to latex and this type of allergy can be genetic. It can also be a sensitivity that can get worse the more exposed you are to latex.

However, genetics aside, I wonder if this kind of allergy and many others that children seem to have been developing more readily is a product of our chemical world. The build-up on their little bodies must be horrendous. At this point, I really wonder how much genetics really play into allergies anymore. I wonder if we are totally redefining what we would traditional see as genetics through our dependence on chemicals in everything we do – from the diapers we put on our babies to the formaldehyde we use to preserve our dead.

Charity has mentioned to me that she is thinking of going shampoo free. We already use environmentally sensitive cleaning agents in our home, eat organic and cloth diaper(ed) both children but I think we can do better. I think I’m going to try and drastically cut back on the chemicals we are exposed to. This isn’t a case of ridding our home of germs and then unwittingly make our children more susceptible to colds and flu when they are out of the house. This is a prevention of chemical build-up that could potentially prevent more allergic responses and perhaps more serious diseases further on in their lives.

Hell, if anything, it will provide entertaining blog fodder for awhile.