And so.

Both babies are sleeping. Laundry mostly done. Dishes can wait. Showered last night. Bills paid yesterday. Christmas shopping on order (online). And so. I have time to blog.

Entire essay-length entries have been composed in my head while nursing, bathing, changing little diapers. And so the pressure is on, well, to say something. You know, all profound and such. Reflections on mothering in the modern world. And all that.

Mostly I am grateful that we are healthy. And happy, often. And when the babies cry, I now know to take the long view. When Iza was little her cries flipped deep genetic/hormonal switches in me and I would heat up and melt down and become convinced that I, her mother, had ruined her chances at a happy life. Now when one of them, or both of them, cry I try to breathe and go Zen. And if that fails, I mutter a few really bad words.

A bouquet of thoughts here:

Having one child, my love for her was a romance. Drama. Intimacy. Longing. Elation. Devestation. Wonder. Fear. Repeat. Having two, my love is now parental. Wonder. Respect. Awe. Frustration. Joy. Humility. Repeat. Much less fear, much more willingness to wait and observe as the person emerges.

The best things I never did this time around: write down every feeding, poop, pee, and sleep. Reread parenting books. pump.

Revelation: Every home should have a good rocking chair. This is an entire philosophy ready to be expanded and expounded. More to come.

Another Revelation and nascent philosophy: Every home should have a bottle of sparkly stuff (champagne for me) chilled and ready to celebrate.

Mothering is beautiful. Yes. But it sure ain't pretty much of the time.

Hooray for online shopping and groceries delivered to the house. Hip Hip Hooray for my nanny, who sadly is leaving us in January.

Hooray for carrying two babies: Leo in the Bjorn on the front and Iza in the Ergo on my back. This way we could go for a long walk on the nature path, where strollers couldn't go. Although with Leo growing so quickly, I think those days are over.

And then there was the day when I realized that my two-baby-wearing adventures caused a bit of discomfort for some New England types. A neighbor happened to cross our path as we all headed to the Starbucks. She casually commented that, well, you could use a stroller....And I heard it in her voice. She was embarrassed for me. And I was amused.

Feeding a toddler is slowly forcing me to learn how to cook. As in put three meals + snacks on the table a day. I used to cook for dinner parties. This is totally different. I can make a decent pork roast. Chicken in various permutations. Cous cous is my new favorite side dish. Izabella loves blue cheese, hates mashed potatoes. Leo still only nurses. I am a casserole queen. I may never be a great cook, but I am working my way toward being a good mom cook.

Lots of thoughts about tandem nursing. That I need to write about.

Things that get me through the day: jasmine green tea. Napping/nursing with Leo while Izabella sleeps. Facebook.

And Leo wakes....

Size Matters

Izabella was born 6 pounds 12 ounces.
At 6 months, she reached 15 pounds.

Lenard was born 6 pounds 5 ounces.
At 3 1/2 months, he reached 14 pounds 11 ounces.

ps Still tandem nursing.

Confession

I have a birth narrative in progress for baby Leo. It is difficult to find time to sit down at a keyboard. Izabella takes two-hour naps in the afternoon and generally goes to sleep for the night by 7:30. As soon as she is down, however, I can't wait to fill my arms with new baby Leo. Facebook and email I can do from my iPhone. Blogging requires the rare moment when both babies are sleeping and I am not. Here is one of those moments....

First, let me clarify my entry regarding how rested I feel despite two babies to care for. As soon as I posted it and logged off, I knew it required emendation. Supermom, I am not. It does help that Leo and I share a bed. Though he wakes every two or three hours to nurse, he is a highly efficient nurser and usually finishes in about ten minutes. So I barely have to wake up to offer him my breast. Sometimes I fall back asleep while he nurses. I can't say enough about how great it is to co-sleep. Not only does mama get more sleep, I get to sleep with the sweetest gurgles and grunts as a soundtrack. More important to my sense of well-being, however, is my caregiver. Let me just admit it: We have a live-in nanny. I never thought that I would have a nanny, but I do. And it is wonderful. She is wonderful.

With two-under-two, not a relative nearby, and a partner who works many and long hours, I knew that I needed someone to help me. It has taken almost six months and the birth of my second child for me to really yield to the virtues of having another caregiver. As one of six children in my family, I never had a babysitter. Never. So I didn't grow up with the idea of having help with raising children. I was resistant to the idea. Especially as a stay-at-home mom (for now), it seemed ridiculous.

My attitude toward the issue is that my nanny is here to help me parent, not parent. Thus she cleans the kitchen, does laundry, tidies the toys, takes out the trash, etc. She sometimes cooks. These tasks are essential for a family. When I come downstairs from putting big sister to sleep and am ready to sit and nurse (or swaddle and bounce) little Leo for hours, the dishes have been down and the kitchen cleaned. The playroom is tidied. This makes a tremendous difference is my ability to parent two babies. Our caregiver is also wonderful with big sister, taking her to the park, reading to her, and happily pretending to be scared at least fifty times a day when Izabella squeals, "boo."

I wish grandma and grandpa lived down the street. I wish my college girl friends lived across town. I wish my women friends could drop by for coffee and cuddle time with the babies. The truth is that we are relatively new to the area, our families are nowhere close, and all my new women friends also have babies to tend.

I know families (and women) who manage on their own. I am not one of them. I have a nanny. And I am extremely grateful to have her by my side. (And a bit worried about what will become of us this fall when she will work for us on a part time basis.)

I'll keep plugging away at Leo's birth narrative.

(It feels good to write.)

Now I just need a haircut.

So. . .

So, we changed the bedtime routine per my earlier entry. It worked like magic.

Now, it doesn't work like magic.

I think it is a teething issue. But, who knows? Izabella can now cruise quite well. She stands and does a little dance. So walking can't be far behind. Maybe it is the walking, a developmental milestone, that is messing up her sleep. What I do know is that she is not happy about sleepy time.

Tonight: after a relatively calm day with a good nap, we performed the entire night time ritual. On time. She was content and relaxed throughout. The moment I placed her down to sleep, a raging toddler erupted. Not just crying, but screams and thrashing. We nursed back in our room. Then back to her room and a return to the crib. Pandemonium. Inconsolable.

So, I think that letting a toddler---a person---cry it out alone is just plain wrong. If I were raging, I would want someone there even if they couldn't solve my problem or right my wrongs. But there was nothing I could "do" to comfort or console her. So, I sat down on the floor next to her crib and just stroked her back while she raged. Occasionally I said comforting words. Mostly I just tried to be a warm human presence. I tried to be all Zen about it. Strange thing happened: after about twenty minutes of standing at the rail in a full-on rage, she laid herself down, hugged her teddy and bunny, and passed out. From rage to sleep almost instantly. I waited there with my hand on her back for a full fifteen minutes to make sure she was deeply asleep. Then I performed a special yoga move to stand up from the floor--I am nine-months-pregnant after all--and was able to leave the room. We'll see how long she sleeps.

Two nights ago she was up from 12:30 - 3:00 am before my husband and I finally just took her into my bed. Last night we realized that she was inconsolable and I slept with her most of the night. She didn't want to nurse. She just didn't want to be alone. I can dig that. How human. I too hate to sleep alone. Especially when I have toothache AND I am working on a major life skill.

So, there is no "sleep solution." These little people are constantly new little people each week. What works now will probably not work next week and certainly will not work in six months. There can only be a sleep solution if you choose to view it as a sleep problem. It is what it is. Fight it in vain.

Tandem Nursing: 7:36 pm

I am tandem nursing. True, my son has yet to be born. Right now my fifteen-month-old daugther has exclusive nursing rights. Yet I have recently realized that tandem nursing begins the moment a nursing mother becomes pregnant with a second baby. Suddenly you are eating for three. Even if my toddler takes one sip of mama's newborn milk and decides that it is not for her, toddler and newborn will have been nourished together for the entire duration of the pregnancy.

Tandem nursing, nursing more than one baby at at time, happens most often when a mother has twins. This seems natural. Both babies need to be nursed by mom and so she nurses them either one at a time or at the same time as needed. Perhaps less well known is the practice of tandem nursing a toddler and a newborn. Most babies in the States are weaned from the breast at or before one year of age. Rarely then does a mother need to consider tandem nursing. For moms who practice nursing past the first year, however, tandem nursing becomes a possibility.

I had planned to nurse my daughter for at least one year. It was a struggle. Getting started was rough. Then my second pregnancy when she was eight months old decreased my milk supply just as she neared the one year mark. She was having trouble gaining weight and my pediatrician recommended weaning. She showed no signs of wanting to wean and I decided to encourage her on all nutritional fronts after she turned one: eating as many solids as possible, drinking whole milk, and allowing her to nurse as she wished. She is still "small" but vibrant and eating/nursing like a champion.

Some babies wean when a mom is pregnant again due to decreased milk supply (usually in the fifth month) or a change in the taste of the milk as the colostrum develops (the high density "pre-milk" produced by mom for newborns in the first few days). Other babies are quite happy to nurse even though they don't get any milk at all. They are comforted by the physical relationship, the cuddling and the sucking. It is a ritual they enjoy. At first I was waiting for my daughter to wean herself, but at 32 weeks into my pregnancy (about 8 months), she shows no sign of losing interest.

This is fine with me. More than fine. It was rough going for a few months when it was only mama who could comfort her or put her to sleep. But now I see that she is still a baby who needs me. Especially with baby # 2 coming so soon, nursing is an important tool I have to communicate with her about our physical bond. I can't rationalize with her. I can offer her my breast. There are other ways to comfort her as well. But if she is willing to nurse, I see no reason to stop offering her such comfort.

The conundrum, however, is how to offer my breast to two babies with very different needs. Baby # 2 will need to nurse on demand. My daughter will sometimes have to wait. Tell that to a seventeen-month-old. The tricky part is sleeping.

For the first ten months my daughter and I slept together. Now she is nursed to a drowsy state and then placed in her crib where she sleeps at night. She wakens, but most often can fall back asleep quickly. Many, many of my friends have babies that waken and nurse frequently through the night. Miss Iza prefers to nurse during the day. Actually she prefers to nurse and nap. By this I mean that for her nap or naps she prefers to nap while I rock her in our chair and she nurses. She stays attached throughout the entire nap. This was fine in the early months of my pregnancy as I would simply nap right along with her. And now in the later months it gives me time to nap myself and/or read a novel on my iPhone. Here is the snag: I can't possibly give her an hour or two hour nap on my breast when baby # 2 arrives. (Can I?)

Thus I have been trying to break the association between nursing and napping. She can nurse all she wants, but she needs to learn how to sleep without nursing. Try explaining that. You don't explain, of course. You do.

You develop an alternate ritual for the baby. I did this with the help of the book THE NO-CRY SLEEP SOLUTION FOR TODDLERS AND PRESCHOOLERS by Elizabeth Pantley. I was resistant to this book for quite some time (there is one for newborns too). For some reason I thought it was a sleep-training book, one of those that suggests that babies should just cry it out alone and learn to be independent. I was wrong.

Pantley gives useful advice that takes into account various parenting styles and is considerate of those who co-sleep. Basically her idea is that babies, like big people, thrive on ritual. They need a dependable pattern to anticipate. Izabella's ritual had been pure breast--it worked all the time, even if sometimes it took longer. Yes, I darkened the room, played soothing music, and told her "sleepy time" and "sh, sh, sh" each night. But each evening and every nap culminated in nursing her off to sleep.

Pantley suggests that babies can learn to fall asleep in other ways, but that it is important to be consistent so that they begin to form a habit that can be predicted and repeated by others if need be. This is key for me: the need for others to step in when needed. If baby # 2 was not on the way, I would probably be happy to nurse her to sleep for naps and in the evening. But now that I will have two nurslings, I think that it will be best for my daughter and my family if we have another way of putting her to sleep.

During the first week of trying to break the association between nursing and napping, I practiced what Pantley calls "gentle removal." I allowed Iza to nurse and as she got drowsy I would count backwards from ten to one (a suggestion from another mom) and then break her latch. The idea is to not allow her to fall asleep while nursing. She would cry and protest. I would allow her to comfort herself on the breast and repeat the removal. Tears, struggles. Repeat. When she finally began to sleep off the breast I would say "bye bye nursy" (to signal a complete end) and then place her in the crib. This worked about once. Mostly we ended up with her falling asleep in my arms, but not on the breast. This was an accomplishment. However it still meant that I had to sit with her for the entire nap time. As soon as I would try to transfer her to the crib, she would awaken and the nap would be over. A cranky afternoon was sure to follow.

This week I decided that perhaps we should work on the evening ritual. She sleeps great at night and I hate to mess with her sleeping pattern. Yet perhaps if I can remove the nursing to almost-sleep association at night, she might fall into a better napping habit. Our old habit looked something like this: dinner, bath, playtime on the bed with Tata, pajamas, then off to nurse in her room with pulled shades and soothing music.

Pantley suggests parents actually write down the new plan, giving great thought to the goals and how the new pattern will achieve those goals. As my husband is often away, I needed a plan that I could follow alone. (I probably would have tried to nurse her and then hand her off to Tata for the final cuddle off to sleep. He has on occasion put her to sleep on his own.) My new plan is this:

1. Dinner at 6 pm

2. Bath at 6:30

(eliminate play time on bed)

3. Pajamas/wearable blanket

4. Nurse in our bed practicing gentle removal

(no more nursing in her room)

5. Go to her room and together set the stage for night by a) closing shades, b) turning on music, c) saying goodnight to her bunny and her teddy, who sleep in the crib with her (these are transitional objects, i.e. comfort objects, whose use Pantley suggests)

6. Sit in our chair and read stories, drink milk from sippy cup if she wants

7. Say "sleepy time," "good night," "sh, sh, sh"

8. Place in crib, patting her and saying, "sh, sh, sh"

9. Turn off lights and leave room at 7:30

If she cries, go to her and pat her and say "sh, sh, sh."
If she continues to cry, take her to nurse on our bed and then return her to crib and pat her.

I actually had to consult my written plan before the pajamas stage to remind myself of the steps. I stuck to the plan. She did cry. I did take her into my room again to nurse. And, imagine this, she was asleep by 7:36 pm. And she slept this morning until 7:14 am. (I heard her wake and fall back asleep only once.)

I can now report that the first two days we ended up nursing back in our bedroom before she could be transitioned back to her crib. By the third night, she feel asleep around 7:30 after I place her in her crib with no need for me to return to comfort or nurse her. The fourth night we took a risk. We visited friends who live on the seaside about an hour away. We took her travel crib, bunny and teddy, pajamas/wearabable blanket, and story books. Amazingly, she went to sleep with no crying right after story time. We were then able to transfer her to car seat and later into the crib with no crying. Last night she did cry after story time and I sent in Tata to comfort her one time. Currently she sleeps from 7:30 pm to at least 7:00 am. That means this pregnant mom can get her much needed sleep before the new baby arrives!

My plan is to mimic her evening ritual in a shortened version for the naps. Perhaps she will be able to transfer her story-time-to-sleep ritual from the evening to her daytime naps.

I am doing my best with this attempt to break the association between nursing and napping because I think it may be helpful for us as a family when the new baby arrives. I don't want my daughter to wean unless she is ready. If my almost-toddler (still no walking yet!) decides to continue to nurse, then I am open to that as well. I never imagined such a thing. Yet now it seems the natural thing to do.

When I first mentioned tandem nursing to my mother, she reminded me that I had seen her tandem nurse. I had no memory of this. It turns out that she nursed my little sister and a foster child at the same time. I was four or five years old at the time, which is old enough to remember. I suppose that it was so natural at the time that my brain did not store is away as a profoundly unique snapshot. Instead it programmed my brain to see tandem nursing as something that mothers can do.

To learn more about tandem nursing--positions? timing? sleeping for mama? nutrition for mama and babies?--I have read ADVENTURES IN TANDEM NURSING: BREASTFEEDING DURING PREGNANCY AND BEYOND by Hilary Flower. It is published by La Leche League International. My local La Leche League group has been supportive as well. These woman don't bat an eye when you mention tandem nursing. For them it is not "news" like it was to me!

Note: For all you mothers who have tandem nursed, I would love to hear about your experiences! and publish your stories here if you wish.

Moving Out

I was fully aware that I could get pregnant at the time. Getting pregnant when my daughter was only eight months old, however, means that soon I will have baby brother to care for in addition to my then seventeen-month-old baby girl. Two bottoms to change. Two little people who hardly know that they exist distinct from my body. I have heard that having two is not twice the work, but ten times the work. (Funny how they never mention that is ten times the joy.) Having three, on the other hand, is a piece of cake. So they say. I say we wait a while to test out the theory about three.

Since learning about baby # 2 things have changed. Our beloved apartment (despite our absentee landlords and leaking kitchen ceiling) has been vacated. We now officially live in the suburbs. Still on the T (metro) line. Still within walking distance of all things necessary (grocery, post, park, flower store, dry cleaners, karate studio). Yet this is the burbs. And we have a home that screams "responsibility" every time our automated sprinklers kick in at 3 am. I have already met three families at the park with 2 under 2. I guess we are not alone in our path toward sleep deprivation, tiny stuffed noses, and worrisome rashes.

The move involved drama. As I have been pregnant the last two times we moved, I was happily exempted from hard labor. Movers came and packed up our stuff in one day. We were reduced to hastily packed suitcases for our last evening in the apartment. Our walk to a local greasy hamburger joint ended with mama at the Emergency Room. I had been coughing violently for almost two weeks. So violently that I caused a back spasm. It was my first. It was excruciating. Within twenty-five minutes I could no longer stand or walk. We took a cab home. Then we rushed to the hospital. I'll spare you the details. Let us just say that I believe that vocalization is good for pain relief. There were tears, moans, and expletives. They checked the baby, who was fine. After several hours I was home with painkillers and a prescription for an antibiotic for my bronchitis.

My husband took my daughter home around nine pm and put her to sleep. This was the first night that she was not nursed to sleep. He left her with our babysitter and returned to the hospital. This was the first night in her life that she was left with a sitter. It was our first night out. How sexy. I was advised to go home and drink some wine to relax. So our first date night ended with champagne (wine opener was packed) enjoyed straight from a sippy cup (all glasses were packed).

They next morning at 8 am the movers returned and started to haul our things down the three flights and into the moving truck. By Sunday night we were suburbanites.

I started this post with the intention of writing about another topic related to the changes caused by our second pregnancy. Tandem Nursing. Yes, I know, if you are like me before all this baby blitz, you are thinking, "what is that?" I can tell you that I have been thinking about the subject for months now. My little one is a dedicated nurser despite the fact that I have very little milk supply due to the pregnancy. (Yes, I am still nursing throughout pregnancy. No worries unless you have a high risk pregnancy.) The very same baby who could not latch on and nurse now does not seem interested in ever breaking the latch. Which means that this mama may have two bottoms to change AND two babies to nurse. And that is tandem nursing. And that is my next entry. Sooner I hope rather than later.

And one more note: Miss Izabella has started to use her signs. She can now sign "nurse," "eat," and tonight she started to use the sign for "more." It is really cool. Of course tonight I also started to try and break her association between nursing and sleeping. (More on that in my next entry.) And perhaps that is what prompted her to sign "more" followed by "nurse." You have to see it. Such tiny perfect hands communicating so clearly. We are working on signs for "sleep," "please," and "thank you." She also practices "glad" and "play."

Izabella's First Album

My Izabiza celebrates her first birthday today. We will have a few friends and family over to share her first dobos torte, a Hungarian cake that we ordered from the same bakery in Cleveland who created a trio of dobos for our wedding. Silly hats will be involved. And soup.

I suppose by now I should have gotten my life into some kind of order allowing me time to lovingly document Iza's first year in a photo album and scrapbook. Let's just say that I am not that kind of girl and apparently not that kind of mama either! What follows is my version of a keepsake for her. A picture may be worth a thousand words, so a thousand words should be worth a picture. I goaded myself into this project my aiming for a thousand-word portrait. Much to your boredom, perhaps, there are quite a few more than a thousand words here. Read through them like you are glancing through an album, only lingering on the one or two that draw your eye.

This is the second time I have set out to write a thousand-word portrait. The first I wrote for my stepson on the occasion of his tenth birthday. My thanks to Mary N. for sharing this writing exercise with me. She told me how she created one for her daughter to share with her during her wedding. It is a marvelous way to get your pen to paper and capture in words details that might get lost in a camera's flash.

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Izabella’s First Album

Hair. You can’t talk about Izabella unless you mention the hair. Born with a fierce black wedge of gravity-defying locks, she now has a style that causes her Tata to call her “Baby Beethoven” or “Baby Einstein.” The color has lightened to a dark brown with lighter strands. Some even swear they see just a little red in it. (We call that, “Janetics.”) By eleven months her bangs need to be secured with a cutesy barrette or they hang past her eyes. Tata recently quipped: “Mama wasn’t born with poor eyesight. Her parents just never cut her hair either!”

Miss Izabella’s first tooth emerged on the bottom and was a loner for quite some time. Soon it was joined by another tooth on the top. At almost one-year-old she had four teeth, the bottom middle two and the upper two just next to the center. This is an unusual eruption pattern. That is Iza.

The first tooth emerged on October 14th when Tata was on a business trip. It was tough going.
She had a fever and woke up crying inconsolably in the middle of the night, something she hadn’t done for months. That cute little toothers cost both baby and Mama both some sleep. After it emerged she would run her tongue over it and a look of wonder appeared on her face.

When Iza boinks over and bumps her head, she is aghast at the injustice. The tears of pure disgust at such an unwarranted injury are desperate. These tears also make an appearance if she has been tipped over by another baby at a play group, or if Mama ever so slightly bumps her head on the refrigerator door. If she wasn’t an infant, you might be tempted to call her dramatic. As it stands, however, her entire life is pure stage, each moment a study in improvisation and discovery and never saying “no.” (They say she will start to say no after age one.)

Iza has her own email account. She can be reached at: izabarabasiatgmaildotcom.

On Iza’s eleven-month birthday, she took her first lurching crawl. Tata placed his Movado wristwatch, a gift from Mama on Christmas, at the end of the bed. She wanted it. She made forward progression--lurches, face plants, never getting belly and head aloft at the same time--from one end of the bed to the other. A few days later and the she repeated the trick with greater speed if not greater dexterity.

The blue eyes were all Mama from the first time she gazed at the world.

When other mamas see Iza twist and curl and do impossible yoga moves, they are impressed by her flexibility. When her mama sees her move in such unorthodox ways, she thinks that she will find her own way to get from A to Z.

Those that know Tata’s mother agree that Miss Iza looks just like her nagymama. She even sometimes has the same demeanor—a true lady, dignified and regal; quick to enjoy a good laugh; easily mortified.

Iza had her first solid food at six months and a few weeks. Mama fed her mashed up banana from her finger. It was in Csikszereda and nagymama was there too. Iza liked it. A few weeks later and she wouldn’t eat bananas. A few weeks later and that is all she would eat.

Some of her favorite first foods: parsnips, butternut squash, avocado, beet, and carrot purees. Occasionally prune puree has been administered to get things moving.

Some purees that produce a yucky face: green beans, peas, broccoli, and cauliflower.

Iza sat up unsupported at 7 months plus one day.

Iza has grown into quite a party girl. Except for a transient fear of Victor and Jorge, she loves people. She may be a grump at home, but take her on the T and she is Miss Social Butterfly--all smiles and waves and coy little glances from the safety of Mama's arms.

Before Iza turns one-year-old, she will have traveled to the following places: Kansas (twice), Indiana (three times), Washington DC, The Dominican Republic (weekend trip for my sister’s wedding), Hungary, Romania, and Japan.

Iza was exclusively breastfed for the first six months plus a few weeks. This is notable because Mama had to pump and feed her from a bottle for the first six weeks before we switched entirely to the breast. Miss Iza had difficulty latching and Mama had to figure out how nursing really works. For a while it appeared that Mama might be forced to choose between pumping continuously, an awful experience, and using formula. (To place this in context, since 1997, The American Academy of Pediatrics has recommended breast milk as the exclusive food for the first six months, and that breast milk remain the main source of nutrition with a mixture of solid foods for the first year of life. Despite this recommendation, The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (C.D.C) reported that only 14% of babies were exclusively breastfed for the first sixth months in the state of Massachusetts. And only 21.7% were still breastfed at one year of age.)

Iza didn’t use a pacifier. Well, she didn’t use a plastic one! Mama is her pacifier. Those four teeth, however, do get a bit ouchy now and again, probably due to her shallow latch.

Iza and Mama slept most or part of the night together until she was ten months. After they returned from Japan, the family was so discombobulated that major changes took place in sleep patterns almost without any control. By eleven months Iza was nursed to sleep in the rocker and then transferred to her crib where she slept until around 7 am. This change seemed to work for everyone. (Mama was sad to see the bed-sharing end. They still occasionally nap together in the daytime. And in the morning she takes Iza into her bed to nurse and nap as they reconnect at the start of the day.)

At ten months Iza started to wave and clap her hands with great enthusiasm. When she sees Tata, he always gets a smile, a wave, and a few claps. At eleven months she would clap if she heard applause on the radio. Also at eleven months she waved when she heard Dani say “szia” to her over the speaker phone.

Her first bath all by herself was at eleven months. Up until then Mama or Tata would join her in the tub. When Mama gave her a bath and Tata was not at home, she would prepare a bath mat and a towel on the floor where she would lay her down while she toweled off. These days Iza is not content to lie there and giggle at her fresh-from-the-tub Mama. She wants to squirm and sit up and get into the trash can. One night Tata was gone and Mama realized that it just wasn’t going to work. So she sat next to Iza while she bathed alone. Iza loved it. It exhausted Mama to keep up with her curious explorations all around the tub. Who knew the ceramic soap dish was so fascinating?

Iza spent her first Christmas in Kansas. Grandma gave her a Cabbage Patch Doll. She wore her black velvet dress with the red plaid trim, white tights, red shoes, and her red flower barrette to Christmas Eve mass. (Mama neglected to take the requisite photo of her in Christmas attire next to the adorned tree.)

Iza has yet to enjoy the process of having her nails done.

Mama fell in love with black pearls the fall before Iza was born. Tata gave her a beautiful ring with a single black pearl for her birthday. She wore it for the rest of her pregnancy and even wore it in labor and while giving birth to baby Iza. When Iza was quite small Mama decided that she would save the ring for Izabella.

Iza has not quite figured out that she will love talking to Grandma via Skype video calls. She will. Mama loves it!

Iza’s first word (at almost eleven months): “ball .” Mama is pretty sure she was using English to indicate her love for her little, round, bouncy ball. As Dani pointed out, however, “bal” means left in Hungarian. So her first word was bilingual!

The first time Mama left Iza in another person’s care was in Japan. Mama left her upstairs in the hotel room with a babysitter hired by our hosts while she and Tata and Dani were downstairs at an award ceremony. She was alone with the babysitter for almost two hours! Mama kept her cell phone clutched in her hand, waiting for it to buzz her back to nurse and cuddle little Iza.

Zsofia was Iza’s first “mommy’s helper.” She came to our apartment a few times a week for a few months to allow Mama to take a shower, step out for lunch, etc.

Mama wishes that we had a grandparent, sibling, an aunt or uncle, or even a cousin within several hours travel! Iza is extremely lucky, however, to have Big Brother near us. He moved with his family to Newton in the fall of 2008, a mere ten minute drive! He is patient and playful with her. He takes great pride in being her big brother and has been an amazing help to me, both taking care of her and helping me too! There was one week when Tata had to travel to Europe and Dani, who was thirteen and getting ready to enter the eighth grade, volunteered to spend the week with us just so that he could help take care of Izabella.

Izabella was born at 1:30 pm on a Friday afternoon.

Mama’s favorite time of the day: after Iza’s bath when she is warm and naked and wiggles across the bed. She usually needs to have some of her giggles extracted so that she won’t explode during her dreams.

Grandma Kelley was Iza’s first expert rocker. She stayed with Iza for nearly four weeks and rocked her for hours on end. By now Mama is an expert rocker too. She often can’t bear to put her in her crib for an afternoon nap and so joins Iza by taking a nap with her as they rock.

Isis Maternity is a retail and educational center for parents. Miss Iza is only two T stops away from Isis and within walking distance (in warm weather) and she has spent a lot of time there. Even before she was born Mama and Tata took childbirth classes and Mama took prenatal yoga there. After Iza was born she attended Great Beginnings, Next Steps, Caterpillars, and Movers and Groovers classes. Each class features play time—singing and toys—and mama topics to discuss and share.

Izabella Kelley Barabasi, at nearly one-year-old, is otherwise known as Iza, IzaBiza, BizzyBee, BellaBaby, BellaMia, Biza, BizaBee, Elizabella, IzalaBizala, IzaB., Bells, Mia, Izuka, as well as, Noodle, Plum, Sweet Pea, Honey Bear, Sugar, Sunshine and Pie.

2008 Names and Izabella’s Future Playmates: Isabella is ranked number four, much to our surprise. Emma is first, followed by Sophia, and fifth is OIivia. For boys Aiden is the most popular, followed by Jayden, Ethan, Jacob, and Caden.

Izabella knows a Sophia. Mama met her mother, Rebeca, in a prenatal yoga class and Miss Iza is two days older than baby Sophia. They have seen each other almost every week since they were about ten weeks old. Izabella’s other little friend is baby Ixa. I met her mother, Akesha, in mommy-and-baby yoga class. They live nearby in Brookline Village. When Iza was 11 months, we started a “Music Together” class with Ixa and Akesha.

Izabella has been a big help to Tata as he writes his new book. When she was younger, she would play on the bed while he typed, giving Mama an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Now she is an expert at scanning in his new chapters.

Mama found out that Iza was going to be a big sister when Iza was about 9 months old. She told Tataon November 4th, the night Barack Obama became the President-Elect. She had tried to give him (Tata, not Obama) hints, but it wasn’t working. So she put a big red bow on her tummy and showed him the positive pregnancy test. Hooray!

Iza at one-years-old enjoys the occasional You Tube moment viewed on Mama’s iPhone. Her favorite so far is a short clip of the Smurfs in Hungarian. Good taste. View it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ao99RIKyd8

The best advice Mama received: No matter how wonderful things are going or how terrible things might seem, they will change. She heard this mantra at a La Leche League Meeting (one of two she was able to attend in Izabella’s first year) from another new mom, who had heard it from another new mom, etc. Wise women, indeed.

Notes After Japan

I recently traveled to Japan with my 9-month-old daughter, stepson, and husband.

Of note:

Having arrived home less than 8 hours ago, I have already forgotten the sheer physical angst (yes, physical angst) of an infant in meltdown on a plane. Poor girl. Night and day suddenly become day and night and she is literally turned inside out upside down. Rubbing her blue eyes, rimmed with red and dark half moons beneath. She cries. She can't sleep. She can't nurse. She just cries. Yes, I have forgotten the tears (hers and mine). The amazing thing is how she rebounds. Desperation at noon, flirty smiles for passengers five minutes later.

Having eaten sushi at The Source, the Fish Market in Tokyo, I have to admit: I am more of a Kobe steak girl. I just can't quite bring myself to relish in the cold flesh that is sushi. I don't dislike it. But deep down it oogs me out just a bit. I am okay with a rare, bloody steak. But raw fish somehow just doesn't satiate me. I'll keep trying.

The Japanese are precise, polite, and polite. Yes, polite times two.

I love the bow. It is so much easier than the awkward, "should I kiss one cheek or two--or not kiss at all" question at stake with European friends. It is simple and deeply reverent still. It has room for humor. It can say it all. On the bullet train between Kyoto and Tokyo the conductor would turn to the entire car and bow before exiting. Each time she entered and exited. It injects a bit of Zen into each day. This must be healthy.

On every corner: vending machines with drinks.

I love the bento box. Cubicles of foods I can't name. A surprise in every lacquered square.

FYI: pregnant ladies in Japan eat sushi. (BTW pregnant ladies in France drink red wine and eat unpasteurized cheese.)

Tokyo is clean. Spotless. Shiny, especially at night. And yet you can not find a garbage can to save your life. There are recycling bins. But what to do with a dirty diaper?

Speaking of diaper changes, the Japanese have excellent baby changing facilities in the department stores. The best I have seen.

Places we visited:
Kyoto: Daisen-in Zen Garden at Daitoku-ji and Kinkaku-ji (the Golden Pavilion);
Nikko: Tosho-gu Shrine and Nikko Edo Village;
Tokyo: Tsukiji Fish Market, Roggongi area, the Imperial Palace, National Diet Building, Ginza area--high end shopping, The Sony building, Akihabara--the several blocks of high-tech wares and anime products galore, and Takeshita-dori (to see the funky teen scene).

We mastered the metro.

Number of times we were stopped because a local Japanese person wanted to take Izabella's picture: once.

The gifts: the giving of gifts, small symbolic items, is automatic. For the Japanese. For us it caused a bit of strife. What to give? To whom? When? Do we unwrap in front of them? But it is a tradition that reinforces gratitude. Words inevitably fail. A small gift can speak your kindest intentions even when your words fumble.

I turned 34 years of age while in Tokyo. I got a kiss and chocolates.

Truth: I did have a gathering moment in a Starbucks. I needed to nurse the baby and was too tired to nurse in the Ergo while walking. You should know: there is no decaf option available for espresso drinks (at the one Starbucks we visited).

Number of times we were interviewed by the local press: once. (We looked clueless and were holding a cute baby = perfect subjects for an evening news spot about tourists.)

We learned that you do not need to tip. We left a small tip after our breakfast the first morning. The patroness literally ran after us on the street to return it. Later we asked a Japanese friend and we were told that there is no habit of tipping in restaurants or even cabs.

We hauled the stroller all the way there. Times we used it: once.

The shopping in Tokyo: endless. Yet we managed only to buy a few souvenirs for family and nothing for ourselves. It was overwhelming. Besides we had *ahem* over packed for the week. (Our arrival required an entourage to assist with luggage.)

True story: I missed dinner two nights in a row because Iza decided that it was bedtime at 5 or 6 pm local time. (I was so tired that I went to sleep with her both nights.) After missing two dinners, I ate three sandwiches for lunch. Three.

If you leave a disposable plastic baby spoon or cup in a restaurant, you will be chased down and have it returned to you nicely cleaned.

Iza sat up for the first time all on her own. She did it my starting on her belly and pushing back into a seated position. She was quite delighted.

Iza also managed to do the work of breaking a new tooth. Hooray! Total teeth: two.

In the end, regarding Japan....

Conclusion: more, please. The question, when?

Pleasure

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The Pleasure Principle

Little ones are created in pleasure. Our bodies are designed to feel physical and emotional pleasure exactly in the act that has procreative potential. Otherwise, why do it over and over? We are biologically programmed to return again and again to the sex act. We might as well revel in the moment and its fruits, namely, our little ones.

There are some parenting schools of thought that have forgotten the pleasure principle in raising the tiny baby who comes into the world a bundle of nerves, more sentient than conscious. The phrase "schools of thought" should be a red flag. The tendency is to succumb to the intellect in the effort to do the best for the child's sake. Instead of our reason, I think the center of parenting practice in those initial months should be the element of pleasure.

Those hot little infant bodies are designed to nestle on a mama's or tata's chest. A woman's breasts are designed to enable her to lie down and feed her little one in the comfort and relaxation of a shared bed. The complex cocktail of a mama’s hormones released at the birth compels her body to protect and celebrate a little body that is her flesh incarnate. (I was a mama ape as I cradled my baby in my arms and buried my nose deep into her crevices. Her hair, fiercely dark and mohawkish, was oily from my touch.) The baby is not a separate entity delivered by fairy tale stork. It is her and her partner's flesh. The mother recognizes that the being of the child is utterly part of her and entirely new. The baby is perfect because it is a perfect expression of pleasure.

It gives me pleasure to sleep with my baby. The first few weeks she slept skin-to-skin on my chest, our bare flesh touching at our hearts. I did this because she was not able to latch and nursing looked like it might be impossible for us. Those were some of the most difficult times I have ever faced and yet now I grateful that her inability to latch gave me permission to hold her so close. This initial bond made it seem natural to sleep with her and to carry her in a sling as much as possible. The idea of her sleeping in a separate room or even riding for extended periods in a baby carriage created cognitive dissonance. It felt wrong. It felt painful for me. Again, the pleasure principle compelled me to be near her both emotionally, which all new parents share, and also physically, which too many parents deny themselves.

And what about the baby? Was I only giving into my own selfish desires to have her near me? Would she have been better off in a crib? There are schools of thought that say just that. I contend the following: NO ONE KNOWS. Especially the experts. And the little ones aren't talking. They are crying. So I have to follow my instincts. My biology compels me to have her near. It compelled me to hear her cries, those newborn cries that were plaintive and wrenching, as just that, cries that directed my actions to go to her and comfort her when she needed it.

Again yesterday another woman "confessed" to me that she still sleeps with her three-year-old daughter. Her pediatrician husband is embarrassed about it. But she isn't. She said that she looks forward to sleeping with her each night. I have heard several moms confess that they have "given in" and taken a nap with their little one. It is as if they are afraid that they will spoil their children by giving into what biology directs them to do.

All too soon they will sleep alone. Then they will be off to college. I say that part of parenting is giving yourself permission to take pleasure in the nurturing act.

Every child is unique. Every parent and every parenting situation is unique. Thus each household will have its own patterns and make choices that fit their philosophies and lifestyles. There is more than one way to raise a child. Yet I wish that more mommas would give up the crib and settle in for an afternoon nap with a baby who will soon be free to explore the limits of their world with the deep physical knowledge that they have a safe and soft--a pleasurable--place to land. Independence at its deepest is dependence.