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Shelved and Floored

Last week I finally cracked open several boxes of kids’ clothes and pulled out the little boy stuff. It was all the little sweaters and t-shirts and adjustable-waisted pants that I’d been holding onto in case we ever had another baby boy. Now that Mary is officially a year old, I’m fairly confident she’s staying a girl. That makes two girls in this house and a need for more and more closet space. So I hauled FIVE boxes of boys clothing into the dining room, sorted it according to size and packed it all into the back of a friend’s station wagon. Sweet.

I only had to break down two or three empty boxes and bring them out to the recycling bin and my job would be done. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “I’ll get around to that later.”

I left the empty boxes stacked neatly in the corner of the dining room overnight, dear readers.

Here are the crime scene photos:

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Now, I’m no CSI agent, but there appear to be children’s books, greeting cards and art gallery brochures strewn across the floor.

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And on chairs.

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And in boxes.

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Not so much on shelves.

There weren’t many books on the one kiddie bookshelf in the dining room or on ANY of the shelves up in their bedroom or down in the playroom. And ALSO, when did Colum start reading Macleans? All this time he could have been catching me up on current affairs!
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But the jokes on them. Because there was no way I was going to sift and sort through an entire bookshelf’s worth of kids’ books without weeding them out. I easily filled a box full of old colouring books and magazines, stray pages, comic book covers and anything torn to pieces or shredded to bits.

This time I brought them out to the recycling bin right away. I wasn’t born yesterday.

There was also some sweet baby cousin action over the Thanksgiving weekend. For your viewing pleasure:

Fwd: Mary 2

It’s a bad idea to encourage the kids to play with the pantry just so I get to clean that out too, right?

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Happy Thanksgiving

It’s Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend which means all I have to do is make a cheese sauce to bring to my in laws for dinner. Sweet.

Remember as kids when there was this yawning eternity between holidays you couldn’t even bear to wait until the next one? Now one holiday leads into another and I feel like I am constantly stressing about an upcoming birthday or occasion. Like, I  haven’t even put away the coffee urn from Mary’s birthday party (shut up) and I’m already buying Halloween costumes and thinking about what we’ll do for Irene this year. Plus there’s Thanksgiving, a family wedding and holiday planning is already rearing it’s tinseled head.

I should probably try to revel in the present a little bit more and plan to do so this weekend. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, whether you’re going whole hog turkey, pot luck or take out.

In “can’t get enough of me” news, I wrote a couple things elsewhere this week:

  • A defense of letting a big kid ride in the stroller for Today’s Parent
  • And a personal essay about how I used Barbies to keep playing with dolls (read keep engaging in narrative-driven creative play) long after I should have been “too old” for dolls on the Barbie I Can Be FB page
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Guess the age/weight/sex! Step right up!

I popped into the drugstore to pick up a couple things and was standing at the cash, Mary on my hip.

“Aw, how cute,” said the cashier, “How many months? Eight?”

I was fumbling around in my purse, digging and digging for my bank card. If you don’t know, why guess? Anyway, I was grateful to no longer care in the least if a stranger thinks my baby looks too small, too young, too bald, too cold or too hungry.

“Twelve actually. She just turned a year. Do I swipe or insert?”

“Oh.”  She looked taken aback. “So is she walking yet?”

There was a weird glint in her eye, a tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Yes, she’s just starting to walk,” I say, punching in my PIN code.

“She looks like a boy,” she said. And here it comes. “But I noticed her pink socks.”

So proud. She was so proud that she noticed the socks and was able to correctly guess at the baby’s sex so as not to offend me by guessing wrong. She was so proud that she had to brag about how she could tell my baby was a girl even though she clearly looks like a boy. Because that’s so much better.

Isn’t it so good to not care about this kind of thing anymore? Ohmygod.

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Stuff I’m Digging: Tablet in the House

I’ve been running a pretty low-tech household for someone who spends half her life on the internet. We have one TV and DVD player in the living room, a laptop computer, a couple smartphones and a 2G iPod touch with a cracked screen. That’s it. There’s been no video game systems — no Xbox, no Wii, no DS, no PSanything, nada — no desktop computer and no magical fridge that will place grocery orders for you and have them delivered to your door. (Why is that fridge not a thing yet?!)

Until now.

Rogers generously gave me a Samsung Galaxy Tab 8.9 LTE so I could see how it fits into our family. And, boy, does it fit.

And tablet makes six.

I had been in possession of the new Galaxy Tab for all of ten minutes before I started using it as a bribe. So much more effective than cookies, let me tell you! But that is also how Angry Birds became the first thing downloaded to the tablet and how I really didn’t get to play with it myself until the next day.

Eventually, I did get a chance to hang out with the Tab and get to know its ins and outs. I really like using it for online recipes in the kitchen and it’s a fairly good e-reader as long as you’re not trying to read in the backyard while your two little girls nap in the car — damn you, sunlight!  It has a half-decent camera, and if you suddenly need to record your baby’s first steps, you’ll be able to hang onto several thirty second videos of her falling out of the frame to show to your grandchildren.

For the most part, though, it’s good for games (and helps postpone the inevitable whining and begging for an actual video game system) and it’s really, really good for TV and movies.

Rogers has given me limited-time access to the full slew of their Anyplace TV on-demand programming that compliments your cable subscription (limited-time for me since I don’t have cable).  But even without cable, Rogers internet, home phone and wireless customers can access a decent selection of  shows and movies. So, streaming from Sportsnet on Anyplace TV,  Colum can actually watch a Blue Jays game for the first time. Colum can watch a game while Irene watches cartoons on TV and I cook dinner. (Mary is presumably pulling books off the shelf and eating rasins off the floor.)

I can even let Colum take the tablet up to his room to watch the last inning in bed without all the concerns that go with having an actual TV in a kid’s bedroom.

Plus, since it’s an Android, you can stream anything that runs on Flash, too, which opens up a whole range of viewing options. I even sprung for the $40 HDTV adaptor so we can use the tablet to stream things right onto our TV.

You guys, I’ve been watching a lot of tv. A lot, a lot. I’m all caught up on the new Parenthood episodes and also, ahem, season 2 of Grey’s. Is Derek going to leave his wife for Meredith?? I have no idea how this will end! It’s really not good. I may need an intervention.

My own personal productivity issues aside, I really like the versatility of the tablet for our family. It fills the technology gap left by the sad passing of my dear Acer and more. And maybe one day I’ll even let the kids download a second game.

Who else has a tablet or iPad at home? What more can I be doing with mine? 

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Bath Time, Baby

This post and giveaway are sponsored by Mustela.

Ah, bath time.

Don’t you cherish those quiet moments with your babies? There’s the squeals of delight as they learn to splash and the soft suds on their newborn skin. There’s the classic baby bath-time fauxhawk and the little hooded towels and the smell of fresh clean baby as you nuzzle their bare bodies.

I’ve got to admit, I had to go pretty deep into the vault to pull out those memories. Because, dude, three kids. Bath time is less like a mini spa experience and more like hosing down the elephants at the zoo. Well, if the elephants were really, really dirty with fingernails that could kill a man.

Sometimes Irene hops into the shower with me, but usually I do all three kids in the bath in one go. Well, we take shifts. First baby Mary gets her turn and then Irene will hop in with her. I pull out Mary and then Colum hops in with Irene and they play while I towel Mary off and get her into her pjs. Then I put her into bed or hand her over to Ed if he’s home and tackle Irene’s hair and nag encourage Colum to try to wash his own body.

It’s really a shame, actually, since Mary LOVES her bath like neither of my other kids ever did. The other two were hot and cold, going through phases where they seemed to enjoy it and others where just the sight of lukewarm soapy water was enough to trigger a full-on melt down. But not Mary. She has loved every single minute of every single bath since the day she was born.

So it was pretty nice to get to write this post for Mustela because it forced me to slow down and enjoy the experience with her. I hardly even called out to the other kids to please, please, for the love of all that is holy and good, stop that and go to your room and get undressed. I focused on Mary and her giggles and her little baby toes and her little baby bum and her little baby elbow dimples. I dwelled on all her little baby bits that are getting ever bigger and will soon be giant, dirty kid parts and it was good.

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Baby fauxhawk!

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DIY wall tiles. Oh dear.

 

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Best smile in the history of the world.

The Mustela newborn cleansing gel itself was really nice too. It’s hypoallergenic, alcohol-free, paraben-free, phthalate-free, phenoxyethanol-free and all of that good stuff. It’s used in hospital nurseries around the world and they apparently say in France, “Mustela çà sent le bébé!” This is the first time I have ever used any Mustela product, but as soon as I took Mary out of the bath and breathed in her baby freshness I thought, yes, this is exactly how a baby should smell.

CONTEST CLOSED

Congrats Stephanie!

But try it out for yourself! Shoppper’s Drugmart carries Mustela or WIN their Dermo-Cleansing newborn gel right here. Leave me a comment telling me whether or not your baby loves or hates the bath and I’ll draw a winner next Tuesday, October 9 at midnight using random.org. CANADA only.

Although this post has generously been sponsored by Mustela, the opinions and language are all my own.

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Thanksgiving Dinner Survival Tips

Thanksgiving is upon us once again and with it the warm and fuzzy memories of holiday time spent with family in years past. Let me tell you a story.

Ed and I were newlyweds or maybe we weren’t even married yet. We definitely didn’t have any children. I was at his parents’ home helping to prep for Thanksgiving dinner and went down to the basement to get something from the fridge. Upon returning to the kitchen, Ed’s sister said, “Rebecca. Is it true that you like the turkey neck?!” “What? No!”

And thus I narrowly avoided a lifetime of Thanksgiving turkey neck dinners.

Because while I’d been in the basement, my mother-in-law was planning on saving and preparing the neck. When my sister-in-law and her boyfriend started to make fun of the idea they were shushed. “Rebecca likes the neck,” she hissed. And, of course, if she had been labouring under the mistaken idea that I love turkey necks and had gone to the trouble of cooking the neck just from me, I would have eaten it. Because that’s the way I was raised. And, choking back bits of gristle, I would have raved about how delicious it is. Because that’s the way I was raised. And then how do you ever back out of being served your very own special turkey neck year after year? You don’t.

Navigating the minefield choppy waters delightful challenges *ahem* of holiday dinners with your extended family can be tricky. So here are a few points to keep in mind this Thanksgiving, no matter what part of the turkey you’re feasting on.

  1. Pitch in: Help with the prep or the cooking or the table setting. Cut up some bread, serve some wine. At the very least help clear the table and take a shift washing dishes. It’s the right thing to do and, very often, it really is the best way to visit with the host. You may even keep a turkey neck off your dinner plate by showing up early!
  2. Enjoy what you can: You may be a vegetarian or a vegan or on a gluten-free diet. Maybe you just can’t handle onions or parsley or whatever. You already know there’s going to be stuff you can’t eat; you’re used to it. A good host will try to make an alternative main, but that doesn’t always happen. So if you end up with a plate of undressed salad and some roasted squash, just remember that it’s about more than the food. Depending on who’s cooking, you could be lucky you didn’t have to eat that stuffing after all!
  3. Meet people halfway: Sitting beside Aunt Rhonda and hearing about her lap dogs trip to the vet might not be your idea of a good time, but at least she has a story to tell. Be a good guest and come prepared with a couple stories and conversation points to bring up with various people. There’s nothing worse than awkward silences and, in many cases, the further you can steer the table talk away from politics and religion, the better.
  4. Let things slide with the kids: I’ve learned from a long series of trial and error that holiday dinners are not the time or place for making sure your kids eats their veggies. Actually, try to ply them with some raw veggie sticks and fresh fruit early in the day, so you’re not even tempted to worry about it. I do believe in sitting the kids at the main table and offering them the dinner everyone is having, but chances are they’ve already snacked on olives and bread sticks and are saving room for pie. It’s fine.
  5. Don’t get sloppy: Getting drunk may seem like a good idea, oh boy, may it ever. But overindulging does very little to help in-law and extended family relations. Remember that time Uncle Gord got out the video camera and then fell on the dog? Yeah. Don’t be Uncle Gord. Do keep a nice bottle at home to look forward to, though. You’ll deserve it.

What am I forgetting? There are so many variables, it’s hard to list them all. I want to hear your best “getting through holiday dinner” tips.

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Oh Me, Oh My, Oh Lunches (Tips and Giveaway)

Giveaway alert! $100 Metro gift card and lunch kit. Ontario residents only.

CONTEST CLOSED

I had such good intentions when it came to school lunches. I really did.

I read all the parenting magazines and websites and blogs and made mental notes about ingredients and containers and recipes. I was going to tape a list of lunch ideas to the inside of my pantry door, so I’d always know what my options were. I was going flip through magazines with Colum and talk about what he might like to try. I was going to make lunch the night before every single day.

Let’s fast forward to this morning, shall we? We slept in an extra half hour because Ed and I are basically overgrown teenagers who can’t manage to put themselves to bed at a reasonable hour. I rushed downstairs to where the kids were watching TV. (Because they’d apparently forgot that we never watch TV before school?) But it was just as well since all of their clean school clothes were still piled in a heap on the couch. I made them get dressed and eat breakfast and then entered panic mode.

I had not gone grocery shopping over the weekend like I usually do and pickings were slim, let me tell you. I made a HUGE diversion from the ham and cheese sandwiches I slapped together all last week by making …. wait for it … ham and cheese tortilla rolls! (Why I thought we needed the lifetime supply-sized bag of tortillas from Costco is anybody’s guess, but we will be wrapping, rolling or otherwise flat breading everything all week.)

I tucked that into his lunch container with sides of carrot sticks and raisins — literally the only fruit and veg I had on hand. Then I tucked in a few (multigrain!) crackers for his snack. Irene was sent with a snack of, you guessed it, carrots, raisins and crackers. I pretty much threw their school bags at them as Ed pushed them out the door and then they all ran like hell to catch the school bus.

There has got to be a better, less stressful, way to deal with school lunches. I mean, I read the magazines (hell, I write for the magazines!), so I know that there is.

Metro grocery teamed up with celebrity chef Donna Dooher and put together some tips and ideas for “packing lunches that are healthy, cost-effective, time friendly and full of variety.” And then they emailed them to me! I’m pretty sure they’re only one step away from actually making them for me now.

Here are my favourites:

  • “Include fresh fruit but don’t shy away from a small treat. Even if your child eats this first, it will whet their appetite and entice them to finish the rest of their lunch.” This definitely works for Irene. Sometimes her pickiness is rooted in actual hunger and eating something, anything, will make her realize she just needs to eat.
  • “Try to work in protein like chickpeas and lentils as a compliment to the dish instead of the main ingredient to ensure a balanced diet that young taste buds won’t shy away from.” My kids are much more likely snack on a few chickpeas than eat a whole chickpea salad. Brilliant.
  • “Purchase in bulk– When shopping for lunch snacks like yogurt or cottage cheese, buying the large container and dividing it into reusable containers each day will be friendly to your wallet and our environment.” The schools are all pushing for litterless lunches anyway, so it just makes sense to skip the single serving sizes.
  •  “Prepare ahead of time – If you’ve got a busy week ahead, take some time on Sunday evening to chop veggies and fruits so they are ready to divvy up into reusable containers in the mornings when the family is in a rush.” I know, duh. But I still never do it. How much longer am I going to keep paying for my laziness? Sheesh.
  • “Ask for help – Allowing the kids to help make their own lunches not only provides them with an understanding of what goes into a well balanced meal, it provides you with an extra set of hands in the kitchen to help speed up the process!” Right, so I’m not going to be doing this one this year because I don’t want making lunches to become my new career. But if your kids are older (or just more mature) than mine it totally makes sense.
  • Mix up the staples – If your munchkins are tired of traditional sandwiches, try swapping out sliced bread for Irresistibles Life Smart bagels, tortillas, raisin bread or pita pockets for a quick fix and a little variety.” Hey, what do you know? Swapping the sliced bread for a tortilla was the right thing to do this morning after all!

And my favourite recipe is Tortilla Sushi and not just because of the metric ton of tortillas sitting on the kitchen counter right now, either.

 

Tortilla Sushi

INGREDIENTS:
4 – 8 inch
1 cup
2
½
½
1 cup

Irresistibles Life Smart tortilla wraps
Life Smart hummus
carrots, shredded
red bell pepper, thinly sliced
English cucumber, peeled and thinly sliced
fresh spinach leaves, chopped

METHOD:
Lay tortillas flat and spread evenly with hummus.
Place the vegetables down half the tortilla.
Sprinkle chopped spinach over the vegetables.
Roll up tortilla snugly.
Cut into 1 ½ inch slices and serve.

This is an incredibly versatile technique. You can use whole wheat, flour tortillas or a gluten-
free option. The sky’s the limit on the fillings; chopped leftover chicken mixed with tzatziki
can be added and you can substitute the hummus with baba ghanoush or your kids’ favourite
spread or dip.

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

And that’s not all!

Here's what you'll get + the $100 gift card.

Metro is also giving away a back-to-school essential lunch kit including lunch bag, thermos, water bottle and snacks AND an Air Miles bonus card preloaded with 285 reward miles (which gets you $30 in groceries) AND a $100 Metro gift card.

Leave me a comment with your worst lunch peeve to enter. ONTARIO residents only, sorry. Contest closes on Monday Oct. 1st at midnight. Winner will be chosen using random.org.

We have a winner! Lucky number 1! Congrats, Margaret.

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Word on the Street-ing

My goodness, is the season for a giant hockey bag in front of my dryer upon us already? Nobody told me to budget another 1000 square feet for sporting equipment when we were buying a house!

But there you have it. Hockey started yesterday and now I need to hoist a bag that’s bigger than all three of my children around the laundry/mud room in order to fish clean underwear out of the dryer in the mornings. Stop judging! I know you’ve done it too.

Hockey started yesterday morning, the same morning Ed was slotted to read an excerpt from his upcoming book at the Word on the Street festival. Huh, this was going to be tricky. We somehow had to get Ed and Colum off the ice and changed into street clothes and downtown in half an hour. Or I could just bring Colum to hockey myself with the two girls in tow.

SO, as I was saying, Ed had to figure out how to get downtown stat. Listen, hockey is their thing and far be it from me to come between them. Also, you don’t want the poor boy sent out with his athletic cup on upside down again, do you?

They cut out of the practice early and I met them at the arena with the two girls and we all drove downtown together. The idea was that Ed would check in at the tent where he was reading and I would find parking and then bring the kids down to watch. We’d hang out after until Ed’s scheduled radio interview and then head home.

That’s what I thought the plan was. Instead, we found parking at the far north end of the festival while Ed was reading at the far south end. (Bloor to College Streets, if you know Toronto. It was SPRAWLING this year.) So we set off on foot, passing the giant TVO stage and all the awesome children’s publishers as soon as we entered the festival. Sorry kids, we’re going to listen to Dad read first. We kept walking, past a row of port-a-potties, past all the food stands, right down to the foot of Queen’s Park. We were just … about …

“Emergency!” Colum was hopping around. “Bathroom emergency! Can’t hold it! Can’t hold it!”

I look at the time: 11: 27. We would have been just on time. So I drag all three kids back up past all the food stands to where there was a row of port-a-potties. Let’s pretend this went smoothly and I never once tried to guilt trip my kid for having to use the bathroom right when his dad was about to read. Because that would have been wrong.

We finally make it back down to the bottom of Queen’s Park … and then keep on going. This is when I realize  I don’t actually know where Ed is reading after all. By the time we make it to the very bottom-most tent, the reading is over and he’s taking questions from the audience. “This must be for grown ups,” Irene notes, “Because it’s BORING.” “What do kids care about the mayor?!” Colum chimed in.

I let the kids run around a statue of John A. Macdonald for half an hour before Ed and I realize there won’t be time to hang out with him before his next engagement after all. So then we start making the trek all the way BACK up to Bloor St. But not so fast with the TVO Stage, kids!

Bonus detour! We need to feed the parking metre first.

Eventually we do make it to the stage and Colum and Irene made their way to the front just in time for the show to end. We all sat patiently for 15 minutes waiting for the next show (because at this point in our day 15 minutes is nothing). The sun was coming down so strong and hard during that wait in the middle of the road with nary a leaf for shade that I pulled off all the kids’ sweaters and tried not to break into a sweat trying to contain a 12 month old in a crowd.

Then the kids from Pop It! came on and taught the kids some dance moves. That was fun. Then there was an author interview. That was less fun, but we were staying firmly planted. I opened the front of my button down shirt and started nursing Mary, hoping maybe she’d drift off to sleep. And that’s the exact moment the sky opened up and it started pouring.

I was left scrambling around in a downpour, trying to keep Colum and Irene from running off in different directions, trying to get sweaters back on and pick up my purse, and oh god, my shirt is still open and oh no! Not my fancy, new HTC! Keep the tech dry!

So we found shelter under a tree, Ed came and met us, it stopped raining, the kids really enjoyed the next TVO stage show, they got to meet Polkaroo and we went home with an armful of Chirp, Chickadee and Owl back issues.

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Watching

Polka too

It was a good day, all in all, and I would totally recommend taking your kids to Word On the Street if you’re in Toronto.

Has anyone else ever been? Did your kids have fun?

 

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Breastfeeding happens at the breast

So, breastfeeding.

There is always breastfeeding versus formula feeding drama on the internet, but I mostly stay out of it. I stay out of it because I don’t know that there’s anything more to say. Who doesn’t know that breastfeeding is your best first choice for baby feeding? Adding more voices to the chorus simply adds to the breastfeeding pressure mothers feel. Mothers like Casey from Moosh in Indy who says, “Can you imagine someone who suffers from dry eye syndrome being accosted for putting eye drops in their eyes? “Those have chemicals in them! THEY ARE UNNATURAL! What, are you so selfish that you can’t bother to cry your own tears?”

And of course we don’t mean it that way! Of course, we are only trying to promote a culture of breastfeeding support and acceptance. But women, emotionally fragile brand new mothers, are made to feel like they have somehow failed. They feel that way and they shouldn’t have to. So I tend not to say much.

Anyway, many of the people who do speak out in favour of breastfeeding rights and support do such a great job. They have got it covered. (Holla Annie PhD in Parenting, KellyMom and Blacktating just off the top of my head.)

But. You had to know there was a but coming. But today I do want to say something.

We really do have such a long way to go. It’s so easy to assume, having lived and breathed parenting and breastfeeding literature for over six years now, that the basics are common knowledge. I assumed, at least, that in a top-rated, state of the art labour and delivery ward in downtown Toronto, the L&D nurses would encourage breastfeeding immediately following an uncomplicated vaginal delivery. I didn’t expect them to advise the mother “to just bond” with her instead, as if bonding was not something that happens at the breast as well.

Nor did I expect a nurse from that same hospital (*cough cough* Mt. Sinai *cough cough*) to deem a mother’s nipples unacceptable and declare “this isn’t going to work” within 14 hours of a baby’s birth. Formula was introduced right away, no instructions were given about continuing to try to put the baby to the breast with every feed and the normal breastfeeding assistance everyone else received was bypassed because she was no longer breastfeeding. Less than 24 hours after the birth!

I didn’t expect a nurse at that same hospital to turn a breast pump up to high and then walk out of the room when my own newborn son was receiving light therapy for jaundice. I still cringe at the nipple trauma from my first-ever experience with a breast pump. And then every other nurse I dealt with (some of whom were fantastic) gave me conflicting advice.

There are evidenced-based facts about what measures help to promote and encourage a healthy start to breastfeeding. THIS STUFF ISN’T A MYSTERY. Every expectant mother shouldn’t have to read the Jack Newman Guide to Breastfeeding in order to know what these basic measures are. (Although I do recommend it.) The nurses should have read it. Every labour and delivery nurse should be trained in basic breastfeeding support and nobody should have to wait more than 24 hours to see a lactation consultant if they need one.

But, you know what? Stuff happens. There are flat nipples and inverted nipples and tongue ties that are missed because family doctors are not lactation experts either. There are stubborn babies and sleepy babies and babies who have been traumatized with deep suctions. There are emergency c-sections and preemies and breast aversions and some moms really just don’t have enough milk.

Sometimes breastfeeding doesn’t go as planned. Sometimes you can do everything right and it still doesn’t work — at least not right away. This is invariably exhausting. Emotionally and physically and psychologically, it is draining to spend almost every waking moment worrying about how you are feeding your baby (and then feeling guilty if you take an afternoon off). All new moms need support; new mothers that are struggling need extra support instead of breastfeeding pressure.

A common error is to try to make the mom feel better by telling her not to worry. Things like, “Well, the important thing is the baby is getting your milk,” or, “All that matters is that you tried,” come from the right place, but they don’t help. For a mom that is dealing with round-the-clock newborn feedings and then having to pump in between feedings, that is not all that matters. Is there anybody who ever set out to feed her baby breast milk from a bottle or a tube? Is that ever the end goal? No, it’s not. So let’s stop pretending that it’s an adequate substitution for the mother. (A well-loved, well-fed baby is going to do just fine regardless.)

That goes for doctors, nurses and hospitals too, by the way. There seems to be a general push for mom to start pumping as soon as any feeding difficulty is detected and then, so long as she is producing milk and baby is feeding, nobody is following up. Baby’s getting breast milk, right? That’s all that matters.

Well, for me, breastfeeding is about more than just the milk. It’s about more than just the bonding and togetherness, too. It’s about never having to wash a bottle. It’s about not knowing about the different kinds of bottle nipples. It’s about knowing that as long as my baby is with me, it will have everything it needs. Breastfeeding is about never having to plan (too far) ahead. It’s about lazy mornings in bed. It’s instant comfort for bumps and bruises, a sleep aid and a pacifier. Breastfeeding makes me feel better and calms raging postpartum hormones.

It also makes my hair continue to fall out. But did I mention the lazy mornings in bed?!

So let’s keep our eye on the real goal, medical profession and rest of society.

But if it really doesn’t work? If breastfeeding is not happening, for whatever reason, can we just let a poor woman feed her baby formula from a bottle without guilt trips and breastfeeding pressure? I mean, if she wants to keep pumping, by all means. But if formula can give her more time, more rest, more sanity — if it can make her a happier mom, then why shouldn’t she switch?

I know if I were to have another baby (hypothetically, puh-lease!) and was confronted with a killer tongue tie or some other insurmountable latching issue, I would switch in a heartbeat.

Who’s with me?

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Toast Bar: As Awesome as It Sounds

As promised (yes, I was serious): how to fancy up your brunch spread with the soon-to-be-all-the-rage toast bar. (Note: it’s not that fancy. I mean, it is fancier than a pile of egg mcmuffins or having to open the fridge to get out the jam. I guess there’s that.)

Ahem. I present … my toast bar!

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The first thing you’re going to have to do is clear off a suitable surface. Because I’m not the only one who’s dining room buffet is perpetually home to every single sheet of paper and craft project and sports trophy and are you kidding me with this pine cone collection?! Right? So put all that crap somewhere else.

Then get out your toaster. It doesn’t have to be a super shiny chrome deal like I have (although my toaster does make me very, very happy). Whatever you have at home is fine. Next — and this step is very important — wipe that sucker down. You would not believe how much grease and dirt was clinging to that chrome surface. I find baby wipes are well-suited for this job, but use whatever works.

The toaster is the centerpiece of a well-designed toast bar. *snort* Whatever. It is! So start by setting it up on your newly cleared-off surface. (I also discovered you can make a table runner just by folding a regular table cloth over a couple times. You guys, I could get a whole other blog post out of that.) Then go find an extension cord if you need one. You’re going to need one. Toaster cords are, like, 18 inches long these days. Ridiculous. So go fetch that extension cord and plug in your toaster.

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Then arrange a selection of toastables. You know, nice sliced bread, english muffins and bagels, like I have here. If there’s anything else you like to toast, go ahead and lay it out there. Some sort of pastry? Eggo waffles? I don’t care. Anything goes. I liked the idea of using a large, wooden cutting board so people could also cut their toast, etc. at the same time. But, really, any plate or platter would work. Just try to artfully arrange it just so, so that it looks like you just threw it together and didn’t arrange it at all.

You’ll also need some knives or spreaders for the jam and stuff. I have mine laid out on the cutting board here, but I’d probably stick them into the spreads for an actual party.

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Speaking of spreads! This is what makes it a toast bar. The essential toast spreads, if you ask me, are butter, peanut butter, marmalade, strawberry jam and cream cheese. That’s what I have here. Obviously, if you have some fancy preserves in a cellophane-wrapped gift basket that you’ve been holding onto, you’ll want to break them out now. Whatever you like, whatever you have. I just spooned out the spreads in little glass bowls. Any sort of dainty bowl or pot works. You can serve them right out of the jar if it’s small and nice enough. I do recommend, however, either using whipped cream cheese or cutting small rectangles off a block (like I did here) for easier spreading.

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Retro stereo system sold separately.

Uh, so yeah. Throw in a stack of plates and that about covers it. The toast bar I did for Mary’s birthday last weekend was just part of the brunch. There was also a strata (think savoury bread pudding, yum) and some croissants and coffee cake … A LOT of bread come to think of it. Hey, also fresh fruit and coffee! Depending on the occasion, though, a toast bar could be more than enough on it’s own.

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You can go ahead and make yourself some toast now. I know you will.

Okay, ‘fess up. I’m not the first one who thought of this, am I? I’m just really giving “continental breakfast” à la Best Western-type motels a fancy new name, aren’t I? Has anybody else been doing this in their home?