Sling for a day

After I wrote about babywearing (which is carrying a child in a sling or other carrier) a few months ago, a reader asked if I would do a more detailed follow-up and I’m happy to oblige.


Here are more reasons why babywearing is beneficial:

• The baby’s primal survival needs are met by being held close to a parent or caregiver. This is essential for good neural development, muscle tone, and overall health. Babies are calmer because of these needs being met.

• Infants develop better socially, because they are able to see social cues and facial expressions more easily than being in a stroller or carried almost at floor level in an infant seat. They’re also able to turn away from stimuli, since they are facing in toward the parent, not out into the world.

• Plagiocephaly (flat head syndrome) is reduced, because infants who spend less time in a car seat or flat on their backs are less likely to develop cranial distortion.

• Close contact means your baby will likely cry less, and, as a parent, it is much easier to be mobile and carry on with everyday activities in and outside the home.

• Babywearing reduces back, neck, and arm strain. Imagine trying to carry a bowling ball at arm’s reach from your body and then cradling it next to your body, and you know which is more comfortable. Toddlers can be ‘worn’, too. I still wear Calvin, my two year old, easily. He likes to wear a bike helmet while riding on my back.

There are many excellent baby carriers out there, which can be overwhelming. The latest issue of Mothering magazine, available at Barnes & Noble, has a great babywearing article and resource list.

Maybe you’ll see us around town, bike helmet and all.

letters to my children

(by my husband, Rob.  I took the week off)

On a business trip to Wisconsin in 2003, I had a lunch meeting with a regular contact, Nancy, at a small town lunch counter. Our conversations over the years almost always gravitated toward our kids at some point and this time was no exception. But this time in particular stands out in my mind four times a year now. With a thick Brooklyn accent that defied her 13 years in Packerland, Nancy described to me how she would write a letter to each of her boys every year on their birthday.

In these letters she would recount milestones they achieved, special memories, joys, sorrows and her wishes for their lives. Each letter is unique and deeply personal. She kept the letters stashed away only to be given to them after she has passed away. It struck me as a beautiful way to share with a person how much joy they brought into your life. Upon my return home I started my first letter. My oldest was already five so I had a lot of catching up to do. I recently re-read that first letter for the umpteenth time and the same wave of emotion still consumes me just as wholly now as it did then.
I try to use these letters not just as isolated moments in time but as a reminder to live so that my children know how much they mean to me on a regular basis. I have done a lot of growing through my children and these letters will chronicle my journey with them. I have yet to decide if I will wait until I am gone to release the letters—perhaps just before they go off to college. But they will know they are my great joy and they are loved.

Historic Homes of Noblesville--1012 Monument

Location: 1012 Monument St.

Owners: Tim and Paula Hardin, since 2005

Constructed by: Bicknell Cole, circa 1840

Style: This brick I-house reflects both the Federal and Italianate styles, due to alterations at different time periods. Around 1856, a one story rear addition was constructed, and thirty years ago a second story was added on to the one story rear. The home was constructed with solid walls three bricks thick on a 153 acre farm, which was subdivided in 1891 into 204 housing lots.

What work have you done on your house? “We’ve replaced two windows, installed a new fence and exterior doors, remodeled the kitchen, and put new roofs on the home and cottage house. Oh, and it takes about 20 yards of mulch to do the garden. We do take volunteers for help with that every year!”

What are your favorite features? “The location. We love to be able to walk and enjoy the downtown or the park. We enjoy the garden-- just being in it for the sights and smells, and sitting in the swing talking to neighbors as they walk by. Inside, we love the large rooms. We enjoy eating breakfast and looking out at the garden with the birds and hummingbirds.”

What do you like about this neighborhood? “The neighbors are very friendly and many people have stories about the house. Noblesville is such a cool town--we love the car shows, the historic tours, the bands on the square, the Farmers Market.”

Breastfeeding 'creepy'? No, but ignorant comment from woman is

A couple weeks ago I tuned in to NPR (90.1 FM) and stumbled upon the BBC program “World, Have Your Say.” What drew me in this day, besides the accents and the turns of phrases that I find so lovely, was the topic. Kathryn Blundell, the deputy editor of a UK parenting magazine, had referred to breastfeeding as being “creepy,” and listeners were weighing in.

Oh, great, I sighed. Here’s another woman not only dismissing, but demoralizing another woman’s choice to breastfeed. Demoting breastfeeding, which is a natural and beautiful way to nurture a baby, as “wrong” and “gross” and “creepy” is—to use some UK slang—absolute bollocks.

Is this why many women debate whether or not to even try breastfeeding? Is this why women are made to feel ashamed when nursing in public, or maybe even in private too, even though they aren’t doing anything wrong? And to get these comments from other women is really baffling. I wouldn’t be able to understand it from men, either, but hearing and reading that some women have bought into the lies of the culture that breasts are only for pleasure and have no practical purpose whatsoever is sad.

There’s a taboo against breastfeeding, it seems to me, and I find it mind-boggling that anyone would take issue with a mother feeding her child the way nature intended. I also wonder why other people care about me or any other woman who has nursed her children. Really? Aren’t there real problems in the world to address and spend energy on?

What I’d like to see is a culture where breastfeeding mothers are embraced and not undermined, where they can nurse anywhere and everywhere without fear or embarrassment, and where ignorant comments such as these are never even thought, much less spoken.

Like hitting oil, commentary about spill strikes a nerve with readers

My column on the oil spill and my premise that the reason for my feelings of guilt and the pollution is our greed touched a nerve with readers. I wanted to respond to just a couple of comments which I have taken the liberty of paraphrasing - with the approval of my editor - because of space reasons:
Comment No. 1 “We aren’t greedy when we take advantage of the things provided to us by way of the oil companies. It’s not BP’s fault they’re drilling one mile underwater. All fault lies with the environmentalists and politicians of both sides. Want to blame someone? Blame them.”

I agree with part of this. The professional environmentalists and the politicians are, on the whole, corrupt. Yes, they’ve made a mess of things! But to say that consumers are not greedy, that it’s not the big oil companies fault? That all fault lies squarely with the politicians and environmentalists? Who made BP "mount their money making machine" (CPE) without safety backups? Oil companies are corrupt and greedy, too! Had they simultaneously drilled a relief well, this disaster could have been avoided. Why didn’t they? And why are they so desperate to drill for oil? Because of the consumer demand for it!

Finger pointing aside, this is a wakeup call. A wakeup call that this trajectory we’re on is devastating and can’t continue. That ‘plastic makes it possible’ only goes so far when you can see and feel the destruction deep inside and you ache for people to wake up and see that ‘life as usual’ isn’t working out so well. When you can’t imagine the world for your children when they grow up. When the marshes will be contaminated to the seventh generation and beyond, all so we can have our ‘stuff’ (and lots of it).

Comment No. 2: "the ocean is the biggest washing machine there is and breaks down everything sooner or later."

I ask, if you would want to walk on your favorite beach that is weeping with oil and strewn with plastic debris and dead wildlife? It doesn’t matter how ‘natural’ oil is, I doubt that any of us will live to see this devastation cleaned up.

Here’s what I say—outrage is good. And if you’re not outraged, I wonder about your survival instincts. Go do what you can. Conserve. Raise your thermostat temperature in summer. Buy less (and refuse plastic bags), drive less. Buy gas at Countrymark on S. 10th Street—it’s drilled in the Midwest and refined here in Indiana.

The Art of Celebrating

With the Summer Solstice last week and some birthdays coming up, I’ve been giving some thought to how we celebrate these special days. My family marks time with our Earth Cycle calendar, a beautifully illustrated poster; a circle which marks the months, seasons and the solstices, equinoxes and moon cycles.


Our celebrations are simple. Most importantly, I want them to be fun and pretty much stress-free. For our summer solstice celebration, my husband and kids simply roasted marshmallows over a backyard bonfire and caught fireflies. I was with my amazing book club women and we discussed ‘living closer to the numinous wild’ (Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, from Women Who Run With the Wolves). It was a perfect evening.

And then the birthdays. Again, it’s simple. I don’t do fancy cakes, parties, or order custom printed M&M’s. But what we do is from the heart. We string up a special birthday banner, the birthday child wears their birthday crown, and we show pictures and tell stories of each year of the child’s life, while they walk around the ‘sun’ (a colored ball) holding the ‘earth’ (another colored ball). They beam and feel so loved as we laugh and tie our stories like strings together, weaving them into a fabric of their life. We give a few simple presents, but they are not the focus.

On full moon nights we wait and watch for the moon to come out, and run up and down the sidewalk in the moonlight, maybe in playsilk capes, and soak up some moonbeams. And this July we’re resuming our Summer Soiree, which we haven’t done for a few years. We look forward to re-connecting with friends on a hot summer night. It will be simple and perfect. And that, to me, is the Art of Celebrating.

some catharsis

I usually only post my 'Current in Noblesville' columns here on this blog, but sometimes I'm compelled to reach further into what I've written, what others have written, or responses I've gotten.

So here we go.  I've been torn up about this oil disaster.  Thoughts of the destruction for generations to come are never far from my mind.  I can't believe this is real. 

Last night, on (an otherwise lovely) summer solstice evening, my Women Who Run With the Wolves bookclub met.  I showed them the passage in the book where Dr. E talks about the oil barge that sank in Lake Michigan in the 50's and the havoc it wrought then.  I read that 6-6-10, 2 days after writing my column on the oil spill and 48 days into the massive hemorrhage in the Earth.

Several days ago I received 2 emails stating in part that I was misinformed and delusional.  Of course humans can't destroy the earth, after all, if 'we' have detonated atomic bombs, nuked Japan, and vaporized the Bikini Atoll and are still here to tell about it, why would we think we can?  And here's news for us all:  oil is natural, and guess what?  The ocean is a giant washing machine, so it can take it!  Oh, and I need to take down my shrine to Al Gore (yeahhhh) and get me some more edumacation. 

Yes, indeed.  So this manmade enviromental disaster is no big deal.  Just go fill up your gas guzzler, go to the mall and buy some more plastics and enjoy life as usual, OK?  Never mind the eleven men who died.

Pay no attention to the wildlife that has died, will die, the marshes and sea life that may never recover, or the people whose livelihoods are wiped out. 

No. No, no, no.  Rage.  Outrage and uproar is warranted right now.  For God's sake, my children and children's children and on and on will have to live in this mucked up world.  What kind of legacy are we leaving them?  That the earth is here to use and abuse and leave it to someone else to clean up the mess?

As CP Estes writes:
"Tell me oil gobbets arent going to wash up on pristine shores worldwide.
Tell me fish and what they eat, arent going to ingest this cr– and wind up polluting the food tables for years to come, and humans will just have to hope their bodies make adaptations to the swill of petrol in their foodchains.
Tell me the roots of the grasses of the marshes are not going to be contaminated to the seventh generation of the seventh generation.
Tell me the fragile and seasonal economies in a time of already suckerpunched incomes are not going to be affected. Much.
Tell me wildlife kill of completely innocent creatures who lift our days and nights just to see them, wont be huge, that those creatures won’t die and be disposed of like oil-sotted cordwood.
I dare you to tell me ’studying’ the problem for a few more weeks and months, while Mother Earth hemorrhages is going to solve things.
Tell me more human life will not be put at risk, the working men and women’s lives put at risk in order to bail out some Saville Row dunces who are so used to priviledge, that they all begin to look just like Ken Lay’s wife whining –after her hubby and Skillings bilked thousands of senior citizens out of what they thought were their retirement savings–, and the woman had the timerity to be snivelling about maybe she and Mr. Lay wouldnt be able to keep their Aspen mansion.
Tell me that new tech that could help solve some of these hideous issues wont get bogged down by red tape from the BP overseers, that new can break through.
Tell me that all the ‘presidents’ men’ and humpty dumpty can be sewn together again.
And I’ll believe you, believe in you again.
When hell freezes over.

I’m a woman of peace with few lapses, but BP and all their cronies and cronettes have gone too far. It’s one thing to drill with all safety backups fully seated. It’s another to move recklessly through the hearts and lives of human beings and creatures and earth, mounting a moneymaking machine for oneself, hell with safety and protocols, screw definitive and effective remedies.
And in all, the principles in this disaster for the world, not once displaying even a speck of conscience.
Who else do we know in history who moved in these ways and without conscience destroying land and people and creatures? What was their end? And what damage did they inflict before they were taken down. And weren’t they taken down when neither land nor creatures nor people could any longer tolerate rhetoric over reality…
That time has now come. Reality over rhetoric. And in spades.
That outcry you hear, is not just Mother Earth, it’s the souls of the world: us. And lest some think that cry is one of weakness, it’s not… it’s our roar of unmitigated rage.
And if some think people are becoming too incensed over this, I’d say they are under-incensed about this, and that something’s awry with one’s basic survival instincts to not see the trajectories of this situation in the present and future.
Do whatever you can to help that is within your reach. I’ll be doing same. "

from here.  As i have thought many times about this disaster, 'if THIS isn't a wake-up call, I don't know what the hell IS.'  Please, people...we are all connected.  We aren't separate from each other and from this earth.  What hurts one hurts us all.  How do you possibly go on 'life as usual', when it's not?  We've done it now, and I'm so sorry that many can't see it.  I will do what I can and stand with those who do see.