Happy International Babywearing Week

Happy International Babywearing Week

It's International Babywearing Week this week and like any event that celebrates facets of our parenting choices, it feels a bit strange to see people making such a big deal about something that is such a natural part of our daily lives.

Having said that, Sunday is the Wellington Sling Walk and I'm so excited that I will be taking Miss Olive for a jaunt through the centre of town with our friends.

It's crazy to think this is already our second sling walk; we hadn't long stepped off the plane and I remember feeling deeply and profoundly at home amongst a gaggle of parents all holding their babies so close. 

I'm grateful to be a part of such a wonderful community, even if only in some small way, and this Sunday I will be celebrating how this simple pleasure has brought me closer, not just to my babies, but to some amazing friends.

Thursday, 9 October 2014 Comments: 0

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This Is Why You Should NEVER Fly With Children

This Is Why You Should NEVER Fly With Children

There are some things in life that are universally regarded as a stupid idea; hula dancing in front of a lion, playing Russian roulette with a semi-automatic weapon and taking three children under 5 on a two week trip to the other side of the world. 

Having just returned from the last of these adventures I can promise you I know what I’m talking about. Next time, I’ll be grabbing my grass skirt and heading to the savannah; I can only imagine it will be a less painful experience than our flight home.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

On the flight out I had forgotten to pack a change of clothes for the children. 

Thankfully the God of Travel was smiling on us and we arrived grubby, but largely unscathed. I wasn't going to chance my arm on the return journey so I dutifully packed not only a change of clothes for the children but a bib for Miss Olive so that she could eat without me having to find her a steady supply of non-staining food.

Am I the only one who does that?

Anyway, the point is I felt confident that I had this shit nailed. We had even planned an evening flight for maximum sleep potential which meant I could nurse Miss Olive asleep on take-off and post her into the sky cot I had fought to book.

“Awesome”, I thought, “I am a travelling QUEEN, pass me the vino dear, I've got some films to enjoy”.

And enjoy them I did, for exactly 2 hours until I was jolted from my screen by an extremely cross looking Miss Olive glaring down at me from her sky cot.

It was clear within seconds that I was going to have to get out of my seat, collect Miss Wobble-lip and do some good old-fashioned bobbing at the back of the plane. The hideous alternative was that she was going to disturb every last one of the now sleeping passengers for the next 5 hours and we were going to be offloaded at Dubai and have to hitch-hike the rest of the way home.

So I grabbed our Monkey Mei Tai, the now bawling toddler, and ran for the area by the rear stairs.

Once I had her securely fastened to my front I bobbed, and I swayed, I shushed and I patted, but Miss Olive would not be comforted.

And then she did something she has never before done.

She vomited.

And not the little burpy puke of a baby, I'm talking a full-on Exorcist-esque projectile vomit.

While strapped to my front in a sling.

I looked at the stewardess who was standing a few feet away with helpless terror. She looked back at me with a frozen wide-eyed smile that let me know passengers like me were her own personal vision of hell. 

The toddler was wailing, I had somehow forgotten how to untie a sling and I had pools of curdled milky vomit over every surface in a 2ft radius; myself included. 

A sleeping Keith was a clear 20 rows away from me down a sleeping cabin, AND wearing earphones, so my shout-whispers went unanswered.

I can only assume the lovely hostess went to fetch him because just after I had managed to remove the dripping toddler from the sling and stand her on the change table in the toilet he appeared at my side.

He did well to stifle his laughter.

Faced with a puke drenched wife and a pouting toddler ice skating in her own gastric juices, I'm not sure I would have been able to say the same.

He was even generous enough to lend me his hoody, which was a relief because remember, I had packed spare clothes ... FOR THE CHILDREN.

That felt like a foolish oversight as I stood helplessly while cold sick slowly ran down my stomach from the pool that had been deposited in my bra.

The only tiny ray of sunshine was that this gave me a bona fide excuse to go shopping once we landed. Our next stop being Dubai, a country known for modesty and understatement.

There were many shops at Dubai airport. All but one of them proudly displayed price tags that gave me stabbing pains in my left arm, but there was one contender, and it was optimistically named “Gifts from Dubai”.

Believe me when I say I have never spent longer choosing an item of clothing. 

I even changed my mind twice about which t-shirt to buy because in what I can only assume was a poorly judged attempt at cross-cultural outreach, it appeared as if the cast of TOWIE had been put in charge of the entire “Visit Dubai” clothing range. 

Miss Olive gave her verdict on my wardrobe addition just as we begun our descent into Sydney by vomiting over me again.

This time I didn't have the heart to care for longer than it took me to break out the wipes. Nor did I have the energy left to care about inflicting my stinky vomity baby on a plane full of people for the final three-hour flight.

Misery loves company people! Who’s up for a repeat performance in 2015?

Thursday, 11 September 2014 Comments: 1

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Baby Wearing And The Timid Toddler

Baby Wearing And The Timid Toddler

Have you heard the one about spoiling your children by carrying them too much?

Me too.

I've heard it a lot over the last few years, both overtly and also from people telling me the wisdom of their own parenting approach in very pointed tones as if it might lead to an epiphany where I throw out my slings while bemoaning the fact that my children will never learn to walk. 

I'm still waiting for that particular epiphany, which means I have carried on carrying on; particularly Miss Olive who is by far my most attached child. She does NOT like to be held by anybody who isn't me (or papa bear at a push) and she is not shy about sharing that with the judicious use of NOISE.

In many ways that has been a curse to me, as well as a blessing. 

The hardest thing I do every day is to walk out of the door on my way to work. The blow is softened by the elder children pinned to the bedroom window waving me off, but it’s still heart wrenching to hear Miss Olive wailing at the injustice of being separated from me. 

“I feel the same baby girl” I tell her in my head and wave furiously at the children until I am out of sight.

Conversely, my second favourite moment of the day* is walking back through the door and having three pocket sized zombies tear arsing across the house to launch themselves at my legs. 

Once those first few moments of welcome are over, Miss Olive demands to be picked up and I am more than happy to oblige. Wearing her is a very literal act of connection which is usually sound tracked by the gentle “mpph, mpph” noises that always seem to go along with her getting cosy. 

It benefits us to have that cuddle time in the same way it benefits Alfie to describe his latest project to me at a million miles an hour; or Esme to share her latest “favourite” thing with a goofy smile. And just like those moments, this need to be physically connected is a fleeting moment in Olive’s life.

I was treated to a taste of quite how fleeting at the weekend when Miss Olive and I went to her very first birthday party.

Sitting with another mama, I kept a weather eye on an unusually curious toddler as she bimbled along, taking in the other guests and occasionally checking back in with me in case I had abandoned her. 

She was completely and entirely her own little girl; composed and assured. 

It was the first of many bitter-sweet moments for me; watching my timid little girl finally pulling on her brave boots and plucking up the courage to walk away from me. 

The same child, who hides her head in the crook of my neck when anyone offers their arms, in her own time, and in her own way, took herself on an adventure leaving in her wake a very proud, and slightly dejected mama.

* My favourite moment, should you be interested, is snuggling into a fuzzy little toddler neck as I fall asleep.

Tuesday, 29 July 2014 Comments: 4

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The World of High End Babywearing

The World of High End Babywearing

Have you ever been smitten by something that made no sense?

The kind of smitten where you see something and every logical thought you have says that it’s not a good fit for you, not a good use of money, and yet .... and yet. 

That was my relationship with a woven wrap I first saw about a year ago. It was a one off, never to be produced, money can’t buy, thanks anyway, move along please.

My heart would flutter every time I saw a photo: A teaser here, a glimpse there, and suddenly there was a rumour that a handful would be made. 

A handful! 

To go around all the people who had fallen in love with it just like me. The chances of scoring one (because of course it’s entirely normal to about wraps in the same vocabulary as drugs) were slim to none.

I kept a little seed of hope in my heart though; enough to make me set my alarm and crawl out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Enough to sit shivering in the dark, in front of my laptop, waiting to see if I might be fast enough to buy one of these unicorns. 

I had even recruited a stranger to help me, a stalking buddy, but as fast as we were, others were faster and we both came away empty handed.

My heart was heavy. 

I told myself it wasn't important, I was blessed to have some beautiful wraps and you can carry your baby in anything, the fabric doesn't matter.

I added my name to the list of people “In Search of Klee”, not quite able to let go. 

I consoled myself with logic, it was too thick, too beastly, too much wrap for me. It was a good thing I hadn't bought one. It was a waste of money.

Months later I received a message: I have a Klee if you would like it?

Would I like it? 

What about logic? What if it’s too much wrap for me? What if I hate it? What if it’s a scam? Think of the other things I could do with the money.

I took the chance anyway.

There were weeks of waiting, of checking on-line tracking and muttering angrily that it shouldn't take 5 DAYS FOR A PARCEL TO TRAVEL 300 MILES. 

And one day there was a box outside my door. 

I ripped open the packaging and there it was, luminous in my hands, heavy, solid and utterly defying logic. 

It had precisely none of the characteristics I thought I wanted in a wrap and yet as soon as I used it to tie Miss Olive to my chest, it felt utterly and completely ... right.

Babywearing is something you DO, not something you BUY 

So why the obsession with these beautiful pieces of cloth?

My poetic soul tells me that just like the tying together of hands during a wedding ceremony, we yearn for beauty to bind us to our babies; our precious, beloved babies. 

If you think of it like that, is it surprising that we look for cloth that articulates who we are and how we feel?

There is a film being made exploring the appeal of those rare wraps woven from unicorn eyelashes and pixie farts and costing as much as my first car. It will, no doubt, try to apply logic to something that most normal people will not see as logical. 

Let’s be honest, it will try to apply logic when most people think you have lost your damn mind.

I used to be one of those people. 

But I'm all about the learning, and if years of overpriced Valentines roses have taught me anything, it’s that there is rarely any logic to how we demonstrate our love. 

Thursday, 3 July 2014 Comments: 4

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Five Unscientific Reasons to Babywear

Five Unscientific Reasons to Babywear

I was recently asked to write something for a soon to launch website about the benefits of baby wearing. 

After the first wave of excitement passed I was left stuck for words because, well, why wouldn't you want to carry your baby? Plus there are so many sites out there who already give you very well researched and scientific reasons what was I going to add to the argument?

Well, how about some very unscientific reasons.

• Newborns have their own smell which is genetically designed to make your mind bliss out like a purring cat. Wearing your baby allows you to indulge in sneaky head sniffs on a regular basis. Once you have these mastered you can progress to sneaky face rubs because the feeling of baby fuzz on your cheek? There are no words.

• Babies also have a fairly effective audible warning system when they feel vulnerable. It’s a noise developed over millennia to make women within a mile radius hyperventilate and any lactating mamas clutch their boobs for fear they might come out in sympathy. On the flip side, babies love to be cuddled close and safe from any lurking wolves and will usually relax when they feel cocooned. This is exactly why slings are often said to come with “sleepy dust” and when you are most likely to hear the baby hedgehog snuffle of contentment. 

• As a working parent, babywearing becomes an important part of bonding during the evening and weekends. It is an incredible way to connect with your baby after a hard day, and catch up on some cuddle time while you eat dinner and stick the washing on. Just don’t spill your food on the baby, they don’t like it when hot pasta sauce splots on their head.

• Once your baby gets older and more mobile, babywearing becomes a wonderful way to contain the crazy. Any parent will be able to tell you stories following their toddlers round the house about 10 minutes too slow to stop the next train wreck. When you've got your toddler strapped to your back? No train wreck! You can tidy the house and it stays tidy. Also, with a baby on your back you are burning extra calories while you are tidying AND you are pretty much guaranteed to have a sleeping child by the time you finished which means you can stand (or perch awkwardly on a stool) and enjoy the hot beverage of your choice while surveying your tidy house. Hold onto those moments, they are precious.

• And finally, when you wear your baby, strangers in public places won’t hate you. Think I’m lying? Head into a city, shopping centre, museum or onto public transport on a weekend and tell me that you don’t feel like you’ll stab the next parent who rams their pushchair into your ankle. Wearing your baby removes the entire problem before it starts. More than that, people are now compelled to look your gorgeous offspring in the face which more often than not means they will end up smiling at you, from both the relief of not being ankle-rammed and also because babies are cute, especially happy ones.

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Why do you wear your baby? The less scientific the reason the more I want to know. Just tell me I'm not the only person addicted to sniffing my baby!

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Thursday, 17 April 2014 Comments: 4

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