This blog has been quiet lately because, although I enjoy writing and find I need to do it as a way to maintain overall mental well-being, writing cannot be my main priority. My son’s well-being comes first, and my own meditation practice comes right after it.
It took us three worry-filled weeks to determine that our son had Toddler’s Diarrhea. I am here to tell you: less is more when it comes to adult diets, but not a baby’s. It seemed intuitively obvious that our son should eat what we eat, only better mashed, and perhaps with a little Happy Bellies probiotic rice cereal mixed in. We were dead wrong in that assumption. Our brown rice and veggies and ample servings of fruit were deficient in both fat and protein. We can do with “nothing extra,” but our little guy need plenty extra. To wit, 35%-55% of a baby’s caloric intake on solid food should be calories from fat. Fail to give him that, and fail to provide enough protein, and he gets diarrhea.
The pediatrician prescribed heavy cream. Imagine that! It helped.
Newly resolved to take a more active role in my infant son’s nutrition, I am in love with this book: Super Baby Food, by Ruth Yaron. I am not in a position to summarize it, as I’m still reading it. It is a helpful primer for understanding what a baby needs as she begins to take solid foods. It offers a ton of recipes for food and snacks, from home-made yogurt to health baby crackers. Dietary recommendations for toddlers are included. So are a wealth of handy tips for preparing wholesome food. Her reliance on a microwave is our only point of departure: Yaron swears by hers, and I detest the things.
Particularly interesting are the ideas for activities and crafts for parents and toddlers on a budget. This book just might have it all....
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Life Behind the Fence
For months I have resisted the urge to take the baby outside and put him down on the ground. We live in an apartment complex with a gated, landscaped courtyard. Although it might seem secure behind the wrought-iron fence and locked gate, our grass and shrubs are maintained by a company that uses herbicides, fungicides, fertilizers, and god knows what else. Like all babies his age, my son is orally fixated and puts everything in his mouth. And, like all first-time parents, we err towards the overprotectiveness.
So here he is, ten months old, understanding words, producing sounds—and occasionally even producing sounds that resemble words. He enjoys pulling objects off tables, digging his hands into his lunch, chewing books, flinging cloth around, gnawing power cords, and generally experiencing the world in a very intimate way. But the world he knows is a limited one. It is the world of our apartment, of wooden floors and wool rugs, window-shades and mirrors, a place where there are no animals, and the only soil is in the houseplants that live just beyond his reach.
To me this seems impoverished.
I grew up on a farm, where myriad life-forms—both wild and domestic—crossed my path, crept through the window screens, bit me, butted me, and soiled me. From an early age I knew more animals than people, and I understood them better than I did people. I ate a great deal of dirt, leaves, and worse. If the stories about me are true, by the time I was my son’s age, I had already thoughtfully examined, and then swallowed, at least one sheep dropping.
But my life is not my son’s life. He is a city baby, and sequestration from nature is the reality of life in the city. Or it was until today, when I came across this article in the NY Times. Our obsession with cleanliness, it says, means autoimmune diseases are on the rise. Babies are supposed to put everything in their mouth as a means of priming their immune systems. (Of course, there’s no hard evidence for this—just the handwaving arguments of evolutionary biology). The article suggests that perhaps we should not keep our children so scrupulously clean. If you read through to the end, you’ll see that not only do some experts advocate letting children get dirty, and even letting them ingest some of that dirt, they also advocate allowing children to get worms—and not the friendly earthworm kind!
Soil bacteria I can handle. Even the odd fecal microbe, should it sneak its way in. But I have a visceral problem with the suggestion that my baby should have worms at some point, and that giving him dogs and cats as pets will facilitate that healthful infection. My disgust propelled us outside and into the dirt for the first time. With intentional parasite infection as the standard, the prospect of letting him crawl around in the dirt seem quite benign. I am not willing to expose him to a full range of beneficial filth, but perhaps I can manage a few dead leaves and bits of dirt. Just for today.
I set him on the ground. He looks up at me questioningly. Yes, sweetie, it’s OK.
He crawls off down the walkway, then veers over to touch the grass. Wet. Fragrant. Hmm, better to stay on the cement. Then along comes a flower bed full of anonymous winter foliage. He tugs on one particular plant for a while. Offers me some leaves.
After more crawling, he is dangerously close to some red rowan berries, so I pick him up and take him over to the fountain in the center of the lawn. It is surrounded by river rock. The baby picks one up, sucks on it, and put it back. He repeats the process, until the rock is well-covered in saliva. Nearby some moss needs to be poked. Numerous leaves are inserted into his mouth and maternally extracted.
As we explore, something inside somersaults with anxiety. Can the neighbors see me as I allow my son to stick fallen leaves in his mouth? Will my husband notice the dirt under his fingernails? Is everything covered with herbicide?
And yet we are doing something completely simple and lovely. The baby is exploring the world, neither overwhelmed nor jaded, just methodical, just investigating the merest fraction of what is, even in wintertime, a riot of soil, leaves, stems, berries, stones, and life. It is beautiful, it is normal—and it is also a bit sad. How could he have developed so much, learned so much, grown up as much as he had, and never smelled the earth before? Never crawled on the grass? Never eaten a stone?
So here he is, ten months old, understanding words, producing sounds—and occasionally even producing sounds that resemble words. He enjoys pulling objects off tables, digging his hands into his lunch, chewing books, flinging cloth around, gnawing power cords, and generally experiencing the world in a very intimate way. But the world he knows is a limited one. It is the world of our apartment, of wooden floors and wool rugs, window-shades and mirrors, a place where there are no animals, and the only soil is in the houseplants that live just beyond his reach.
To me this seems impoverished.
I grew up on a farm, where myriad life-forms—both wild and domestic—crossed my path, crept through the window screens, bit me, butted me, and soiled me. From an early age I knew more animals than people, and I understood them better than I did people. I ate a great deal of dirt, leaves, and worse. If the stories about me are true, by the time I was my son’s age, I had already thoughtfully examined, and then swallowed, at least one sheep dropping.
But my life is not my son’s life. He is a city baby, and sequestration from nature is the reality of life in the city. Or it was until today, when I came across this article in the NY Times. Our obsession with cleanliness, it says, means autoimmune diseases are on the rise. Babies are supposed to put everything in their mouth as a means of priming their immune systems. (Of course, there’s no hard evidence for this—just the handwaving arguments of evolutionary biology). The article suggests that perhaps we should not keep our children so scrupulously clean. If you read through to the end, you’ll see that not only do some experts advocate letting children get dirty, and even letting them ingest some of that dirt, they also advocate allowing children to get worms—and not the friendly earthworm kind!
Soil bacteria I can handle. Even the odd fecal microbe, should it sneak its way in. But I have a visceral problem with the suggestion that my baby should have worms at some point, and that giving him dogs and cats as pets will facilitate that healthful infection. My disgust propelled us outside and into the dirt for the first time. With intentional parasite infection as the standard, the prospect of letting him crawl around in the dirt seem quite benign. I am not willing to expose him to a full range of beneficial filth, but perhaps I can manage a few dead leaves and bits of dirt. Just for today.
I set him on the ground. He looks up at me questioningly. Yes, sweetie, it’s OK.
He crawls off down the walkway, then veers over to touch the grass. Wet. Fragrant. Hmm, better to stay on the cement. Then along comes a flower bed full of anonymous winter foliage. He tugs on one particular plant for a while. Offers me some leaves.
After more crawling, he is dangerously close to some red rowan berries, so I pick him up and take him over to the fountain in the center of the lawn. It is surrounded by river rock. The baby picks one up, sucks on it, and put it back. He repeats the process, until the rock is well-covered in saliva. Nearby some moss needs to be poked. Numerous leaves are inserted into his mouth and maternally extracted.
As we explore, something inside somersaults with anxiety. Can the neighbors see me as I allow my son to stick fallen leaves in his mouth? Will my husband notice the dirt under his fingernails? Is everything covered with herbicide?
And yet we are doing something completely simple and lovely. The baby is exploring the world, neither overwhelmed nor jaded, just methodical, just investigating the merest fraction of what is, even in wintertime, a riot of soil, leaves, stems, berries, stones, and life. It is beautiful, it is normal—and it is also a bit sad. How could he have developed so much, learned so much, grown up as much as he had, and never smelled the earth before? Never crawled on the grass? Never eaten a stone?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Comparing Soft Baby Shoes
BOBUX: Shoes You Can Chew!We are very happy with the little guy's Bobux. The sizing was a bit hard to figure out, but it didn't cost much to send them back for a smaller pair.
You don't really see Bobux around town. It seems like every baby store carries Robeez, however.
My friends at a local retail establishment tell me that they are going to stop carrying Robeez and start carrying Bobux. Besides being guaranteed non-toxic, which Robeez aren't, Bobux are also manufactured under humanitarian conditions. Robeez is apparently going to be changing their supplier--which factory in China they use, I assume--and they are not able to guarantee that the new factory isn't a sweatshop.
My First Stroller Misadventure
If there was an object that caused your baby, after five minutes of exposure, to have a glazed expression; if it was difficult to rouse him from his trance; if his normal behavior were severely altered in its presence, would you have doubts about said item? I would. And I do.
The item is our new stroller. Being carless on weekdays, and being in possession of a baby boy of increasing weight, I decided it was time. Our Ergo carrier has been a brilliant investment, but it can only do so much. I carefully picked out a stroller online. The Chicco Capri is rugged, Italian, lightweight, folds easily, and retails for $69.99. Nothing to complain about there. The stroller itself seems quite serviceable.
We went for a spin around the block this morning. I expected the little guy to struggle, since he hates the car seat, and struggle he did. When we began to move, he stopped. Normally when I wear him in the Ergo, the baby looks around, makes noises at things, asks to stop and look, and generally seems interested in his surroundings.
But on this little "stroll", from the moment he ceased to complain and slumped in the seat, the baby did not move at all. His head did not turn. He did not utter a sound. We passed a power-saw cutting concrete. No response.
Back at our gate, I bent down to unhitch my son. His eyes stared vacantly. I touched his cheek. His eyes stared vacantly. I picked him up, took him inside, and kept an eye on him. He played normally and seemed fine.
Half an hour later, I decided we would try going to story time at the library. As I wiggled his feet into shoes and his heat into a hat, the baby started complaining loudly. Normally he seems happy to go for a walk. When I laid out the Ergo and put him in it, he quieted down.
As we made our way to the library, the baby on my back looked at dogs, tracked noises, and had me stop so we could watch two guys working on a gutter. It was an entirely different experience.
I don't know what to conclude from all this. I am aware of a recent study showing that babies in forward-facing strollers have higher stress levels than rear-facing babies that have eye contact with their caregiver. (Now that I'm trying to google it, I can't find it.) I guess I assumed my 9-month-old, who is always straining to see things, would like having an unobstructed view of things.
We'll try again tomorrow. But I'm wondering, Is this normal?
The item is our new stroller. Being carless on weekdays, and being in possession of a baby boy of increasing weight, I decided it was time. Our Ergo carrier has been a brilliant investment, but it can only do so much. I carefully picked out a stroller online. The Chicco Capri is rugged, Italian, lightweight, folds easily, and retails for $69.99. Nothing to complain about there. The stroller itself seems quite serviceable.
We went for a spin around the block this morning. I expected the little guy to struggle, since he hates the car seat, and struggle he did. When we began to move, he stopped. Normally when I wear him in the Ergo, the baby looks around, makes noises at things, asks to stop and look, and generally seems interested in his surroundings.
But on this little "stroll", from the moment he ceased to complain and slumped in the seat, the baby did not move at all. His head did not turn. He did not utter a sound. We passed a power-saw cutting concrete. No response.
Back at our gate, I bent down to unhitch my son. His eyes stared vacantly. I touched his cheek. His eyes stared vacantly. I picked him up, took him inside, and kept an eye on him. He played normally and seemed fine.
Half an hour later, I decided we would try going to story time at the library. As I wiggled his feet into shoes and his heat into a hat, the baby started complaining loudly. Normally he seems happy to go for a walk. When I laid out the Ergo and put him in it, he quieted down.
As we made our way to the library, the baby on my back looked at dogs, tracked noises, and had me stop so we could watch two guys working on a gutter. It was an entirely different experience.
I don't know what to conclude from all this. I am aware of a recent study showing that babies in forward-facing strollers have higher stress levels than rear-facing babies that have eye contact with their caregiver. (Now that I'm trying to google it, I can't find it.) I guess I assumed my 9-month-old, who is always straining to see things, would like having an unobstructed view of things.
We'll try again tomorrow. But I'm wondering, Is this normal?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
How to Not Spoil a Child
Just Enough.
Eat when hungry; sleep when tired.
— Zen notions/sayings
I am wondering what it means to spoil a child. By which I mean to say, I am wondering how a parent encourages a child to be uncreative, demanding, self-centered, and disruptive. I am wondering how a child comes to insist on being the center of adult attention, how a child learns to whine and agitate until parents give in. A spoiled child eventually secures the candy the parents would rather not see her eat. A spoiled child pounds up and down the hallways and wreaks havoc on adult attempts at civilized discourse. A spoiled child cannot play quietly on his own.
How do we get there from here? Or better yet, how do we NOT get there, when “here” is a charming infant with an excess of social savvy? The quotes above speak to this, I think. You do what it necessary. You do not overdo things. In order to respond appropriately in such a way, you must pay attention to the child. What was right today may not be right tomorrow.
The baby has been sick, and he seems to be in pain. He farts. Sometimes he writhes and cries, presumably because his guts are in a knot. He cries at bedtime, looking urgently at the door. He quiets at the mention of papa and will sleep only when his father is called in to lie near us on the bed. Even then, he is slow to fall asleep, drifts off only if there is a nipple in his mouth, and often wakes if it is removed. The more distressed he is, the more likely he will be able to sleep only with the breast's soothing comfort at hand. Last night, he sucked for hours as he slept.
Is that spoiling? Am I creating a monster? Or am I meeting my child’s needs, which are unusually great during this period of illness? Are papa and I being wound around the tiny fingers of our tiny little boy? Are we reasonable? Or are we being had?
When we go for walks, the baby really likes to stop and look at things. He will twist around, give a little shout, and practically fall out of the carrier when he sees something he likes. The slightest sound of running water is a huge draw. I can tell you about fountains and waterfalls in every crook and cranny of our neighborhood. Is it wrong to let him examine things like this? Even if it takes us twenty minutes to get to the end of the block?
Frequently during these days of illness, as I hold the baby, I find that I do not want to put him down. Some great tenderness inside me knows, before I ever try to disengage the nipple, that the little guy needs extra comforting. When I lay aside my desire to lay him down, to rehydrate (all that nursing dries a lady out!) or write or make some calls, and just hold my son, a great peace comes over us both. It feels as if we are in exactly the right place, doing exactly the right thing.
Similarly, after taking 45 minutes to walk to the pharmacy by way of some of NW Portland’s finer little fountains, I found myself in a magic state of quiet joy that normally only comes with the later days of sesshin. Joining the baby in his fountain-gazing, I have become more fully human. By allowing him to explore quietly, as he needs to, we both receive a gift of wonder.
I have been reading about Montessori philosophy, mostly in the Michael Olaf catalog and Paula Polk Lilliard's excellent book Montessori from the Start. What I find there confirms my intuition. The child tells you what he needs. He needs extra holding and extra comfort when he’s sick or teething. He needs to experience the world. Montessori folks advocate letting a baby nurse until he’s done (whenever that is!), and letting a child take all the time he needs to observe the world.
But what about spoiling? Where do I even get that idea, that you can indulge a child so as to create a hellion? It’s certainly easy enough to tell when other parents are being manipulated. But can you see it when you are the one being played for a fool? I don’t know, but I suspect that parents know when they are being had. And I suspect that my concern about being manipulated--by a small and sick baby--says more about me than about my son.
I know ill-mannered children do exist, but I don’t think they come about because parents are attentive and truly kind to them. An indulgent parent is operating based on some notion of herself. When I was a kid, a lot of hippie parents were interested in being “mellow”, or “unrestrictive”, which translated into paying very little attention to the children, and not seeming to care that the children clamored for attention.
Bratty behavior I’ve seen recently has turned out to be tied back to troubles in the home. When parents are stressed, kids are stressed, and they can’t begin to comprehend what’s wrong, and they can’t begin to solve the issues that plague their parents. Uncertain of what to do or where to stand, they act up, hoping for some attention, some certainty, some guidance.
The adult teachers in Montessori are called “guides”, and I’m thinking that’s what parents should be too. Guides. People providing guidance for the natural unfolding of a child’s psychosocial and intellectual development. To properly guide, you need to pay attention without strangling, and you need to provide direction without dictating. Like a gardener, you give the plants what they need, not what you think they need. You neither overwater, nor overprune, but neither do you fail to thin fruit.
When I hold my son, and my mind drifts to wondering if I’m overly permissive, I realize I have notions about discipline which are really just that, notions. They may become relevant one day, but they certainly are not relevant now.
I am certainly babying my son, but he is a baby: he ought to be babied. He needs to suck, to bond, to have his loved ones near him. If it’s no trouble to our family, if it’s no disruption, then why not have papa come lie with us for a few nights at bedtime? If it’s no trouble, if we don’t have to get there any time except eventually, what does it matter if we stop to look at trees and dogs and delivery guys? It does no harm, it abuses no priorities.
What I have seen over the past few days, since I consciously chose to honor my son’s unspoken requests as well as I reasonably could, is that he has changed. He is calmer, and seems more satisfied with life. Even though he’s sick, he’s taken to laughing with joy at the strangest things. He is delighted, with no sense of urgency. There’s no feeling of not having enough, of needing more. He has it all, and he’s rounded-out and fulfilled. I am beginning to see that babying the sick baby and stopping to smell the roses actually matter greatly.
When wondering about spoiling, maybe the key is to look at the outcome. If a particular parenting choice results in a spoiled-acting child, whatever you were doing was spoiling. If it results in a balanced, satisfied kid, whatever you did was not spoiling. Children are trainable, and as parents we are in charge. What kind of child do we want to raise?
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Digesting "The No Cry Sleep Solution"
Gone are the days when grandmas and aunties dispensed common sense and showed us how to handle our babies. Now, we glean gems of wisdom from parenting books. Problem is, if you have 120 pages to fill, those gems can be hidden in a mass of fluff.
If you are a sleep deprived mother, you might not have the stamina to search page after page in The No-Cry Sleep Solution: Gentle Ways to Help Your Baby Sleep Through the Night for the tidbits that will save your sanity. In the spirit of “nothing extra,” here is what I learned from author Elizabeth Pantley’s work. There’s more in the book—but to be honest, not a whole lot more. If you want more detail, do check it out [click on the image or title to go to Amazon listing]. As far as I can tell after asking around, none of these tips are huge secrets; old-school midwives and expert grandmas have always known them.
Sleep Training is Possible. But Do Check Your Motives.
If your baby isn’t sleeping well, you can gently train her to sleep in a way that works for you and your family—within reason.
First of all, make sure you know what you want, and how reasonable it is. “Sleeping through the night” means a five-hour stretch. Only train your baby to do things you really need her to do. The baby is not trying to manipulate you; and there is no need to control your child simply for the sake of feeling “in charge”.
Build a Regular Routine.
Both babies and parents appreciate a sleep routine. Institute this while baby is still young (although it’s never too late to start). Doing a predictable, calming series of things (e.g. bath, jammies, storytime) before bed helps the baby feel safe and primes her baby to fall asleep. Don’t wait for your child to run out of steam and fall asleep from exhaustion; that’s unkind to both them and you.
Keep a diary of your child’s sleep. The minute you notice them acting sleepily, do your nap routine. You’ll soon see that naps follow a predictable pattern. Try to keep to that. Schedule excursions, etc. for the awake times. (In my own case, my son wakes at 6:30am, naps for half an hour at 8:30am, naps again at 11:30am or noon unless he's really excited, and again at 3:30 or 4pm. Dinner is at 5:30pm and bedtime at 6pm every day.)
Encourage the Sleep Behavior You Want.
You probably don’t want to train your baby to sleep only at the breast (or bottle), or only in your arms. Even if it’s adorable now, it won’t be in a year. So, avoid the association between sleep and nipple in mouth. And avoid the association between sleep and your body by your baby’s side. Remove the nipple, or creep away, as she is drifting off. If she rouses enough to fuss, replace the nipple or lay back down, lull her, count to ten, and try again.
If you want your baby to fall asleep in all sorts of situations (background noise, laser-light show) lull her to sleep in all sorts of situations.
Put your baby to sleep for the night early. She will sleep better, and you will have time to feel like a sane adult. 6:30 or 7 is not too early. If bedtime is cranky time, try moving it half an hour earlier. Babies need a lot of sleep—make sure they get it!
Do not rush to your child’s aid at the first snort. Make sure she’s really awake before you pop the nipple in her mouth. Again, you don’t want to train her to need the nipple in order to sleep. (However, if you want to lengthen short sleep periods to long ones: then you should nurse the baby back into deeper sleep before she wakes completely. In this way, your baby will get used to sleepign for a longer stint before coming up for air.)
Be Persistent and Patient.
Instituting any new sleep habit will take time. Babies are most trainable up until 4-6 months. Consider that whatever you train your baby to do will may be what she does until 18-24 months, if not beyond.
Keep your eventual goal in mind. Training really may have to be gradual—two steps forward and three steps back. Remember what your aim is—say, for baby to fall asleep, or go back to sleep, without nipple in his mouth. Try to progress toward that, but remain flexible. A teething baby may truly need that comfort in order to fall asleep. Babies are ancient creatures; they are not built for instant consumer (read: parent) satisfaction.
Be Flexible.
Do not try to train your child when s/he is sick, colicky, or teething. For my son, that ruled out most of the first several months, except for a week here and there. Remember that you are aiming for a trend; it’s not a matter of getting it perfect every night.
Every baby really does sleep differently. And one child’s sleep habits will likely change radically as s/he develops. We were delighted that our baby was a “good sleeper”—until he wasn’t. He recently settled on a 5-7 hr block of sleep, with some 30-60 min periods before, and a 2-hr periods afterward. Our baby happens to sleep well in our bed; not all do.
It seems to me that every person’s sleep is different, and it seems reasonable that a baby will likely sleep like her parents do. If you are an insomniac and your baby is too, that might just be the way things are. The notion that you can somehow ruin your baby’s sleep and cause them to have a sleep disorder later is an attractively worrisome idea, but I can’t see how it could actually be proved.
My Input: Three BIG Cheers for the “No Cry” Part!
Babies and small children need their parents to be there for them. Feeling safe allows them to grow up into well-adjusted people. Crying it out, or allowing the baby to cry for progressively longer periods of time, isn’t something I am comfortable with. Being abandoned just when you need more comfort—well, how would that make YOU feel?
I should say I know people who have tried various “crying” cures and claim success. With all love and respect to them: I must have a very different baby! The times we let my son cry alone for a few minutes were the worst moments of my early motherhood. I cried as much as the baby. He did not quiet when we left him alone; he screamed louder. Five, ten, fifteen minutes later, I had a traumatized, rattled baby who was not OK the next day. I later realized—duh, he was in pain from colic. I was too sleep-deprived at that point to be anything other than desperate. I could have used a couple wise old crones in my life at that point.
As it was, in the absence of the aunties of yesteryear, the nuggets found in The No-Cry Sleep Solution were welcome indeed.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
What Kind of Shoes are Best for My Baby?
It is my not-so-secret belief that the old ways are usually the best. Most of what we are supposed to buy for our kids these days is more about marketing than actual development. Babies need you--your face, your eyes, your moving mouth--more than they need any toy. They need your arms, and the physical joy of riding snuggled against your body, more than they need any car seat or stroller.
As I make decisions about how to raise my son, I often refer back to what my parents did with me. They were minimalist types as well, and their sensibilities were really those of an even older generation. Before the recalls on plastic toys, we had wooden ones because plastic was "tacky." Before the era of ultra-engineered colic-proof baby bottles, we were breastfed because, well, the breast is right there, the baby is hungry, and formula costs money.
When it was time for shoes, we went to the shoe store and were fitted for navy blue mary janes, with half an inch of "growing room" in the toe. From age four through eight, successively larger sizes of mary janes were all there was.
Before my memories, even, there were other shoes: little white first-walking shoes with bells. The bells were actually on little plastic capsules that enclosed the laces so I couldn't untie the shoes.
...So I couldn't untie the shoes. There's a clue there.
My son is crawling and standing and seriously thinking about walking. So naturally my maternal instincts turn to thoughts of shoes. Which shoes are best for my baby? Which shoes will give him healthy feet and help him learn to walk?
The answer, it turns out, is: None at all.
The little white walking shoes, and their little bells, and their little childproof laces are not good for babies' feet, as it happens. Babies want to learn to walk without shoes that throw them off balance. Naturally, they will try to take their stiff shoes off.
So all that business about shoes helping your feet to grow? That was misguided at best, and sheer marketing bullshit at worst. Podiatrists now recommend that children go entirely shoeless for the first 3 years of life, and shoeless at home until age 12.
Won't my baby's feet get cold? Unless you have a concrete floor in your house, your little one's feet will be fine. Baby feet should be cool to the touch.
Won't my baby's feet get dirty? Ideally, everyone should go shoeless at home, not just the under-12 set. Your baby's feet won't get dirty if your floor isn't dirty. And your floor won't be dirty if you're not tracking in dirt from outside. Leave your shoes at the door. And if you really are concerned about dirty feet, remember feet are washable!
For going outdoors in winter, and for walking and crawling in strange places, a soft unstructured slipper-shoe like Robeez is very convenient. We have several pairs and love 'em. Robeez are little elasticized leather booties that slip on easily. They wear well and often show up at resale shops.
Another brand of baby shoe I've heard good things about (but can't vouch for personally) is Pedoodles. These are a little more fashion forward and "finished" looking (no elastic). They come in a variety of adorable styles.
I am as vulnerable to adorable styles as anyone else, but where shoes are concerned, I think it's better to be cautious than fashionable. Truly, where infant shoes are concerned, LESS IS MORE.
Update: A friend just turned me on to Bobux. Not only have Bobux worked well for her son, but these shoes use a non-toxic leather.
My son is worse than any puppy when it comes to chewing on shoes. His own little shoes are the top target. When you consider that conventional tanning and leather-dyeing techniques are awash in toxins, it's hard to allow him this dangerous satisfaction. So I pry shoes away from him several times a day, and he complains quite shrilly.
But Bobux...he can chew them! I'm so excited for this, for my peace of mind, and for my son's impending delight.
As I make decisions about how to raise my son, I often refer back to what my parents did with me. They were minimalist types as well, and their sensibilities were really those of an even older generation. Before the recalls on plastic toys, we had wooden ones because plastic was "tacky." Before the era of ultra-engineered colic-proof baby bottles, we were breastfed because, well, the breast is right there, the baby is hungry, and formula costs money.
When it was time for shoes, we went to the shoe store and were fitted for navy blue mary janes, with half an inch of "growing room" in the toe. From age four through eight, successively larger sizes of mary janes were all there was.
Before my memories, even, there were other shoes: little white first-walking shoes with bells. The bells were actually on little plastic capsules that enclosed the laces so I couldn't untie the shoes.
...So I couldn't untie the shoes. There's a clue there.
My son is crawling and standing and seriously thinking about walking. So naturally my maternal instincts turn to thoughts of shoes. Which shoes are best for my baby? Which shoes will give him healthy feet and help him learn to walk?
The answer, it turns out, is: None at all.
The little white walking shoes, and their little bells, and their little childproof laces are not good for babies' feet, as it happens. Babies want to learn to walk without shoes that throw them off balance. Naturally, they will try to take their stiff shoes off.
So all that business about shoes helping your feet to grow? That was misguided at best, and sheer marketing bullshit at worst. Podiatrists now recommend that children go entirely shoeless for the first 3 years of life, and shoeless at home until age 12.
Won't my baby's feet get cold? Unless you have a concrete floor in your house, your little one's feet will be fine. Baby feet should be cool to the touch.
Won't my baby's feet get dirty? Ideally, everyone should go shoeless at home, not just the under-12 set. Your baby's feet won't get dirty if your floor isn't dirty. And your floor won't be dirty if you're not tracking in dirt from outside. Leave your shoes at the door. And if you really are concerned about dirty feet, remember feet are washable!
For going outdoors in winter, and for walking and crawling in strange places, a soft unstructured slipper-shoe like Robeez is very convenient. We have several pairs and love 'em. Robeez are little elasticized leather booties that slip on easily. They wear well and often show up at resale shops.
Another brand of baby shoe I've heard good things about (but can't vouch for personally) is Pedoodles. These are a little more fashion forward and "finished" looking (no elastic). They come in a variety of adorable styles.
I am as vulnerable to adorable styles as anyone else, but where shoes are concerned, I think it's better to be cautious than fashionable. Truly, where infant shoes are concerned, LESS IS MORE.
Update: A friend just turned me on to Bobux. Not only have Bobux worked well for her son, but these shoes use a non-toxic leather.
My son is worse than any puppy when it comes to chewing on shoes. His own little shoes are the top target. When you consider that conventional tanning and leather-dyeing techniques are awash in toxins, it's hard to allow him this dangerous satisfaction. So I pry shoes away from him several times a day, and he complains quite shrilly.
But Bobux...he can chew them! I'm so excited for this, for my peace of mind, and for my son's impending delight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
