Ode to Hot Papas

Without giving you the details, let's start out by saying that I spent most of Sunday night being sick. Spontaneously. I called Mr. Shawn at band practice to tell him to come home early, as I suddenly couldn't manage on my own.

He was wonderful. He rushed home, got the baby out of her playpen and made sure I was doing okay before leaving me in peace.

Once I managed to get some sleep, and woke a few hours later with a powerful thirst, he brought me tissues and water and my phone and my blankie, hehe. All while holding a sleeping baby on his chest.

All of which served to remind me just how lucky I am to have the man that I have. A lot of men would have turned tail and run when their girlfriend of less than one year - and live-in for only one week - had woken them up one Wednesday morning with a positive pregnancy test. A lot of guys would have grumbled about the sudden dramatic drop off of sex during said pregnancy or pressured to get some even though their lady friend was feeling anything but. A lot of guys, including some husbands I know, would have gone home to sleep in a nice comfy bed while I coped alone with a newborn and ice diapers in a hospital room for two nights.

Not Mr. Shawn. I know I would have lost it during the early months without his support and shoulder to lean on. He has always been, as I knew he would be, an amazing father. Amid the sordid details of the night Violet was conceived, I very clearly remember telling him that I was only okay with us taking the risk of not using a condom because I knew he would be a good daddy.

And he is.

Bonjour, Bebe!, or, a review of Bringing Up Bebe

I've always pictured myself as a Briton at heart -- I love all things British; in fact, a recent discovery that the Safeway near my house has started stocking imported English goods like cookies and juice that I used to buy in London made me happy for days. However, after reading Bringing up Bebe, by Pamela Druckerman, I have a sudden affinity for all things French.

I was trolling around on Amazon for some books on dealing with and raising babies. I've read all kinds of books about the nuts and bolts of physically caring for infants and small creatures of that sort, but as Miss Violet has now moved into the next phase of her life, I wanted something that would give me some insight on ways to help mold and shape my young flower into the delicate, graceful, and articulate blossom I wish her to become.

During said trek up the Amazon, I came across Bringing Up Bebe. I was immediately intrigued by the memoir-esque style vs. technical manual that some baby-rearing books can feel like, so I added it to my cart.

I was not disappointed.

Druckerman is an American who married a Brit and moved with him to Paris, where they then had a daughter and twin boys. She also used to be a journalist, so her approach to the differences she sees in how French parents raise their kids compared to what she's used to seeing from American and even British families is to delve into the issue and figure out the W's -- what, why, how, etc.

First, the book starts by giving us Druckerman's background, which threw me a bit at first, but I soon appreciated. Again, one of the selling points for me with this book was that it felt like a more personal tome, and learning about the author's background and how she came into being married and having kids in the first place helped me relate to her reactions to things like French babies "doing their nights," (that's STTN for us American moms), and the norm of French mothers getting their figures back three months after giving birth. And the personal anecdotes are what shape the book, Druckerman taking us through her daughter's first years and the issues she encountered as a mom, as well as her subsequent pregnancy with twins and the struggles those little bundles brought with them. Through all, and blended quite seamlessly with the personal stories, is the journalistic research -- interviews with French school teachers, nannies, parents, and pediatricians, as well as the articles and studies she quotes to back up her observations and theories.

I was especially drawn to the chapters on baby sleep and baby weight (on mom). Miss Violet still only "does her nights" about half the time, waking up once in the middle of the night for a bottle is still her norm at 14 months old. And when she was younger, I very much sturggled with getting her to sleep, and feeling like a failure each time she woke up. I just couldn't figure out why she wouldn't sleep longer, when I felt as though I was doing everything all the books said to do.

Passed. Out. With blankie.

In her book, Druckerman talks about the French technique of The Pause. As opposed to crying it out, which  is ignoring the baby's cries, The Pause suggests waiting a moment when baby starts to cry, listening, observing your child and then responding appropriately to what he or she needs. Is he really awake, or just stirring in his sleep? Babies need help learning to work through their natural sleep cycles, and by not immediately rushing into the baby when she cries, the French mother is giving her baby time to learn this skill.

Of course, when baby is crying, a moment feels like an hour. But after reading this chapter of the book, I waited the next time Violet woke up crying at 11:30pm. I gave her exactly 5 minutes -- almost exactly 5 minutes on the nose, she resettled herself and fell back asleep. When she woke up again the following night, and did not go back to sleep, it occurred to me after listening to her that she had been cranky from teething earlier in the day, and I gave her some baby tylenol before putting her down again. Different outcomes on each night, but it was the difference of pausing, observing (from the other side of the door, with my ears) her behavior and taking that moment to figure what it was she really needed from me, not just automatically sticking a bottle in her mouth.

The other chapter I found particularly interesting was the one that dealt with French women and their figures after childbirth. As Druckerman points out, the pregnancy culture in America seems to give gals a pass for eating whatever they want while their pregnant, making it seem like everything is fair game, because, well, you're pregnant, you're supposed to gain some weight, so eat pancakes now while you still can! And after you've had the baby, well, you're a new mother for heaven's sake, you're allowed to hang onto that weight for a while, you're tired and busy and stressed!

14-months post childbirth, starting to look saucy again!

Not so in France. French women don't see pregnancy as an excuse to let themselves go -- whatever for? Just because they're pregnant they should stop caring about how they look? Really, what hit home for me was the French feeling Druckerman points to that being a mother does not negate being sexy, or having a life as a woman outside of one's children, nor should one feel guilty for paying attention to ones own needs. I also love the term "paying attention" rather than "being on a diet" for eating well. It makes so much more sense, doesn't it? Being on a diet implies restriction, being bad vs. being good. Whereas paying attention simply means that you're paying attention, and if you forget to pay attention for a while and have a chocolate croissant for breakfast, you simply start paying attention again at lunch. No guilt. No shame. Just common sense.

Finally, Druckerman discusses the respect that French parents instill in their children -- saying bonjour and au revoir to both other children and adults alike is mandatory for all children old enough to speak, teaching them from an early age that other people have feelings that matter just as much as their own, and that they must be considerate of the people around them. I love that. I've been teaching Violet please and thank you, of course, and usually trying to get her to say bye-bye even though it's mostly because she looks so cute when she waves. But I love this idea of teaching respect so early on, so I'm going to starting trying to remember to coach her into hellos and goodbyes every time.

Bye-bye!

Girl Time

Last night, I had the pleasure of some solid girl time with a couple of my lady friends. All the key ingredients were present -- wine, snacks that we ate too much of, and informal counseling. We dished on relationships, friendships, personal growth, and the merits of spending a night in the Castro drinking at gay bars vs. an afternoon wine tasting in Napa. We never did pick a winner.

Mr. Shawn even joined us for a while, which was nice. We're modern chicks, we can have cool dudes at girls' night if they behave. He had a glass of red with us and then departed to play online, which I'm sure was more interesting for him anyway.

Tasty red

We gabbed until almost midnight. It was so nice to have some solid, no frills girl time with a couple of my favorite chicks. Sort of reset the batteries a little bit.

Petit Ecolier chocolate biscuits. Yum!

Bread with olive oil and balsamic. Anything better? Not really.

Losers.