About two months ago, my daughter Charlotte came to me with a book in her hand.  She handed it to me, then held open her arms for me to pluck her up on my lap.  And then she began to flip the pages and listen as I read her a story.

It was the very first time that story-time in our home just CLICKED.

I receive a few e-mails a week from people who have questions about reading to their children.  Their baby is trying to eat the books!  Their toddler is ripping apart the pages!  How do they stop their kid from flipping the pages at lightning speed?  How do they convince them to sit still during reading time instead of running around like a loon?

They appeal to me, they tell me, because they’ve seen the photographs of us reading with Charlotte.  And it looks like we know what we’re doing.

I tell them all the same thing: we don’t.

Some days, my daughter tries to eat the books.  Some days, she rips out pages.  Some days, she flips the pages at lightning speed and runs around like a loon while I read passages out loud from books I’m reading.  At fourteen months, Charlotte has heard just as many excerpts from Michael Crichton as she has from Mem Fox.  Some days, she screams during story-time.  Some days, she walks over a pile of books or bends back the spines.  Or throws them off the shelf.

Most days, she wants me to read the same book fifteen times over.  And then fifteen times over again.  And maybe again while we’re at it.

The truth is that reading to your young child is like any other part of parenting: an evolution.  There is no one-size-fits-all cure for the kid who loses interest after two pages, there is only patiently enduring your baby’s reading-related phases and keeping your fingers crossed that they will come out on the other end loving books.  The key is to listen to them, watch their cues, follow their lead, and just keep trying.  Keep visiting the library.  Keep talking about books.  KEEP READING.

If you do, one day you’ll look up to see your child climbing into your lap, eager to share a story together.  And it will make your heart sing.

What do you do to keep your child(ren) interested in reading?

A few days ago, I visited one of those enormous baby depots filled with approximately twelve billion useless plastic contraptions.  A friend of mine is expecting and judging by the wish list she handed me, she’s hoping to have at least ten billion of those useless plastic contraptions adorning her home before she delivers the baby.

Oh, I had one of those wish lists once.  I remember eagerly anticipating my baby shower.  I was so hugely pregnant that I quite nearly had my own gravitational pull and after the baby shower was over, I felt prepared.  We had a bouncer!  A car-seat!  A swing!  Strollers!  Walkers!  Toys!  Soaps!  Washcloths!  Bottles!  And at least five thousand newborn onesies.

In retrospect, I would have been better prepared if people kept their money and brought an index card with the best parenting advice they ever received.  At the time, it seemed like we NEEDED these things and I could not imagine raising a child without them.  But it turned out that all we needed – truly needed – were my breasts, a baby carrier, a dozen cotton diapers, two or three onesies, and a car-seat.

My husband and I joke that our daughter is the cheapest baby on the block.  We donated almost all of the baby equipment people gave us.  We dress her in hand-me-downs.  We crafted natural toys and bought secondhand children’s books.  I breast-feed, we cloth-diaper, and we co-sleep.  We use baby carriers, make our own soap, and use cloth wipes at room temperature.  Her baby food – even her teething biscuits – are homemade and some of it is even homegrown.

Somewhere along the line, our society told us that having a baby is expensive.  BUT IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE.  My child is living proof that babies can (and will) thrive without snazzy plastic toys or endless stacks of costly disposable diapers or the latest mom-and-me class.

Lately, my husband and I have been talking about what we will do differently with our second child.  Next time, we’ll be more prepared – but not because we have more stuff.  We’ll be more prepared because we know what to expect and we know what a child needs.

A child needs milk, love, a reliable parent, and not much else.  How interesting to find that what a baby cannot do without are those things that money cannot buy.

In the end, I gave my friend a voucher redeemable for one night out instead of picking a plastic behemoth from her baby shower wish list.  She’ll find out soon enough that most of those baby items are a waste of space anyway; friendship, on the other hand, is the handiest tool in a parent’s bag of tricks.

How interesting to find that what we as adults cannot do without is another little something that money cannot buy.

When Donald and I brought our daughter, Charlotte, home from the hospital, the very first thing we slipped her into was a hand-me-down brown pouch.  We took her for a walk that first afternoon home.  My body felt like it was falling apart.  My back ached and my lungs were tired and it hurt to walk.  But I marveled at my baby, safely tucked against my body and I felt whole.

How is it, I wondered, that everybody is continuing with their day-to-day business like nothing has happened?  Charlotte is here, I thought.  The whole world has changed.

Since that day, I have worn my child in all manners of carriers.  In slings, in wraps, in pouches.  I have worn her naked against my skin in the shower.  I have worn her warmly enveloped in blankets and jackets.  I have worn her in every position imaginable.  I have worn her for short runs to the shop and I have worn her for five and six mile hikes through the hills.

But I have never again felt like babywearing has in any way been the vessel, if you will, for a bonding experience with my daughter.

Don’t get me wrong: I fully believe that carrying Charlotte to and fro has, undoubtedly, played a very significant role in our relationship.  It’s just that I’ve felt like I bond with her no matter what we’re doing.

Then, yesterday, I decided to take advantage of the wind and have a long walk with Charlotte.  I placed her into a structured front carrier and wrapped a blanket around her legs.  And then, for no reason whatsoever, she looked straight up at me and laughed.

The child has been laughing for months, but for whatever reason, that particular giggle made my heart skip a beat.  Sometimes it is the little moments like those that melt me the most.  So we looked at one another for awhile, for quite a long while actually, before actually starting our walk.  Just looked.  And laughed.

And I found myself wondering how everybody else in the world could possibly be marching along as though nothing had changed.  Because it was clear to me, as a woman falling ever more deeply in love with a child, that everything had.

What are some of your most cherished memories with your child(ren)?

So I’ve been thinking about extended breastfeeding.

I think about a lot of things, about earthquakes and cat poop and grass stains and strawberries dipped in chocolate.  So you might as well just pop the state of my boobs on the list, right?  There is no rhyme or reason to what floats around in my brain.

So I’ve been thinking about extended breastfeeding.  And I’ve been thinking about it an awful lot.  And since I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve been reading about it.  An awful, awful lot.

The truth is that before I became a mother, I was so consumed with the beginning of the breastfeeding relationship that I never really thought about the end.  But I’ve fought three rounds of mastitis and I guarantee that anybody who has ever lain in bed shivering with fever after having lanced their own nipple duct with a needle has thought about, has even looked forward to, the big wean.

Now, I powered through the mastitis.  I powered through the plugged ducts, the blisters, and the tenderness.  My daughter, Charlotte, is fourteen months old and thus far, I have powered through eleven milk teeth and tiny fingernails pinching my neck and the occasional filthy toddler foot shoved into my mouth.  Because I believe that continuing to nurse my daughter is the best choice for my family.

Also, I love breastfeeding.  I am practically a breastfeeding addict.

So now I wonder where we go from here.  I know people who never put their baby to their breast and I know people who have school-age children (up to age nine) who still nurse.  But for the very first time, I am beginning to wonder when Charlotte and I will decide to wean.

It really brings up quite a few questions.  What memories may my daughter one day have of suckling and am I comfortable with her remembering our breastfeeding relationship?  Am I or am I not willing to nurse her beyond her third birthday?  What sort of social stigma may she face if she nurses at older ages?  Do I want to breastfeed through subsequent pregnancies?  Will she ultimately determine when to wean or will I gently guide her towards weaning?  At what age does nursing in public become more difficult or socially awkward?  How long will my family and my husband’s family support our decision to continue nursing our child?

Most of all, though, I wonder this: is there ever an end to the benefits of breastfeeding a child?

So tell me this: what do you think about extended breastfeeding?

Sometimes I feel like motherhood is one giant witch hunt.  In the great game of parenting, I am damned if I do.  And I am damned if I don’t.

Wear your baby!  LET THAT KID HAVE SOME INDEPENDENCE, WHY DON’T YOU?!  Give your baby unrestricted access to your breast!  ISN’T IT ABOUT TIME YOU STOPPED BEING SELFISH AND WEANED?  A little rice cereal in a bottle at two months makes a world of difference!  COMMERCIAL RICE CEREAL IS PRACTICALLY BABY POISON!

Babies love to be outside!  YOU SHOULD KEEP THAT BABY AT HOME IN WEATHER LIKE THIS!  Spare the rod and spoil the child, that’s what I always say!  BABY GATES ARE CAGES, WHO WANTS TO IMPRISON THEIR CHILD?  Keep your child away from television until they are at least three years old!  TELEVISION IS NECESSARY FOR CULTURAL LITERACY!

That baby should be rear-facing as long as possible!  THE CHILD ISN’T AN INFANT; TURN THAT CAR-SEAT AROUND!  Diverse flavors as offered in commercial baby food are best for developing taste buds!  IF YOU DON’T MAKE YOUR OWN BABY FOOD, YOU ARE EXPOSING HER TO HARMFUL SUBSTANCES!  Create a set of blank keys for that baby; by having something ‘important,’ you’re building self-esteem!  CHEWING ON KEYS CAN EQUAL LEAD POISONING!

And so it goes.  On.  And on.  And on.

This is the single most challenging part of motherhood for me: the criticism.  For the first time in my life, the decisions I make (both great and small) are constantly analyzed OUT LOUD by complete strangers.

Most of the time, I nod and smile.  I reassure them that they are certainly helpful, NOT AGGRAVATING AT ALL!, and I promise to keep their advice in mind.

But every now and then, this grey demon of defensive anger rises up inside of me.  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, I scream inside my head.  She is my baby!  I am a careful and doting parent!  You will NEVER love my child, cherish my child the way I do!  I.  AM.  HER.  MOTHER.  And I am doing my very best every minute of every day so leave me alone.

Then I resolve to really hand the next well-meaning jerk a piece of my mind.  I’m going to TELL THEM WHAT I THINK OF THEIR RUBBISHNESS, I think to myself.

That’s when it happens, of course.  Someone taps my shoulder.  “She’s so beautiful and you can just tell she’s well-loved.”  I beam with pride.  “But don’t you think she ought to be down for a mid-afternoon nap?  She looks sleepy.  You could even nap with her.  It’s so good for a baby to sleep with a parent, after all.”  I sigh.

Before I know it, I’m nodding and smiling.  Maybe I’ll give someone a piece of my mind tomorrow.

How do you handle unsolicited parenting advice?