I Don't Have to Hug You, and My Kids Don't Either!

Namastè!

As the holidays approach, so too do the droves of family and friends, near and distant. Your kids are likely as gorgeous as mine, and everyone wants to hug and kiss them and tell them how big they've gotten! It's a big hug fest at the door, and everyone is covered in smooches.

That's all good and well--but here in Casa Namastè, we practice a principle called body autonomy. My children don't have to participate in that hug and kiss fest unless they expressly want to, and they face no repercussion for deciding to forgo it.

See, our children are required to be respectful. They have to greet our guests, and they have to use their table manners. Yes ma'am, no sir, all those gems. However, regardless of who you are...

They do not have to hug you.

They do not have to kiss you.

They do not have to let you touch them, period.

They will never be punished for their refusal--period.

While they are our children, and we do exercise absolute parental control over them as needed,  their bodies are theirs alone.

If that seems like a hippie concept, look at it this way. If Susie does not want to hug say, Uncle Moe, but she is forced to hug him anyway, she internalizes the notion that she does not have a voice in what happens to her body. This isn't insinuating that Uncle Moe is any less than the salt of the earth, mind you.

But we are talking about Susie. Susie knows Uncle Moe loves her. Perhaps she was just feeling out of sorts that day, and didn't want a hug from anyone. Maybe she just wanted her mommy or daddy only, as children are keen to do sometimes. Now Susie thinks that her "NO" is invalid, maybe even bad. She has to hug Uncle Moe or she's a bad girl. She wants only to be a good girl--so she grudgingly hugs her uncle.

Fast forward to high school. Susie does not want to kiss Paul. However, her security is skewed because she's always done as she's told regarding who she hugs, kisses, or shows affection toward. Saying "no" has been imprinted as all bad. Subconsciously Susie thinks she isn't allowed to say NO. So she doesn't. As dirty and violated, or uncomfortable and unhappy, as these situations make her, she is unable to find her voice...

...because she was denied by autonomy early on and does not think she deserves it.

That may appear an extreme case, but it can and does happen. (Susie is fictional, but please let her impact you.)

This is why my children don't have to hug anyone. They know they can say NO, and they know if their NO isn't respected, Mama and Papa Bears Namastè will come out swinging.

We don't mess around with our little ones' safety one bit. We also don't neglect teaching them about the world. Unfortunately that includes some unpleasant talks about things we wish did not exist in the same world our children inhabit. They must be prepared to net this world on its terms, because it won't buffer for them.

They are to be respectful, but they are not doormats. Assertive.

This is part of why I always cringe at parents who insist on "owning" their children versus parenting them. Ear piercings, attire featuring snarky phrases the kids can neither read nor understand--nor would they be allowed to day I'd they could talk!!!--just scream, OWNERSHIP. These things are cute for social media likes and bragging rights among moms on the playground, but the message is clear: You are my doll and  will do with you what I please.

Note: There's no need to defend your parenting choices to me, as I don't walk your mile. My opinion may not be your truth.

Except, this isn't a doll. This baby or child is a little person who depends on you to help shape their ideas about life and their place in the world. See, dolls don't have a place in the world. We dress them up or down, play with them until we are bored, and then put them away til next time. They have no voice--we give them their exact thoughts, words, scenarios. Zero autonomy.

A kid cannot thrive like that. They need more, and we as adults must provide it.

The point I'm trying to make here is, it is healthy and encouraged to allow children age-appropriate sovereignty over their bodies. For us that means they get to decide who they hug and when. Aside from medical examinations, they have express authority to say, "Don't touch me." They are allowed WITHOUT REPERCUSSION to say, "No thank you" when someone requests physical contact they don't want. I would never dream of punishing them for that,  and I am building a trust rapport now that ensures they will be comfortable telling me if their wishes in this regard were ever disregarded. I won't question them as to why--but I would definitely question YOU for being upset about being told no. That's unsettling to me, and I am unapologetic about it.

Listen and respect it when my kid, or ANY kid, says "no thanks" to your hug. Don't pout, don't make small of their feelings, and for the love of all that is right and pure, don't force them. Respect this small bit of authority.

It lays the foundation for so much more, later.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

Munchkin Inflatable Safety Duck Tub

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof tonight. 

As you know I have been all over the place the past few weeks! I'm working on getting some t-shirts made for #ProjectFREE as well as a couple other Taye-isms I use here on the blog. We just had our Freshly Picked moccasins giveaway  (congrats to our dear reader Sarah Hayes) and I'm working on my "best baby gear" list. I am also preparing to do something 28 shades of incredible for Baby Namastè's first birthday. Tk top it off, Family Namastè is moving into our new home soon. (We will have a housewarming, part of which I will SnapChat or FB vlog so you mag attend too!) Safe to say, things have been WILD! 

Brass tacks.

In the midst of all this go go go, I treasure anything that makes my evenings easier or more relaxing. To that end, the baby item I'm loving this week is the Munchkin Inflatable Safety Duck (Get it here.)

We have garden tubs, deep set ones, so we had a little dilemma. How could we keep him safest, during this move, when his normal tubby is packed still? (If you're curious, we use this one normally.)

I happened upon our Ducky in Target. Best 12 bucks I've spent in a long time. It takes about 5 minutes to inflate, and it's a friendly-looking giant rubber ducky!!! We absolutely love it. 

Ducky is very well-constructed. The first thing I noticed was how thick the "skin" feels, yet it's very pliable. It feels like a really good quality swim ring. 

We let Baby Namastè sit in it on our bedroom floor for a bit before introducing it in the bath. He likes its bill, and since he's always had rubber duckies, he was excited about this big one. The entire ducky is inflated, including the bottom, so it makes for a comfy seat for baby.

The best feature, aside from how much Baby Namastè enjoys that cushiony seat and sides, is the built in thermometer in the bottom. There's a little blue circle there, with the word HOT written in it. If baby us water is too warm, that circle turns white and the word HOT is clearly visible. (If the dot stays blue, you won't see the word...and your baby's bath isn't too hot.) Scalding injuries are all-too-common...and highly preventable. 

The ducky holds a good amount of water for a baby's bath. Baby Namastè sits up unsupported now, but I keep his bath water level relatively low. (NOTE: He is NOT unattended in this photo. He does sit very still for most of bath time, but a baby should NEVER EVER be left alone in a tub. Period. Not for even a millisecond.)

Ducky is a great innovation and I know we'll keep using it even when we are fully settled. It's another great travel item as well, because it takes only minutes to inflate or deflate. 

It is recommended for ages 6 to 24 months,  and baby should be able to sit unsupported of course. This isn't for use as or in a pool, and it is not a flotation device. "Safety" in this sense refers to the temperature guage, not to suggest a child could not be hurt if not proper attended.

We love ours, and I highly recommend it. It's cute, comfy, and that safety guage gives me added security knowing his bath water is a good temp. What we feel on our hands feels entirely different to a little baby's skin, so that isn't the best measure. This tub takes the guesswork out. I may seem paranoid, but I am big on infant safety. It's a huge deal, period. 

I hope, as always, I have provided another layer of insight as you compare or prepare to purchase your own infant tub! 

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

#ProjectFREE #endMomShamingNOW

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof tonight.

Let's jump right in and get to brass tacks.

Mom shaming.

If you are a mom, you've been judged before. Perhaps you didn't breastfeed. Maybe you were more comfortable cosleeping versus cribbing from day one. Or you had a cesarean. An induction?

If you have made a choice for your child, someone, somewhere, has judged you for that choice. That's unkind, unfair, and ultimately unacceptable.

The biggest problem with mom shaming is, it doesn't come from anyone so often as MOMS OURSELVES.

Perfect, personal example: I am a Target afficionado. I spend many moments wandering through the "red store," usually with a kid or five in tow. On this particular day, I had Baby Namastè along. We were, on this day, testing out the Kiinde Squeeze bottle. Now, I am very much accustomed to strangers smiling, cooing, and talking to Baby Namastè when he is out. He is a social caterpillar and loves everyone.

I digress. I was wandering through the "red store" with my son in his comfy (our basket seat cover). He was happily "singing" and holding his Kiinde bottle.

A woman approached us and made a little small talk. Then she looked in disdain at the bottle.

"He is eating that?!"

I kid you not, I was lost for a second. It didn't immediately register. I'm not used to people accosting me over bottles in Target. I'm not used to people questioning me openly, because if I am nothing else, I am respected. Either that or people give a great performance to my face. In a world where children are starved, abused, and mistreated, this one was taking me to task over a bottle?!

"Pardon?" I was really thrown for a loop.

She then proceeded to regurgitate a bunch of anti-formula facts. I politely stopped her, mid rant.

"That is not your business, and that isn't formula in his bottle. An expert like you would know that. Even a novice can tell breastmilk and formula apart at visual comparison." Major NamasTAYE eye roll. (And I bull you not--you can look at a bottle of formula and a bottle of breastmilk, and you will know the difference. Not snark, just fact.)

She went scarlet and apologized, but the damage was done.

I wasn't even the least offended, because I truly believe a FED baby is best. I happen to nurse and pump, but I would lose no sleep if I had to use formula. At the end I want my son fed and thriving. Period.

That little incident annoyed me, but it hasn't been my common experience so it didn't bother me a lot. I shrugged it off and went on about my day.

But some moms receive that at every end. Their feeding, their parenting, even their clothing--all picked apart. It happens online. It happens within families. It happens within social circles! Everywhere we as mothers look, someone is waiting to condemn how we choose to raise and rear our children.

As always, I'm on my "make the world nicer" kick. I have a simple solution to mom shaming. STOP IT.

No, seriously. Knock it off.

I came up with an acronym that I hold near and dear.

I'm calling it Project FREE.

Find common ground.
Reinforce the positive.
Engage so all moms are included.
End the stigma of mothering differently.

FIND common ground. Even if a mom chooses a completely opposite path than you think is best, she is still worthy of respect. Don't pick out what's different, pick out what you have in common. REINFORCE the positive! Sure, she's got tattoos and pink hair. BUT...her toddler can read and count in German. She's rocking that mom thing, and if you take her on the strength of her positives (NOT saying her style is negative, by the way, but it could be negatively perceived by more conservative types) you won't even notice her appearance anymore. ENGAGE so all moms are included. Part of mom shaming, is exclusion. And mothering can already be the loneliest work of all. Go ahead, sit with that new mom at Gymboree. Invite her to the bleachers at the little league game. United we stand! END the stigma of mothering differently by simply NOT JUDGING. Every mom is doing her best to get through the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. What works for one may literally kill the next. Don't pick apart how she gets through, but encourage. If you can't encourage, keeping your mouth shut is always a viable option.

If we find, reinforce, engage, and end--the Mommy Zone will be shame-FREE.

We owe it to ourselves, to build ourselves up. Let's be FREE of mom shaming. Let's STOP.

I'm on Twitter and IG, and I wanna see your thoughts. Tell me what you're doing to end mom shaming. How are you, as the wonderful super mommy you are, effecting a change in this sometimes oppressive atmosphere known as Mommyhood. Hashtag it, #ProjectFREE so I can see them, or @ me. I'll be retweeting and reposting as many as I see. I hope I see lots!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

#projectFREE

Ah, the Etsy.

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

As we pick up steam here, I gotta let y'all in on a not-so-little secret.

I'm becoming addicted to Etsy! I can browse on there for hours. I'm not ashamed to admit, the adorable kid items drew me in--but it was the adult clothing, bangles, and baubles that kept me. My style is usually pretty tame for the most part. I love a good tee or sweater and jeans. As it is autumn, I love tucking my tootsies in a warm pair of boots.

However, Hubby Namastè my effected a major change on my favorites list when he got me my first taste of what would become my absolute style addiction: salwar kameez, sarees, and the dramatic-amazing-beautiful accessories that accompany them. The fabrics, colors, and patterns are almost otherworldly. I adore the comfort, versatility, and instant elegance the different styles impart.

For the uninitiated--salwar kameez are pantsuits. The traditional salwar kameez feature loose-fitting pants which taper to a tight fit at the ankle (the salwar) worn with a long tunic top (the kameez) and long scarf (the dupatta). A saree is a length of fabric (cotton or silk) worn elaborately wrapped around the body, then draped over the head or shoulder.

We generally get these beautiful outfits in NYC, and that was fun. What girl doesn't love shopping, in the Big Apple?

This girl, actually.

Shopping for my family is one thing, but shopping for me? Headache central. I usually want a very specific thing, and only that precise exact thing--and nothing else will work. When it's my clothes, it has to be just so.

On Etsy, I give my measurements and a wonderful vendor then creates an amazing (and perfectly-fitted) salwar suit or saree. While I may or may not select a one of a kind set, I'm guaranteed a one-of-a-kind fit. The fit is everything for me, and I haven't been disappointed yet. I can get the same in a shop--but that's nowhere near as convenient, and sometimes appointments must be set weeks or months in advance due to demand. Many times our trips to NYC are very spur of the moment or very loosely planned. I can get in a fitting if I call a few days in advance because we buy pretty frequently

Etsy is my new favorite hub for boutique gear for all the little ones in my life too. I love going through and seeing the handmade stuff especially. Those crocheted items and hand-sewn details wring my wallet like a towel after shampoo time.

I'm a big fan of eBay and Amazon too, but Etsy is a solid favorite due to communication. I like the option to speak with my vendor about my purchase without weeding through a thousand email hoops. Within Etsy's app, we can message back and forth directly. There are no hiccups or surprises with my purchases.

Note: You'll find unscrupulous sellers on every platform. This doesn't suggest Etsy is perfect--I'm just talking about how much I personally enjoy it, and how good an experience I have had. Always use our own discretion. Your eyes and ears may hone in on something I miss!

Anyhoo...I can't wait to show off some of my Etsy finds in a couple upcoming blogs. I have a few "appearances" and unboxing videos in the not so distant future,  and my favorite vendors (whom I'll reveal as we go!) have got my wardrobe looking straight royal.

In the meantime, happy Etsy'ing. You know you wanna have a look. Or three. And treat yourself.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

Feeding Wars. *sigh*

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

I'm up with the moon this morning, basking in a  little sleeping-baby sweetness. Baby Namastè's not fully awake yet. I'm also up pumping.

That's right--he sleeps through the night (which according to our pediatrician, is a 5-hour stretch), yet I am awake pumping.  I keep my scheduled pumps, but he feeds on demand when he is awake. I am not insane. I know that, in order to have that backup supply, I must put in some extra work. A little more demand means a little more supply.

As I listen to the "good girl, good girl" whirring of my pump,  I start to think of how, if he were formula fed, I'd be asleep right now. At the very least I wouldn't be tethered to the milker, as we affectionately call the pump. My son's milkies would come ready to drink, or in a neat little can of powder.

If I were a formula mom, I'd most definitely be asleep. I'd wake with the baby and get his bottle upon his awakening. Then we would snuggle and listen to some music while he finished his bottle. I wonder, how much would he take at a clip? Would he like his paci?

I would almost certainly run into the judgment and vilification formula moms face as well.

See, sometimes breastfeeding moms get overzealous. We want so much to let other moms know about the benefits of breastmilk that we get a little ahead of ourselves. We want to show them what's in formula, and compare it to breastmilk. We have all the studies and stats either memorized or bookmarked. We tell you how expensive formula is, and how breastmilk is just better.

I will venture to say that, save a few sanctimommies, this info comes from a good place, a genuine place.

Formula moms then counter with their own facts. Some of the formulas available today mimic the composition of breastmilk as closely as science can. Babies can and do thrive on this formula! They grow, they learn, they enjoy a close bond with their caregivers. They are happy and healthy.

So goes the feeding wars.

I'm a breastfeeding mom. I'm not ashamed, I'm not timid, and I'm not a sanctimommy. I made the choice that fit my family's dynamic, and I felt supported in that choice. I made it through those first weeks and hit my stride. Baby Namastè's done well. I'm sure it would have gone the same had we gone with formula.

Is my baby smarter, more advanced, more even-tempered? I don't know. I only compare him, to himself. He is healthy, happy, and thriving. He is strong. He is doing what he needs to be doing, as he needs to be doing it. He is Baby Namastè, and according to the stats and patterns of Baby Namastè, he is right on track.

In the midst of the feeding wars, I learned a magic trick. I learned to do no harm. I know formula is not the devil, and I know I am not a saint. I know to be thoughtful and kind when speaking of any other's  parenting choice, especially feeding. I don't bash or thumb my nose at any mom's path. I do no harm.

Do no harm!

The feeding wars could be stopped with just that. Do no harm.  Every mom has a different kid, every kid has different needs, every need presents a different situation, and every situation requires a different solution to meeting those needs.

Kindness and simple compassion must always be at the forefront. It isn't kind or compassionate to lambaste another for their choices. This is particularly true in online forums, because people get verbally reckless behind a screen name and computer screen. I've seen it firsthand on my own posts in an app I used to use.

I would purposely include both formula and breastfeeding moms in my feeding shouts out. Feeding a baby is an act of love no matter how you slice it. In those early days, weeks, even months, mothers live around their babies' feeding schedule. When it is bedtime again and you haven't slept, it's got to be a gut punch to be told you're less of a mom because you aren't breastfeeding--how dare you refuse to give your baby the very best?! However,  even though I am always very careful how I phrase things and despite the fact I would clearly state "FOR FORMULA MOMMIES," I would always garner a snide comment or five from breastfeeding moms who couldn't resist getting their quips in.

Breastfeeding moms get more than their fair share of flack as well. We're told our babes will be overly coddled and won't develop independence because we hold them too much. (Oh I'm sorry, did my inability to remove my breasts so my child can "feed himself" offend you somebow?) We're publicly shamed for not covering up, yet no one bats an eye or expects a bottle-fed baby to eat in the bathroom or out in the car. Formula mommies leap on posts about sore nipples and pump trauma (totally a thing) and all but boast about how much easier their lives are without all that pain and stress.

Ladies, we have a huge thing in common here, that we all seem to overlook. WE ARE FEEDING OUR BABIES! I know, I know--there are undeniable benefits to nursing. Scientific facts. However, I also know there are benefits to formula. (A mother who is on medication, suffering from chronic ailments, or who simply cannot nurse for whatever reason, can attest to these benefits.)

My point is, it is important to support one another. In the grand scheme of things, we are running the same race. Mothering is tough enough without the added judgments, stipulations, and cliques of mommies dying to be sancti.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Galacta-WHAT?!

Namastè!

Happy Tuesday, all! I hope you're experiencing copious amounts of namastè this morning, and that it carries over into the rest of the week!
I'm sitting here with my oatmeal, sandwich, gatorade, and water bottle. I've begun eating breakfast every morning after a few weeks of not taking time to do so. I googled some recipes for overnight oats using steel cut oatmeal and lo and behold, came across information that my beloved breakfast food is also a storied galactagogue.

A glactagogue is a food or herb (in some cases, a medication) that can improve (or help induce) lactation.

I began reading a bit more into these galactagogues. As I mentioned before, I am a milk makin' mama who churns out 60 ounces a day. However, I have never used a galactagogue, except apparently oatmeal. I was under the impression that they were medicines or teas, and I haven't needed them.

I asked a couple moms about their idea of a good supply and the most common answer was, having enough milk stored to bottle feed when Baby is with a sitter or going through a growth spurt. That's all good and well,  but that's also where supply doubt creeps in.

According to KellyMom there are simple ways to be assured your little one is getting enough milkies. If baby is making at least 5 wet diapers, and at least 3 dirty ones, per day, you are fine. The urine should be pale and have a mild scent. The bowel movements will be yellow, and vary from very runny to curd like.

As with everything else, babies can vary greatly within the scope of a norm.

Note: ALWAYS speak with your doctor or lactation consultant if you feel something isn't right. You know your baby best.

The most popular galactagogue is fenugreek, an herb that can even be used to stimulate lactation in adoptive mothers! It can increase milk production by 900%. It smells like pancake syrup. (It is also used in maple flavoring.) If you take the right amount, so will you--and baby, and your milk.

Other popular galactagogues are blessed thistle, fennel, anise, and caraway seed. They all work the same way--the phytoestrogens work to stimulate milk production.

For those who don't care for capsules or tinctures, there are several teas on the market. I was given the opportunity to examine a few tea bags and they all smelled of either black licorice or the base aromatics for pasta sauce. Pretty appealing to me, as I am a tea lover.

In case herbs don't do it for your palate, there are foods which act as galactagogues too.

Whole grains (like oatmeal)
Leafy green vegetables  (kale, spinach, alfalfa, broccoli)
Fennel
Garlic
Nuts and seeds
Papaya
Ginger

I was pleased as punch to see things I already eat included in the lineup, especially almond milk. (I don't consume much dairy.)

The important thing, and I cannot stress this enough, is to understand these three points.

1. It is difficult to tell exactly how much a baby fed exclusively at the breast consumes. Unless you weigh them at every feeding and track every single dirty or wet diaper--and only for a preemie or medically fragile baby would that be feasible.

2. Every baby varies in how much they need. One baby may thrive on small frequent feedings, while another baby may space his noshes out.

3. A breast pump cannot express milk anywhere near as efficiently as a baby. Period.

Even though galactagogues could very well be a godsend if you are truly experiencing low supply, please remember to be patient and gentle with yourself. Having bottles and bags of milk in the freezer is wonderful, I will not lie--but having a healthy, happy, thriving baby is truly all that counts.

Also, even with galactagogues, you still need to make sure you are emptying your mammaries regularly. Breastmilk is supply and demand.

I hope this serves to soothe some nerves, inform some minds, and pad some grocery lists!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

Freshly Picked Moccasins GIVEAWAY!

Namastè!

I am sooooo excited today, so let's jump right into it.

I have partnered with Freshly Picked to bring you two things: a brand new review and A BRAND NEW GIVEAWAY!!!

Gaining entry into this contest is very easy. Go here and follow the instructions.

That's it, that's all. I'll be using a Facebook plug in to generate my winner. The sooner you guys go in, the sooner I can announce the winner!

Milk Donation--Totally a Thing. Get Into It!

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

Tonight I'm embarking on another stash-building journey. As you may have gleaned from my breastmilk bag comparison post, I am a milk donor.

I have pumped around 60 ounces a day for the past few months. (I keep a tight schedule, eat mostly healthful foods, and feed Baby Namastè on demand.) I have a dramatic supply, and I periodically donate in 100-ounce increments to keep a fresh rotation in our freezer. Baby Namastè has his own little nest egg of milkies, and donation allows me to keep his milkies at their freshest and help other little ones in the process.

Now, I typically pump around 60 ounces--but Baby Namastè eats about 30. (Just an estimate, as he still nurses as well as takes a bottle from Dad Namastè!) Initially we were delivering the milk to a very special little princess, whom I will write about when I can handle it. That little princess has not needed us for several months,  and we wanted to honor her. The best way to honor a life?

Help another one thrive!

I stumbled upon a milk donation site in a moment of desperation, honestly. As our know, we are transitioning into our new home. Since November of last year, we were in a city 4 hours away from our home. (Work and other obligations.) By the time we began preparing to come home, I had over 3000 ounces of liquid gold stored in two freezers. We didn't trust shipping the milk, and it would take up too much space in the car. (Think of the coolers--several large Igloos with dry ice and regular ice!) I jumped online to see about donor agencies. I found one official but it was in Atlanta, so I'd still have to either ship the milk or drive it up by myself. (NOTE: I never "run out" of milk for Baby Namastè. He has his own freezer stash, and he gets his fill every day. Just clearing that up again, in case some mommies feel sancti!)

Then I found HM4HB. They are a network of women who donate breastmilk peer to peer. I did a bit of digging and was impressed. Here was an entire sisterhood of mamas making sure babies could have breastmilk by all means. No one charges  (I wouldn't dream of such anyway), and local pickups and mutual meeting spots are the modus operandi. I made sure everything was on the up and up, spoke with a couple coordinators, and made my post on their Facebook page. I was able to help 3 babies out, giving 2000 ounces to a NICU baby and 500 ounces each to older babies who just needed mother's milk to bridge during the weaning process.

It felt really amazing to be able to help. Didn't require any extra effort or money, just bags of milk and a desire to help. I refused to throw out all that milk, and I didn't want to rent a van to drive it all, so the logical solution was to give it to someone. (Also note: I am actually tested and cleared through the Helping Hands Milk Bank, the National Milk Bank, and the Piedmont Donor Milk Program.)

A lot of people are confused about donor milk, and it's a divisive subject for sure. Many feel like formula is a safer option when they can't or won't nurse. Of course this is true for some  BUT in a positively and wonderfully staggering percentage of cases, donor milk is absolutely safe--there are programs like the ones mentioned above which test all milk before distribution. Certified donors like myself are obviously the best bet, but peer-to-peer programs are becoming a formidable option with required disclosure and the option to have contracts, waivers, and requirements on each side. Recipients can request a specific diet, from vegan, vegetarian, or caffeine and medication free, to no restrictions at all. It hinges on what each recipient baby needs, and what diet the parents prefer their donor follow.

Some are uneasy about allowing their babies to consume milk from a stranger, but women have been wet nurses for eons. In days not so long gone by, it was commonplace to hire a wet nurse. Adoptive mothers are sometimes able to relactate so they can nurse their new babies, and while it's not entirely the same, it is still a woman who may or may not be biologically connected to a child who opts to breastfeed that child. It's far more beautiful than it is creepy. It isn't creepy or weird at all, honestly. There is nothing gross or unnatural about feeding a baby, ever.

We drink cow's milk--which is meant for baby cows. Before it is consumed by humans,  it is pasteurized and necessary nutrients are added. All good and well! If I weren't lactose intolerant, I would probably have a cold glass of milk right now, along with a cookie or three. That being said... If you are not uneasy seeing a baby with a bottle or cup of cow's milk, a bottle or cup of human milk should not bother you! Human milk does not generally need pasteurization or to have anything added, and babies are never allergic to human milk itself, only the things the mother might consume.

What it is, is amazing. To know I can do something that I do anyway (pump lots of milk) and help preemies and other babies thrive just makes my whole heart sing. Donors are ALWAYS needed, and those tiny little babies thrive on that precious liquid gold. I can't put into words the rush of happiness and joy my soul feels when I deliver those coolers. It's unmatched outside the feeling I get caring for my own little ones.

In the end, feeding babies is what matters most. However, if breastmilk is what a woman wants for her child (and for any reason she cannot provide it on her own or provide enough), donor milk is a great option.

If you are interested in donating OR receiving milk, please check the following links. I recommend certifying with an agency even if you do peer-to-peer. It's an added comfort for you, and a major point of reassurance for the recipients. Everyone wins.

National Milk Bank

Piedmont Donor Milk Program

Helping Hands Milk Bank

HM4HB

I personally will be working toward making an even bigger donation this month in honor of breast cancer awareness. One of my recipients is a survivor and mom to a preemie and she absolutely rocks my socks. I hope you'll consider donating also. Let's give!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Early Morning Bliss

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

I'm up before the sun, pumping and reflecting.

For a long time I did not want to write a blog. Well, let me clarify. I didn't want to write a blog and it float in cyberspace, unread. I mean, I am pretty active on social media. I am also pretty reserved. I don't get to talk about my newest parenting adventures much, as my friends and family are generally raising older kids or even grandkids. (I am 32, but I am typically the youngest in my circles.) My kids are younger, not to mention I have an infant and I'm still somewhat newly married. I end up sharing cat videos and memes, and the occasional witty quip.

That's not the interaction I wish for at this exact blip in time. Because I am experiencing first milestones and navigating baby steps all over again, I wanted a space to share that without being the annoying Facebook girl. (Yes, it's my page--but it isn't exactly courteous to bombard people [who clearly aren't interested] with my quips, quotes, and reviews about all things baby and kid when they cannot or will not relate!) We all know people who don't care how they're received, but for the sake of being a bit more genteel I opted against that route.

To that end, this blog has been wonderful. I'm able to have a platform, as large or as small as I want. (If I promote, it grows and reaches thousands. If I just hash out my thoughts and sigh, my little corner of the stage remains fairly intimate and small.)

I am a mother above all, and I know people get their fill of my ilk and how we fawn ovee our spawn. I can fawn til I am blue in the face here and the most I can expect is a few likeminded mamas and papas! I can talk about relationships and challenges without people raising their antennas toward family breakdown or divorce. I can talk about whatever baby/kid/household items I'm currently gaga over without the bored eye roll emojis and heavy sighs. (At least, I don't know about them. *wink*) I can share my feelings and thoughts with an audience unbiased. While you're a part of my little world, you're not close enough to be annoyed and not distant enough to be apathetic. There is nothing so valuable as objective feedback.

I always feel like I don't thank my readers enough, hence the giveaways and posts like this one. You are rockstars. I believe in putting gratitude in the atmosphere, copious amounts thereof, frequently. You don't owe me loyalty, feedback, any of that--yet you give it so freely. This is my growth, and you help effect it by simply existing in this sphere with me. A blog was a small dream of mine, but it's a very big reality now and I am unabashedly chuffed.

Thank you!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

Crawling!!!

Namastè!

Baby Namastè's crawling, y'all!!! It happened today.

I'm both excited and sad.

Excited? Of course. Babies growing is a sign of successful parenting, in a sense. We figured out his optimal food, sleep, and snuggle requirements, so he's a happy, healthy little Bud who's finally getting that baby chunk. Babies thrive when their needs are met, so despite people telling us he would be spoiled or not independent because we "coddle" him JUST LOOK AT HIM GO!

Alas, it is sad for me also. Crawling is one milestone closer to walking and one milestone further away from being my newborn squish.

I spent hours holding and snuggling him when he was tinier, smelling that sweet baby scent and reveling in all that new baby sweetness. He would snuggle into my arms and just sigh, like he was perfectly content and knew exactly where he belonged. All I wanted to do those first couple weeks was hold my boy, feed my boy, and smell my boy.

Nowadays I still get my fill of holding him, except he is interested in so much more than before. See, to a newborn, mommy is the whole world--she is comfort, she is warmth, she is food. She is safety. She is the baby's anchor in a place full of experiences and sensations that send him swaying about.

Today it really dawned on me. This little baby is becoming a toddler, slowly and surely. Almost in the blink of an eye! Baby Namastè before, was essentially coccooned in unawareness, safely swaddled in his own little world.

That little world, sadly and also incredibly, is no longer only me. I'm no longer the beginning and end for him. There are other things to do now, besides or perhaps in addition to, cuddling with mommy or sleeping on mommy's chest. There are now toys to play with, and rooms to explore! He can follow Daddy or investigate his play space. He can laugh and clap with his siblings. He is mobile and curious, and his agenda is to explore, investigate, and categorize everything in sight.

I'm simply base now, because he is no longer stationary. He is a mover and a shaker these days. He can move away from me. He can shake life's proverbial trees and gather new layers of understanding. Our job as his parents has now extended as well. We now have to keep him safe from his biggest detriment--HIMSELF! It's enough to turn my hair white sometimes. It's also so amazing that I get teary-eyed and have to breathe a minute so I don't cry in front of him. (He's aware of feelings now, more each day, and when he sees another's tears, he cries too. *sighs* Why is he growing!)

I'm glad I cherished those squish days. I've tried not to take them for granted, even at the worst. (Two words: Wonder Weeks.) Pretty soon he will be walking, running, bounding toward whatever he decides to do in his future. I'm gonna cherish these crawling/exploring/demanding days too...because they mean we've survived another chapter. Intact!

Right now he's doing that sweet baby sleep breathing. I'm gonna go creep on him and listen a bit. Pretty soon he'll be my adorable toddler, so I plan to drink in the rest of these baby moments as if they're the last water on Earth.

Namastè.

-- Tayè K ♡

The First Years Mickey Mouse Helping Hands Activity and Feeding Seat **Review Post

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing a huge downpour thereof this afternoon.

I have been excited about dinner the past few weeks. Aside from the always-incredible food and generally happy buzz from all the wonderful things happening in our lives at the moment, Baby Namastè's finally beginning to show interest in foods!

Enter, our The First Years Mickey Mouse Helping Hands Activity and Feeding Seat.

We are big on celebrating our children. They get half birthdays and fairly elaborate birthdays, with gifts at each. (When you know loss, you appreciate all that remains so much more.) Baby Namastè received this seat from his uncle on his half birthday. I couldn't wait to set it up...

...except it took a couple more weeks for Baby Namastè to really need it. It made a great photo prop for his half birthday cupcake though!

Fast forward a few weeks. I let Baby Namastè sit in his seat a few times. He loves Mickey Mouse and this seat has the helping hands, a popular character from the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse show. Baby boy was impressed. 

He began eating little bits of food, and because we like to include him in meals, out came this seat again! 

The seat is, first and foremost, safe when used correctly. It has little straps to secure baby in the chair. The tray is fairly easy to adjust. The toys are all removable, including the helping hands. (We sometiems keep the little green bowl attached, because Baby Namastè likes it.) 

This chair can be used on the floor, or on a chair. If you'll be using it on a chair, the chair's seat MUST be wider than the base of this seat. Otherwise, you are asking for trouble. Provided the host chair has a wide enough base and is a level area, you'll be good to go and your little one will be a-okay. 

DO NOT LEAVE BABY UNATTENDED. THIS IS NOT A BABYSITTER, IT IS SIMPLY A BABY'S SITTER. As in, chair. 

Needless to say, it isn't intended for use on cabinets, stoves (I have legit seen people put other seats on stoves!), washers/dryers, or other elevated surfaces. 

Aside from feeding, the seat can be used for TV time, coloring, or just a nice spot for baby to sit while you make dinner. I have also used ours, in a pinch, for Baby Namastè to hang out in the bathroom with me when I'm doing my hair. (Sit it on the floor, attach the toys, and boom--happy baby cooing away while Mama finishes her hair!)

I like it, and the baby likes it more, so it's a win around here. 

Namastè!

-- Tayè K. ♡

The Infantino Topsy-turvy Mirror Pal **Review Post

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

Babies love mirrors. This is practically science. Babies also love sweet, colorfully-designed toys that crinkle, rattle, and delight.

Enter, this little guy here:

The Infantino Topsy-turvy Mirror Pal.

Baby Namastè's been infatuated with this thing since day one. It's a much smaller version of the turtle dude who is, the ball pit. That sweet little toy our son throws a fit to get to when he is in the play room. The same toy he cries for when it is time to go to bed. Yep, that one. (We love that toy!)

This little turtle is an adorable, huggable, little friend who can clip onto a stroller or car seat. He can also be untethered for free snuggling. Infantino struck gold, again. 

The little turtle has a mirror on its belly. He's colorful, with a sweet little turtle smile that never fails to elicit a grin from Baby Namastè. As soon as he sees his little buddy, he gets so happy.

His other favorite part of this cute thing is its feet. Two of them are crinkly. Two of them make a gentle rattle, almost like jingle bells yet softer. The turtle's "shell" is soft cloth, with patches of differently-textured materials for baby to explore. Baby Namastè pets his. He also gets a kick out of giving it kisses on its head (so sweet, my boy is) and squeezing the crinkly feet for the sound.

We got our Topsy turtle a while back, and it's been one of the top 3 toys ever since. We never leave home without it. Wherever you see Baby Namastè you will also see this baby turtle.

From a parents standpoint the, the toy is great. I'm big on sensory experience, and it fits the bill there. The fabrics, colors, and sounds make this toy a treat for a baby of any age. The price point is great--we got it for around 3 bucks on Jet. (It was part of a larger purchase, and the prices on Jet drop as you add items to your cart!) It keeps baby engaged without being noisy or obnoxious, and if I haven't said it enough, it is adorable. It has more than paid for itself because in our various travels, Baby Namastè has not had trouble sleeping due to having his buddy. The familiarity is priceless, and since we can't always bring his bigger turtle (can't take a ball pit to a restaurant!), this little guy gets top marks.

I highly recommend it.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Blah!

Namastè!

I'm so over it this morning.

By "it," I mean the MOMpetition.

You know, that unspoken competition among moms. The lines drawn by an invisible hand dictating how many likes you need on social media, how big your clique  needs to be, and how outwardly perfect your life must look to be considered a good mom DO NOT hold weight for me.

MOMpetition has no prize. There is no MOMlympics, no gold medal for this "sport."

I don't participate in such, but I do see it. For example, it's almost Halloween.  Babies who can barely hold their heads up are about to be stuffed into little costumes because ADORABLE INSTAGRAM! Never mind the poor wee one would probably sleep through any festivities, or cry. But then again they may be used to it because they've been decked out in intricate, elaborate outfits since their first hospital bath, at birth. MOMpetition dictates, participants indulge. Get them likes and double taps, girl, WORK.

I watch the scene with a bit of disgust, a bit of pity. See, the MOMpetition is driven by low self esteem. Everyone feels good when they are the best at something, correct? The gold medal, the blue ribbon, the chart full of foil stars all equate to being number one. When a mom feels inadequate anywhere else in life, she can lean on the amazing truth that she can give and nourish life. She can take pride in giving her best to her family. She can be happy knowing she's got a superpower--to her babies, she's a heroine. That should be enough to shake the slump. Right?

Not for everyone. Despite how amazing it is to carry a life, and nourish and nurture that life, some still need more. They need the praise, the validation, the approval. The adoration! They need to log into an app or walk into a group and feel superior to everyone. The other moms, who may or may not feel that same need, begin to either flock and coddle OR dismiss and compete. From that point it becomes a race to see who can outdo the next. Not among anyone with a hint of self confidence--but self confidence can be fleeting when everything around is a competition. As long as there is someone with more money to buy those elaborate outfits and costumes, throw those productions known as birthday parties, and plate their kids' snacks as if they're competing for a chef spot at Nobu--there will be a mom who wants to up the ante and outdo them. Not to be a better person, or a better parent, mind you. She's doing this because she needs that top spot. She cannot stand to be outdone, outclassed, or outsmarted, even when it is only in her mind. She'll drive herself batshit crazy in the process, and she won't care.

Until it begins to crumble.

MOMpetition spills over into other areas of life as well. We want the best pics for social media. We expect our husband's to be absolute martyrs during hormone-driven rage/cry/eat episodes that are accepted as part and parcel to pregnancy. (And I will say ON THE RECORD, that's bull--being pregnant is not an excuse to be a whiny, complaining ingrate. The same family and friends set you abuse with your antics now will likely return the disfavor later, watch and see.) Even being BAD is a competition. Some brag about not doing things for or with their kids, because they don't want to conform to the "perfect Pinterest" culture. Refusing to color with your kids when you have the time and opportunity doesn't make you a badass, it makes you a bad ass. Anyone who supports you in this particular MOMpetition event is equally rotten. I said it, I stand behind it, and I'm not backing down.

Moms are competing everywhere, for accolades and brownie pints that don't amount to a hill of dryer lint.

As you know, I'm not necessarily a veteran to this blogging thing. I started it as a part of something else. I was asked to promote that product and needed a public platform. While I am new to blogs, I am NOT new to writing. I hold degrees in English and Communications, therefore I have a good grasp of the pen, so to speak. I am also a natural talent. But--per MOMpetition rules--I cannot and should not be here. This is someome else's tbing, no new girls allowed. Since my first post, I have gotten jabs about "not being first" and even "not being professional." Indignant me said, "BUT I'M HERE AND I'M OWNING THIS SHIT!!!" Mature me said, "Correct on both counts--I did not create the first blog ever and I am not employed as a writer. However I have something to contribute, and I will stand and do just that. There is space for me and whomever else in the blogosphere." I don't like to boast but I will own the fact that a spate of MOMpetitor blogs sprang up in the weeks after mine. I am and remain untroubled, except where my work has been plagiarized and photos, stolen. (Watermarks take care of the photo issue, and I understand that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.) I imagine those people think they are "teaching me a lesson" or "showing me how it is done." Or maybe they just needed to one-up someone, somewhere, to feel okay for another day. Life is hard.

The crab mentality abounds in cliques rooted to the MOMpetition code.

It's all so stupid.

Note: This is NOT to say ALL moms go all out just for the approval of others. (I have a tendency to do a bit extra myself, because my kids like it! I just happen to not care how anyone else feels. That's the line--when it's done for approval versus when it's done for self.) I am simply addressing those who do.

Anyway...I don't think the MOMpetition days will end anytime soon. Not as long as there are moms who tear others down to lift themselves up.

I'm gonna do my part to make sure it doesn't rage on, though. I embrace the shit out of my Namastè creed and discord is not my thing. I won't be pouring syrup on forest fires BUT I will make myself available to encourage and uplift the moms I come across who are in need. I'm raising girls myself, and I won't indulge the MOMpetition drivel if for no other reason than I am NOT a mean girl and I am NOT raising another generation of mean girls. Happiness is what happiness does, and peace cannot grow in discord. Plus...ain't nobody got time for that. Your competition is YOU--and you can't outrun you, because you will be everywhere you go.

I'd suggest fixing YOU, because if MOMpetition brings you joy, you are broken somewhere. You don't deserve that.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Aroma Rice Cooker & Food Steamer **Review Post!

Namastè!

I hope you are experiencing a huge downpour thereof this evening. 

I've been away from the sites (here and at FB) more than usual today and for that, I apologize. We are preparing to move into Castle Namastè and let me tell you, my Namastè has tried to crawl away more than once! I refuse to go into a new home with a bunch of old weight, so I have been thinning out our acumen. Baby Namastè's room decor is sponsored (More on that in a bit--I am thrilled!) so I haven't had much to do there, but just the idea of cleaning, arranging, and decorating six bedrooms is daunting when I have to do it myself. I can't let Hubby Namastè trouble himself with that; his work hours are longer and more hectic than mine. 

Anyway...I digress. I've been doing even more ripping and running than usual and have not spent much time in the kitchen.  I generally fix fairly elaborate meals four or five days a week. Since I've been tied down trying to get our living situation ironed out, I've only been in the kitchen to pack, donate, and delegate items. 

Alas, we still have to eat.

Now, it's no secret I am a spoiled wife. I manage the household, so Hubby Namastè generally spares little expense to make sure I can do so with minimal muss and fuss. I sent out a call of distress to my darling one, because I needed a new slow cooker. Mine cracked during an unfortunate incident involving me, a step stool, and a misplaced foot.

He came through for me, as always. Meet ROMA! (Yeah, I name stuff.) He got it here.

Roma is my new baby. I'm a kitchen appliances fanatic, and this Aroma Rice Cooker and Food Steamer is my new obsession. My family eats a lot of rice, first off. Those delicious curries and masalas don't even plate well without some lovely basmati. Secondly, I have an entire shelf of slow cooker recipe-laden cookbooks as well as the moxie to just create them from time to time.

The first thing I decided to make was my turkey chili. Making chili is a rite of passage--it means summer is over and fall has arrived! (Stay tuned for the recipe over on FB in a few minutes.) 

Look at it. It's as delicious as it looks--and healthy. 

Because Roma is indeed a ricer...

...that basmati, though! *googly heart eyes*

This thing is about its business for sure, y'all. I allowed the chili to cook for 90 minutes after combining the ingredients. The only thing I prepped separately was the turkey, which I simmered in a skillet on medium heat to brown. Had the whole house smelling like a dream.

The rice cooker function is a favorite, because basmati rice (our favorite variety) is delicious BUT a pain to cook on the stove top. I prefer it served kind of sticky, and the ricer effects that perfectly every time. 

You know me by now. I had to put this thing to the real test. It's a food steamer as well. As you probably also know, Hubby Namastè is a pescatarian. He does not eat poultry, beef, or pork--but he does love seafood. Salmon, kingfish, and shrimp are his favorites.

Hello from the Steamer siiiiide...

I could not have chosen a better cooker, y'all. Hubby Namastè's seafood came out perfect. The fish (whiting) is cooked in butter (Not margarine...buttah!) and herbs. The shrimp is cooked in red pepper, onion, garlic, and olive oil.

The Aroma holds between 4 and 20 cups. It's straightforward and easy to use. The buttons are very self explanatory--you literally put on your ingredients, add water if needed, press a button, and you're set. It does not take up a ton of cabinet space, and it looks so sleek. I love the black and silver finish, as our appliances are stainless steel.

Ours came with the cooker, its steamer basket, a cup for water/rice, and a spatula spoon for stirring. Also, some coupons, recipes, and the instruction manual. 

As with any appliance, we got the warranty on it, and we registered it with the manufacturer. I actually plan to get a bigger one, for holidays and work functions. (We cook a LOT around here, and we almost always have a friend or two stopping by for delicious noms and good company.)

The only thing I don't like about it, is the fact that I did not get it sooner. SERIOUSLY. I only wish it had two cooking inserts, so I could cook food/masala/curry in one and do the rice in the other. 

In the midst of everything I have going on now, this little piece of culinary magic is keeping me on track with not eating too much fast food. (I love it, don't get me wrong--I just try not to eat it too much.) I always have a little free time in the morning so on crockpot day, I will just pop one of my prepped bags in the Aroma and let it do its thing while I go about my day. 

I know it's crazy to be this excited about a crock pot but this is my life right now--finding happy in the little things. I have a million little things to be happy about, and a million little happy thoughts can create an entire happy life! That is what I am trying to effect for myself and those close to me. Speaking of which, I am due for a little bowl of happy before I finish cleaning this closet. *winky face*

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Moving... Kuḻantaikaḷ

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof.

Castle Namastè is almost ready!!!

I am bursting at the seams with excitement. But I am also, not bursting at the seams with excitement. We are preparing to move...Kuḻantaikaḷ.

Kuḻantaikaḷ is Tamil for "with children."

I digress.

Moving Kuḻantaikaḷ will likely be my undoing, as one of said children is seven months old and extra frisky and curious. The other children are varying shades of easily excited, completely disinterested, and absolutely ready to get into everything. Mama Namastè?

Well, I am varying shades of excited, with a light smattering of nervous, a dash of reserve, and a heaping helping of let's go. Who wouldn't be excited for their dream home?! I've waited almost a year. The bathroom alone is more than enough for my happiness. I'm nervous because it's a move. Another place to get accustomed to, more neighbors to learn. I'm reserved because I have been here before, except with fewer kids...and grey hairs.

I'm not sure how Kiddos Namastè will react to the new digs. They aren't even talking about it much. They've seen the house and seem to like it...but I don't see that excitement. They are more concerned with their activities and making sure they can keep up with their friends. The tiniest Namastè will likely love the shorter commutes, but babies don't offer much in the way of opinions regarding life decisions.

The area is much better for them. There is more to see and do, closer to home. They will get the same upbringing--we are strict but generous. They will have the same routine. We like activities but we give them chores, responsibilities, and have them earn their provileges. The last thing we want is to contribute to an entitled generation of kids who are never told no. I don't know why, but I don't want anything to change, yet I do want everything to change.

Getting back to my brass tacks...

I wonder what this place has in store for us. I'm excited for holiday memories and everyday anecdotes. I'm dreading the unpacking and rearranging. I'm dreading slightly more so, the days or weeks it will take to get everything assembled.

...above all I am grateful. I look forward to blogging from my oversized bathroom, with a big cup of tea and some fuzzy socks. The bathroom will likely be where all my blogs happen, because it's my sanctuary. I approved this particular spot in the house from day one. Every step of the way, every fixture, every travertine tile. It's mine.

It's the bathroom and the promise of the decadent indulgence therein, that gives me a little extra push to finish sealing these boxes, thinning our accumulated stuff, and keeping Kiddos Namastè corralled as I do. Moving with them, challenging. Moving WITHOUT them?

There'd be no reason, because home is only where they are.

Even as the small one tugs on my hair while fighting sleep.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Loving My Mom-bod...

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof tonight.

I'm here planning new additions to my fall collection and I'm actually happy with my sizes!

That's not a big thing, in and of. Baby Namastè's just seven months old so even if I did have weight loss goals, I would still have five months before I began considering them. See, I learned a magic trick.

I love my Mom-bod!

I learned to, through much trial and error.

I lost the baby weight pretty quickly. (No humble brag there-- I  endured hyperemesis gravidarium and spent my entire pregnancy flagellating between IV nutrition and trying to tough things out with Phenergan, as Zofran had no effect.) I was so utterly sick that I almost forgot that eating is enjoyable!

Which brings us to chapter two--those cravings associated with nursing hit me hard. I often joke that while I did feel a bit left out because I had no pregnancy cravings, the nursing cravings have come in on a blazing steed to make up for lost calories. Time! Make up for lost time. I just rode the wave. After all, I couldn't deny my little prince his very own baby rolls. I just neeeded to not grow my own. So, indulge I did. Admittedly, I still do.

At first I would look at the scale and feel like Sta-Puff Girl. Seriously, I hadn't prepared myself for the sticker shock. The number still said 138. Every scale--digital, non-digital, and the one in the doctor's office--all read my normal weight exactly. My body didn't feel 138. My body felt 178!!!

Baby Namastè was born in February. It was still cold out, so I wasn't doing my walks and I certainly wasn't hitting anyone's gym. Gyms have never been my cup of tea anyway.  That frigid air was all the reason I needed to stay indoors, playing with Kids Namastè and snuggling Baby Namastè while inhaling that newborn sweetness.

Winter ended, and I was still miraculously not a double me. That 138 stayed constant, as did the feeling of 178. I started back walking, because I have an incredible stroller and my son sleeps through almost anything. I felt like my old self again when I started getting fresh air and seeing things besides the inside of the house. And fridge, can't forget that. I did nothing but nurse and pump, so I was constantly in the fridge eating or storing milk. The former contributed to chapter three.

When they tell you that your body changes after a kid, they don't lie a bit. I lost about three more pounds, but everything fit differently. How was I smaller, yet still having a weird go of getting dressed? Shirts were tighter, pants were not sitting as they previously had. I jokingly called clothing, the can. Either I'd fill it out OR look like a can of biscuits.

I jest about the biscuits.

I was cinnamon rolls. The buttery, gooey, delicious kind like from Cinnabon. They don't even fit in a can. Nope. My Cinnabon self? I had to buy all new cans.

Weight redistributes itself. Mine? It went to some places I have made myself quite ok with! I got hips, y'all. Nursing does some cleavage good. I don't work out (read, walk) to lose weight, but to make sure I stay toned. I'm not even interested in being a size six anymore. I feel so content in this "new" body that I don't even pay attention to the number in sizes now. I go by fit and comfort. Admittedly it helps that Hubby Namastè is a darling and always lets me know he thinks I'm the bee's knees.

I stopped being ruled by numbers because even though the scale didn't really change, my body did. This body also made, carried, and brought forth a little dimple-faced, curly-haired, grey-eyed prince, a little boy I feel like I waited my whole life to meet. This body has nourished that little love muffin for seven months strong now. This body, for all its imperfections, is gonna be my soul's home til my assignment here is finished.

...I love me.

Admittedly I didn't overcome a huge weight struggle, nor did I gain or lose overnight. I didn't take a massive lifestyle change or alter my diet dramatically. (I don't even like that word.) I tried to apply my own principles though, the first of which is BE KIND TO SELF. I didn't beat myself up about sizing out of those skinny jeans. I didn't give myself hell for having cake. I didn't entertain those fleeting thoughts of "what if."

I love me. I also love my shell, my vessel.

I love my Mom-bod.

Please love yours, too. Wether you need bigger cans or you've gone down to miniature serving cups is irrelevant! Let no one shame your shell, because YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Mother, Not Martyr

Namastè!

I'll get right into it this evening.

Society has us moms, jacked up.

According to "them," we have a whole oppressing set of rules to adhere to regarding what equated to the martyrdom of mothers everywhere. Frankly, I'm over it. Allow me to bust up a few stereotypes? It's what I love so much!

1. Moms must never take time for themselves.

No turkey, no spam, no ham, NO MA'AM. A mother is a PERSON. A whole HUMAN, separate from all others. Taking time for yourself is, in essence, a small healing of sorts. You cannot care for others if you yourself are broken down.

2. Moms must not be selfish.

Wrong again, Batman. A mother must selfishly guard her health, mental and physical. If you have anxiety or depression, you must "selfishly" seek and receive treatment because being your best self guaranteed you will also be the best mother possible. Go ahead...SELFISHLY take that long bath, that long walk, or that therapy session. You have every right.

3. Moms must do it all.

Is this a time warp to an era that never existed??? A mother's job is never done. This is a known fact. Because that job is never done anyway, there is absolutely ZERO shame in getting some help. Or leaving it for tomorrow! If the kids are clean and fed, and the house is not unsanitary, you've done well, mama. Personally, in my decade of mommy'ing, I've come to the realization that as long as I do my personal enough, I am fine. My personal enough? Clean kids, neat home, dinner served by 6. I don't beat myself up if I deviate from this little ideal, but I maintain it because I feel good when things are in order. Not perfect, but in an orderly enough state that I'd be comfortable welcoming my in-laws or my neighbors without a massive overhaul first.

4. Mom cannot break.

Pfffft. Moms are HUMAN. We feel, we cry, we get angry. We might even cuss. Being a mother does not negate your feelings or emotional needs as a person. We are allowed every blip on the emotional spectrum. We CAN and WILL break down, we just shouldn't unpack and dwell in that breakdown.

5. Mom must be perfect.

Show me. Just show me. I want to meet this unicorn, perfect mother. I'd like to hug her and learn from her. But for now, I've got this, in my own, imperfect way. You do as well, mama.

6. Mom must push through her own discomfort/sickness and provide for the family.

Who comes up with these??? Mom must be in sound physical and mental health, or as close as she gets. I get so aggravated with this assumption because it can go so many ways. Yes, we're mommy. We are the nursers, the soothers of booboos, the makers of the best dino sandwiches. (I'll share that recipe soon, they're delicious and oh-so healthy.) However--we must attend to our physical health. I will never be the mother who insists on coughing and sneezing all over my kids just to say I didn't take a break. Not to mention the potential to get the kids sick, or be so lax in my routine due to not feeling well or medication side effects that I falter and cause a small (or major) setback. Not worth it, one bit.

NOTE: I know some have no option, but those of us who DO have the option just look silly trying to "do it all" when we can barely stand.

I could go on with the list.

I believe it all comes from society, but also social media, namely some women's need to be in the Club. You know, Club Martyr. Because of moms constantly comparing themselves, downing themselves, and reinventing themselves to fit in (which, in and of, is not a bad thing--until it becomes a mechanism for fitting into niches we would not otherwise), our moral compasses and morale in general have taken a serious beating. The Pinterest pro will downplay her talent to fit in with the hipster nonconformist, while the hipster nonconformist desperately wishes she could be the Stepfrod wife. Meanwhile the Stepfrod wife is one missed Xanax from falling apart due to the sheer weight of needing to have, be, and control everything in her perfect illusion.

We have got to stop doing this to ourselves!

I already have. I am good at doing my own thing, but I'm getting better at not letting opinions and expectations other than mine and my family's sway that resolve. When I took a long look in the mirror, I loved what I saw. I saw the things I wanted coming into fruition. I'm a crafty, punctual, upbeat, nonconformist mommy who just happens to be a culinary genius, amazing friend, and all around beautiful soul. That isn't conceit. That is 32 years of living and learning, boiled down into the peaceful, confident mindset I now enjoy.

I'm a mom, not a martyr. I cordially invite you to join me. Why die for validation when you can live for the pure joy of another day?!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Baby Banana Infant Training Toothbrush **Review Post!**

Namastè!

I hope you're experiencing copious amounts thereof on this lovely autumn Saturday!

We are in the Big Apple...and Baby Namastè's now got two teeth!!!

This was exciting for us because one, teething has been rather difficult and two, we were ready to break out all the goodies in our teething box. (We have a small box full of teethers, from our backup Sophie to the little banana toothbrush I'll be raving over today.) This is an uncompensated review--we purchased this item of our own volition and the review reflects our personal experience.

The Baby Banana Infant Training Toothbrush is a godsend. Period. It's made of medical-grade silicone, too big for baby to swallow, and absolutely perfect for cleaning those tender little gums and tiny teeth.

The Baby Banana is a bendy, flexy, squeezy toothbrush that babies won't likely balk at. (Baby Namastè does not like spoons, toothbrushes, or anything remotely similar--and we have tried MANY.) The bristles feel like tiny massagers to the baby's gum line, and they do an excellent job of cleaning both gums and teeth. 

➡IMPORTANT!!! ⬅ Contrary to popular belief, this is NOT a teether. It is a toothbrush! Most babies will bite and chew at it as you brush their teeth and gums, but that is not the intended use of this item. Please regard labeling and instructions, y'all. It only feels like a teether because that's a pleasant texture for babies' tender gums and teeth. Don't leave baby unattended, and use as intended. 

(Photo: Me, cleaning Baby Namastè's gums with the brush.)

We have been using this toothbrush for a week or so now, and it's gone smoothly. Baby Namastè does not hate it (always a plus) and it eliminated the need for the finger brush, which he would clamp down on, gnawing our fingers in the process. I like that the banana is chunky. If my baby wanted to have a go at brushing his own teeth (that's still a ways off but just for illustration's sake), the brush is ergonomically set for that. Little fingers can easily hold it.

As with any nipple/toothrbush/teether, we clean and inspect our Baby Banana Infant Training Toothbrush before and after each use. The only downside is, we haven't found a carrier case for it. (I clean his teeth after he takes each meal, and sometimes we aren't at home when he eats!) I just keep ours in a zip baggie. 

As always, I hope this is helpful as you navigate the aisles in search of your own baby's perfect first toothbrush!

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Love YOU

Namastè!

I'll skip all the pleasantries because this I'm about to tell you, is the single most important tidbit I'll ever impart.

LOVE. YOU.

Love you, mama. Take care of you. Spoil you.

I know, I know--you've got the baby to care for and the household to manage and dinner isn't ready at 7 pm. Your hair hasn't been washed, or maybe you caved and had wine before 5. You need to let the dogs out (or in) and you haven't returned a social call in weeks. A 5 minute shower is a luxury and...

...all that is either great, good, or important.

But when have you taken a moment to yourself, to reconnect with and nurture YOUR namastè?

You don't need to take a vacation, spend thousands of dollars,  or get blackout drunk with your girlfriends to treat yourself, mama.

Just be gentle with you. Understand that every time a new baby is born, a new mother is too. You'll have to be merciful with yourself as you learn the best way to care for the little baby. You'll have moments where you think you're all wrong, or baby should have better.

And for the love of cookie butter, please take a deep breath in those moments and remember the following.

1. There's no one better for your little one than you. That's why your little one, is yours.

2. There is no perfect mom. There are MANY different good ones though, from all walks of life.

3. Don't be offended by Pinterest. You don't have to make perfect pasta in Mason jars to be a good mom. (And if you can make perfect pasta in Mason jars, stop being offended by moms who can't or don't.)

4. STOP COMPARING. Your baby, your home, your nails--STOP! You don't need to beat yourself up about milestones, square footage, nubby nails or talons, none of that!

5. Treat yourself kindly.

6. Positive affirmations lead to positive inclinations, and positive inclinations lead to positive actions!

7. Clean up. Not the dishes--your circle. Remove any person who does not support and sharpen you. There will be enough in the world to drag you down. Align yourself with people and situations that help propel you forward.

Love, you. Nobody can do it better and nobody will.

And if you haven't heard it today...I love you.

Namastè!

-- Tayè K ♡

Travels With Baby

Namastè!

I hope you are experiencing a huge downpour thereof this evening!

I am actually blogging on the go tonight. Family Namastè is taking a little road trip, and we are on the tail end of that journey.

Traveling with Baby Namastè has become super easy,  but we are not without our battle scars. Since his first trip at about four weeks old, he has been a seasoned road warrior. We took him to New York City, and he saw Times Square and the Statue of Liberty before he discovered his own little feet!

I read all the lists about stuff to carry when traveling with a small baby. They made my head hurt. I didn't want to have a ridiculous overflow of items, but I wanted to make sure I had what I needed. As we generally do a little shopping each time, I had to account for those additions when calculating our cars real estate (space) on the way back. Having gotten it fairly narrowed down, I went with the basics--and yes, I'll share!

Clothing. We packed three onesies per day,  which put us at 21. Add in 3 gowns (with foldover sleeves to protect from those little bitty nails), 3 footed pajamas, and 3 pairs of those adorable little baby pants. We also brought socks (7 pairs) and hats. Because it was cold, we also brought a bunting. Baby Namastè and I only ventured out one afternoon, and the bunting kept him toasty and safe against those biting northern winds. Looks like a lot, but it all fits in ome suitcase, trust me. Now... we just bring one outfit and a backup, plus a onesie and socks, for each day we'll be gone. Weather appropriate and simple.

Blankets. You don't want to have your new baby sleeping on a brand new blanket when they're in a brand new place. We learned this the hard way. (They need their familiar blankets--their tears, snot, and drool, along with the scents of home, make their blankies a safe spot for them.) We brought Baby Namastè the fluffy green Chickpea blanket he slept on since birth and five of his receiving blankets. That cute little brand new Mickey blankie? It became a backup. We were in a nicer hotel, but I still preferred having him on his own blankies, and he slept well. So well in fact thay he got his first 4-hour "snee" in while relaxing in the Big Apple! Now... we just bring his green Chickpea blanket and a duplicate thereof.

Toiletries. We aren't big on dousing baby in soaps and scents. (More power to you if you love this! The goal is a clean baby and however you achieve that is a-okay, mamas and papas!)  His toiletries have always been the same-- either Noodle & Boo (get it here) OR Parachute Coconut Oil (get it here). He usually smells like a delicious little coconut pastry, and we love it. Also, his skin and hair are like the buttah.

Toys! Baby Namastè's a very laid back baby. We got lucky. We also own the Infantino Grow With Me ball pit (get it here or here) and he loves it. We also brought his Topsy turtle (here),  along with his Chickpea elephant and of course, Sophie (We didn't trust the ones on Amazon due to rumored fakes so we got ours here). He travels with these 3 toys all the time, whether it's a run to Walmart or a flight to Chennai. We know we'd get souvies and surprises along the way so we keep his big 3, then add in a newbie for excitement if he seems bored.

Containment! We carry our pack and play. It's taken us from the bassinet days to the oh-my-goodness-he-is-mobile days we currently endure and enjoy. He still likes his playhouse, as we affectionately call it.

Feeding time! Of course, you'll want to bring your formula and bottled water, baby food and spoons, and bottles and sippy cup. For us, it means packing up the Medela bag, throwing some dry ice and regular ice in the cooler, and now making sure we have plenty of Kiinde pouches because the Twist and Foodii are LIFESAVERS.

First aid kit. You can purchase a ready made one, or tailor one to your family, but please bring it. Also include sunscreen, your trusted fever reducer, and your medical insurance cards, a current list of medications, current medications, and your pediatrician's number. If your baby has a medical condition, make sure you have it, as well as its complications, written down in the kit.

We are road warriors, so we also have to consider entertainment. We have lots of audio books and children's music to sing along with. Baby Namastè is generally a happy passenger, especially when he's got his Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Veggie Tales. We like a little bit of electronics time, so in the car he gets to look at flash cards and the Fisher Price Puppy Player--a platform of songs, stories, and nursery rhymes centered around their popular Learning Puppy character.

We stop every two hours or so, and we never drive overnight. We have a few trusted hotels along the routes, clean, safe, admittedly kind of posh places we are comfortable taking our Littles Namastè. We're especially fond of hot breakfast, turn down service, and room service. Stopping often can be a time killer but even if we adults aren't ready to tuck in, it can be overwhelming for a little one to sit for hours on end in the car with no respite. Plus we like to keep the bedtime routine the same, even if the times are skewed a bit.

When we eat on the road, it's basically treat time. Good Indian or Jamaican restaurants barely hold a candle to what we make at home, after all. Baby Namastè's travel nosh includes vegetables now, but he is still roughly 90% breastfed. Thanks to Aunt Brittany we have gotten some great leads on baby foods that babies actually eat, so we carry a few of those along in case he feels like tucking into some taters.

For us, it's more fun to drive every couple trips so Kids Namastè can see, experience, and enjoy the different regions. They have had pizza in Brooklyn. They have had seafood in Atlantic City. They have even enjoyed biscuits and homemade  molasses on a farm in the mountains of Virginia. 

Bottom line...traveling with baby (and/or kids!) can bring logistically harrowing. The amount of stuff you carry can be downright obnoxious. Kids aren't born, great travelers.

But we teach them. Feel free to travel with your little baby. Even if they sleep and eat through the whole journey, it builds your confidence to go farther and do more, next trip. At first you'll have either sleepy or cranky face selfies, but in time there'll be so many gummy grins, happy giggles, and bubbly memories. Nothing in life is a Hallmark card BUT Hubby Namastè and I are picking in high cotton with our tiny one now and through much trial and error, we've hit an easy stride. Finally.