Raising Jane

I had read that European gentry used to loan out their babies to country wet nurses, but it brings it home to read of it happening to a particular person. I'm reading Claire Tomalin's biography Jane Austen, and she describes in great length how the practice occurred.

Newborns were generally nursed by their own mother for the first one to three months, after which they went to live in the mud-floor cottage of a peasant family. Some families visited their infants. Others did not. After a period of time, anywhere from eighteen months to three years, the child was then plucked from their foster family and returned to their biological one.

Not long thereafter, sometime between the ages of four and eight, the child would be packed away to boarding school.

I'm not sure whether I'm struck by the resiliency of the human child or certain that I've discovered the origin of the emotionally detached English gentleman.

At any rate, I continue to be fascinated by the vast differences in child rearing around the globe and throughout time. Compared to Jane Austen's mom and dad, who of us doesn't practice attachment parenting?

Solving the Energy Crisis

My two-year-old son on a hamster wheel.

It might not be enough to power the nation, but I'm certain there is one of him in every town.

Living Room

Last to be completed, most to be used, the living room. I put more thought into this one than any other.

I am unapologetically traditional, and I like a little formality in the living room. Yet I am absolutely practical, so I wanted a living room that we could truly live in. So I covered the chairs in the same faux-linen, wipeable outdoor fabric as our dining room chairs. The chairs also have casters so they can turn easily for tv viewing. I kept the trim on throw pillows simple, since I've discovered how much babies like to chew on trim.

For the couch and ottoman, we used velvet-- which is nothing more than corduroy without the ridges! The nap hides stains easily, and you'd never know that Peter has already vomited on the sofa. The ottoman provides storage, extra seating, and has no hard edges for toddlers to hit their heads on.

Our television is behind the Chinese panels. The wires go through the wall to the buffet below, where we keep the cable box, dvd player, and have room for extra toys. Our computer is inside the armoire across the room.

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Whew.

Now I can have a baby.

Library

There are three things I have always wanted:

1) a husband
2) a child
3) a wall full of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

I can die now.

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Children's Corner

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Entrance Hall

Needs a rug! I'd like something natural, neutral, but of the indoor/outdoor variety that will be highly durable:

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Laundry and Bath

I'm not sure the pictures do this justice, as the heart of this room is texture: splintered wood frames, furry polka curtains, a shaggy rug. It's actually one of my favorite places in the house:

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Nothing is Ever Perfect

One of these days, I'm going to photograph Peter's face when Miss Mary, his teacher's assistant, comes to get him out of the car. He grins so big, you could stick a tennis ball in his mouth.

I've no doubt that he is enjoying preschool, judging from his excitement when he finds out it's a school day and the way he talks about it when he gets home. I'm also realizing, though, that even positive experiences have tension.

Peter has been sticking his fingers in his mouth. It's not sucking, but more of an absent-minded gnawing when he wants to relax. It's appearance has coincided with his return to school this fall. At first, he might have been imitating someone in the class, but at this point, the habit is his own.

It makes me sad.

It makes me realize, too, that his breakdowns when I come to pick him up aren't just that he doesn't want to leave. I think part of it is that he needs an emotional release. His teachers continue to tell me how well-behaved he is-- but knowing what a firecracker he can be with me, I know that he has to be repressing a lot at school. I almost... sort of... wish that he would feel comfortable enough to misbehave, just a teeny-weeny bit, when he is with other people.

Of course, the first time I get a bad report, I'm sure I will take all this back.

We "Won"

Is that what you call it, when you win a football game with a hockey score and your offense nets 1 point? When your star running back is carted off the field? When you fumble three times in five minutes? When even the announcers lose all decorum and suggest that your offense punt on third down?

The last five minutes was like watching Dumb and Dumber.

But kudos to the defense.

The Nursery

You'll see our real girl and boy names for the first and last time in this post!

My take on the gender neutral nursery isn't green and yellow. It's simply to throw a bunch of girlish and boyish stuff together. The color, pattern, and mural are more masculine; our furniture, curtains, and chandelier are more feminine. I figure it'll work for any kid up to age 3-- in which case we'll hopefully be moving in another baby of either sex. Of course, this is coming from someone who still sends her 2-year-old to church in more lace the Queen Victoria.

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Boy Names

Let's just say our boy name for the upcoming baby is "John." It's not, anymore than Peter's real name is Peter, but my husband has a thing for Bible names-- particularly the 12 disciples-- that governs the naming of our male children.

Fine, I can live with that. But I also don't mind a strong family name used as a first name. After all, it's different. So I thought.

Until I got the roster of my son's new Sunday School list. Here are all the boys of the class, no lie:

Taylor
Olsen
Ford
Caden
Rhett
Maddox
Bradin
Noah
Crawford
Nathan
Brayden
Cameron

At least, I think these are the boys. As you can see, I may be wrong on a few.

Maybe Peter and John will be distinct after all.

I Want Her for My Own

All politics aside, what American doesn't want to take home Piper Palin, feed her cupcakes, pinch her cheeks, and give her a pony?