I'm sick of reading my baby boy (Ok, he's one but I'm not done calling him my baby yet) bedtime stories that end with a crib. Cribs are not relatable to an attachment baby. They don't mean sleep or comfort or anything at all, really. Sure, I have one but for all Munch-Munch knows, it's no different that a closet, as it is currently filled with out of rotation toys and other outgrown baby gear. (Yes, I live in San Francisco and I've already used all my closet and under-the-bed space!) So where are all the books showing alternative sleeping arrangements? Where are co-sleepers and family beds and side-car arrangements? Why do all the little babies in picture books end their stories with a crib?
In the same way that I go out of my way to find books for Munchkin that reflect and affirm his ethnic-racial heritage, I want books that portray babies doing what he does everyday: riding against momma's chest in a sling, nursing and eating healthy solid foods, running around the neighborhood playground, sleeping against my chest all night. I want this especially for our bedtime readings--to ritualize what we do every night and connect his little life to other little lives, going to sleep the same way all around the world. I wish there was a book somewhere out there with a curly brown haired baby sucking himself to sleep with his humming momma while lying in a cozy dark room, on a mattress on the floor. Does anybody have that book?
Nov 4, 2009
Nov 2, 2009
Fall finds San Francisco
Today was a beautiful sunny fall day in San Francisco. Munchkin and I watched blonds in sports bras bouncing along the avenues and bare-chested twenty something guys biking 25th. We took all this in as we selected the perfect pumpkin for a pie from a produce stand.
Yes, today is a true fall day in San Francisco--that delicate period in our calendar between french maid corsets and Thanksgiving elastic waist pants, when the whole city is deciding whether to head to yoga or the nearest couch. And how did we spend it?
Yes, today is a true fall day in San Francisco--that delicate period in our calendar between french maid corsets and Thanksgiving elastic waist pants, when the whole city is deciding whether to head to yoga or the nearest couch. And how did we spend it?
buying pumpkins
braising lamb
throwing handfulls of sand
braising lamb
throwing handfulls of sand
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