I Want A Sign That Says "No Nasty Chemicals" Over My Front Door

When I found out that the baby I was carrying had a heart condition, I wanted to point fingers. I needed to know what caused it, obviously, and I hoped that information might lead me to understand how to stop it.

And as it turns out, the condition is still relatively confusing to doctors. They're not sure why a baby has it -- which isn't very settling to the parents of a baby who has it. 

After scrutinizing the heart history of our immediate family, Trevor and I turned to our cabinets. What were we eating or using in our house that could be hazardous? We read several studies that said organic foods were so much better for people in general, but for pregnant and nursing moms they were a must. We switched. And while cleaning the bathroom one day, stifling my breathing because of the strong chemicals I was using, it occurred to me that I had foolishly been using the wrong stuff to make a pristine environment in which to raise a baby. I was using what my mom had used, and probably her mom before her. I was using the brightly packaged cleaners from the shelves of my local grocery store; the stuff that was on sale or ultra-powered or familiar. Literally, I dropped my spray bottle, tore off my rubber gloves and exited the shower, on the hunt for a better solution. 

Since that time we've tried just about every cleaning product we could get our hands on that was made with natural, non-toxic, non-harmful, not-tested-on-animals ingredients. To tell you the truth, it's tough, because most of them simply don't compare to the cleaning power of the ultra-powerful, chemical-laden products we were used to. We've found a few favorites and we invest in them heavily, buying as many as we can at once and touting their praises to friends and family (many of whom are reluctant to "go green," break out of their comfort zones, which is surprising given the boost in green living lately). 

So now you know our story on the green cleaning front. We're continually looking for the right fit for our family (especially where the dishwasher is concerned; God help Trevor and his quest for the most sparkling glassware on earth). 

Which is why I was so pleased to receive a package of three products from ecostore, a company that's putting its products in your local Meijer store (and the one that's being built here in my town), a company that's making it less expensive to clean green (thank you thank you thank you), a company that was founded in the spirit of pure do-goodery. I was excited to review the products, for myself, and for my readers. And as this is my first real review on the blog, I'd like you to know that I'm not swayed by free products. I'm honest, because I like to think I'm an honest kind of a gal, but also because I know how hard it is to spend your time and money finding products that are better for you, your family and the earth. So maybe I can help you a little.

All of ecostore's products are super-concentrated, which can be hard to get used to when you typically load up your dishwasher or washing machine with full cups of cleaning agents to achieve results. Seriously, you only need a tiny squirt of the Dishwash Liquid to wash a sink-full of dishes (and wash dishes we do, every night, as we don't dare subject the kids' cups and such to the scary, chemical-spreading dishwasher). I'm a picky smeller; I don't like flowery or syrupy scents. The smell of he dishwash liquid is clean and citrusy. And even though I was washing at night, I felt awake and in-the-moment... as much as you can while you're washing dishes. I paid attention because I was reviewing it, but also because the soap doesn't lather as much as the typical wash, and I wanted to make sure I was getting the cups and plates clean. The verdict: I will buy this, once it's in stores and once said store is in-town. I like it better than anything I've tried so far.

Ah, the baby wash. Baby wash is a common bone of contention in our household, because the organic kind is expensive, yet I can't imagine sudsing my daughters' skin with anything potentially scary (even when it looks harmless in cute, familiar packaging). Again, I loved the scent of the baby wash -- lavender and lemon is so sweet on babies. However, I didn't like that it wasn't a shampoo, too, which means that I'd have to find a second product in the tub (which I will surely forget to do), and the directions instruct you to dump a tiny capful straight into the water as it's filling up. If you have girls, you know that you are not supposed to do this, and you probably know why. So even though this product is not a bubble bath, it was hard for me to set my kids into the soapy bath. The verdict: I will not buy this in stores, unless they changed the product to be applied by hand and made it a shampoo, too. (And no, I don't think you could just use it as a shampoo, as it's very thin and wouldn't "stick" to the hair.)

And lastly, the laundry whitener. I was hesitant to use this, because I am ridiculously picky about whiteners. I'm addicted to another brand of natural whitener, and I didn't want to waste a load of clothes with another one. However, I gave it a go and, happy day! I loved it. My children were so white and bright that I took pictures of them in their undershirts, seconds before they smashed graham crackers and prunes into them. The verdict: I will buy this in stores. The packaging is handy, you only need a teensy, tiny amount in each load, and it is very effective. 

So now you are informed. Go forth and clean.

Kissy Faces

Playdate With History

My friend Kallie just left our house after our children had a playdate together. Way back when Trevor and I were first married, Kallie and her husband, Michael, were some of our first "couple" friends. They had two dogs, and we gathered enough so that we became interested in having a dog like theirs, and we ended up with Mosey (totally unlike their dogs, but they were our inspiration). Kallie was newly pregnant when we met, and after their baby, Hope, was born, we would babysit her every now and then. And today, while Berit and I were waving goodbye to our friends (new friends, since Berit and Hope have never really known each other or played together -- more on this later), it struck me that I was babysitting Hope when I found out I was pregnant for Berit. 

Since then life has gotten hectic. Mike and Kallie are both chiropractors who have a busy office, both of our families have two girls now, and Mike and Kallie have a whole horsefarm/home renovation happening. We never, ever get together anymore, and today was such a breath of fresh air as Kallie and I picked up as if no time had passed. I think we're old friends who have history, and we'll never lose that connection. I remember when they called us just an hour after Hope had been born, and I knew our lives had changed because someone had had a baby, and in a way she belonged to all of us as our first child in the little group we had formed. And here she was today, nearly a lady at four years old, so polite and sweet, and completely fast friends with Berit, who said, "I love my new best friend Hope." 

Oh, if only we could go back four-and-a-half years and tell our younger selves about our lives now. I'm sure we'd be pleased that our children love each other. 

Weeping Mess Of A Child

Which is to say, Berit, lately. Currently she's sobbing as loudly as possible, has woken up her sister, because she wanted to do something one way and has been forced to do it another (this something being WALKING DOWN THE STAIRS). 

She's been like this for the past week or so; constantly touchy, especially mean to her sister, pushing, yelling, taking. It's like her third birthday ushered in a whole new temperament, one that we are not used to dealing with and it makes us a little crazy. A lot crazy.

It typically starts with her whining because I'm peeling potatoes instead of playing with her, even though I've been playing with her for the majority of the day. Then it escalates into a full-on tantrum, she manages to wake up any other sleeping family member, and Mom turns into Monster Mom. Today I made of stack of all the positive discipline and parenting solution books I put faith in and set it on my nightstand. I'm even a little tempted to skip book club to stay home and read them, but I know I'd just end up cleaning the house instead (which from the look on Trevor's face would be fine with him). 

It's frustrating because she's usually such a nice, good girl, and we've always been able to reason with her. Now there's no chance for reason, because it's all yelling and wailing. And oftentimes thrashing. 

As you might expect, I'm very curious to know how long this will last. To be honest, I keep wishing a grandparent would call and say, "Why don't you send Berit over for a nice long weekend?" Because going from one extreme to another has made for a worn-out mommy. It's hard to want to play with her, when she's acting so mean to others.

I know it's just a phase, but it's one for which I was unprepared and now I feel like I need to quickly play catch-up with my parenting books. Instead, I'm going to head upstairs and clean out the tub Marta pooped in tonight. And then I'm going to book club. I think they'll have wine there.

Talky Miss Clever

I know it's really annoying to hear a mom bragging and bragging about their kid's latest achievements. But I couldn't help posting tonight about Marta, who has discovered possession. It's not just that she walks around the house holding up her cup or a bracelet or the coveted Map from Dora the Explorer and screeching "Mine! Mine!" Now, instead of pointing to Berit's milk and saying "Bee-beet" (Berit) or "milk," she says "Bee-beet's." No, it's not some fluke where she said it once and now I think my kid's a genius. I've been testing her for the past week and it's true, she even does it for "Daddy's," "Mommy's," "Mimi's" and "baby's."

She's just been thriving lately in language and it is so fun! I love hearing her tell people about her "tent," "bike," "book," "backpack," "gate," or any other word she randomly knows. I also really like that I can explain things to her, to an extent, and she gets it. She has also started taking multiple directions, like "Go to your chair and get your book." 

I'm noting these things because I was wondering when it was that Berit did them, and I wasn't blogging then and wasn't a very good scrapbooker (pregnant-and-puking as I was), so I have no record. If we do have another child, I'll be able to look back and remember Marta's cleverness and compare my third baby's abilities with her, and love that baby accordingly. Kidding! Just a little joke for those of you who still care enough about all of this to have stuck with me. :)

Memory, Birds and, Well, Me

I need to post about the big birthday party, but I'm waiting for our pictures to be developed (yes, I still use an old film camera). In the meantime, I was just playing memory with Berit, and thought to post about it. See, we had all the cards set up and we were both looking forward to the game, me because I love when she's interested in learning games, and she because she's been begging me to play with her one-on-one all morning and finally I could. So we get started, and she's doing awesome -- three matches to my zero. And then she starts flipping cards over, frustrated, clearly looking for something in particular, so I ask her about it. "I'm looking for the bunny," she says. I glance and her matches and see that she has the carrots. "Is it because you want to feed the bunny a carrot?" I ask. "Yes," she says. She then throws all of her other matches into the pile, messes them up so I can't see which one is which, and starts flipping the other cards, looking for the bunnies. When she finds them she lays them over the carrots and announces that she. is. done. Nice. Good learning all around.

I keep thinking back to Friday night. After putting the girls to bed, Trevor went over to his parents' house because his brother and his brother's family were staying there. So I put on my earbuds and listened to an audiobook while I made cakes for Berit's birthday party. Before I knew it it was 1:30 a.m. and I was wrapping up both the book and the cakes. It was so peaceful, so entertaining. I love the quiet of a sleeping house. And even though I love my husband and I enjoy spending time with him, I also really like being alone. For me, being alone and doing something like baking or cleaning while listening to an audiobook is completely restorative. I feel efficient and productive and totally relaxed. I should make a point to do this once a week, as it's only Monday and I keep wishing it were still Friday evening.

We have recently hung a birdfeeder on our sliding door; the kind that's see-through so the kids can watch the birds eating. It's great because the birds are already used to us peering in at them, and rarely flinch when the kids walk right up to the door and bang on the glass. This prompted a little red squirrel to be interested in the crumplins that the birds dropped on the deck, so we had to put a tray of sunflower seeds out for the squirrel, who doesn't care if Marta walks over, picks it up, puts it in her pocket and takes it to the grocery store. Seriously, it just hangs out there all day long, watching us watching it. But then we had a huge snowfall that covered the tray, so I put a big old roasting pan on top of the snow, and the birds and squirrel climb in to munch. I guess what I'm saying is that we've got a tray, a roasting pan and a bird feeder within two feet of our sliding door and it's a mess out there. I'm considering cleaning it all up, but really I'll just wait until the cursed snow melts and it's time for spring cleaning. I think I'll just keep dumping seed in the vicinity of the tray and pan and hope no one calls for a house showing.

Finally It's Official: You Are Three

Dear Berit,

You have been 3 years old for months. Today is your birthday, but you have not acted like a typical 2-year-old since the summertime. Somewhere between the last hot, sunny day and Thanksgiving, you grew in both inches and maturity. I remember I had just ordered you your fall clothes. I brought the dusty package in the front door and you, ever willing to help, fetched my (closed) knife to open it. Out came the adorable 2T long-sleeved tees and jeans I bought, mostly at full-price, because you didn't have anything warm to wear as the leaves fell and the air chilled. I washed them all and hung them in your closet, and felt satisfied that you were ready for the long stretch of cold that had started to envelop our region. The pants had adjustable waistbands and the shirts were tees -- even if you grew an inch during that time, surely they'd last you till spring.

And two weeks later, the jeans were too small. At first I thought it was just a defective size, but no, all the pants, then all the shirts, were too short for your suddenly long legs and torso. Again I turned to the online shops, and bought round two of the same clothes. 

Around the same time, you began to do the following:

Boss everyone around.

Push your sister.

Act out complicated dramas with your dolls.

Turn every game and activity into "house."

Jump higher, do somersaults, climb things at the gym, catch and throw balls with ease.

Read more complex storylines (Madeline, Dora, Belinda, Fancy Nancy).

Wear dress-up clothes over your everyday clothes every day.

Insist that you are Cinderella. 

Eat fewer foods, but eat more of the foods you like best.

Go up and down the stairs like a big kid.

Play by yourself upstairs and downstairs.

Run household errands (for example, fetching towels from upstairs to bring downstairs, or getting toys from the basement by yourself to play with upstairs).

Play and understand games.

Oh! So much more. It was like a lightbulb had gone on in your mind and suddenly you were three years old, well before your actual birthday. In fact, people assumed you to be four more often than two or three! 

Much of this comes, I think, from your serious nature. Now that we have Marta, we're learning that babies aren't always calm and reflective like you were. You were never very goofy or willy-nilly, and you still aren't today. You are sensitive, thoughtful, respectful, rule-minded, stubborn, caring, and insightful. You come up with complex explanations and make up stories about things that never happened (but are lovely and magical). 

You are dramatic. Not in an outspoken, florescent way, but more in your emotions. You are either very bored or very entertained (by yourself or others). You are very happy or very sad. You are very smart or very disinterested. You are always in princess character. 

You are sensitive. You are easily overwhelmed by emotions, sound and light. You don't like to be tickled but love a gentle back scratching. Your skin is like government radar, picking up the tiniest invader or itch. You scare quickly and avoid something if there's a chance you'll be moved to an unpleasant feeling about it.

You are completely yourself. No one has made you one way or another; you haven't become sporty and outdoorsy like your dad would have made you, you haven't become bookish and overly responsible like I may have done. You are just you. Wherever you go, you are yourself completely, and I absolutely love and admire that about you. 

I worry that you may overthink too many things. When carefree children play around you, you join in tentatively, and even when you're deep in play with them you still pause before chasing them or making a move, because you're assessing their ... what? I'm not sure. What their reaction will be, maybe, and if it's what you want to happen. You are desperate for everyone to be happy and calm, and if things are stressful you act out. You even become tense by your own acting out! As you throw things or push or yell, your mind is turning and I can see you thinking about what might happen. This causes your voice to raise or crack or you to run in anticipation but also in an effort to change the outcome of the situation for the better. You're not sure how, but you know you're wrong and you need to fix it.

And when you do act up, it doesn't take much to change your attitude. I simply have to explain things and you come around, with hugs for everyone when we invite them (though you'd be too hesitant to give them uninvited). We constantly try to show you that you can be openly loving, though I think it's difficult for you because the baby gets so much more hands-on attention, and you are still finding your place as a big sister and the eldest daughter. I hope this gets easier for you; I hope you find enjoyment in these roles someday.

We love taking you places and exposing you to new things. You thrive on exploration and discovery, though you aren't interested in simple things like collecting leaves or coloring. I wonder what kind of a person you are growing into; some parts of your personality are so evident and concrete, others are more seasonal and unpredictable.

We can hold long conversations with you about most subjects, and if we're discussing something that you don't understand we need only explain it to you and you weigh in. We love listening to your three-year-old ideas and often wish the world were so lovely and simple. 

Three years ago you became our reason. I left my career, in which I was thriving at the time. Your dad worked harder and stressed more. We bought a bigger home and car, and invested in the safest baby gear, a thousand baby books, a comfortable rocking chair and organic living. I became relatively obsessed with helping children in need (and still am today -- a passion I believe you and I will share, as you ask me about it regularly and often talk about ways to help children). 

Three years ago you surprised me by arriving with a head of blond hair and eyes of blue. You surprised me by not crying a peep when you were delivered, and only whined when the nurse took you to bathe you -- and even then you stopped when your dad recited the lines of a book he used to read to you while you were still in my womb. You surprised me because we did not bond instantly in the way all the books say we should have; I loved you unconditionally but they took you right away to the NICU to monitor your tiny heart, and I waited to get to know you better before falling deeply, deeply in love. 

Three years ago we became dependent on each other. I was regularly (though quietly) criticized for holding you constantly (literally, my dear), even through the night. You slept in the crook of my arm and all day long I rocked you, played with you, devoted every second to your fullest enjoyment of life. Even when you napped, I held you. 

When I was pregnant for your sister I worried that you'd feel abandoned, and I think you did a little. You and I were a team; we very rarely left each other's side for more than a few minutes. It is only through the grace of God that you love spending days and nights on end at your grandparents' houses, because for the first year of your life I barely even let them hold you. 

And today people have said, "Can you believe it's been three years?" And truly, I can. In fact, I can't believe it hasn't been more, because everything before your birth is a bit muddled, and everything after has been full of life and brightness. (This is, I'm sure, due to a lack of sleep, but also because my priorities have so changed since you arrived that I wonder who I might have become had you never come along.)

The world will be better because of you. Not only because you bring love and joy to those of us who know you, but because you have inspired us to give more wholeheartedly to various organizations that protect children and the unborn. Your caring spirit is also likewise dedicated to helping those who are less fortunate, even just by sensing another child's desire to play with your toys or share your snacks at church, and your mature shoulders already hold an understanding of the needs of children around the world from the letters we write to and receive from the child we sponsor in your name. 

And yet you are still just three. You love to play, and mostly to be played with. You love to be the center of attention and be swung in circles or danced with or read to. You are three and you are a child through and through. It is so sweet, so lovely, so innocent to watch you play dolls or music or blocks. My favorite times are when you lose your inhibitions and run and jump and act wild and silly. We let you jump on the bed and watch movies and choose your own snacks because you are a very good child and you deserve to be set free from your seriousness whenever it strikes you. We try to indulge your princessness and you wear your tutus anywhere and everywhere. 

I love that you're three. I'm giddy with excitement (constantly) about the possibilities of this age. I'm looking forward to taking you places you've never seen before and watching your mind work through an aquarium, zoos, museums, dances. Preschool starts this fall and you'll begin ballet next month. You have entered Big Kid Land and I think you've been waiting to be here since you were born. I can't wait to find out what you think of it all.

With never-ending love, from the heart you grew three sizes with your serious, quiet delivery three years ago...

Mom