She’s 7 1/2 and nothing is quite good enough, lasts long enough, or is big enough. My Princess Sara…the universe, of course, revolves around her don’t you know? We are players in her innocent game and dancers in her elaborate show. Each day includes power struggles, stomping off, rolling of the beautiful green eyes and at least one door-slamming.

I was reminded of this repeatedly as we enjoyed an afternoon at the County Fair. We had strolled the dusty paths, perused the carney fodder, eaten sinful fair-food and ridden a dozen rides. We watched a show, played some games, and spent all of Dad’s money. And at the end while the sun was setting there we were in the middle of the fairway. Sara with tears in her eyes that she wanted more! Not understanding that one ride-ticket wouldn’t get us anymore she finally yelled in frustration, “But it’s not fair!”

I took a deep breath and looked up. To the left I watched a group of tween boys and girls hanging out. They wore goth-like attire and shared a common and bit creepy deer-in-the-headlight gaze. I just smiled. “Thankfulness” was my only emotion. I reached out for my kid’s hands. Quietly knowing it was time to call “Uncle”, they instinctively reached back out for mine.

As we made our way back to the car the lights and sounds behind us faded away. The moment was mine to savor – the moment where my babies still hold my hand in crowds, they still listen to me and believe in what I have to say. The moment when I know where they are and who they’re with. These moments that I am hanging on to as long as I possibly can.

So Sara I say to you, bring it on! Bring on the whining, complaining, huffing and puffing. It will not daunt me. Being your mother is the most wonderful and fairest thing in the land.

Our most precious assets – Nathaniel and Sara.

Bobby Rush – Illinois

This legislation was first introduced in 2003 by Representative Rush and has been kept alive through the determination of Melanie’s mother, Carol Blocker as well as the tenacity and dedication of countless other women.

In 2001, Melanie Stokes, the mother of a new baby girl, took her own life by jumping from the window of a Chicago hotel. Melanie suffered from postpartum depression which rapidly led to postpartum psychosis. Her fears were so dark and her soul so hollow – Melanie reached a place no one should ever go and a treatable illness took her life.

This is why Monday was a proud day for women – for those who have been spearheading the work to raise awareness and make a change in how new mothers are screened for postpartum depression (PPD) and postpartum psychosis (PPP), for women who have suffered through PPD or PPP, but I think mostly for the women to come who will have a new baby and find that something is wrong – terribly wrong – and they will need help.

However, the work is not done, as off to the Senate the bill goes before it can become law. I’m not one to ask for much of my peers and friends, barely ever will you see a joke, junk or chain email from me -actually probably never. But I am asking everyone to drop a quick email to one of the women at the forefront of this bill, Susan Stone. Just email her at susanstonelcsw@aol.com with your name, credentials, state you live and permission to list your name in support of the Melanie Blocker-Stokes Act. Thank you! Melissa

]]> http://hibernate.sarabearco.com/sarabear-stuff/what-a-rush/feed/ 0 http://hibernate.sarabearco.com/kids/forward-not-away/ http://hibernate.sarabearco.com/kids/forward-not-away/#comments Tue, 29 Jul 2008 18:50:49 +0000 amandamagee http://hibernate.sarabearco.com/?p=148

Add to the list of the things you can never truly understand until you are a parent:

Sometimes celebrating a milestone feels like saying goodbye.

Last weekend Nate learned to ride his bike. The sight of him, little feet barely able to reach the ground, neck straining to hold the added weight of his helmet, and eyes alive with excitement, brought unexpected tears to my eyes. Watching his sister hungrily, we had known it was only a matter of time before he put all the pieces together and caught up to her. It is just hard, no matter how proud we are, to remember that he isn’t pedaling away from us, he’s moving forward.

Nate, my little guy, you are getting to be such a big boy, but no matter how far you pedal or how high you climb, you’ll always be my baby.

You sit nestled in the couch, the house is still but for the gentle post-storm breeze, your laptop or a book rests on your lap, you are at peace. Calm. You pause, feeling something afoot, but unsure of exactly what it is, until you turn. And there she (or he) sits, aglow in loving you.

Pudgy bare feet with wiggly toes extended upward as if stretching to accommodate more joy, eyes twinkling, scanning your face until you smile. You set aside your reading and lean in, “Ah-goo,” she says, and of course you “ah-goo” back. It is hard to know in these moments who is more proud, whose delight soars higher.

What is perfectly clear is exactly your place and purpose in the world.

This moment of joy, life lived fully.

A while back we were given the opportunity to participate in something extraordinary.

“My name is Sarah and I am writing to inquire if you might be interested in participating in the Stepping out of the Darkness 5k road race for the Day Program at Women & Infants Hospital through a sponsorship.”

The program at Women & Infants Hospital in Rhode Island is truly exceptional and the chance to bring greater attention to postpartum depression was something we couldn’t say no to. Though we weren’t able to attend Sarah, the event coordinator, relayed news of the event to us. We were so proud to be a part of the day.

We’ve also been lucky enough to form a relationship with ten toes of Staten Island, a program that was started by two working professional mothers who wanted to give more to the community. The organization provides a comprehensive blend of education to parents-to-be, with instruction of and exposure to the many different approaches to childbirth.

Recently they sent us this:

Have you been giving to something or someone that makes you proud? Share your story with us!

Tonight I saw a little something that had me feeling as if I were at Zaepfel Stadium circa 1990 being crowned Homecoming Queen, The Nest has posted a SaraBear diaper caddy giveaway. Now, I can’t promise that winning will make you feel like a queen, but if you send me your address after you win, I’ll send you a tiara*.

Now, go sign up!

*We know tiaras at my house.

My memory? Oh mama, it is gone. Gone, gone, gone. I can multi-task – painting a porch while breastfeeding, blogging and rocking a seat with a barefoot, telling a story to two snacking toddlers while doing the dishes, making dinner and drinking a cup of coffee? You bet!

Remembering what I need to buy at the store? I forget that I need lunch meat even as I stand in line at the deli. And my coffee habit? So many times I’ve remembered the filters and not the beans, or the Coffee Mate, but not the filters. It’s devastating, particularly when I forget that I forgot and then pad to the kitchen and realize that my day will not enjoy the boost of a Starbucks jump start.

Last night before heading to the store, I told Sean and the girls that we needed wipes. I also made a list and underlined wipes twice. As I locked the house up I repeated over and over, “Wipes. Get wipes.” Then, owning the fact that I would probably forget the list or simply not look at it, I grabbed a Sharpie and did the deed.

It’s not pretty, but it’s undeniable, I’ve got mama brain and I’ve got it bad.

Between kindergarten graduations, potty training and giving birth, to logo updating and website redesigns, we have been busy around the clock. Just last week we just sent designs for new collateral materials to the printer so that we could have them to Christina Hudson at Peas & Honey in time for the show in the second week of July. Later this summer we’ll have another run done for the ABC Kids Expo. Throw all of these things together with new offices, new retailers and new countries (in the UK we sell “nappy caddies”), it can be easy to forget how it all began.

Crying, lots and lots of crying. Mostly baby, but maybe a little mom.

These wonderful baskets with their appealing colors and fanciful patterns? They started as a solution, a weapon in the fight against colic and chaos. It was one woman throwing down the gauntlet, refusing to succumb to the staggering futility that can threaten to squelch everything as a baby cries inconsolably. She looked around as her murmurs and her kisses did nothing to quell the cries. What she realized was that if she couldn’t fix it, she could ease it.

The things that prolonged a crying jag, or the things that exacerbated an already fussy baby needed to be eliminated.

Diapers – check!

Wipes – check!

Diaper rash cream - check!

Burp cloths, gas drops, tissue – check, check, check!

No more searching, no more struggling, never again would she stretch and disturb a finally quiet baby. The diaper caddy was born and every day after she used it.

Until last week. We spoke in hushed tones as Fin napped:

“Nate made it through the night.” She told me proudly.

“I know, but you know what? Benny is super excited and I’m kind of sad.” Then she was quiet.

The milestone rocked me, her last baby was finished with diapers and the product that she invented single-handedly would no longer be a necessity for her family. Her daughter will use a caddy for hair ties and Barbie clothes, maybe Nate will use one for Matchbox cars, but never again will Melissa use her caddy for diapers. She’ll continue to improve it and promote it, but from here on out she’ll be producer and not consumer.

Holding Finley in my arms and thinking of the two caddies at home, stuffed to overflow with 3’s and 6’s, I felt a lump in my throat knowing that the day will come for me too. One day my babies will be out of diapers, kids. I looked at Melissa across a room filled with baskets and liners and sketches with new ideas and I smiled. The legacy of Melissa’s babies will live forever in these caddies. The diapers that she brought in, no longer needed in her house, will come to mine. We are linked, Melissa and I, as we journey ahead watching our babies become children and as our product takes flight.

Lift your head up from all that you are racing to complete and go have a moment with your baby, whether he’s in diapers, or whether she is practicing on the potty. Live in this moment.