Play-It-Out

Similar to the basic principle views of politics, there seems to be both a left and right perspective to parenting. The lefties of parenting I deem to be the Naturalists, and the righties are the Modernists. Naturalists believe in taking a more holistic approach to parenting. They advocate co-sleeping, breastfeeding, homemade baby food, etc. Modernists believe parenting doesn’t have to be completely selfless. They advocate the infamous “cry-it-out” method, and in a nutshell apply convenience as a mode of parenting.

I consider myself to sit fairly close to the Naturalist end of the spectrum, although I wouldn’t say I’m entirely committed. I could go on forever about both ends, but this post is about putting baby to sleep.

Naturalists believe in making sleep time as comfortable as possible for baby. With this idea, the thought is that if baby needs to be rocked or nursed to sleep, then do it. If baby cries in the middle of the night, pick baby up and comfort him. Modernists believe it’s okay to let baby cry a bit at sleep time, and that it’s good to enforce a sense of independence on baby in order to teach baby how to fall asleep on his own. Naturalists believe the Modernists’ approach to sleep time can create a sense of fear and abandonment for baby, and is too centered around what is more convenient for mom rather than what’s best for baby. Modernists believe the Naturalists’ approach to sleep time enforces dependency, and can tire mom easily. There are two authors/doctors who have capitalized on this topic: Dr. Sears is the Naturalist, and Dr. Ferber is the Modernist.

I definitely side with the Naturalists’ approach on this, but I will admit that in times of exhaustion I have attempted other more “right-winged” methods. My thinking is, why would I try to instill independence on a baby who doesn’t have the neurological ability to change his own diaper, find his own food without my help, or in a nutshell, does not have basic survival skills? If my child at this point in his development can’t comprehend the difference between a knife and a toy, then why should I expect him to understand that if he cries and I don’t come, it’s because he needs to learn to be independent and not that mommy has abandoned him? Dr. Sears puts it very simply: at this point in your baby’s life, you should consider his needs and wants, as one in the same. The idea is that baby is too young to have the ability to manipulate, or for you to spoil him.

Still, as I mentioned before, there have been moments of weakness for me. Beau and I tried the cry-it-out method for one night, and gave up after about two hours. It wasn’t the lack of sleep that made us give up (parents are warned that it takes a few days to work). It was the sound of his crying, the look on his face, and the instinctual feeling that it was wrong, wrong, wrong to do. I’m sure Brody would have eventually calmed himself, but I couldn’t help think, why am I a mom if I am just going to let him do the work himself? I know that’s a bit extreme, but I remind myself that this is mothering. Mothering is about comforting, caring for, loving your child. I knew going into this that sleep would be a luxury from here on out, and that being a mom is the most selfless thing you are able do as a woman. So I commit to this life, and I will not let any selfish thoughts inhibit my instinct.

I like to categorize Brody’s sleeping patterns in two categories. For the most part, Brody goes to sleep at 7pm, and wakes once around 2am or 3am for a feeding, then sleeps for another 2 or 3 hours, usually waking sometime between 5am or 6am. However, let’s talk about category number two. Sometimes, Brody likes to mix things up for us and wakes several times at night for no apparent reason. Sometimes he cries and just needs to be comforted. Other times, he wakes and yells. Literally he yells. And he’s not yelling in discomfort, or agony, or anything of a negative nature. He yells in a more singsong type of manner, as if he’s calling us in to play. And when I get up to go comfort him, I will usually find him on his belly peering his head up over the crib, waiting for me with a huge smile on his face. If I pick him up and try to rock him back to sleep, he usually just sings and plays with my nose, ear, mouth, hair, anything within reach.

So I have developed my own sleep method. Watch out Dr. Sears and Dr. Ferber, because Mama Warren has a new idea to throw at you. I give you, the Play-It-Out method. It all started out of pure exhaustion. At 3am I didn’t want to play, I wanted to sleep. The hard part is, when Brody’s doing this, making silly songs, playing with my hair, etc., I should ignore him and try to get him to sleep. However it cracks me up. So I start laughing which then makes him laugh, and then it’s hard to resist playing with him.

Frequently, Brody will be in one of these moods right off the bat, when I’m trying to put him down at 7pm. It was becoming difficult because it can take up to an hour to get him to sleep when he’s in that mood, and then his entire sleep schedule is thrown off. One night, Beau was waiting for me to finish putting Brody down so we could eat dinner, and I gave up. I put Brody down in his crib awake and singing, and joined Beau at the table. We giggled through dinner as we listened to him squealing and singing to himself. But then, like a miracle, it all stopped and when I went in to peek at him, he was sound asleep.

At 3am on another Category Two night, I put Brody back in his crib after rocking him back to sleep, and after a few silent moments in which I had assumed he was sleeping, I slowly heard his little voice creep up a few decibels and I sighed audibly. Beau suggested I turn his mobile on and let him play and see what happens. I had been turning his mobile off at night because Brody had become fascinated with turning it on and it was keeping him up at night. The mobile has three functions: music only, music and mobile only, or music, mobile and light show.

I decided to try Beau’s suggestion. I turned the mobile to music and mobile only option, went back to bed, and turned the monitor down as low as possible so I would only hear if he was crying. Next thing I knew, it was 6am and Brody was just waking! It worked!

So I give you the Play-It-Out method. Perhaps it leans slightly to the “right,” but at least it doesn’t feel instinctually wrong as the Cry-It-Out method does. This morning Beau and I were laughing thinking about what a cute visual that must be, to watch Brody squealing, singing, playing, and then slowly drifting off to sleep with a big slobbery smile on his face.

Swaddles and Surprises

This last weekend we took Brody to an arcade because we knew he would love all the lights and sounds. He had a blast with his dad playing games!










While I was pregnant with Brody, I read the book “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I hated it. The book has made its way into American culture as a staple to any pregnancy, so as a first time mom-to-be, I ran out and bought it as soon as I saw that plus sign on the pee stick. Everything in that book is terrifying. It made me think any pain, sensation, or abnormal feeling meant I was miscarrying or breeding a baby with some sort of mutation or disease.

I continued to read it because despite all of that, I liked the general layout of the book and it helped me visualize Brody’s growth in a way no other pregnancy book did. The book vigorously warned all new moms of the surge of advice that would come from all angles once junior arrived, and how to breathe through it and take it with stride. The mantra to live by at those moments was, “They’re just trying to help.”

After Brody was born, I don’t think we could have prepared ourselves for the amount of advice we received; no internal calming could counter the plethora of suggestions, observations, or recommendations coming in full speed. But we breathed through it, listened, and made our own decisions.

The thing is, somehow I expected some sort of Guide Book to appear after his birth that told us how to do everything. To my surprise, you could find advice about everything, everywhere, and everyone had a different opinion. I learned to listen to all perspectives, and use my own intuition and instinct to guide me as a new mom. My new mantra became, “Use your maternal instinct.”

One of the pieces of advice we received from many avenues was to swaddle the baby. It seemed like everywhere we turned in this new-found world of parenting, people were all talking about swaddling. The genius behind swaddling was to emulate the confined cocoon-like living space your baby had grown accustomed to in the womb. They taught us how to swaddle at the hospital and in a short amount of time, Beau and I were experts.

The problem with everyone projecting the idea of swaddling is that nobody ever tells you when to stop. And further, we have discovered that nobody really knows when to stop. There exists all sorts of suggestions about how and when to wean the swaddle, but there is no clear cut answer to it.

I tried to research as much as I could on why we should swaddle, in hopes that somehow an answer would emerge from the knowledge of the birth of swaddling. The thing is, swaddling is something that mothers have been doing instinctively for centuries. There exists an unspecified guild of cultural theorists who study the deed of swaddling in varying cultures and its psychological affects on these assorted societies. This isn't some brilliant idea brought forth to the general public in an effort to capitalize on the desperation of new parents. Rather, it appears this is something humans have been doing for an undetermined amount of time. Even with all of the interesting reads I found on swaddling, I still faced my dilemma: when and how do we stop?

So I recited my mantra, "use your maternal instinct," and decided to let Brody tell us when he was done. Problem was, Brody is a big baby for his age, and swaddling blankets and/or systems (miracleblanket.com) don’t exist for big boys. The largest system we could find was made by Kidopotaumus and only runs up to 28 inches and 22 lbs. As Brody rapidly approached this size limit, we frantically looked for a solution. We tried with all our might to get him out of the swaddle both slowly and suddenly, but it was to no avail. Brody simply would not go to sleep without the swaddle. I started envisioning myself sitting behind a sewing machine crafting a swaddle for my 16 year old son who by his rate of growth, would be nearing six feet and 200 lbs at that point. And how would this work when he went to sleepovers with his friends? He would surely be the laughing-stock of his class.

Well I am proud to announce that Brody has finally and might I say naturally, dropped the swaddle. It began by him constantly freeing himself of it in his sleep and waking in a frenzy. The cycle continued by me rewrapping the little monkey at every freeing incident until it became clear by his wiggling and frustration, that he simply did not want the swaddle anymore. So one night, I just put him down without it.
He seized this opportunity to try and play in his crib for awhile but eventually he yielded to sleep and to our surprise, slept the entire night without it. I was and am, thrilled! And I should add that he looks absolutely adorable sleeping without it, and with his newfound method of sleep, I often find him on the other end of the crib, turned 180 degrees, on his belly, with a hand on his face.

I wasn't planning on writing anything about me or Beau in this post because I don't want to lose focus on the intent of this blog: Brody. However, I can not go on without mentioning what an amazing husband Beau is.

Yesterday was my birthday. The night before I was a little down and Beau could tell. He asked what was on my mind and I confessed that my birthday always depresses me. I told him I always build these grand expectations in my head knowing it will only let me down to do so, and that I just have decided to let go of the idea that my birthday is a special day. Plainly put, I was being a baby.

What I didn't know was that Beau had been scheming behind my back already to plan a birthday surprise for me. According to what I knew, we were going out to dinner just us. A couple nights before he told me that Riley, his cousin and our babysitter, wasn't available to babysit and asked if I minded bringing Brody along. Of course I worried about keeping him out past his bedtime (this has become increasingly difficult as he has gotten older because he is less inclined to sleep just anywhere like he did as a newborn), but I also didn't want to not go out for my birthday and give in to my depression. So I agreed it wasn't a big deal, that we should still go.

We walked into the restaurant and as the hostess walked us back, to my surprise sat a table of our good friends. They all stood up and yelled, "Surprise!" and I immediately turned around and hugged and kissed Beau for being such an amazing man. We had a hilariously fun dinner, and Brody was an angel regardless of staying out so late. He loved being around so many doting people, and for the most part, was happy.

So thank you to my beautiful hubby for being so loving, caring and sweet to me, and to my perfect little baby for letting mama have a night out with friends.

A Toy, a Tremor, and Tiny Tentacles

Brody watching the bathtub fill up.

Check out the little white nubs coming through!


I have the honor and privilege of announcing the success of my brilliant husband. After many months of hard work and dedication, Fisher-Price called and “optioned” his toy design. Not only is this an amazing accomplishment because it’s his first design, but also because this rarely ever happens! Okay, okay, I can hear Beau now, reading this and telling me to “slow down!” Let me explain:

The definition of “option” in the toy industry is thus: Fisher Price is paying Beau a certain sum of money for 30 days, basically to sit tight. After 30 days, they have the “option” to buy the design, option it again, or can it. The purpose of optioning is to give them a chance to figure out what they will do with the toy design.

Long story short (Ha! As if I am capable!), Beau conceptualized a new mechanism based on the Elmo character and they loved the design. Two days before his meeting with them, Fisher-Price lost the license to Elmo. They still love the design on its own, so they are trying to decide if/where they will use it since Elmo is not an option for them anymore. Beau’s agent says this is a great thing, and that it rarely happens, especially for someone relatively new to this industry. Moral of the story? My husband is a creative GENIUS.

Something bizarre, almost unheard of, and certainly hard to believe happened to us a couple of nights ago. At 4am CST, Chicago felt the trembles of the earth, also known as an earthquake. No need to reread that sentence, I said it. The Midwest felt the likes of a day in California (minus the sun, beaches, palm trees and celebrities galore). It woke me up immediately, but Beau slept right through it. Brody awoke as well, but as the adorable infant he is, rather than crying out in fear, he took it as an opportunity to turn on his mobile and play. At the time, I couldn’t fathom what had happened. I convinced myself there was some sort of catastrophic collision on the highway near our home that caused the earth to rumble. However in the morning, we learned it was an honest to goodness, Midwestern Wobble.

It’s quite peculiar that I have been in two earthquakes in my life; one in San Francisco, and the other in Illinois. It’s especially peculiar as I just recently commented to a friend that at least by living in the Midwest, we are able to rest assured that we will never be hit by any catastrophic natural disaster such as in Haiti. Not that this 3.8 magnitude tremor offered any more catastrophe than a good mid-winter Chicagoan arousal. Alas, I digress (who me?).

From day one we have reveled over how identical Brody’s hands are to Beau’s. Beau is crossing his ambidexteris fingers in hopes that Brody will become a lefty. They say signs of dominant hand preference won’t appear until year 2 or 3, but we do notice a slight lean in left-handed use.

Anyhow, Brody has the most adorable mini-mitts I have ever laid eyes on. This week he is forging through his developmental expectations at an alarming rate, as he has acquired the ability to point and grab things in a pincer grasp. It’s the most amazing thing to see him progress as a budding human in general, but for me, watching these little philanges examine new objects is one of the more tender rewards.

I spent 6 years in college and gradschool working through a lot of fear, hardship, and determination to walk two very rewarding moments in my life as I accepted both degrees. However, I can say without hesitation that watching Brody grow and develop right before me is more rewarding than either of those walks, and any other moment in my life for that matter.

One tooth, two teeth, bottom teeth, new teeth!

Beau's gift to Brody from China

Brody has an obsession with Beau's glasses. We gave him a pair of 3D glasses from a movie, but by the look on his face, these are just not the same as Daddy's...


Brody’s pediatrician has been saying for months that he does not see any signs of Brody teething. He always follows up that comment with, “But you never know, sometimes the first tooth will just appear over night.” So with that, Beau and I filed the “He’s teething! He must be teething!” card for a bit. By month 6 we realized that not every crying fit, or gummy chomp-fest on our fingers meant he’s teething.

Last week I gave Brody sweet potatoes for the first time. He loved them! But later that night when he woke up 4 times crying inexplicably, I was convinced it was because of constipation. My dear friend and mother of two, Kerry, recommended a natural remedy for baby constipation and gas called Gripe Water. Simply put, it’s sugar water. I had used it on him once before and not only did Brody LOVE the sweet, delectable syrup, but it proved to be a great antidote to baby constipation. So on the blessed Sweet Potato night, I gave him a bit of Gripe Water and put him back in his crib to rest. I assumed it had worked since he let me know THREE times that morning that constipation was not an issue, but he was still SOOOO fussy. I summed it up to him feeling a little needy that day and wanting to be in mommy’s arms as much as possible which issued no complaints by me!

It wasn’t until later that afternoon when he grabbed my finger and commenced another finger gnawing session that I realized the true reason for his fussiness. Gently (albeit tenaciously) rubbing across my finger, I felt the sharp edge of bone. I couldn’t believe it! Just as the doctor had warned; overnight! I thought back to his behavior earlier in the week and didn’t see any signs that this was coming. There was no onset of increased night waking, no sudden increase in drool, nothing. I could hardly wait to tell Beau of my discovery.

I emailed him immediately with the exciting news. He shared his excitement with me (as best as possible via email) and demanded a picture. I knew this was going to be near impossible, but I picked up my pink little Kodak and made the attempt. As I wrestled tooth and nail (pun intended) with Brody to get a snapshot of his new fang, I realized quickly that there was more to this than meets the eye...err...finger...
Right there, next to his first emerging tooth, was a second little nugget piercing through simultaneously! I couldn’t believe it! And like a cheesy novel, I envisioned my little baby’s gummy grin fading into the sunset, as his new grown-up toothy grin emerged, and I felt a single, proud, tear run the course of my cheek.