Parenting and Babies: Baby Talk Blog

I’ve been a parent for seven years now, and I’ve bought more toys than I can count, from hot wheels to Barbies. I like to think I’ve gained a little bit of knowledge in the field. What I’ve found is that one type of toy never fails to deliver—here’s why your wooden toys are your best bet:

1) They hold a child’s interest for years. While they might want that snazzy new gadget they see in commercials now, chances are they’ll lose interest quickly and move on to another toy. Wood toys don’t have this problem—because they foster the imagination, they have an appeal that is much more lasting than other toys’.

2) They’re all-natural and chemical free. I have no problem letting my youngest chew on these toys, because wood is naturally-germ resistant and doesn’t have any nasty synthetic materials or anything like that.

3) I have never seen one of my children’s wood toys break or need replacing. They seem to last forever, and have a timeless appeal that makes them perfect to pass down from generation to generation.

4) They’re much more mentally stimulating than most of the toys that come out today. Toys like train sets and ball tracks really encourage kids to build and experiment, and they’re learning constantly while they play.

5) Wood toys play well with others! One of the most common ways for my kids to let their imaginations loose is to combine their trains sets and other wooden toys with legos, action figures, dolls and anything else they can find.

Of course, not all my children’s toys are wooden. But the wood ones are definitely their favorites, the ones that they cherish the most, and the ones that they will continue to play with for years to come.

Posted by LG at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today was cold and rainy - the kind of day that can be a true test for the most patient, creative mommies I know. I am a mother of two small children, babies really. My son, H is two and a half. My daughter LC is seventeen months. They are fifteen months apart, "Irish Twins" someone recently said. A typical day in my life consists of eating, napping, diaper changing, playing, eating, napping, an outing thrown into the mix if we are brave enough to leave the house. My leaving our house usually takes approximately forty five minutes,- gathering snacks, sippy cups (the orange one, not the purple!), shoes, coats, pacifiers, diapers and wipes, cell phone, and H never fails to have a BIG diaper just as I am trying to put him into his car seat. There are days when I feel that it is easier to stay at home.

My taking care of H and LC is the most important, satisfying, difficult, sweet, bitter, juicy, hilarious, crazy making, tender, undertaking of my life. There are many days when I feel I am living in an underground world. I have very few adult conversations, and my tasks are repetitive. What goes on under my roof is a little life, lead by three people, all interacting, loving, bathing, eating, sleeping., reading, crying, .... I am finding that it is necessary to come up for air. It is good to open the front door and look at the winter sky. It is reassuring to see other people, other mothers pushing double strollers, juggling lattes and crumbling muffins, laughing and crying at the same time. I often wonder if other mothers get the subterranean blues.

Anyway, we ventured out into the January rain, fully snacked, freshly diapered, hydrated, pacified. I promised H that we would go to the Fernbank Natural History Museum today, not realizing that it was 4:40 pm and the museum closes at 5pm. We arrived in a excited rush, sippy cups flying and LC squealing. I was tired and very much aware of my mole hole appearance. H had fig newtons smeared on his face and jacket. But we were out!!! We were free!!! We were in a public place where people walked and breathed and said 'hello'! We had twenty minutes to explore. And it was pure gold. We tromped with the dinosaurs, fed the paper mache birds with sock worms, we rode the elevator to the top floor and kissed each other on the lips on the balcony. Driving home, H noticed the dark bark of the winter trees and asked if we "still had winter". He then said that he liked winter and liked getting cozy. L read her book upside down and screamed "rain rain rain" all the way home.

Posted by Cundy at 7:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

It all started after dinner last Wednesday. C. and I were talking about her grandmother when she said, "Honey, I'd like to go see Gram this weekend. I want to leave Saturday morning and come back on Sunday."

A simple request, seemingly. My wife wants to go see her dear 84-year-old grandmother who lives an hour and a half away. But the slightly nervous tone in her voice was unmistakable. You see, she's only left our children overnight twice in their lives (they're one and two-and-a-half years old, 15 months apart). I was in charge before, but quite honestly, I fled with them both times to her mother's house for help.

So what she was asking was, "Can you handle it by yourself"?

Quick disclaimer because I fear I've painted myself as one of those hapless fathers who can't tell a diaper from a dishrag: I'm a good dad--capable in all the daily tasks. And I love being a dad; nothing gives me greater joy. I love my weekends with them, and I try to make it home from work in time to help out with bedtime.

But--C. is definately the resident expert, and I usually defer to her when it comes to taking care of our babies. Thus the nervousness on her part about leaving them in my care. She trusts me I know, but she also knows that I've never really been tested, so who knows what could happen?

(Sidebar about C.: I'm going to Dublin in late March for business and I asked her to come with me. We met in Europe almost 20 years ago, and we've never been back together, so I thought this would be great, and mostly paid-for, reunion. But she turned me down flat. "I just can't leave H. and LC for that long," she told me. "And I'd be too far away. I couldn't relax." Despite all my attempts at persuasion, she stood her ground. Babies come first for her. Always.)

I don't know what was going through her mind as she asked me if she could go away for the weekend, but I think we both knew it was a test. For me, the question was whether I could put all the many pieces together on my own. For her, it was a whether she could let go.

I've got to say that she only left me a few pieces of advice before she left, nothing at all like the tome she wrote for her mother who came to take care of H. when she went into the hospital to have LC. (I still wish I had saved that priceless testament to her new mommy fanaticism, as my buddy Jim suggested at the time.) In fact her leavetaking was pretty anticlimactic. I moved the two car seats into my Volvo, we said goodbye, and off she went.

The verdict? She and her grandmother had a wonderful time, and she got to do the things she loves to do there that she never has time for when we go with the children (read her grandfather's letters, meditate in the greenhouse, go to the bookstore for Gram, who is a voracious and discerning reader who trusts only C. and a few others for book recommendation, drink coffee slowly at the breakfast table...)

And I did great. H, LC, and I had a ball together, we ate well, they got to sleep on time, and the house was in order when C returned on Sunday.

It was a rite of passage for us both.

Posted by Scott at 4:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)