A scary story for Nan with horny demons and broom sticks.

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My bee-ooootiful friend Nan wants us folks who read her blog to write some scary stories, preferably with ghosts. Ooooo, OOOOOO. I don't have a story with ghosts; will horny demons be ok, Nan?

Back in 1999 I worked ''down south'' in Trinidad. Every evening, I would take a taxi to Chaguanas, my home town, and call home for someone to come pick me up. This was before everybody and their toddler had cell phones, so a line at the sole working pay phone was inevitable.

Sidenote: A working pay phone in Trinidad is a rare thing, at least most of the times that I have ever needed it. Like that time Dominique and I shut down just outside the most notorious ghetto (Beetham / Laventille) at 5 am (which incidentally is a scary story by itself). We walked all over town trying to find a phone after being robbed, never found one, begged the manager at KFC to no avail, and were eventually pitied by a KFC customer who had a cell. But that's another story.

So I was walking to the snaking pay phone line, cigarette in hand after the no-smoking taxi ride and minding my own biz. At the end of the line, there is a tall, dark man with a white tam (that's the small hat often worn by muslim men). He starts looking around, agitated. Then he zeros in on me.

''You should be smoking Broadway, not DuMaurier'' he offers.

Out loud ''Um, yeah, ok'', smile. Mentally ''Whatever dude'', roll eyes and make this face :-S

''Broadway is a spiritual cigarette and you are a spiritual person''.

Raise eyebrow ''OK'', and start looking around to avoid further conversation and wish for own car to avoid the weirdos associated with public transport and public phones.

Another sidenote: If it wasn't for this particular weirdo, I would have nothing to write for Nan. So thanks dude, and thank you Universe for making not rich enough to have my own car and cell phone in 1999.

Back to the Man in the Tam. ''Your lucky colour is blue, and your business day is Wednesday. You should wear blue on Wednesdays when you have meetings or anything important at work.''

Sigh, I guess this beats standing in a long line staring at my toes. ''Yeah? What else?''

From here on, my memory gets a bit blurry. There were a bunch of things he told me, but I don't remember them all. So where's the scary part, right? It's coming, it's coming.

''You have bruises on your thighs. You get headaches and back pains. You have a vaginal infection.''

BLINK BLINK.

''There is a demon having intercourse with you on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. That's why you wake up feeling so tired on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.''

Honestly, I thought the Saturday crap feeling was just a hangover. The other days, were probably because I went to sleep too late. Couldn't explain the bruises, pains and itchies though. As for how the hell he KNEW???

''It was from a woman, through a man. She is jealous of you. Your light is growing dim and you need to do something about it.''

I think I asked him what I needed to do, or something else at that point. I remember he told me how to get to where he lived because he could help me; he was a Spiritual Baptist leader, also known as an Obeah Man (Voodoo Doctor is another name).

''But you will do something when the time is right for you.''

By this time, we are at the front of the line. He makes his call; I, with shaking knees make mine.

We continued talking; I guess about my demons. I don't really remember.

A few days later, I was liming (that's trini-speak for hanging out) with my usual crew, at the usual place: The Sheppard's house. Nan, being married to a Sheppard, was also there. Of course I told my story. Nan offered to take me to see a friend of hers, a yogi.

Sometime later (a few weeks, or maybe even months I think) we went.

Deep into the Paramin hills of Trinidad's Northern Range.

It looked like something out of a movie; maybe like a hobbit village in Lord of the Rings.

A house built into the mountain. Small huts around. White painted stones. Meandering paths. Huge trees that grew where they wanted, and have lived longer than my grandparents.

The yogi had long whitish-blonde hair. She had that open warmth about her. The kind where you know the person is real. She hugged like that too. An open full hug. ''We were sisters in a past life'' she told me.

Yes, it's another sidenote. She also told me that I will be a writer. And that I should write when I can. It has only taken me nearly 10 years to start doing it.

I told her about the man, the demons, how much I prayed that night, and many nights after, and that the symptoms had gone.

She took me, with my friend Rachel to one of the wooden huts. Nan was pregnant at the time, and decided to stay back at the main house. There was a straw mat on the ground, big open windows; a little bird was flitting around inside.

''You can lie down there'' she said warmly, pointing at the mat, and picking up 2 cocoyea brooms.

Sidenote of actual importance: Cocoyea is the spine of coconut tree leaves. The leaves are stripped, and the spines can then be tied together in big bunches to make brooms. They are great for sweeping the yard, and also, apparently for getting rid of horny demons.

''Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali'' she chanted, circling me, sweeping the spindly brooms over my body, inches from my skin. ''Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali'' louder and louder, picking up the pace.

''Get out! You are not welcome here. Leave her alone. Go away.'' Sweeping, circling, chanting.

''Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali, Ohm Kali''. Her chants began to get calmer, softer. And then she stopped.

''You must be a very strong person to have kept him off for so long. But he is gone now.''

This thing they call AP

Attachment Parenting. I discovered it when the Angel was a few days old, I think, or maybe it was while I was still pregnant. And it felt deep-down-in-the-soul-of-my-bones-right.

Suddenly there was a whole bunch of websites saying that I didn't have to worry about holding my baby too much, indeed it was better for her to be up with me than alone in a crib or play pen. And that it was OK and even best for her to sleep safely next to me for as long as she needed. And that I didn't have to leave her to cry at night to 'learn' to fall asleep; that my touch, taste and smell were the perfect source of comfort until she naturally developed that ability on her own. That I could breastfeed for however long she needed, whenever she needed, and yes, it is perfectly normal for that to be 20 times a day. That it was natural for me to feel it in my heart when she cried and that responding immediately, if not sooner, was not spoiling her, rather it was showing her that the world is a safe place, and that her feelings are important.

You mean I could listen to my instincts, my heart, my every mommy-fiber and enjoy my baby fully? And that it won't turn her into a clingy, spoilt, tantrum-throwing, monster-being?

What a relief! Thanks Dr. Sears and API :)

And what was even better... MILLIONS of people, for THOUSANDS of years were doing exactly what I knew was right. It was how we survived and evolved as a species.

The ''training'' approach it turns out has only been around for a much shorter time, and only in Westernized cultures. The same cultures that have Post Traumatic Stress, sleeping disorders and a plethora of other mental health problems. The same cultures that have high crime and murder rates, high suicide rates, high i-dont-need-anybody-and-cant-let-anybody-get-too-close rates, and too many lonely people with ''commitment issues''.

How? Who? When did we feel the need to train our children like puppies? Sometimes even harsher than we train our puppies! When did we begin to forget that our precious babies have the same emotions, feelings, rights and needs as us? They just come in a smaller package. A package that learns best in it's own time how to move, communicate, eat, sleep, and use the potty. A smaller package that needs us bigger and more dextrous packages to help until they learn to do it on their own. A fragile little package in a huge, new world, that trusts us big 'uns to protect them as they learn. To comfort them when things get scary. To respect them as full human beings, their needs, their emotions, their temporarily limited physical abilities. To treat them as good as we would treat our best friend.

I've heard / read so many people talk / write about teaching their little ones to be independent because it is what is best for them. And then I thought that if we were meant to be like that, we would have been born as adults. Babies would be born talking, walking, eating, leaping tall buildings. Who would need a mommy?? Maybe we would just be like amoebas and pouf! Then there were two.

But instead we are born tiny, soft, dependent, unable to move around for ourselves, knowing only the smell and voice of the warm body that was our entire world. Our cries of need, pain, loneliness, fear, hunger and thirst cause changes in our mothers' bodies compelling them to comfort and soothe us.

Then come the experts with books to sell convincing our mothers to ignore our cries. Brainwashing those we trust into believing that we don't need really them.

I'm not judging those who chose a different path in their parenting. I believe that most mothers do the best they can with the resources and information that they have available, and out of love for their children.

But I don't understand why the so-called experts persist in spreading their methods when for years it has been proved to harmful, damaging and negative. Maybe that's unfair to say. Even Dr. Ferber has changed his position on sleep training.

I'm no expert, but I am a Mama. My baby sometimes sleeps for long hours, sometimes not. And this is normal. When she wakes up, she wants me to be there. And this is normal. She sleeps best next to me. I feel safest with her there.

One day, when she is ready, she will no longer need me 24 hours a day. She won't want the comfort and nourishment of my breast, the warmth and security of my body next to hers at night, or my arms to carry her around.

And something tells me that I will miss her.

Etc etc etc

I have a lot of little things running through my head, but can't seem to decide what exactly I want to say about them.

Like the one annoying fly that was buzzing around in my kitchen this morning. He's still here somewhere, but methinks he picked up on my ''I'm seriously considering swatting you'' vibe and decided it was time to chill out quietly. I was am reading The Seat of the Soul, and I reached the part about Reverence. Apparently reverence for Life extends to annoying buzzy bugs too. So to get the urge to squish out of my system, I squished the urge to squish the fly instead.

Then there's the bursting mommy-pride. The angel is crawling! Pulling herself up to stand! Saying Mama! Saying Dada! I have the most adorable (naturally) video of her crawling on the beach in Tobago which I am dying to post here. But she's naked. As we all should be on the beach. And I hesitate. To me there is nothing more beautiful than her michelin-man dumpling rolls and that scrumptious baby bum. And I want to show it to everybody. But I know that there are those out there who won't see it for it's innocent beauty. And that makes me sad.

Then there's the whole spiritual journey thing that I'm dying to talk about. I think it started when I was a teenager and couldn't get my head around the Body & Blood of Christ in the form of a wafer and vino. I've come a looong way since then. I recently refused to baptise the angel. That's a whole 'nother post by itself. Has anyone seen Zeitgeist???

And, I'm getting a serious itch to paint. I have some cool pics that I want to play with. What's the best medium for intense colours and reach-out-and-touch-me texture? Acrylics? Oils? Cotton balls soaked in food colouring? Something else I never heard of? And what kinda brushes do I need?

Ok, I think that's it for now. I do have some other MAJAH news, but I don't want to jinx it yet :)


My friend's country house in Vihterpalus, Estonia

Yummy Yummy Boobies

It is World Breastfeeding Week. YAY for the Lovely Lactating Lady Lumps everywhere in all their splendid shapes, sizes and spraying powers.

In keeping with my nature to compulsively over-share the intimate details of my life, here's what I've learnt about this so far.

In the beginning:

IT HURTS!!! Boy does it hurt. Those first few days are agony. Especially when the midwives you are relying on for information (because you are a clueless first-time mom who has knows nothing about what to expect despite having read the book) don't tell you that you should be using nipple cream until you are already chaffed and bleeding. Even though you told them IT HURTS, they will still pinch and squeeze your poor tender titties and force them into the mouth of your precious new angel, whom by the way, you are seriously considering bottle-feeding by this point. They will ignore your cries of pain and tell you in bad english to get used to it... until a few days later (when you are lying there exhausted and topless because even the slightest breeze causes you to wince in agony) one midwife notices that your boob has a crease down the middle. And this should not be so. AH HA! The baby was not latching on properly. Hence the crease, hence the pain. It will take some time to figure out yourself how it should be done. Because they won't show you. And your angel won't do what the books and videos say she should be doing.

Oh yeah, and, NOBODY has milk for the first few days. Nobody. You have other healthy, gentle, important stuff in there for your angel, but your milk doesn't come in until a few days after. It doesn't mean that your supply is low or anything. Just keep nursing away. The more you nurse, the more you will have.

Then overnight, your chest will go from zero to torpedo. You will wake up on the morning of the 3rd day or so with 2 MASSIVE ROCKS. You will wish that you could go clubbing in a slinky little top just so you could show them off. Not really. But you will be very impressed and show them off to your hubby. ''Look at these!'' jiggle jiggle... ouch. They still hurt. And they are HARD!!

That's when you turn into a firehose. The little angel whom you feared wasn't getting enough will now be choking. You will spray everything in your path including hubby, the bed, the floor, the mirror, and of course, the angel. You will spray her in the eye, up her nose, all over her clothes. Especially those times when she nurses just enough to get things flowing and then decides she doesn't really want it after all, and leaves you in full blast.

But it gets better :)

By the fourth or fifth week, things begin to settle down a bit. You feel like you have been doing this your whole life. It has stopped hurting. Now you look forward to laying down side by side and nursing your precious angel. Even if it is 20 times a day. It is beautiful, calm, relaxing.

And boy does it take the weight off! Hello pre-preggy jeans! Or maybe I'm just lucky.

It has been 8 months now and I can't imagine not being able to bond like this with the angel. When I think back to the torturous first weeks, and how it was sheer determination that got me through, I am beyond grateful that I kept at it.

There is nothing that soothes an angel's cries when she bumps her head trying to crawl, is scared or overwhelmed, or maybe the moon is in the wrong phase, than cradling her to my now normal-sized and once again soft chest.

I hope to self-wean, and mentioning this has met with looks of shock and horror. ''You going to be nursing a 4 year old?? That's gross!''. Well, maybe she'll be 4, maybe she'll be 2, maybe she'll be 7. Who knows how it will go. I do know that right now, I'm pretty determined to let her decide when she's ready.

And I also know that I am nowhere near ready to stop.

I've always been a stubborn child

My mom will say that without a doubt. And I've grown into a stubborn mama. Despite all the warnings I am receiving, I will continue to:

> Hold the angel for as long as she wants even after my left arm has long gone dead.
> Sleep with her snuggled safely and sometimes sweatily next to me
> Feed her safe adult food without pureeing everything into ambiguous mush.
> Run like a mad woman to her side if she calls out for me, no matter how calmly she calls.
> Not let her cry if she is unhappy.
> Happily stick my boob into her mouth whenever she wants it, without the convenience? of sterilizing pumps, bottles, and nipples.
> Not go anywhere that she can't, like the hot club with the everybody-will-be-there-party.
> Refuse to confine her to a playpen.
> Let her suck on her pacifier if that is what she wants.


But OH NO! She will get too attached to you!

REALLY??? HOW TERRIBLE!!! A baby who loves to be with her mama?? It is the end of civilization as we know it! Call the ... ahhh... I dunno.. somebody to fix it.

Yes, I am making my bed. And oh how soft, snuggly, and perfectly comfy it is :)

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

I didn't mean to bash the internet yesterday (Hi Lis ;-)). It has been my saviour throughout my pregnancy and even more since the angel came along.

If it wasn't for the internet I would most likely have given up on breast feeding a long time ago; especially given those torturous first weeks when my confidence was at an all time low, and certain family members kept harping on about not having enough milk, and formula being the Great God of fat babies with pretty skin. The angel also probably wouldn't know the comfort of being worn in a sling, and sleepy night time snuggle nursing, nor I the convenience. I might never have heard of Attachment Parenting and would be caught in the struggle between listening to my instincts and being afraid of spoiling my baby. (She's not spoilt dad. She's just a baby who needs her mama).

I googled ''Baby Screeching'' in an effort to understand what could be causing these recent heart-stopping, ear-piercing, sometimes-seemingly-random shrieks that the angel has taken to producing regularly in the past few days. Various forums popped up with other mom's looking for the same help as me.

+1 Point to the Internet: I am not alone in this. It happens. We are not freaks! And it seems to be sorta common in the 6 to 9 month age bracket, right where the angel fits in.

There were all sorts of responses, ranging from ''My baby does that too, and I have no idea why'' to ''It happens when they are frustrated and trying to communicate. Teaching them sign language at this stage might help.''

Also found was ''My baby does it to get attention so I ignore her and told everybody else to ignore her too. She stopped doing it when she realized that nobody was going to respond''.

-1 point to the internet for giving people who share damaging advice a bigger voice than they should have. Yes I believe in censorship... to a degree. Although, by that same argument, maybe I shouldn't be allowed to blog!

Granted this person found a solution, but the consequences of the solution far outweigh the benefits. All that little baby learnt was that her needs were not important or worthy of attention, that nobody cared what she felt, and that the people she depended on most would not always be there for her. These are not the lessons I want the angel to learn. And these are the lessons that too many people have learnt. The same people that feel isolated, angry, voiceless, powerless, lost.

And we all know how these poor souls contribute to society.

But reading more I did find some commonality with my situation. Being hungry, tired, over-stimulated, or simply needing a cuddle seemed to be triggers. So it seems that I was losing touch with the angel and wasn't reading her cues properly anymore. Or maybe her cues changed?

Solution: Reconnect, pay closer attention.

+1 point WWW

Overall score: Positive.

Every rose has it's thorn.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

The angel has transformed into a banshee. And I know that I am responsible. Who else can I blame?? It has to be my fault right? She is trying to tell me something and I, being a complete blockhead, am not getting it. Poor little thing is so frustrated.

It's so confusing sometimes this parenting thing. I'm trying to do my best to help her realize her full potential, but it seems I've already gone and screwed that up. Lord knows how many mistakes I've made already to damage her. But how do know what to do when what one ''professional'' says is good, another says is bad.

I was talking (emailing) with the editor at Root & Sprout about it recently. The internet is a fantastic resource for parents in today's society. You have information out the wazoo on every imaginable topic. But you also have to shift through a lot of bad advice. And it isn't always easy to tell the good from the bad.

Parents in more traditional societies don't have this problem, I'm sure. Their wisdom is handed down from generation to generation, specifically tailored to their unique environments. No need for trial and error. That was done a looong time ago.

I don't have that luxury. I have the internet. The One Stop Shop. But how do I know what I need to get??

I try to follow my intuition. That's generally a fail-safe method. But then sometimes that voice in my head gets muffled by the other voices of social conditioning and brainwashing. Then they start battling it out for the mike up there... whoooo headache!

And in the meantime, the angel continues screeching.

I'm sure that nature didn't intend for raising a baby to be difficult. That just doesn't make sense for the continuity of of our species. But along the way, we lost touch with nature. And now we have generations of the emotionally damaged hanging around, passing their damage along. Is that our evolutionary path?? Jeez, that's a sucky plan. Like a heroin addict, do we have to hit rock-bottom before we see the need to change?

Although, to be honest, I do think that things have started to turn around. More and more, parents are beginning to realize that maybe the way that they were raised, albeit lovingly and with the best intentions, may not be the best route. Attachment Parenting, The Continuum Concept, Unschooling and Natural Child movements are gaining momentum while baby-scheduling, sleep training, formula feeding and other non-natural methods seem to be decreasing in popularity.

But again, how do we know that this is what's best?

Oh God, Please, No.

What is happening to my country????

Is this what we have come to???

When will the people wake up?  When will the government WAKE THE &#€% UP?

5 months old.  His mother.  My heart pains for her.

Yes Mr. Prime Minister... build big tall fancy glass buildings.  That is the real sign of development.  Ignore the babies whose mothers have to go back to work when they are 2 months old and leave them with strangers.  Ignore the young children who are dropping out of school to join gangs because that is the life they know.  They need Nike sneakers too.  Ignore the young adults who fill our jails and then come out even worse than when they went in.  

Ignore it all... build your buildings.  Spread your propaganda.

There's No Place Like home! Part Kaks

Kaks means 2 in Estonian.

12 months is Kaksteist Kuud.  I'll let you say that out loud a few times.  hehehehe

Now, as I was saying.

Things I CAN wait for:

The looooooong flight... with 2 connections... with an 8 month old in tow.  I used to be a flight attendant (that's what they are called Nan) albeit very briefly.  And flights with lil kids were not fun.  And these flights were 15 minutes long.  Yes, I was more of a bus-conductor really.  Hello, hello, hello, hello, hi, hi, hello, hi... tug dummy life vest, point at the floor... good bye, good bye, bye, good bye, bye, bye... all with plastered Miss Universe smile... 8 times a day... roughly every half hour.  fun.  But I digress.  

The excitement of being on a plane lasts for a few very short minutes.  And let's hope that we get excitement and not all out fear of the huge noisy thing crammed with complete strangers who are giving off  ''Oh God, I hope that baby isn't sitting next to me'' vibes.  I'm pretty sure babies and kids do not like flights any more than the adults who have to sit squooshed up next to big fat guys.  But unlike the adults who can get drunk, sleep, play cards, read a book, try to hook up with other passengers, apply for the mile-high club etc, the lil angels kinda just have to suffer through it.  And they let us know this... us and everybody else in a 5 mile radius of the plane.  So yeah, I'm trying to get prepared mentally for a rough 9 hours.  And that's just on 1 flight.  We get to take 3.  And then we get to do it again to come back.  Any tips... pleeease feel free to let me know!

Being judged on my mommy-skills.  So far, living like a hermit has made it possible to partially escape the barrage of unsolicited advice, and tsk-tsk-tsks about my choices.  Like any mother, I am trying to do the best I can with the information I have available... and Lord knows I spend most of the Angel's nap times reading everything I can about child development.  Such a fascinating topic!!  And it does make you aware of the myriad of theories out there... some of it really quack... like the she-devil Gina Ford who boasts about how she starves babies into submission so that she can get them on a minute-by-minute schedule.  Her book was a best-seller too.  Poor babies.  I got her book as a well-meaning gift.  I don't have it anymore, and unless the dudes at the dump are wondering how to schedule their babies, in English, I have hopefully saved at least one baby from that horrid fate.

Again with the digression... back to what I was saying.

I hope I can handle being told that I am spoiling her, or that she should be sleeping through the night, or that I am crazy to still have her next to me at night, or that I should be bottle-feeding her or that I have in some other way ensured that she will forever remain my siamese twin.  I hope that I can smile gracefully, say ''Thanks, I'll think about it'' and sit on my desire to defend myself to the death... as I am often want to do.

I also hope that I don't do that to others.

Coming back to Tallinn.  The last time I did that, I left the warm, vibrant, musical, sunny shores of my beautiful and tasty country, and arrived, at the dreary, forever midnight, forever eating potatoes and white sauce, forever cold, dead of Tallinn's winter.  Gosh, it feels heavy just thinking about it.  But thankfully this time we will be coming back in summer.  And summer is beautiful here.  Everything is green and flowery and pretty... even the people :)  Everybody is happy, albeit half-naked and laying about on any and every patch of grass they can find.  Tallinn comes to life in summer.  So this time coming back won't be so bad.  But I know I will be sad to leave everybody again.

All in all, the good outweighs the bad right!  One thing about being so far away, it definitely makes you appreciate home.

Shhhh... sleepy-time

One of my most absoutest favoritest things to do is sleep.  And now that I have an angel snuggled up with me, it has become THE most absolutest favoritest part of my day.  

She naps sometimes in her sling, her angel face resting over my heart, her little dimpled hand pressed against my chest with a look of complete calm and peace.  At the mall today, she fell asleep like that.  (Not, of course, without her screeching announcement that the hour of nap was nigh.  I swear, she goes from zero to Banshee in 5 seconds flat!)

But as she drifted off against me, I looked down at her and got that overpowering rush of mommy-love that consumes your whole body... undeniably one of the most wonderful things to ever experience.  The first time I felt that was the night that she was born.  Despite 17 hours of excruciating labour, I was not tired that night, and it seemed that neither was she.  We lay side-by-side and stared at each other for what felt like hours, yet also felt timeless.  Time had stopped then.  The feeling is fiercely tender, overcomes your every cell and engulfs your soul.  I gasped.  I still gasp sometimes when I feel it's power.

I bent my head to nuzzle her hair and inhale that sweet smell of baby, then looked up at hubby.  ''She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen'' I told him.

And I get to do this every day... several times!  

At night it seems extra soft.  In the dark she curls up into my stomach, and I curl around her.  When she wakes up to nurse, she does, and then we both drift back off.  I can't imagine missing out on this by putting her in a crib.

I read recently that some states in the US want to make co-sleeping illegal because some people co-slept with their babies, and their babies died.  Then I read that the study was based on people with drug and alcohol abuse problems.  You can form your own opinion on that.

I don't think a life sentence could make me stop.