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Showing posts from May, 2017

#TakeBackTheRebozo

In my last blog post, ' Babywearing: One Mum's Fall Down the Rabbit Hole ', I referred to three Babywearing terms that had interested me: 'Shepherd's Carry', 'Candy Cane Chest Belt' and the 'Rebozo'.  I had come across these words during various online tutorials.  I did not know their meaning and to be honest, I'm still not sure what a 'Shepherd's Carry' is.  I chose to use these words to illustrate my ignorance and to induce some empathy to show how overwhelming any new lexicon can be. I had researched a definition of rebozo  to check spelling and context, but I was unaware of its controversial significance in social history and culture.   Rebozo means:   " .... a handwoven shawl specific to certain Mesoamerican countries.  The colours, weaves, and patterns are specific to regions.  A rebozo can accompany a person from birth (being carried in one) to death (being buried in one) and everything inbetween." [quoted fro

Babywearing: One Mum's Fall Down The Rabbit Hole.

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Before parenthood, my husband and I assumed that we'd need to spend money on a pram.  Wrong.  We assumed that our baby would happily fall asleep in a pram.  Wrong.  We assumed that we could buy one of those cute baby carriers from a reputable baby shop and all should be well.  Wrong. My other half purchased the best-reviewed carrier online and we (rather uncomfortably) carried our eldest as much as we could, especially for walks, short naps and trips on the tube.   We liked the versatility and the cuddles.   Our baby liked the comfort and the warmth.   We also thought it was some unwritten law to train your baby to sleep in a pram and many unhappy hours were spent jiggling the buggy, or once finally asleep, avoiding potholes, sirens and dog-walkers with their barking packs - we'd avoid certain shops with harsh lighting, or smooth floors, or those with steps and heavy doors.   Whatever the ambience though, he always contentedly nodded off in the carrier.   I tried to car

The "Lost" Months of Blog Silence

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Three months of blogging silence.  No, we're not all sleeping through the night.  No, I've not run out of things to say. Our baby is now 11 months and is more alert, mobile and curious.  His little hands can now touch all the things he's only seen from a static place on the floor.  His increasing teeth can now bite down on all those tasty hard surfaces that he's longingly gazed at from afar.  Within seconds, he's crawled to the shoe rack, smelling rubber boots or stroking velcro straps.  He's emptying cupboards and climbing the stairs.  He's tugging the curtains and teething on table legs.  He's outgrown all the clothes that he was wearing three months ago and has cut three more teeth. His older brother is wiser, silver-tongued and now nappy-free.  He role-plays with sticks and talks to the toys; he's solving the jigsaws and sowing the seeds.  He's grown 25mm (ish) and expanded his vocabulary by roughly 50 words.  He now puts on funny voice