This is another rant about simplification. I can’t help it. I’m overwhelmed. Remember when we used to write to people with a pen and paper? Keep a journal that we always made sure to lock up even though the locks could be picked with little more than a thought? Who else remembers when we used to use telephones to talk to people? Like with our mouths? You know, that hole where the voices come out.

I like many, many things about technology. I love that all my photos are automatically imprinted with the date on their digital file, which in no way impacts the visual image. Remember the super special cameras that had the ability to burn the date right there on the bottom corner of your print? Fun times. Those flaring orange dates almost covered up a few of my more questionable fashion choices. Almost. (Neon spandex bike shorts in place of actual shorts, anyone?)

I like the fact that I don’t always have to get on the phone to make plans with people. I’m a bad phone person. If I couldn’t email people to get together, I might never leave the house. Because I have to psych myself up for every phone call. It can be very stressful if I have to make lots of calls. I don’t know why I’m like that, but email is a godsend for someone like me. So is the Internet. I love having a hundred libraries worth of information at my fingertips in my own home. Some of it is crap. Okay, a majority of what’s on the Internet is crap, but there are more and more credible sources of information coming online all the time. It’s awesome. When it’s not utterly terrifying, that is.

But I’m starting to fall behind.

I know how to use a computer, and with enough information about a program or application, I can usually figure out how to use those, too. But all the new stuff is starting to cause my brain to just sort of throb or ache, or just turn away toward that bright light in the sky. Is it the sun? The moon? I should google that.

I have a confession to make. I don’t understand Twitter. I thought I did. I got an account. I have some followers. I occasionally treated my Twitter as sort of a mini-blog for when I didn’t have enough to fill a few paragraphs in a “real post.” But I’m kind of shocked to find that people actually communicate with each other this way. Or follow and interact with television shows or celebrities. And I’m not sure how it doesn’t suck up the bulk of their day. But I guess even if it does, that’s what those fancy new wireless devices are for.

But it’s not just Twitter. That’s just one of the bug guys. There are thousands of related sites. I just now, this very minute, learned what Delicious was. I have no interest in “digging” or “stumbling” or any of that. And I really don’t want to use applications that disclose my whereabouts to the wide world (or even my Facebook “friends”) at every second of the day.

It’s just getting to be too much. I like Facebook. I’ve found some old friends in that neighborhood, and even as it goes through it’s various upgrades, I’m still relatively comfortable in that social networking space. But even with Facebook, I have a number of “friends” who I wouldn’t ask to drive me to the airport because we’re just not that close. I recently shut down the MySpace page, and I’m considering closing both the Twitter and the Flickr. Because It’s hard enough to upload pictures to one place on the Internet, much less the three I have going with Facebook, Flickr and Shutterfly should I actually want to order prints. I won’t give it all up, but as long as there’s a place where my family can hear from me and see pictures of their grandchild/nephew/cousin/etc. I’m good. I’d rather spend my energy on that crazy two-year-old who lives here, or my marriage, or my face-to-face friendships. I’d rather spend my downtime reading or writing actual English language words than trying to decode all the text-language shorthand all the kids are using these days.

The more websites I join, the more logins and passwords I have to remember. The more profiles I have to maintain. And now, there are ways to connect every social networking site to every other social networking site to your email and every website you visit once or read regularly. That scares me. It’s too much. And who really wants to know all this information? I don’t need to know if you’re “tweeting” from the coffee shop down the street or your bathroom or Greenland. I really don’t care. I’m all for the exchange of thoughts, emotion, the sharing of information. If I’m not interested in the article you linked, I won’t click over, and I expect that no more than a couple of people will click on my shared links in turn. Because it’s not always relevant.

The thing is, I’m getting mixed up. I’m feeling old because I have no desire for a smart phone or a 4G network, whatever that means. All this information flying around makes me think of plastic and landfills. It used to be that if you said or did something stupid or offensive, you could gloss over it, use it as an amusing anecdote for later, or apologize and be done with it. Now, it’s on YouTube or out there among the other gazillions of terabytes of information waiting for the magic combination of search phrases to call it up at the most inopportune times. It’s stuck there in cyberspace for all eternity. And though we old farts may be haunted by our memories of mistakes, safe in our own foggy heads, nowadays, there’s the potential to be haunted by a data record, you know, depending on how many followers or subscribers are still linking it around.

There is so much information out there now, it’s hard to land on what’s right. You have to wade through virtual mountains of trash to find something worthwhile. And it takes time. It takes a certain level of knowledge and common sense. I’d like to think I have a little of both, but one does start to wonder.

It’s late, and I’ve been meaning to spit out these thoughts for awhile. Just trying to find the time. It took me so long to get to it, though, that I forget what first inspired my feelings of technological intimidation. It was probably a commercial for a phone that does all your socializing for you. Or maybe it was a new technology for watching movies or television. Or seeing Inception in IMAX (which didn’t seem all that different from a regular movie except for the CRAZY LOUD VOLUME). I don’t even know.

I’ve just been having this thought that this must be me getting old. Because there’s technology I’m comfortable with, and then there’s the new stuff. The stuff that makes me want to lock up my diary and call my mom on a rotary telephone while listening to a cassette tape of songs from my formative years, which are now, sadly, often played on the “Classic Rock” station.

So there you go.

I don’t plop my kid in front of the television to learn to read. We tried Sesame Street way back when, but he’s not really into it much anymore. So we’re working on letters and reading the old fashioned way. By reading books together. Lots and lots of books. We also have magnetic letters on the fridge and alphabet blocks, so he knows his ABCs, but for his favorite stories, he has gotten pretty good at the plain memorization technique.

At minimum, we read two stories per day. One before his nap and one before bed. There are usually a couple others thrown in there, often during bathroom breaks (I’ll take the credit for teaching him that one). After he gets to know a book pretty well, he will take over the reading in parts. And I am totally loving being on the listening end.

I’m glad I decided to get the camera out the other night and record a bit for posterity.

Silly Monkeys from Sara on Vimeo.

The other day, I got out my toolbox full of gel pens, markers, colored and non-colored pencils and let M go to town in a notebook while I sat nearby with my long-running altered book.

The good news is that I have a longer attention span than a nearly-three-year-old. This is as it should be.

The bad news is that I get so obsessed with whatever project I happen to be working on that my son comes crawling up on my lap mewling like a newborn baby asking for “mommy milk” just because he’s tired of drawing and wants some good old fashioned interaction, and for whatever reason, I just can’t seem to put my pencil down.

This is why my art has lapsed. Because I don’t have days to devote to it anymore. I get the ideas in my head and I have to see them play out to the end as soon as they start coming together. It is beyond difficult to tear myself away from a creative work-in-progress no matter how adorable and sweet the enticement to do something else.

My son is a definite priority. But lately, I have felt the muse come calling again. And it’s hard to keep her penned into nap and post-bedtime appointment slots. I hate the feeling I get when M makes it obvious to me that he needs a level of companionship that I have not been providing, regardless of whether it’s been for five minutes or the better part of an afternoon. Perhaps this is one argument in favor of preschool. The extra few hours a week of freedom to follow that muse.

It takes tremendous effort to put down a book in mid-chapter when a high little voice finally reaches the point where “stop reading” needs to be commanded. It takes at least three times as much effort to put down a project I’ve been working through just when it’s picked up some good momentum.

Because I work out of the house almost thirty hours a week now, my time at home needs to be focused on home things. The boy. The laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, etc. We go to play dates and walk to the park and fill in the rest of the time with fun: using the black hose on the back porch, building castles in the pillows, rolling play-doh snakes, baking cookies, etc.

I would love to sit next to my son, creating. Working separately but sharing a moment, or an hour or more. But I have to keep in mind that we’re not there yet. He still needs supervision, but more, he needs my attention. And I need to put my pencil down, even in mid stroke, and provide. Because that’s my job. And it usually turns out to be time well spent.

“I need that” is a phrase often heard when spending any significant amount of time with a young and verbal child. Because they haven’t learned the difference yet between a need and a want. Want and need is interchangeable because they are so closely related at that age. It truly does seem like they will not survive if you dare substitute the blue cup for the green one or refuse to bring home yet another rubber ball or buzzing, whirring, plastic-buttoned contraption. One of my responsibilities as a parent, which I take very seriously, is to teach gratitude that all our needs are met as are many of our wants, as well as the difference between the two.

Unfortunately, I live in a society that regularly blurs the line. Watch television for more than ten minutes, and the advertisers will be scrambling to convince you that you can’t possibly fulfill your potential as a human being without the latest bussing, whirring, plastic-buttoned contraption that texts or tweets, navigates or video chats. I work in a retail position where I contribute to the cacophony of encouragement to have certain “essentials” on hand to make life more convenient with your newborn, your toddler, your child.

As for my line of work, I was called out by a manager several weeks ago for mentioning (in a half-joking manner) the fact that God gave us everything we need in order to care for our young. Apparently, a sales associate in a baby store shouldn’t say such things in front of customers, who may be easily persuaded to forgo their crib purchase and swathe their infant in animal skins when such things are mentioned offhandedly in their presence.

But let’s talk about need and want for a minute. What do we really need in order to survive? We need nutritious food to fuel our bodies. We need clean air to fill our lungs. We need fresh water to drink. We need shelter from the elements suitable for the climate in which we live. We need clothing to protect our fragile bodies from the dangers of life outside our mother’s cozy wombs. That’s pretty much it. And in a world where we have so many wants from which to choose, it’s kind of hard to believe that most of us don’t even have all our basic needs met when you think about the hoops one may have to jump through in order to have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, livestock that hasn’t been hopped up on hormones and antibiotics, and water without chlorine or fluoride or any of the other chemicals that have been added to make it “cleaner” but contaminate our bodies in the process.

Instead of buying local or organic, we buy a round of cranium-sized burritos for the family and a vat of carbonated water with chemicals and chemically altered corn products for flavor. Instead of moving into a home that fits our budget and family size, whether we can afford it or not, we supersize to a McMansion seventeen inches away from the neighbor’s McMansion and twenty-three inches away from the fence backing up to that busy street so there’s not even really any yard in which to run around. We work hard and spend long hours separated from our loved ones so that we can spend money on things that we end up giving away or selling in a yard sale and replacing with newer and shinier things six months later. It’s really starting not to make much sense.

Maybe it’s because I’m at a place in my life where I want to spend my money and my time on something that matters. I want to be with my family as well as grow it. I want to pay my debts from the period of my life when I did a lot of spending on wants and whims. I’m not saying that I don’t value things like home-ownership and education, because I do. I don’t really mind the fact that I have those debts. But in trying to teach my son the difference between a need and a want, I’m becoming more acutely aware of the fact that so many of my peers don’t seem to understand the difference themselves.  And yes, I happen to be very well aware of the fact that when I buy a new tank top it’s not because I need one, but rather because I just want to add a little bit of variety to my wardrobe.

Money to me right now is the thing that is either going to allow me to convince my husband that we’re ready to add to our family’s ranks or stand in the way of my dream of having a noisy house full of little ones. I honestly don’t care how big or small said house is. I don’t really care if we don’t have the fanciest toys or can’t afford all manner of lessons or classes for them. I don’t care if we don’t get to watch Curious George or the two hours of nightly post-primetime, post-bedtime television in high definition. It’s not important. We don’t need it. It would be nice to have a bigger house, less debt and the disposable income or flexibility that may come with less debt, perhaps some more gadgets. But at least where the gadgets are concerned, I find that my time in front of screens of whatever variation only leaves me feeling unproductive or guilty for avoiding my real-life-in-the-flesh companions and responsibilities. As much as I loathe it, I feel much more productive having cleaned the bathroom than having finished reading those articles that someone linked on Facebook. Obviously, I do way more of the latter than the former since I will never invite you to enter my bathroom without allowing myself a certain amount of advanced notice. So, there’s still some work to be done there.

All this to say that I’ve been thinking a lot about need and want lately, especially after posting about the baby stuff. I occasionally find myself skimming through financial books, just in case there’s some big secret I’m missing that can help me finally get ahead (here’s a secret: don’t buy financial books because they all say the same thing in different ways). They all encourage the reduction of want-based spending and thoughtful consideration before buying anything, including things that may actually fall into the much smaller need category. This has to be stated and restated in every financial strategy ever written because it’s hard for us to step back and realize that we have surrounded ourselves with mere wants and whims, which ultimately don’t mean much so we feel the need for more and more. If we happen to wake up and take stock, we just might find that without all those things we thought we had to have, we already have exactly what we need.

Last week, one of my fairly regular customers was in the formula aisle, there to pick up a case of one of the liquid, ready-to-feed, hypoallergenic formulas. I had no cases in the back. No more than three bottles left on the shelves. The customer did not buy the last three bottles, preferring to come back at a later date. He didn’t seem at all concerned, but after he left, I kind of was.

Once, I bought a can of formula. Because I stopped pumping my milk when M was one, and the pediatrician suggested it might be an easier transition to whole milk. He didn’t like it, in fact turns out to be sensitive to cow milk, so I gave the rest of the can to a friend. I never had to mix a bottle. I was never left alone in a house with an empty container of liquid or powder and a hungry, screaming baby. My milk was always there, ready, the right temperature, the right amount. I know, lucky me.

Now, I’m guessing that this particular shopper was a man who thought ahead. I’m assuming that his pantry was already stocked with more than a few extra cases of the food his baby needed. But the thought that some other mother or father could be in need of a very specific formula to feed their baby, and not able to find it at the store really had me concerned.

Because what do you do? If you came to my store after those last three bottles were gone, and you were running out of your stock at home, what happens then? Obviously, you try other stores. But if the formula company was slow on their shipping that month for other local stores, too, maybe no one else has it either. I suppose you’re left with the choice between a starving baby or an allergic reaction.

There are a whole lot of reasons I’m really happy to have successfully breastfed my baby into toddlerhood. But this is a new one for me to consider. My husband had to be on the special formula that was prescription only back in the day because he was allergic to everything as a baby. To have to go to the pharmacy and pay the outrageous late-seventies  price of 19 cents per can was a huge inconvenience and financial burden on his parents. At almost $30 per can today, for the most common hypoallergenic non-prescription variety, I can’t even imagine what some parents must go through just because mom couldn’t or didn’t want to breastfeed.

I’m not writing this out just to beat up on the formula feeding or the formula-fed. Far from it. The battle lines are drawn all over the Internet, you don’t need more guilt tripping from me. This was just a situation that really started my mind going, and I write here to work through those kinds of thoughts. I truly find it baffling and sad that some parents, probably more than I even think, might find themselves in a position where their babies’ primary food source could suddenly become unattainable. Not to mention occasionally put themselves in that position intentionally.

To be honest, the bottle-feeding mothers I have known have been among the lucky ones who have not had to seek out special formulas or prescriptions for their babies. When that’s the case, I suppose it’s easy to just pick up whatever can is on the shelves. But what happens to the babies if there’s a recall or contamination? What do you do in a disaster situation?

I was lucky not to ever really have to think about it before with my son, and I’m lucky still that I don’t really even have to be thinking about it now. Though I am curious. Does every bottle-feeding parent plan ahead like the dad that comes into the store to pick up his regular cases? Do they also keep a full supply of bottled water around, too, for emergencies? If the majority of bottle feeding parents are lazy like me, though, I’m guessing not. So what do you do? When you run out of baby milk? When your water main bursts or a hurricane hits?

I’m all for choice. And I understand that in certain situations like adoption, abandonment or with certain medical conditions, infant formula is necessity. And definitely choose whatever way works best for yourself and for your family. But I really don’t know if I’ll ever really “get” this one. The formula choice, to me, if consciously choosing it with the full ability and support available to breastfeed, just seems like adding one or more unnecessary worries to the already worry-filled landscape of parenting. And again, I’m glad I didn’t have to worry about it, myself.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week!

Yesterday when I got home from work, M was watching Curious George on the small DVD player in the office while Daddy went through decades of old paperwork. He came over to me and said, “You wanna watch George with me?” and took me by the hand to come and sit with him on the floor.

I told him that I would love to watch with him, but I needed to change out of my work shirt first. So he ran ahead of me into the bedroom and began a new elaborate game wherein he brought every item from his bedroom floor and the bed itself into my bed. He had to do it by the armload, so he needed help for, “all these things and this stuff.” And once it was all on the bed, he jumped up and flopped down into the pile again and again, cracking himself up and chattering to me the whole time.

When did he become such a big boy full of articulate and enthusiastic personality?

Things I really like about him right now:

• He still mispronounces several words, my favorite of which has to be “cracker” for “tractor.”
• The pronouns are still a little bit confusing– everyone is male in his world, and the personal possessive is “mine” rather than “my,” as in, “I need batteries for mine hole.”
• Speaking of batteries, anytime anything is not working to his satisfaction, he declares that it must need batteries, like the helium balloon that doesn’t float in the air after a day.
• He does this crazy wobbly dance, especially at bedtime while making an “ah” noise with his mouth. Totally hard to describe, but completely adorable.
• He will specifically request to be nude. Sometimes. Other times, he takes his pants and underpants off and declares that he’s “Mister Nude.”
• He says “bless you” when we sneeze, “excuse me” when he burps (or farts), and about 25% of the time uses “please” and “thank you” without prompting.
• He’s such a people person. He can be a little bit shy and reserved at first, but it doesn’t take long for anyone to get his big grin and an invitation to play with him, even if he doesn’t always share nicely.
• He still requires a number of cuddles during the course of a day, and occasionally reaches for “the dot” (that little mole on my chest that was his touchstone in the nursing days) for comfort.
• He’s learning how to say “I’m sorry.”
• He’s my big boy, and very proud of that, though every once in awhile, he’ll still come to me and call himself my “little baby,” so I’ll cradle him just like I did when he actually was one.
• He tells me he loves me, often without prompting and sometimes even without me telling him first.

I’m starting to think that these so-called “terrible twos” were just a big scare tactic to keep me on birth control for the better part of my fertile years. In my experience with M, the twos are pretty darned terrific.

Warning: This post contains the word “discharge,” a discussion of toddler privates and one more reason not to spend hard-earned money on throw-away diapers. But it might help someone, so I’m putting it out there.

(more…)

So here we are in a new month again. For nine days already. Where does the time go?

We took M to see fireworks on the 4th. It was fun, though way beyond bedtime. He was amused enough by the glow sticks, and he gave the fireworks a cursory glance or two. We went to a neighboring suburb for a small festival and fireworks. We got funnel cake. The fireworks seemed to be having some technical difficulties, as there were several minutes-long pauses in the action. They were also a little far away and low to the horizon. So, kind of hard to see. Next year, we’ll try for something better.

On Wednesday, we finally took M to the airport, a place he’d been asking to go for weeks, and hopped on a plane to Milwuakee. M ran all the way up the walkway to fling himself into his grandma’s waiting arms, and we hung out with both sets of grandparents for lunch. Later, after a nap, my aunt, uncle, cousin+wife+baby came by and we had a light dinner. It was nice to see the cousin and family because they live in Germany. Their daughter is almost exactly one year younger than M, and the whole evening, the two kids just kind of played around each other until it was time for them to leave. That’s when they held hands and walked together down the driveway as though they had been best friends forever.

Yesterday morning, we had another play date with a friend and two daughters. Grandma did a lot of playing with the kids while the mommies got a chance to catch up. Her daughter was even calling my mom Grandma before too long.

Yesterday was also our fifth wedding anniversary. It was great that we got the chance to spend it in Wisconsin, where there happen to be people who will watch our boy for free while we get to go and be adults together for awhile. And lucky for us, we have a connection at the very same hotel where we had our wedding reception. So a free cocktail and a discounted “executive level” room for the night. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate with my honey. I’m so grateful for the last five years, for our devotion to each other, and I’m looking forward to whatever the next five years will bring. In past years, I’ve spent an entire blog post dedicated to our anniversary, but considering I almost forgot about it completely this year, this honorable mention will have to do. Love you, James.

Tonight, my sister comes into town with her husband, and we’ll spend tomorrow morning with them and my brother’s gang. We still have lots of exciting stuff planned for our stay, and I’m enjoying the company and various activities immensely. It’s always a shame that the time seems so short, and we can’t always see everyone we’d like, but the time we do get to spend with the people we can is always time well spent.

Now that the big stuff post is out of my system, I can go on rambling about any old thing. I just had to get that off my chest. That post took me almost all month to actually finish writing. Thank you for listening.

Some months see my writing slow down. This happens when there are a whole lot of real life happenings, well, happening. And there have been. Here are some of the happenings, in no particular order:

For one, work. I’m working hard because there is no other choice. I work to keep my house in both senses of the word. I work to entertain my kid, who’s pretty good entertainment himself. I work at the store four days a week, and on the days I don’t work, they must have removed some of the hours in those days because they’re just gone way too fast.

For another, HOT. Oh, man, has it been hot outside lately. So we stay indoors most days, and with only one car having air conditioning, it sometimes means cabin fever a-la endless dark winter months. We try to get outside when it’s cloudy, even raining, because that helps with the oppressive wet air bombardment, but M is a constant ball of energy, and it’s hard to keep him cool and hydrated even under those conditions, which have been few and far between. On the plus side (not at all), our home air conditioner stopped making cool air today, so we get to deal with that, too. I never thought I’d be this grateful for a basement condo with few windows. It’s only about 80 degrees in here so far, and the next couple of days are supposed to be a tad milder than the last week of high 90 degree weather. Thank goodness for small miracles. Bring on the clouds. We should have it taken care of fairly quickly, though, and at a slight discount thanks to knowing the right people. So enough about that.

In other news, I am in the early stages of becoming a La Leche League leader. I am really excited about this because one of the parts of my current retail job that I feel absolutely zero ambivalence about is the part that allows me to offer support and information to parents who need it, even if they weren’t specifically seeking it out when they walked into the store. I feel, and have also been told later by my repeat customers, that even by just offering them a small bit of my knowledge and experience, I help. That’s the part I love. And that’s the part that led me to look seriously into participation with La Leche League as a leader.

And then there’s the rest. My husband and I have found ourselves with two choices regarding the future of our family. Really and ultimately, the decision lies with my husband about which road to take, because both roads are spotted with many trials and uncertainties. I have come to terms with either direction, I think, and have decided to leave it up to my husband and to God what happens next. I can’t really go into details, but I refer to the choices as “ours” because he respects my thoughts and feelings on the matter. The matter itself has to do with his long-sought career building opportunities. And I honestly feel pretty good about the fact that the options have become serious and narrowed down to two. Until I feel better saying more, I’ll leave it at that. The road we’ve traveled already has not been easy, and whichever one we end up on will have its own difficulties, but at least I don’t feel stalled on the shoulder anymore. And that’s something in itself.

And saving the best bits for last, how’s the kid? He’s fine. Every afternoon when he wakes up from his nap, he comes down the hall with his hair sticking up and out all willy-nilly, rubs his eyes and holds up his hand in a wave, saying “Nice to see you, Mommy!” It cracks me up.

He is obsessed with the flashlight. So we’ve spent a couple of days in the dark, quite literally, while he experiments with light and shadow.

He’s starting to pretend a lot more. He fancies himself a crane sometimes, lying on the floor with his knees bent and his feet come together to pick up a block or some other thing. He flaps his arms and pretends to be a bird. He points his finger and makes a ssshhhh noise like a water hose. He knocks on the door, and when you ask who it is, he usually says, “It’s Papa!” One time he said, “It’s Papa, Mommy.” And one time with my husband, he said he was a robot papa.

He says excuse me if he burps, but also when he has the hiccups. He will excuse himself after every hiccup, which can go on for quite some time. The other day, he farted, and as he walked away, he told his dad, “Smells like Mommy.” Wise guy.

Hi, I’m Sara, and I’m an attached parent.

As such, I have become increasingly conflicted about where my paychecks come from. You see, I sell a bunch of stuff to new and expectant parents that undermines instinct and promotes detachment. Not everything, mind you, but a good percentage.

Video baby monitors, for example. Not long ago, we had a product video playing (the vendor pays for such marketing, and as obnoxious as those TVs are in the department, they really do move merchandise). The script for the particular baby monitor went something like, “Having a baby brings many moments of joyous connection. Maintain that connection with the XXXX video monitor.” Because being connected to your child obviously means leaving it alone in its room while you watch it on a tiny screen from the other end of the house. “View the many adorable moments she spends alone in her crib,” was another gem from that same ad. I don’t know about you, but I had trouble putting my baby down in the same room with me, I just wanted him with me all the time. It just goes by so fast, I wanted more of a memory than an image on a screen. Is it just me? Maybe it’s just me.

Anyway, I mentioned in my diaper post how I’ve become a little jaded when it comes to my place of employment. I’ve discussed my ambivalence towards Stuff in the past, and I’m still struggling to simplify my own circumstances when it comes to all the clutter around here and the buying of new things.

The thing is, the baby industry is literally booming. Sales numbers are probably something like double what they were last year, and my current department is definitely feeling it. We can’t seem to keep up with restocking and filling everything that gets sold along with the new products that arrive daily by the pallet. Every week, more and more people come into my store, fill out their paperwork, and aim that handy scanner gun at thousands of UPC codes on hundreds of different products that somebody somewhere decided were the 21st century baby’s must-have items.

But the more I learn about raising babies, the more uncomfortable I get not only with the aggressive marketing of things to occupy a baby’s time or the latest gimmick to speed up development of the infant brain (see: Your Baby Can Read, Strollers, Baby Carriers and Infant Stress, or the new information about formula additives DHA and ARA) but also with the fact that the marketing actually works. Parents come to my store because they heard about this great new thing to make their baby smarter or healthier or sleep longer or eat better. And all I can do is say, yes, that’s what it claims to do, and some people find it works really well for them. Because I get paid to help the customer buy stuff they think they need so the store makes money and stays in business so I can go to work and get paid. But in my heart, I really just want to tell these vulnerable new parents to trust their instincts and listen to their babies. I want to (and occasionally do) tell them that they don’t actually need all this stuff.

Some of it is great. Breastpumps, for example, allow the working mommy to continue to provide her baby with the most natural food available. I sell a whole lot of the most expensive –$380– model purely because I believe in it and that the investment in providing breastmilk for babies is worth it every time. Other great products in our aisles include the snuggle nests, co-sleepers, slings and soft structured carriers for baby wearing. Certain types of bottles that make it easier to nurse, nursing covers, a variety of diaper bags and coming soon: some modern cloth diapers (finally!).

But some of it I just have to say, WTF?

Like bottle props. Hate those. Or the bottles that have a nipple attached to a straw so nobody has to hold a bottle or be anywhere near their infant during mealtime. I see folks register for five or six types of baby “containers,” and that’s so much overkill. I liked having a bouncer, somewhere to set my kid where he could see me but left me free to do things like fold laundry or make myself some food. But one (or two, if you have a couple levels to your house) of these seats/mats/exersaucers is fine. You don’t need all of them. Because then you’ll be back in the store for noggin nests, body supports and sleep positioners because your baby has a flat spot on his head.

Instead of spending so much money on stuff for our babies, we really need to focus on spending time with our offspring. Cuddling. Nursing. Holding. Carrying. Comforting. DVDs won’t make our kid smarter or more social, interacting with the world and the larger humans that take care of it will. I held my son All. The. Time. And wouldn’t you know it, never once did I worry about him developing a flat head. And as an added bonus, with the closeness we had, I often got the benefit of people complimenting me on how alert and happy my baby seemed. Especially when he was all squished against me in our sling.

My store and others are in the business of convenience. And while much of the “stuff” you can buy does, in fact, make life with an infant more convenient, there’s a quote I first encountered on one of my favorite parenting websites that goes like this: “Remember, you are not managing an inconvenience: you are raising a human being.” (Kittie Franz)

It might serve us all better to keep that in mind sometimes. Especially if we’re trying not to buy stuff we can’t afford, like many of us should be doing in a recession like this. Do I have all the answers? Heck no, I’m as fumbling an idiot parent as the next guy. Did I, personally, never choose convenience over extended attention or continued frustration? Of course I did. But I usually remembered to put my baby’s needs before my own unless it was a really, really bad day. I don’t have a problem with the fact that this stuff is out there (well, the bottle props and straw nipples, I kind of do) because most of it can be extremely helpful when used in moderation , but the fact that we have all bought into this consumer mentality that life will be better for us if we have ALL the tools of convenience at our disposal. When sometimes, though we may not always realize it in the moment, the truth is the exact opposite.