I don't know why how we choose to feed our infants has become such a sensitive, divisive, political issue. It's one of Those Things, though, that draws lines between parents. Maybe it has to do mostly with our own insecurities: many of us are trying so hard to do everything exactly right, that we tend to put down all other ways of going about it. Maybe the people who are the loudest about criticizing other parenting styles are feeling unsure about their own. Because really, as a therapist I went to once said to me when I was lamenting about what someone else was doing: What's it to ya, bud?

I breastfed all my kids. I started in October of 1996 when Alex was born, and I nursed during four other pregnancies. It was like the old side out, rotate volleyball move: Alex kept nursing during my pregnancy with Nathan, and I tandem nursed Alex and Nathan through a pregnancy that didn't make it (it was a blighted ovum, before you go and blame the miscarriage on nursing) and through my pregnancy with Sophia. I weaned Alex before Soph was born, and then was back to nursing two kids. I weaned Nathan during my pregnancy with Willow, and then tandem nursed the girls. After Sophia was weaned, I continued nursing Willow until the summer of 2006. I breastfed for nearly ten years without any breaks.

Why would she do that? you may be thinking.

Honestly, I didn't plan it that way: that was just how things unfolded. When I was in high school, a friend told me that her mom had nursed her until she was four years old. Ewwwww, I thought, how hippy is that? And, there I was, a little over ten years later, weaning my four-year-old son. (He is fine, by the way. Well adjusted, very social, happy and "normal.") I don't think that every mother should do things just like I did. I think if you nurse your baby you are making a wonderful choice, and I'd be happy to give you advice, support, a sympathetic ear -- but I don't think it's the only way to nourish an infant.

Now, if the me who was still a fairly new mom heard this older version of me saying that, she'd have been aghast. I was pretty sure for a long while that nursing was right and not nursing was, well, bad. My cousin's wife who bottlefed so she could "go out to the movies and stuff," brought out the judgemental worst in me. I wasn't able to see that perhaps her baby would have a happier and more secure childhood if her mom was doing what made her the most comfortable. Are babies who are breastfed by mothers who resent or are very uncomfortable with it really better off than those who are formula fed? Who can say?

When I was working away from home when Alex was an infant, I spent more mornings than not half dressed and sobbing because I wasn't able to pump enough milk before I went to work. Then I'd spend my lunch hour stressed out and pumping what I could, before racing over to the babysitter's to deliver more milk for the afternoon. I think everyone would've had less stress if I'd just given the baby some similac every now and then. And, I probably would have had more success pumping if I could relax a little knowing enfamil had my back.

I know cosleeping is one of Those issues. Some love it, some hate it. I'm on the side of those who love it, but lately I am hanging out a little closer to the proverbial fence.

Before my first child, Alex, was born, his dad and I bought him a beautiful crib and all sorts of bedding to go with it. We lived in a little upstairs, two bedroom apartment, and we set up the crib in our bedroom, so that I'd be able to get up to nurse during the night.

The fresh-home-from-the-hospital nighttime routine went something like this: nurse baby until he falls asleep; burp him without waking him up; rock him until he's sound asleep; put him in his crib; get into bed; close eyes, start to fall asleep; baby cries. Then it was repeat until sunrise and nobody was getting any rest. After the first night or two of that, I discovered that he'd sleep if he was on my chest. I spent a night sleeping upright on the couch with him strapped to me in a front pack. He faced me, and curled up with his little ear on my chest listening to that familiar heartbeat. He SLEPT for a long time. My sleep was not so restful, since I was terrified I'd roll off the couch and hurt him.

The next night, I knew we'd have to try the crib again. After several unsuccessful attempts, Alex's dad said, "Why don't you just bring him into the bed?"

I was speechless. I felt the way I imagine I'd feel if someone handed me a credit card and told me that there was no limit and there'd never be a bill to pay. "Can you really DO that?" I asked him. I'd never even considered it. He said something about how he was probably going to drop dead if he didn't get some sleep, and I scooped up the baby and brought him to bed. We all got much more rest, and it worked out really, really well.

Now Alex is ten, and he has three younger siblings. For most nights of the past ten years I have cuddled someone to sleep, even if I end up sneaking off to my own bed later on (and one or more of the small fry will undoubtedly stumble in and curl up next to me before dawn).

For the most part, I am a happy and willing cosleeper. I think it makes sense, especially with newborns. If you look at it from a strictly biological point of view, newborns are totally dependent on adults. I believe that since they have no way to protect themselves, their little brains are wired to cry when they are left alone. It's a survival skill. (That's the reason I'm also a huge fan of babywearing, but that is a post for another day!)

I can come up with lots of other positive things about cosleeping: when I worked and Alex was with his awesome babysitter 30 hours a week, nighttime was a really nice way for us to connect and be close; when any of the kids are sick, I feel better with them next to me, so that I'm available if they need anything. (I can wake up from a sound sleep and get a bucket in front of a barfy kid in no time flat! That, too, is a survival skill.) Nothing beats waking up and seeing the early morning light on your toddler's chunky little cheeks, and then watching as they slowly open their eyes and smile at you. Since I live in California, I've always thought that were there to be a big earthquake in the night (or a fire or other disaster) it would be best to be with the kids instead of down the hall.

Lately, though, I'm feeling like it's time to move on from cosleeping.

Before Willow turned four in February, I knew what I wanted to get her for her birthday. She loves to jump; on the couch, the bed, the chair, and, unfortunately, on me. I knew that a little trampoline with a handle would be just the thing for her. And, surprise! she totally loves her "twamp O leeene."

The trampoline has a few rules attached to it: one at a time, no one over 77 pounds, no shoes, no eating while jumping, no nose-picking while jumping, and no jumping from something higher (like the couch) down onto the trampoline. In fact, the list of what not to do grows every day that the kids use it.

A few nights ago, I babysat my friend's 17-month-old while she took her 12-year-old to the emergency room for a painful case of swimmer's ear. The baby was fascinated by the trampoline, and I let him climb on and off it over and over and over. (I cannot believe I forgot how exhausting toddlers are!) He couldn't really jump, exactly, but he had fun putting his weight on one foot and then the other. At one point when he was climbing down, his foot got stuck in the red cover that is there to keep little feet from getting tangled in the bungee cord that holds the stretchy part of the trampoline to the frame. The baby was fine, but when I moved the cover to help him out, I saw that the outside of the bungee cord had broken in several places and all that was holding the trampoline together were less than ten strands of elastic: the rest of the cord had already broken. (!!!!!!!!) Given that Willow and her siblings all jump on the thing like that child in the photo, this was disaster narrowly averted.

Next day I called Galt Toys to order a new cord. I fully expected to pay for it, since a) sometimes more than one kid got on it at a time, and b) the older kids who used it may be pushing the weight limit. I was so happy to discover that Galt toys is sending me a new cord, no questions asked. I asked if I could pay them, since I knew we probably broke the thing by breaking their very clear rules (the no nose picking rule is mine, though) and the woman who was helping me said that they'd replace it, no charge. So, hooray to Galt Toys: thanks for proving that customer service lives!

(Also, when I called -- NO voice mail!)

Spring is getting closer here in California: the plum tree in my backyard is full of blooms, and my eyes are watering so much I can hardly see. If you are the parent of a diaper-wearing small person, the coming warmer months may hold the added bonus of being toilet learning time. On more than one summer afternoon, I've put a little potty in the back yard and let my potty trainee run around with no pants on. If you are one of the parents gearing up for this life-changing event, you won't want to miss the following links:

At Mother Talkers, lamictal asked for some advice about her young son's reluctance to use the potty. The comments are not only helpful; they are funny and even contain a reference to a David Sedaris bit. We all need a good dose of humor when dealing with teaching our kids to use the potty.

Sue of Little People writes about graduating from the nighttime diaper. That was a tough one at my house, but I think that each subsequent child had the overnight diaper disappear sooner and sooner into the process, until Willow (the fourth one) began sleeping in her underpants just as soon as she started wearing them during the day.

Toby Lucich has a post up at More than a living that uses potty training as an analogy for career management. It is useful when taken literally, too, since it is a reminder that toilet learning is just one of the many steps kids take toward independence. If we are mindful of that, it's a little easier to focus on praising our child's successes, strengthening their sense that they are able, and also to resist the temptation to punish and yell when they've peed on the floor for the tenth time in a row. (Two words: Back yard.)

And, okay, I'm going to sneak this one in, even though it just kinda refers to potty training, because I really love what she (Surrender, Dorothy) has to say.

If you haven't already seen the Japanese Toilet Training for Kids video (or, you know, even if you already have) now's your chance. Willow watched this about twelve times straight through, totally fascinated. I didn't even read the subtitles to her.

Good night. Stay dry.

Blogging Baby reader Meredith sent in this tip, calling the Animal Bag "the Coolest Product EVER." Score one for Meredith; she is right on!

When I clicked on the link and saw this brilliant creation, I immediately grabbed my laptop and found my husband. I shoved the screen in front of his face and said, "OhmygoshwehavetoordertheseNOW!" I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating my reaction, but I've got four kids and ALL their stuffed animals are "special." Too special to pass along to other kids or store in the garage. They remember when they received each and every one and who gave it to them.

Right now, Willow is playing a game with sixteen animals, one dishtowel, one bath towel and a chair.

The animals are all over the place and take up way too much space. Now, I don't get the reasoning behind charging an extra $300 for the "elite" model; but to each his own. I think that the Trio, which is the same size, is a reasonable buy at $99. Can you even get three beanbag chairs for that price? They also have less expensive, smaller Animal Bags.

I can't wait to get ours and get all those stuffed animals corralled.

And, Meredith, congratulations on the birth of your sweet, beautiful son!

We live walking distance to a supermarket. A super-supermarket: one with a pharmacy, bakery, deli, florist, and bank all under one huge roof. I don't shop there very often, instead making the drive to places with healthier, cheaper food and less temptations for my kids. The super-supermarket has one of those giant claw toy machines, like that ones that three-year-olds keep getting stuck in, and the kids always want to give it a try. Once, someone who used it earlier didn't realize that the dollar they put in gave them multiple chances to grab a toy, and my son used the free turn to win a stuffed armadillo. That makes the game all the sweeter for them; they know there is a little chance of victory.

I'm mean and always say no.

Over the weekend we took Sophia to spend a Target gift certificate she had. She picked out a little mini version of the vending machine, and we now have our very own Claw Machine, complete with plastic tokens. (I am certain we didn't pay that much for it, though.)

I bought a bag of candy,** and after much wrestling with plastic twisty-ties and the figuring out of battery placement and everything, we loaded it up and switched it on. It's delightfully horrible! It plays loud circus music, which is perfect background noise for my particular house now that I think about it. The kids have been having lots of fun with it, and everyone pitches in and gets prizes for Willow, who just can't quite get it to work yet. As much as the sound of it over and over grates on my nerves, I love to hear the kids laughing and having fun together without fighting and whining. So, yay for The Claw! Two thumbs up!


**I'm thinking that next round I'll get something else. Maybe little bags of baby carrots or some grapes or something. Or vitamins! It's amazing that my kids still love me.

I wonder how many other families do this? It's a little embarrassing, but my girls sleep on a mattress on their bedroom floor. I know. I feel like a rotten mother. But, the reason is that they used to roll around so much at night, they'd crash out of any bed that was on a frame. Better a mattress on the floor than a head injury.

Now, however, they are a little more stable while they sleep. I told them that it was time to get them real beds, and even showed them the ones I had in mind to see what they thought.

They balked. They want bunk beds. Bunk beds? Aren't you too young? I asked them.

I think what I'll do is try and get this set, which comes apart into two twin beds. That way, if the top bunk proves too challenging we can have two beds a little closer to the ground. My boys do have bunk beds, but the bottom is a double bed, and no one ever sleeps up top. In fact, that is where all the stuffed animals live.

So, readers, do you think that your average kids, ages five and soon-to-be four, can handle a bunk bed? The idea makes me mighty nervous, but they do have lots of experience playing on the boys' bed.

About two weeks ago, I ordered a copy of the Leap Frog Letter Factory DVD on the advice of my daughter's kindergarten teacher.

I'm back to tell you that last night, my three-year-old read a Tale of Two Cities to me while we were driving to the store. Well, it felt that way, as she was happily pointing to street signs and telling me all the letters she saw. In less than two weeks, with repeated (ack! help!) viewings, she knows the alphabet. Cold.

Funny thing is, I bought the disc for her older sister. She was not quite as interested in watching it on an endless loop, but it did certainly do the trick -- she knows all her letters, too, and is sounding out three-letter words.

Honestly, the show is about 60 percent annoying to me. It's not unbearable, though, and I'd say it's absolutely worthwhile since it worked so well for us. Now they're ready for some good, old fashioned Schoolhouse Rock!