Small Style, Japan Style

First off, I'd like to send out a little thank you to all of you Small Stylers who commented last week re. Barfapalooza. Your support and encouragement really meant a lot to me, aaaaaannnd....I'm happy to report that we've been barf-free since Thursday! Just kidding...we had an other visit from the vom faerie this morning! 

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In a few short days, Stella and I are heading back to North America for some Michigan summertime fun, and therefore, in honour of our trip, it just makes sense to feature Japanese baby outfits for this week's Small Style.

There are some distinct differences between the way Japanese and Western parents dress their babies. And, if you ask me, from a practicality standpoint, Japan wins this round. Case in point: the kimono baby pyjama. 

Newborn Stella in her kimono. All the babies in the hospital dressed in the same outfits. Like little, miniature factory workers. 

Anyone who has dressed a newborn knows that it is similar in difficulty to wrestling a floppy, flailing octopus into a burlap sack. Therefore any type of over-the-head instillation or snaps or zippers are simply hindrances. Kimono are totally the way to go.

Big girl Stella in her kimono, which she also wore as a newborn, but they are so forgiving! And expandable! And come with matching bloomers! Made of terrycloth! 

Similarly, the jinbei suit: typically composed of two pieces, the kimono top and elastic-waisted shorts, they are made of a seersucker-type fabric and perfect for lounging in the hot summer months. Seee?

 

Jinbei suit and remote control. Which is actually a phone. In case you didn't know. 

Also, a variant on the jinbei suit - but this one has a funny button crotch. AND was handmade for Stella and is therefore much-loved by me. 

And here we have a staple of the Japanese infant wardrobe, the terrycloth sleeper. In Japan there is a good deal of baby paraphernalia made from terrycloth. I am not sure why, but I can tell you that it is remarkably absorbent. Which is great considering the rivers of drool and the aforementioned barf situation.

Case in point: drool river as pictured above

And finally, while this outfit is not strictly Japanese (in that it is Canadian) it does feature that wonderful kimono closure and kimono sleves and was gifted to me by a very dear friend. Plus it is cute. And also: CLAPPING!

And there you have it, Japanese baby clothes on one very enthusiastic model. For more cute babies, head on over to Mama Loves Papa for Small Style action. 

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Wordless Wednesday (First Colouring)

After reading this post by Wunderblogger Ryan at Pacing the Panic Room, I was inspired by the idea of precious first attempts. And while my photography skills pale in comparison to his, Stella picked up some crayons to colour for the first time and I thought - hey, precious firsts. And so, for Wordless Wednesday, here's Stella colouring with crayons for the first time. 

 
Linking up at Five Minuites for Mom, And Then She {snapped}, Parenting BY Dummies, and Supermom.

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It's The Tuesday After Father's Day and Therefore Time for a Father's Day Post

Last year was Mr. Chef's first Father's Day. During the build up to the big day, I was wracking my brains, searching for ideas to celebrate this newly minted father who has a notorious hate-on for the Industrial Stationary Complex. I finally settled on a Ferragamo tie with a darling cat print that was the perfect combination of luxury,  fatherly-ness, and a celebration of Mr. Chef's adoration of all things feline. 

This thoughtful and lovely gift was met with the following reaction, "a tie? You got me A TIE?" 

"Wut? It's the traditional Father's day gift" I said. "And anyway, I expect to be lavished with similar vapid name-brand splendor on Mother's Day, GOT IT?" (I did not actually say the second part. But thought it real hard. And everyone knows that the greatest husbandly duty is to learn how to mind read.)

Fast forward to this Father's day. An unequivocal request that I not spend money on gifts lead me to direct the most splendid film you've ever seen celebrating Mr. Chef's fatherly powers*. Trust me, it's a super masterpiece of tender sentimentality and I would totally show it to you, except that Mr. Chef's position in the world of International Espionage requires that I not reveal his identity. But it is great. You would shed a tear of beauty.

Anyway, I presented Mr. Chef with the video, and he was all, "awwww, it's so nice. You're the best wife ever. Thank you." And then I went off to call my Father to wish him a Happy Father's day. My mother answered the phone. "Father's day? It's not Father's day. That's next week." 

And there you have it, folks. Expat life has left me so disconnected from reality that I am no longer aware of major cultural celebrations in my home country.

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*Okay, all kidding aside, Mr. Chef is truly amoungst the greats when it comes to fathering. Laid back, fun, and loving as all get out. He regularly gets up early to look after Stella while I sleep in. And comes home after work late at night and cleans the kitchen. And take Stella on Father-Daughter dates so that I can drink coffee by my self. And works so hard to make us happy. Hearts. 

Stella watches intently as her  Papi gets ready for work. She mimics him putting gel in his hair, and it is, like, THE CUTEST THING IN THE WORLD! 

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Expat Parenting: Adjustments, Accommodations, Acclimatizations

Surely all parents can agree that there is a nugget of truth to that familiar expression, "I was the perfect parent before I had kids." In my case, it is more a boulder than a mere nugget. 

I've had baby fever since as long as I can remember. In fact my first word was BABY. I started my parenting research at the tender age of 12, reading my parents' copy of "How to Talk so Kids Will Listen and Listen so Kids Will Talk" and dreaming how I would be an unerring progenitor with flawless technique; my perfectly adjusted children the envy of parents everywhere. And then I got knocked up the week we moved to Japan, and suddenly everything changed; for expat parenting is nothing if not an exercise in being flexible and adjusting your parenting ideals*. 

At first I resisted the notion of adjustment and flexibility. An unhappy trifecta of homesickness, culture shock, and pregnancy crazysauce had me flailing for control of the fundamentally uncontrollable process of growing a baby. I was convinced that everything, from pre-natal care to nursery decoration to cloth diaper purchases had to be done exactly by the (North American) book. Ultra-sounds at every OB visit? WRONG! For that is not the way it is done at home! Japanese cribs? Obviously a DEATH TRAP for babies, and therefore we must purchase one from Canada at great personal, emotional and financial expense. Thus went my line of reasoning.

I continued in this manner, until about three weeks before my due date when it dawned on me, "you know, it's a lot of work resisting the Japanese system. I’m tired. These guys deliver healthy babies every day. I need to trust them." And so I did. And when the arrival of our daughter was imminent I agreed to procedures and interventions that would not likely have been administered in Canada, but you know, it was FINE. The world did not stop turning. And I was happy.

These adjustments, of course, continue as Stella grows. I'm introducing food to her diet that, if I lived in a whole-grain, raw-honey, crunchy granola mecca, I would not otherwise allow past our threshold. We make do with what is available and Stella occasionally eats white bread. I drop Stella off at daycare, where I am not allowed to enter the baby room and settle her before I leave. But that's the way it's done in Japan, and I value my working time too much to bristle at this. 

I'm sure that as Stella grows, and as we find ourselves in new and different surroundings, our choices will continue to be shaped by the culture around us, and we will grow more flexible as time stretches our beliefs. Will I permit her to eat shark fin soup? Or walk to school on her own at six years old? Or start pre-school at three? Who knows? It will depend entirely on the circumstances we find ourselves in. So in that way, expat parenting is a lot like life; you grow and change and accept things you once held as unacceptable. Raising children in a cross-cultural context forces parents to make these adjustments and accommodations more deliberately. And I'm actually thankful for that. 

*I've been at this for OVER A YEAR, so obviously I am an expert, OKAY!?

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Japan with Babies

My view from Japan is actually pretty narrow, encompassing my apartment living room, the grocery store, the fruit and veg man, and the park. Nap times and lunches and sleep problems prevent me from getting out and experiencing much beyond my little circle, and although I have ambitions of hopping on the train and getting out to some surrounding villages, fear of wrath of a missed nap keeps me close to home.

However, Japan is a relative paradise for mothers of young babies. Public transportation is easily accessible by stroller, nursing stations are plentiful and easy to find if you know where to look, and people, for the most part, are genuinely untroubled by the antics of the small set. Instead of snide remarks and angry glares, a crying baby is met with gentle clucking and compassionate understanding. 

My girl and I went out for a lunch date today, proving that even the smallest little restaurants are baby-friendly. As soon as we arrived, we were given a baby chair, anpanman dishes, and a mini culture set. 

Stella delighted in eating rice with a fork like a big girl. Until she discovered that her underdeveloped hand-eye coordination rendered that particular rice delivery method inefficient. And I cleaned up her mess afterwords, I assure you.

Linking up at Budget Trouble for Show Me Japan.

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Small Style and a Question

Okay, call me crazy, but I'm using this Small Style (hosted by Mama Loves Papa) as an opportunity to solicit free parenting advice FROM THE INTERNET. 

So, we had this cute little outfit on for all of ten minutes before Stella vommed all over it. And OF COURSE that was just as I was rushing to get out the door, trying against all odds to get to a meeting on time. This whole pre-outing-barffapalooza is actually a bit of a problem for us, and like any individual of sound mind, I turn to the internet for parenting advice. 

Whenever I'm getting ready to go somewhere, Stella gags and barfs. It happens as soon as she sees me preparing the diaper bag. Without fail. I'm talking EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Granted I'm not typically a picture of calm and togetherness as I'm frantically rushing to get lunch, diapers, toys, clothes crammed into her bag, and so obviously not creating a serene and peaceful departure environment.  But, this is really starting to bedevil me. And not just because of the frequent costume changes.

This behaviour started to manifest around the time Stella began going to daycare regularly (she goes twice per week, for two hours per time.) Consequently the normal mother angst associated with taking your kid to daycare is compounded by the worry that I'm totally giving my kid an anxiety disorder either that or this is the harbinger of agoraphobia OH MY LANDS the future therapy bills.

So, anyway, have any of you guys every experienced something like this? Thoughts? Ideas? Opinions? 

Anyway, here's the outfit pre-barf. Promise.

Signature Stella pose, mid scoot. 

Those eyes!  My snowflake! I know, you're melting. Me too.

So, yeah. The barfing thing????????

What Stella Wore:

Tunic - Lucky Wang NYC 

Leggings - Tea Collection

Bow - I forget

Now, head on over to Mama Loves Papa for some other cute baby pictures from parents who, no doubt, are not ridiculous enough to as the internet for advice. 

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Cooking Lunch with a Tired Baby (Wordless Wednesday)

Anyone tired of hearing me talk about sleep problems? Yes? Okay. FINE. Here are some pictures on the matter instead. Neener. 

  

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