Babywearing: At Home

He's so at home in his skin, his body now.

At two years old, he loves to jumpjumpjumpity jump jump, feet self-bound together, blast off down the sidewalk in hot pursuit of his brother, crashing through walls of leaves and stomping his footprints into sun-dried grass.

The toddle is giving way to a steady-on-his-feet gait, only slipping out in moments of shear exhaustion; most times, he much prefers to carry himself over the hills and up flights of mountainous stairs atop of legs that yearn to stretch and push and break free.

But I think something sparks a memory, every so often, in between conquering stretches of neighborhood and fortresses disguised as two-story staircases, that there's this soft space waiting atop of my hip just next to my chest and another in the slightest curve of my back.

E at 10 months in a Didymos Hemp Indio

And in that memory, he'll run smash crash into the bottom of my legs, waving arms up high while declaring intentions for being lifted up into the fullness of my arms, into the encasing of a sling.

He snuggles in, relaxes tired muscles, lets his weight sink into my own, thinking inside his quieting mind, {I'm pretty sure}

E at 2 years old in a Kinderpack 

Oh, yes, I'm at home here, too. 

In celebration of International Babywearing Week, I'm celebrating locally with Babywearing International Chicagoland. If you are local, come celebrate with us!

Do you have a favorite babywearing post? I'd love to read it!

Babywearing: In my Book

I know I've celebrated {lamented} how E no longer has no residual babyness emerging from his two-year-old self.

But, that doesn't stop us from slinging him way up high our backs, enjoying every day that he's still able to be slung.

In my book, babywearing isn't just for babies anyway.

It's just as much for toddlers who could take on an entire apple orchard if they wanted to ... but who know the view is way better from up here.