Reading My Mind. . . .

As you may or may not have noticed, I've added a few links (on the right) to the pages I frequent. One of them is Catherine Newman's Dalai Mama blog on Wondertime Magazine's website. I have been reading her since she was on BabyCenter and I was pregnant with Adam. I swear she looks into my home and reads my mind on a weekley basis. So much so I could have written this myself - well, you know, except for the brilliant wit, insight and perfect grammar.

Enjoy!

http://wondertime.go.com/parent-to-parent/blogs/catherine-newman-blog/10292007.html?seeAll=true#comments

I've asked myself the same thing. . .

"Why in the world would anybody want to do that?" Quote from Adam in response to me explaining that his Aunt Kim would soon be going to the hospital and then bringing home a baby.

Small Victories. .

I mentioned last night to Damonn that I am now only seven pounds away from my weight when I got married and he suggested I try on my wedding ring again. IT FIT! I haven't been able to wear it since I was pregnant with Jamie almost two years ago!

I'm doing the happy dance!. . . . . I'm doing the happy dance!. . . . . .

23 lbs down. . . .The next goal - the weight on my driver's license! LOL

Girls Rock The Boys. . .

For not walking until fourteen months or even crawling until eleven months, Jamie has become quite a little powerhouse. She fights us to join Adam’s soccer games, “carpet surfs” standing on her little rocking chair, pushes her way through any crowd and makes it her personal goal to find the highest point in the room. We’ve gotten used to her brutish ways and laugh that she’s our little bull in a china shop, but a couple of weeks ago, she surprised us all . . . . most of all, Adam.

On this particular night, Damonn was out of town on business so I was tasked with refereeing the maniacal monkeys until the blessed hour of bedtime. And referee is an accurate job description for what “watching the kids” has become lately. I’m thinking of getting a whistle. Adam was lying on the floor watching TV and Jamie was doing her best to reach something of which I can’t quite remember. . . . a glass?, a fork? . . . . something that could be confiscated and be turned into some kind of shank later that night in the confines of her crib. I told her “no” which of course sent her onto the floor in a tizzy resembling a Pentecostal healing. Adam glanced from the TV over his shoulder to see what the commotion was all about. I know from experience that he wasn’t so much interested in why Jamie was upset, but if there was an opportunity to infuriate her further. There was, he took it, and lived to regret it.

He ever so casually rolled over next to the sobbing baby beast, and gave her the slightest poke in the ribs. This no doubt roused the demon within and she took a rabid swing at him haphazardly connecting with his head. He recoiled, holding his head, screaming that she had hit him. I had seen the whole thing so I told him to leave her alone and sent him back to watch his TV. Fueled by this new assault, Jamie continued her wailing turning alternating shades of pink and pinker as snot ran down both sides of her face, surely rehashing any and all transgressions ever committed against her being.

Adam retreated to his spot on the carpet lying facing the TV with his back to Jamie. All seemed calm for the moment – or should I say under control – until Adam decided to execute his next plan of attack. Again, ever so casually, he held a conveniently available DVD case above her head and nonchalantly dropped it onto her tear-streaked face. This was apparently, to Jamie, the greatest of indignities and before I could rise from the couch to stop what I knew was inevitable, she had rolled with lightening speed up onto her knees, had one fist on Adam’s chest and was pounding his face with her other. Adam screamed, “She’s hitting me, she’s hitting me” as he laid on his back like a turtle flailing his arms and legs in a pathetic attempt to stop the rage he had brought upon himself. She was in full attack mode and got at least three or four good strikes in before I made it across the room to pull her off. Adam lay wailing like a beaten dog and trying once again to play the victim card, to no avail.

I separated the kids in different rooms to stop the insanity, but didn’t have the heart to punish either one of them. Adam had just received more than I’d ever give him and hopefully, but doubtfully learned his lesson. And Jamie, well. . . . I couldn’t help but be proud of my little rebel-rouser. Rock on, girlfriend.

Aaahhhchooo!

Following the recent voluntary recall of Infant Cold & Flu medicines by Tylenol, pediatricians are now urging the FDA to ban cold medicines for children up to six saying, "over-the-counter medicines shouldn't be used in children under 6 because they don't help them and aren't safe". Whether it's safe or not, I can't say - I'm not a doctor nor a scientist. I trust that if I'm using medicines in the normal recommended dosage that I'm in the clear. But whether or not it works - I can say it absolutely does. I don't give my kids cold medicine out of "fear and vulnerability" as the article states. I give it to them because they are miserable and/or can't sleep - not to mention the sheer exhaustion of both of us - and I've seen it work. The snot stops, the coughing stops, they can breathe through their nose and get the sleep they need to fight off the virus that many times turns into ear or sinus infections.

So what do they recommend for kids up to age six (and are pushing for kids up to age TWELVE)? Love and Liquids. Yeah that will work. How about they try that for themselves. Nope, doesn't matter if you've been coughing for three nights in a row, doesn't matter if it feels like your head is going to explode and your nose is raw from the constant stream of snot - have another glass of water and ask someone for a hug. That will get you through.

Of course I'm willing to try more naturopathic remedies, but its not easy to get a one-year old to blow their nose much less gargle salt water or drink more than a sip or two of honey-lemon tea. I will continue my search, but herbal remedies can be just a risky as manufactured drugs.

So what's a mother to do?

I do my best to prepare my kids for the germs they come up against. I feed them a balanced diet including fruits and vegetables - and plan to up their servings of yogurt this cold season, they get daily exercise and adequate sleep. I teach them to wash their hands and cough into their arm rather than their hands, but they are in daycare. Daycare is a giant petrie dish of toddler germs and no matter what I do I can expect at least a cold a month (usually more) up to age two. It then slows down to around three a year once their immunity is built up a bit, but that first couple of years is rough and cold medicine is sometimes your only salvation to a much needed nights sleep and the rest they need to heal.

If they find that its truly not safe, then yes, I will stop giving them the medicine - and hope they provide some real alternatives, but they are losing credibility with me when they say it doesn't work. I've seen the results in my sleeping, easy-breathing children.

See the article on CNN.com here.

Demise of the Dinosaur

The other day I overheard one of Adam’s teachers lecturing a group of his classmates on the proper etiquette for playing dinosaurs. Yes, apparently there is a right and a wrong way to play with dinosaurs – at least within the confines of the Fireflies classroom. I was not witness to the original paleontological faux paux, but by the tone and context of the conversation at hand and I am guessing one of these young pre-schoolers had had the audacity to growl. Gasp. They all sat there, wide-eyed soaking in the lesson on how growling dinosaurs are scary and how it would be more appropriate for these prehistoric beasts to be strolling for food or taking care of baby dinosaurs.

I had almost wished that my child had been one of the poor souls having to endure this lesson on “friendly” dinosaur play because then it would have been my business to tell her – in a diplomatic, non-growling type of way – that she’s full of shit. Dinosaurs growl, they fight. Has she never seen Land Of The Lost? There is nothing “friendly” about dinosaurs – except maybe Barney but that’s a completely different life lesson in tolerance and acceptance. If you don’t want the kids growling, don’t give them dinosaurs. It’s like giving them race cars and telling them not to make tire-screeching noises.

I guess maybe I’m a little more critical of this because I have a boy. Boys are loud, boisterous and love things that crash, destroy, fly and growl. This is ingrained into their souls and brains and almost anything, from carrot sticks to a piece of gravel, put into their chubby little fingers will be turned into some kind of flying machine shooting lasers at the bad guys within a matter of minutes. And to squash this imagination, to condemn the essence of what being a young boy is, to me is senseless and detrimental. Not to mention it is lessons like these along with other such hits as – everyone wins and everyone gets a turn that is making my son a passive, wallflower weenie that doesn’t understand that no one on his pre-school soccer team is going to “give” him a turn. He needs to take it. Just like he is going to need to take that college scholarship if he wants it, take that job promotion and take that chance on the girl of his dreams. Of course I want my son to be friendly, forgiving, sensitive and empathetic, but very little in life will be handed out. We need to take it. And sometimes we even need to growl to get it. Go get it , Adam.