BRAT

My poor baby has had a stomach bug that left her with bathroom issues. The doctor told us that she had to be on the BRAT Diet (bananas, rice, apples, and toast) and no juice or water just Gatorade or milk. Does he know how hard this is with a 2 year old who is very opinionated? Apparently not.

Day 1 right after the doctor appointment we needed to eat dinner and went by to daddy's work to have dinner with him. Mommy and Daddy were having fried chicken with their rice and green beans. Try telling a 2 year old that loves fried chicken legs and green beans she can't have them. Needless to say a fit ensued. Mommy finally let her have some green beans because what problems could a veggie really cause.

Day 2 brought breakfast and Callista wanting juice...sorry can't have juice but you can have Gatorade (she had never had it before this). She threw a fit at first then tasted the Gatorade and thank goodness he liked it. Now she is happy to drink the Gatorade but now we have breakfast to deal with, which in our house usually consist of cereal or sad to say graham cracker sticks. Can't have them so I give her a bagel (we have soy allergies and the bagel thins have no soy) thank goodness my daughter is like her mother and loves bread. She ate it without much fuss but mommy had cream cheese on hers and Callista didn't heaven forbid. My mom was babysitting so I could go do a Partylite Party and she not only had to deal with the food fits but a baby that has an awful rash and diarrhea. Nana thought it out and brought a special lunch so there would be no fits she brought a biscuit from a local restaurant and applesauce (callista's two fav things). Snack time proved to be difficult because Miss. Opinion Wanted pretzels and chippy. Sorry can't have those but you can have bananas (not her fav thing). Nana bribed her with the park and all was well. I got home and it was dinner time, Daddy and Mommy were eating sandwiches and Ms. Opinion not only wanted her bread and applesauce but meat and cheese. How can you say no to a 2 year old asking for meat and cheese when just a few weeks ago I was complaining because I couldn't get her to eat meat? Again what could it hurt and it stopped the crying.
Day 3 thank goodness the rash is better so mommy gets a little lax and lets her have pretzels for snack today the rash is back full force after 2 diarrhea diapers. Great time to go back to the BRAT diet. Still on Gatorade hoping I can get her off if once we are done with this. Needless to say food has become and issue in our house and so has diaper time but does mommy want to hear the screaming because she wants water and can't have it, or because she wants pineapple and can't have it? Not really.

We have been loosely following the BRAT diet for 5 days now and the rash is better and the poopies are back to normal...hoping to resume regular eating soon....I don't know if I can take the mommy I want geen beans and not being able to cook them for her.

Rebecca Jones

A Dad's Point of View: Do Women Need Men?

There was a slogan in the early days of the feminist movement that went something like, “A woman needs a man as much as a fish needs a bicycle.”  I was part of that generation, that also said, “Don’t trust anyone over 30,” among other things equally foolish.  I seem to remember that whoever said that, about not trusting someone over 30, was a rock ‘n’ roll star that still tours, now in his 60’s.  I wonder if he’s changed his mind?  For my money, the only good thing that came out of the sixties was the music.  I just wish more performers and Hollywood in general would just stick to their craft!

My former showbiz life coincided with the breaking of the so-called glass ceiling, which was quite real for a long time.  Many women were now reaching the corporate and other hierarchies that had heretofore been denied them.  However, instead of bringing their feminine instincts, skills, and traits to these newfound positions, many were adopting the worst of the existing masculine behaviors and habits.  They were going to be just as tough, just as hard working, and just as ruthless.

Unfortunately for that generation of women, they woke up one day, past their childbearing years, and realized they’d been sold a bill-of-goods.  They may have had a pretty full Rolodex, but many were lonely, unmarried, childless, while most of their male counterparts had families and personal lives.


Like all revolutions, this shift in women’s roles in society has recently begun a healthy move towards the center. I now think women actually have more choices than men.  At the height of the feminist movement, a stay-at-home mom was disparaged. Thankfully, we’ve grown past that narrow-mindedness, to a better appreciation for those moms that do stay home.  And, more appropriately society is respecting those that also work.  Dare I say that this standard is not the same for men?

I know from personal experience that the single dad is tolerated, but not appreciated or much respected, despite all the rhetoric. When I joined my boys’ elementary school parent-teacher association, I was all but shunned.  It took a while for me to realize the women were just not comfortable with a man in their midst.  But, I have to confess it hurt at a vulnerable time in our lives.

So, I took my toys and went to play in my boy’s classrooms, where their teachers actually appreciated my contributions.  I chose to give money directly to their needs rather than to the parent-teacher association, where I wasn’t welcomed.  I loved this direct interaction so this proved to be a happy solution.


But, back to the subject of this column--do women need men? I assert an absolute YES. Just as men need women.  We compliment each other and, as is well known, men actually live longer married than single.  But, while there isn’t a counterpart for women, who usually outlive men and do better alone after a long marriage, I assert that in the formative, childbearing years, women need men as much as ever.  We learn from one another; we grow; we are challenged.  That makes both genders stronger.

The notion that women can procreate by other means and therefore truly don’t need a man is just selfish and foolish. Further, it irrevocably denies the children even the possibility of having a dad in their lives.  I’ve been a Big Brother on and off over the years, and the single moms in Big Brothers know darn well the value of a man in their sons’ lives. Sadly, they rarely match girls with the Big Brothers-- a fall-out from litigation, lawyers, and fear.  This is so tragic, as the girls without fathers need the male adult figure just as much as the boys do.
Some gender facts are just not PC (politically correct) in spite of their historical and empirical truth.  This notion of our respective need for the opposite sex (I still dislike the PC use of “gender”) is just bunk and destructive.  Let’s recognize that men and women each have something quite valuable to bring to relationships, to children, to society, and to each other.  And, let’s acknowledge and celebrate those differences.


I’m grateful that my wife is a woman and has female instincts and desires. It enriches our family and me. While I still would like to stay a slob, let my kids have messy rooms, occasionally allow a pile of dishes in the sink to accumulate, let my dogs sleep on the bed with me, and forgive similar sins of my boys, she keeps us in line. In turn, I bring some “fix-it” to her problems as well as practical get-it-done approaches to many things that I know benefit her.

I’m glad I’m a man; I’m glad she’s a woman. That’s the way God made us and that’s the way it should be.

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

Quotes and competition

Ashe has taken to repeating quotes from TV. His two favorite shows specifically, Yo Gabba Gabba and Dora. Every night at dinner we have a tradition asking each person around the table what did you like about today? Last week Ashe preempted this by sitting down to dinner and stating loudly "MY FAVORITE PART WAS....". It took me a moment to realize that this is what they say after every Dora episode. Now he does it every night. I admit, it's cute. Maybe not as cute as when he sneaks up behind me, pokes me in the leg then runs away mimicking "Hahahaha You'll never find it now!!!" or "Aww Man!" But because it fits into the context of our tradition it cracks me up.

However yesterday I couldn't stop giggling over something he said. If you're familiar with the show Yo Gabba Gabba you might even get the deeper meanings as to why it's so damn funny. This show works hard to teach fairness and manners, and is heavy into teaching that it's ok to lose.

So yesterday Im packing all three kids into the car to run to Blockbuster. Xavier and Ashe have started getting competitive (oh who am I kidding they're always competitive!) about who gets in the car first. As their racing to the van, Ashe starts singing a Yo Gabba Gabba song with his own words: The normal song sounds like "My name is Ashe! Ashe! A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Ashe! Instead he sang:

"I'm going to win! Win! Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi- Win!... " then pointing to Zavi "You're going to lose! Lose! lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo lose!"

Xavier turned around in shock, glanced at me, and we both just broke into laughter. Too funny. Yo Gabba Gabba would probably not approve.

picture of Yo Gabba Gabba courtesy of Nickelodean and themomcrowd.

Blog submitted by  Brittany (Rhaven) at trianglemommies.com. If you like this story on parenting please check her blogs out at http://suburbanrebelmom.blogspot.com/

Are you Ready to Be Fit Minded?

As a new mom (to a darling 8-month old named Greyson) I have realized that the work/life balance is so important. I am a physical activity promotion professor. I write grants, papers, and do research about physical activity promotion for children and women for a living.  Before Greyson I worked ALL the time. I was eager to gain promotion early and be tenured. I would spend my free time catching up on work I didn’t get done and I was addicted to my email. Now that I am a mom, life is different.  I leave work at 4:30 everyday (when I used to stay till 8pm) and I can't wait to see my son. I spend the weekends playing with him (or shopping for him - I love to shop for him – my husband keeps reminding me he is not a doll)J. I prefer being with my son over all other things because I don’t want to miss a thing. It is the greatest gift in life, to have a child.


With the joy Greyson has brought to the lives of myself and my husband, I have continued to care for my health. Before Greyson I was active everyday, during pregnancy I was active everyday (walked one hour everyday until the day before he was born), and now I am still active everyday. This may sound completely absurd to most…after all, in the United States, over 60% of women start and stop physical activity programs, and 25% are completely inactive. But I am really not crazy. I made a decision that I needed to maintain my activity to be the best mom I can be. I know you are probably thinking I don’t have a life, or am not busy, but I am still as busy as I was before Greyson, I have just learned to “think” about everything differently. For example, before Greyson my exercise was intense, purposeful every time. This intense, purposeful exercise doesn’t fit into my lifestyle everyday so I do what I can each day. Some days I ride my spin bike, other days I take Greyson in the stroller with the dog, and other days I go to the gym. I still have a work schedule and a child who needs naps, food, and lots of love just like you. I choose not to feel guilty about what I wasn’t able to do, instead I focus on what I have accomplished related to activity and I do this everyday.


The whole thing about physical activity is that it is a choice. You can have the attitude that you ‘get’ to be active, or you can have the attitude that you ‘have’  to be active. To me, I ‘get’ to be active is more positive.  It is a privilege, a celebration of your health. You can change the way you think about physical activity and lead a healthier lifestyle at any moment, it is your choice.

In 2006, I started a book club in Omaha to teach women the concept about taking care of yourself first, so you can take care of others. This book club was a research study (don’t forget I am a professor, love to do research)J Over 200 women have participated in the book club over the past four years and you know what has happened? Women are more active, but most importantly they have become empowered to live their best life, take care of themselves, have better self-worth. Women Bound to Be Active (the book club's former name) has just recently been changed to Fit Minded and is now a way for women to become members of a social support network, implemented by health professionals, aimed at providing women tools to empower their self-worth and their active lifestyles. Taking care of yourself is the key ingredient to being the best mom you can be. Many women are not active or have difficulty maintaining their activity. The support is here. Fit Minded will provide it for you. I encourage you to check out the website, join as a member with a friend. It will be something that will change your life because you will change the way you think. Getting together with other women, being social, having discussion is a close second (tied with spending time with spouses) to playing with our children. Join us! We can’t wait to meet you!

By Jennifer Hubery, PhD – drhuberty@befitminded.com 

www.befitminded.com

A Dad's Point of View: A Moral Dilemma and Lesson

Life often gives us opportunities to choose between right and wrong. I faced this head on recently when I discovered that one of the web-sites that carry my column had a very radical anti-Israel agenda. At first, I didn’t even realize how marginal and fanatical it was. Since my focus is not on politics, I just didn’t vet this web-site sufficiently, given my naïveté, when I first began distributing my column.

The fact that the editor was extraordinarily gracious and accommodating further lured me into not even considering that his site’s politics may be against my beliefs.  Plus, his web site had a large following, which at the early stages of my writing career was very exciting.

But, I recently learned that their site was promoting an agenda that was angry, hateful, dishonest, distorted, and frankly so on the fringe as to be dismissed by any normal person of the left or right.  I often don’t agree with our mainstream media and believe today’s journalism often has an agenda, but most of our news outlets don’t spew hatred, just possibly a different opinion than I might share.  And, that is what makes America great--that we can have different opinions and they’re not censored.


At first, when I read this article, filled with lies and hate about Israel, I thought it was a mistake. It was in the category of holocaust denial and it was that hate-filled. I wrote the editor and incredulously asked how such an article could appear on his web-site. The response equally shocked to me as he not only defended the article, but also elaborated on his hate for Israel, citing more distortions and fanatical lies.  The irony was that he expressed those feelings in the same oddly supportive and friendly manner in which we’d always communicated.  But, this time, the content was horrifying.


I then decided to do some homework and wrote to several friends that I trust who would know more about these issues, including a rabbi friend who lives in Israel.  Rabbi Mann is an American who made “aliyah” (that means moving to Israel) many years ago, met his (American) wife there, and had about a dozen children, as many religious people of all faiths tend to do.  He is a scholar and every one of his children is accomplished, well educated, and inspiring.  And, by now, even though he’s a few years younger than I, he’s a grandfather many times over.

He, too, responded in a moderate tone but was explicitly clear that the writer of the article was a known and blatant anti-semite, that the outlet was also well known as fringe and radical, disseminating facts that are boldfaced lies. 


I got the same feedback from the other friends/experts that I contacted.  What to do was evident, but I still thought I’d give the editor a chance to “see the light.”

I also wanted to discuss this situation with Will and David and get their take on what their dad should do.  To me, it was an opportunity to find out if the values I’ve taught them had actually made it to their own belief systems. 


I wrote the editor again and suggested that he publish a contrary point of view, from a reliable expert, that might be more even-handed about the Middle East.  I offered several specific suggestions. His reply ignored my request and continued his largely irrational, angry, and fanatical views.

That evening, I presented the situation to my sons.  Before I could finish the details, they were both adamant that I drop that web-site, regardless of the loss of readers/audience.  My decision had already been made but I felt great pride that they had indeed digested and were sharing my values and view of the world. They recognized right and wrong, regardless of the personal price it cost. The passion and clarity my sons displayed on this issue was worth the pain of discovering it in the first place.

My wife was in complete agreement so we were fully united as a family unit in making this moral choice.  I wrote a polite e-mail to the editor asking that all my material be removed from his web-site, as I wouldn’t be associated, implicitly or explicitly, with a venue representing those radical views.  Thankfully, he graciously complied, expressing regret at my decision and leaving the door open should I change my mind.  I won’t.


For me, this was a great lesson in doing the right thing vs. self-interest and in taking a bad situation and turning it into a teaching moment for my family. It reinforced that I have a wonderful network of friends to turn to and a great family that supports my work.

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

Meet the Swim Team

I had my reservations about sharing this story, but I thought I should get it down just for the sake of posterity, and please, before you judge me, or worse call child protective services, just remember this: my boy tots are 19 months apart in age, and I'm pretty sure they are both geniuses. So, here we go.

We are about to make our third family move in 16 months. In the fall of 2008 we moved from Charlotte, NC to Fayetteville. At that time Camden had just turned 2 and Cavan was 5 months old and crawling. Cavan learned to walk in our Fayetteville house, and he was doing his best to keep up with his older brother. We lived in Fayetteville a whopping 9 months before we had to move again to Wilmington, NC. Fayetteville is not at the top of my list of the safest places for young children (no offense); therefore, our house had key locks, as well as chain locks on all doors.

When we moved to the Wilmington house, it never occurred to me that Camden might be able to unlock the doors and wander down the way to introduce himself to the neighbors. The locks on the house in Wilmington were dead bolt and could be opened with just the right amount of effort. Apparently, Camden had it in the bag. His fine motor skills were developing behind my back and his chubby little fingers had turned into slick, skilled digits.

One fine September morning, just a week or so after we moved into the new "beach" house, conveniently located 5 miles from the ocean in a quiet gated community of mostly retired transplants, I turned the boys loose to play in packing boxes while I took a few minutes to brush my teeth. You'd think a mom could manage a few minutes for those kinds of things, right? Wrong.

While brushing my teeth and enjoying getting comfortable in the new Master bathroom, I began to think that things were a little too quiet. I turned the water off and called for the boys. No answer. Oh, no. I ran to the living room and there was no sign of the boys. No problem, it was a big new house; they had to be somewhere inside. They were not. I quickly turned in circles around the living room, and I began to panic. In mid-spin I noticed the door to back porch was opened. "Oh, Dear Lord!"

There is a small ditch in the back yard that serves as a sort of border between our property and the neighbor's. There are no fences in the neighborhood-it's just a giant backyard free-for-all. It is designed so because the association pays for lawn care (where one guy can ride in and raze all the lawns in one giant sweep). It's a terrific service if you are retired and don't care about fences and such-not terrific if you have young tots and need boundaries. Because the drainage is terrible (non-existent), the ditch fills with water every time it rains even a little.

I ran outside to find the boys swimming and splashing like ducks in the puddles left by the early morning rain. I ran crying ran as fast as I could (which is pretty speedy considering I used to be a track star), and I swept up both boys, one under each arm, and ran straight to the house, their wet little limbs swinging wildly.

I dried them off and thanked God they were safe. I called Ryan to insist we have the locks changed immediately to a child-proof system. I now literally keep the boys under lock-and-key, and I keep the key on top of the mantel. The next day the boys and I met the backyard neighbor, and he informed me he had already gotten a glimpse of the boys splashing around in his backyard. Really? And you thought you'd just enjoy the show from your patio? Welcome to the neighborhood.

Michelle Evans Jarrell

Opera singer, freelance writer, wife, and mommy of two bouncing-off-the-walls boys!

I have so many stories I could fill a book, and actually, I'd like to someday!

If you like this story, let me know, and please drop by our blog at http://www.michellejarrell.blogspot.com

If you're a music lover, drop by Michelle's music page at http://www.youtube.com/michelleevansjarrell

 

 

 

Target

Two weeks ago we go to Romp n’ Roll for open gym.  It’s great because there aren’t a lot of options that keep a 10 month old and a 3 and 1/2 year old happy.  We are busy running and jumping and playing with other children.  And I’m putting our leaving off.  And off.  Because if you remember the last blog post I did on Romp n’ Roll, well, leaving is not the best part.

I finally start the: In five minutes, E, we have to go.
E: No. (He says it with no attitude. No yelling.  It’s just a fact, Mama.  And it probably is.  If by no he means not unless you carry me out screaming.)

But the last family in the gym (I told you that I was pushing it) also decides it’s time to leave.  YEA!  Now E is more interested in leaving (and N just wants to eat lunch) and we enter the lobby with our new best friends.  E gets a stamp and puts on his shoes.  He refuses his coat.  (He’s a Yankee at heart. The cold just makes us talk less which for me and E is quite a feat.)  We hold the door for our new found friends and take hands and BLAMO!

The other mom says the worst thing she could say.  We don’t like this family anymore.  We are not happy to have met them.  I scorn them.  Because she leans down to her daughter and says:  Oh no, honey.  We aren’t going to the car.  We are going to Target.

Target is right down the sidewalk from Romp n’ Roll.  GENIUS.  It’s like having the McDonald’s next to the get-out-of-your-car car wash.  Genius for everyone but me.  I just want to go home.

And what does Target mean to E?  Walking from SHINY JEWELRY to wearing SILLY SUNGLASSES to possibility of getting a SMALL TOY for no reason other than being MY SON.  (We don’t buy our kids toys often.  Let me tell you that the toy choosing process is a post in and of itself.  I’d rather walk out with a screaming preschooler.  But us Yankees aren’t known for our patience)

And in the blink of an eye, my son changes course from the white car, which will take us HOME, to the GIANT BOX OF FUN.  Now let’s note that we are currently 50 minutes late for lunch.  N is VERY aware of this.  And I have no stroller and no baby carrier.  And I can only walk about ten steps holding nearly half my weight in children.

Off this other Romp n’ Roll family goes leaving CHAOS IN THEIR WAKE.
Me: No E.  We are going to the car.
E: Yes. We are going to Target.
Me: No, sir.
E: Yes sir!
Me: E G (that’s his first and middle name) we are walking to the car.

And my little Gandhi sits.  He doesn’t fight or scream.  He sits.  He doesn’t even let go of my hand.  So one arm is pulled within a foot of the ground while the other arm is balancing 17 pounds on my opposite hip as N bangs her head into my shoulder looking for the breastaurant.  My only saving grace is he chose to sit on the curb.  Not in the middle of the road.  Or in a puddle.  Today.

So I take a DEEP BREATHE and say in my most calm and mothering voice:  E.  Please get up and walk to the car.  You can wave goodbye to Target if you head to the car right now.
E (reluctantly): Ok.

I realize that I have channeled the great mothers that have come before me.  I have WON!  Without yelling!  Without threatening!  Without bribing with food or money or toys!  And without crying (myself included)!  VICTORY!

As we pile into the car, E gets edgy.  His coat isn’t zipped.  Then he wants it off.  Then zipped.  I worry that VICTORY is sliding away.  N’s fussing has gone up a notch.  But I offer them crackers.  And I remind E about waving goodbye to Target and he bucks up.

I make a quick phone call as I’m pulling out.  And dimly realize that I will not drive past Target if I want to get out of the parking lot in the direction of home.  So I head towards the light while coordinating lunch with my husband when a SHRIEK from the back of the car drowns out even my 10 month old’s fussing.

As I near the green light, I understand the grave mistake that I have made and I throw the phone into the passenger seat in a panic.  You see, I have ruined the opportunity to wave goodbye to Target.  Because we are no longer going to pass Target.  And it’s too late to turn around and N is crying and I try to point out the TINY TARGET from the main road but to no avail.

E yells: I DONT WANT TO SAY GOODBYE TO TARGET
Me: Okay. (Hey, he doesn’t ever have to speak to Target again.  We are in the car heading home.  VICTORY!)

But I am clearly no longer channeling the great mothers because for the next twenty minutes I am told through tears and anger: But I WANT TO SAY GOODBYE TO TARGET.

I explain why we cannot turn around.  That we are all hungry (my fault).  That Dada is meeting us at home.  That there are no U-turns on the highway.  But he continuously asks and demands to say goodbye to Target.  His best friend, Target.  Of whom he may never see again.  (He seriously talks like that.  No he doesn’t.)

And for the next two weeks, at least twice a day, E asks: Can I say goodbye to Target? Often followed by the sniffles of mother-induced disappointment.

And I say: No sweetie.  We are at home.  We are at school.  We are at the post office.  We are at the library. We are with REAL PEOPLE.

I alternate between wanting to kick myself for not swinging by Target YET AGAIN to wave goodbye and for suggesting that we EVER personify a Big Box Store.

Yesterday, my husband needs to pick up something from Target.  I grab S by the shoulders and look straight into his eyes.  And I say: PLEASE remind E to wave goodbye to Target when you leave.

And for my sanity, S remembers.  And E has not mentioned his BFF Target since.  Or perhaps until I think that I have any sort of connection with the gods of motherhood.






This post is written by Alex Iwashyna, a happily married mom of two children with a BA in Political Philosophy and a Medical Degree.  She currently spends her days as a stay-at-home mom who writing poetry and blogs.  A much better plan than hers!  She blogs at Late Enough and tweets @failebg but be prepared for baby poop and liberal bias.

Strike 2

Soooooo, you know how I said only just a few hours ago I was sure knowing my kids I'd get another fiasco photo op soon? Yeah, about that. I have one already.

Today I cleaned the living room and reassured myself it was totally baby proof. Safety plugs in electrical sockets? Check. All little toys way out of reach? Yup. Anything potentially heavy way up safe and sound and no way for them to fall? Taken care of.

I swept and mopped, checked under the couch and tv for anything potentially hazardous and felt secure in the fact I did my job as a Mommy. Then Soren woke up from his nap, I fed him 2 servings of baby food, placed him gently on the newly clean and baby safe floor, and popped upstairs for 3 minutes tops to check email, always keeping an ear out for trouble...

Trouble doesn't always make a sound though.

I don't have any clue where he found it or if it was something Ashe had and left within a babys grasp, but I came downstairs and gasped when I saw this:

For any of you trying to figure out what that is, that, my friends, is Fun Dip. Yes, my 8 month old baby is covered in Fun Dip next to an ever innocently whistling 3 yr old.

3 minutes folks. That's all it takes. And now Soren is forever immortalized, as the Baby Terror of Trouble. I swear I do try to be a good mom. You guys just get to see the worst parts of my Mommydom. Cause the worst parts are always the funniest.

Submitted by Brittany (Rhaven) from trianglemommies.com. If you liked this story please come visit Brittanys personal blog at http://suburbanrebelmom.blogspot.com/  

And please feel free to leave comments. She lives for comments. And Jr. Mints. Ok and coffee too!

Night Weaning Defined

As you may remember from my previous post on breastfeeding, my daughter, N, had some weight issues back in the day (also known as six months ago).  But her weight has been stable for awhile now which translates into her doctor suggesting that we can NIGHT WEAN if we want.  (He may have said something like: Let it GO! And get some SLEEP! But in a very caring way.)
 
The definition of night weaning?  The POSSIBILITY of my child sleeping through the night.  It’s certainly not a guarantee (see Exhibit E, also known as my son-who-never-sleeps), but if the child is not night weaned, she can NEVER sleep through the night (because she is still NIGHT EATING).  So I’m psyched.  And completely stressed.
For whatever reason, my children do not naturally night wean.  Even my friend, who breastfed on-demand until her children were preschoolers, was able to close the brestaurant nightly by the time her children were five months old.

My kids?  Well, WE night weaned E at eleven months.  Otherwise, I might have DIED from lack of sleep.  We accomplished this by switching from breast to milk to rocking to patting to begging to crying (mostly us crying) to giving up.  Repeat ad nauseum.  Finally, he acquiesced.  And in retaliation?  He stopped breastfeeding COMPLETELY three weeks later.  Three feeds-per-day to none.  Zip.  Zilch.  NO WAY!  TAKE THAT MAMA!

Starting tonight, we will be ENCOURAGING our youngest to rely on her snuggle-y baby blanket and other sleep cues when she wakes up.  And perhaps we’ll have TWENTY-FIVE pacifiers in there.  JUST IN CASE ONE FALLS OUT.  Because her new trick at nap?  We head upstairs to the nursery, and she is all yawns and flops.  I rock her and read to her and perhaps sing.  I lay her down lovingly and walk out.  She sits up.  She throws her pacifier out of the crib.  And CRIES HYSTERICALLY.  Mama comes back in and we do it AGAIN.  and AGAIN.  and AGAIN.  I’m looking forward to her throw improving so she can hit me on the butt on my way out the door.

Leading up to THE BIG DAY, we have done no breastfeeding after 10 p.m. (maybe 11) and TRUST that she doesn’t need to eat for eight hours given her age and size and amount she eats during the day.  (And our doctor’s reassurance.  Because I am known to wonder: WHAT IF SHE’S HUNGRY?)

The hubby has been giving her water in a sippy cup.  I have been able to just give her the pacifier and snuggle-y blanket and rock her.  Usually.
Either process takes less than ten minutes.  BUT if we do not go in there within two minutes of her being aware that she is ALONE, she cries like the cat has bitten off her leg and is currently BEATING her with it.  Now, we haven’t tested how long this crying will last, but based on her in-the-car crying skills, I think that it will be TOO LONG for me to not want to DIE.

The worst part of night weaning?  It may be quicker to feed then to pat and help her figure it out.

And I’m a WIMP.  A tired wimp.

But I know the results.  The possibility of eight hours of uninterrupted sleep calls to me.  AALLLLLEEEEXXX.  Oh, mother-who-hasn’t-slept-that-long-for-more-than-a-week-in-three-and-a-half-YEARS, this is your CHHHHHHAAAAANCE!

So don’t even THINK about talking me out of this.  I will bite your leg off and beat you senseless.



This post is written by Alex Iwashyna, a happily married mom of two children with a BA in Political Philosophy and a Medical Degree.  She currently spends her days as a stay-at-home mom who writing poetry and blogs.  A much better plan than hers!  She blogs at Late Enough and tweets @failebg but be prepared for baby poop and liberal bias.

A Dad's Point of View: A Cornucopia of Unrelated Revelations

1. I text when I drive?  My younger son gets crazy on me and points it out in the same way I’d point out a mistake or poor choice he’d make.  It doesn’t give me much credibility when I continue this dangerous and foolish behavior.
2. Why is it that our kids seem so much more aware of life (e.g. sex) yet seem to mature later and leave the house even later?
3. Does anyone have dinner parties anymore?
4. Has modern technology made our lives easier or more complicated?  It was touted, especially computers, as the panacea for the busy person.  I think it’s backfired totally as everyone is more overwhelmed today. Do you remember when you got your first answer machine and thought that was cool?
5. Kids go on group dates these days.  I never recall going on a group date.  There were groups I was part of through camp, team sports, and such, but when and why did this group dating thing begin?  And, I gather it’s a big deal for proms as well.  I think I’d rather have my date alone, as it was in “the day,” to quote my teenager when talking about when I grew up.
6. Did you ever have a pen pal and look forward to getting the mail just to check if you’d received a letter from them?  Do you remember writing letters longhand and taking pleasure in reading a response, from someone you liked as a friend or more, repeatedly, and saving them in a special place?
7. Why does time seem to go faster the older we get?  My theory is simple.  Obviously, time is finite, but our perception of it changes as we get older and our lifetime is shorter.  So, if your lifespan is 90 and you’re 9 years old, you have 90% of your life ahead of you.  On the other hand, if you’re 45, you only have 50% remaining.  Consequently, your perspective changes as we age. 
8. Thank you “Rock Band” for making a Beatles version, ‘cause now my kids finally like The Beatles and we can all sing-a-long.
9. What happened to nice neighbors?  When did everyone become so confrontational and when did HOAs (Home Owners Associations) get so crazy with their totalitarian-like rules, fines, and enforcement?
10. I love real life gender related stories that show the inherent differences between the sexes.  When the movie version of “Where the Wild Things Are” came out, Will’s girlfriend and her girlfriends all wanted to see it.  Will and his buddies all said “Yech” and came over and watched all four “Die Hard” movies instead.  Classic.
11. During the baseball playoffs, the boys and I were listening to a Dodgers game on the radio.  David, not a sports fan, heard Vin Scully’s voice doing the play-by-play and said “this sounds like something from the thirties or forties.”  Another classic moment.  I don’t think Mr. Scully has been around that long?
12. The other morning, as every morning, I took my three dogs for a walk.  My oldest dog, Tache, began limping on the way home.  I put down my very full bag of poop, and knelt down next to her and lifted one of her paws.  There was a burr in it.  I removed it; she looked at me, and then trotted off.  As I was about to get up, I saw a shiny new penny, heads up, right where I’d stopped.
13. This past Veteran’s Day, my wife and I encountered a man at the (car) body shop.  His license plate read something like “5871PH” and it turned out that was his Purple Heart number.  He related a couple of “war stories” and we patiently listened, laughed and cried, and let him know how much he was appreciated.  Turned out to be a great way to celebrate Veteran’s Day.
14.   My wife likes to tell me what to do, likes to complain how what I’m doing is the wrong way and otherwise likes to boss me around. But, for a recent day or so, she was off her game and hadn’t said a critical word. Was she well?  What was going on?  Well, at the exact moment I was thinking that, while making my morning coffee, she pipes up with, “I liked it better when you had your coffee machine square (rather than the angle I now use) as I had more counter space.” I started laughing and pretty much couldn’t stop.  You like it square vs. at an angle?  Are you kidding me?
15. I was at the gym on November 18, 2009 and saw the following on HLN (CNN’s sister News Channel):  “More Drink, More Sex in Co-Ed Dorms?”

Now, there was no sound but I could guess what the story was about as the headline was abundantly clear: some study or report “discovered” that there was more drinking and more sex in co-ed dorms. Duh? Can you believe the investigative journalism going on?  What a shocker! Edward Murrow is rolling over in his grave.

16. I’m going to reveal a little secret—please don’t tell my wife as she’ll flip out.  As she rarely reads my columns, I think my secret is safe.  Hmmm, but her parents do so please, K&E, don’t mention this to her. We live on a large property in a very rural area of our city.  As we have three dogs, I often take them for walks.  I don’t know how this began, but I occasionally join my big dog, always walked on a leash, and urinate with him somewhere in the bushes.  Call this a primitive bonding ritual, but it gives me a kick.  So we’re agreed, the secret is safe? 

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

Saw Nose Shark on the mind

Sean and I took Megs and Emi to the Camden Aquarium in New Jersey this past weekend.

It is a vast building with 5 different areas to stroll about.   Sharks, manta ray, bonito, plenty of jelly fish, spider crabs and more.  You can reach in the shark tank and touch sharks and manta ray, or stroll outside to see the penguins and seals.  On the other side of the compound kiddos can see a real live porcupine, 2 Hippos and many beautiful birds. One of the highlights of the day was the  and the sign under a tree that says “Birds poop every 15 minutes. How long have you been standing here?” We were there for about 10 minutes before we noticed the sign. Whew.

On the way home, I found myself thinking about the saw nose shark. What in evolution would cause a shark to develop a saw for a nose. It is not as though it has an leverage with which to rub it’s body up and down to actually saw something in half. Nor does it have arms with which to hold on to something and rub it up and down along its jagged nose. So, why does it have this nose? And honestly, it does look exactly like a saw. Serrated edges and all.

After the girls were in bed, my silly amusement with the saw nose shark returned and again, I found myself musing over this crazy looking hunter of the sea.   Google?  Yes indeed.  Seems  our friend the saw nose shark is not the only one with a crazy tool for a nose. There is a saw nose fish too. Yep, not kidding.  And did you know that some sharks lay eggs(all of which are SQUARE), some give birth to babies and some sharks lay eggs that stay inside the mother until they are hatched, then they are delivered by the mother. Pretty cool huh?  

Among the myriad of semi-useless information about sharks, I did stumble upon the reason for our friend Ginsu Shark. “Sawfishes use their rostral saws in the capture of prey items. The saw is used to probe muddy or silty bottoms in search of marine invertebrates. When an invertebrate is located, it is lifted to the surface of the sediment by using the saw as a rake. It may also be used by the sawfish as it swims through schools of fish to stun or injure small fishes which it feeds on.”

Ah question answered. Now I can have my chardonnay and sleep in peace.

Oh things to note about the Adventure Aquarium in Camden, New Jersey:

·         Stroller accessible, and frankly a good idea for the squirts.
·         Restrooms and lockers available at the entrance.
·         Café serving lunch and an umbrella stand with ice cream, soft pretzels and hot dogs.
·         Parking is $10.
·         Tickets are $22 for parents, $18 for kiddos and free for kiddos under 2
·         Look for discount tickets, maybe even call the ticket office and ask where you can find the discount tickets.

And a final note:  Hold on to those kiddos, I heard 2 announcements for “lost children” during the 2.5 hours I was there.

Adventure Aquarium

www.adventureaquarium.com

Camden, New Jersey

Donna Moy Holmes, 4KidsinPA.com A Free Resource for Families to Find Things to See and Do in Pennsylvania.  Find Events, Programs, Parks, Day Trips and Vacations throughout Pennsylvania. Sign up for the Newsletter “This Weekend & Next” and become eligible for promotions throughout the year! Become a fan on Facebook: search 4KidsinPA.com!

When I'm a Mother, I'll Never... Or Mac 'n Cheese and TV

Before I had kids, I knew everything.  I knew how I would birth, when my kids would hit their milestones and how I'd nurture and guide them.  They'd eat healthy food and would never, ever, watch terrible, repetitive cartoons.  I'll wait for the experienced moms to stop laughing before I continue.

       As a slightly-crunchy hippie mama, I knew I'd have an uncomplicated, drug-free delivery, and that my children would sleep cuddled in my arms.  My baby would sleep sweetly in a sling while I continued my classes and did my research to finish my degree, and they'd behave at the doula-owned baby store where I was employed.   Then my midwife walked out of my labor, and I had to have an emergency C-section to deliver my daughter.  She nursed just fine, but screamed twelve hours a day, and would only fall asleep in a cool, dark room.  She came to school  with me, but kept trying to take over the class, and once she was mobile, she tried as hard as she could to sneak out of the store and get hit by a car.  She didn't talk until she was nearly two and a half, making do with sign and screaming.  

Still, aside from those few setbacks,  a bout of flesh-eating staphloccous bacteria when she was 18 months old, and some rather sever eObsessive/Compulsive tendencies, I thought we were mastering this whole parenting gig.  I figured I'd learned from my mistakes.  The next child, would be easy.  This time, I was ready.
     

 When my son arrived via VBAC, I had five blissful days with a baby who snuggled, didn't cry unless he wanted something and was content to be fawned over by his big sister.  At his newborn checkup, we were sent for his first battery of tests.  By the end of his first month, we could regurgitate phrases like “functional bi-cuspid aortal valve” and “non-syndromatic mutli-suture crainiosynostosis with cloverleaf deformity.”  At two months we had a nearly six hour neurosurgery behind us, and still we kept the television off and did enriching activities.  My son progressed normally, rolling over, sitting up and learning to crawl well within the typical parameters, getting to be big and fat and healthy.  His second surgery, at nine months, was only three hours long, and we were told we only had one more to do sometime down the road.  Finally, we were getting our lives back on track.
      

 And then, around his first birthday, he stopped.  Just froze in time.  In the more-than-a-year since he turned one, he hasn't gained a pound of weight or an inch in height.  His head is no bigger, which means there will be more corrective surgery, but there's no pressure on his brain because it isn't growing either.  He still can't talk, or stack blocks, or put together a puzzle.  He doesn't pretend, or understand simple directions.  He only learned to eat solid food a few months ago, and still chokes on meat and yogurt.  All of his blood panels and skull scans show nothing out of the ordinary, no lesions on his brain or weird endocrine deficiencies.  His genetic tests come back normal, across the board.  Yes, his neurologist is concerned with his global processing delays, but his neuro-developmental age closely corresponds to his physical size.  He's a happy, smiling, adorable one year old boy, who just happens to be nearly two and a half.
       

When you become the parent of a medically fragile child, or a child with any kind of special-needs, things change.  You change.  Chances are that you'll dust less and grow more patient.  Your focus, your personal goals and your dreams change.  They have to.  You no longer have the luxury of focusing on the ephemera.  Your children will sometimes leave the house in mismatched socks, and so might you.  You may find that you have to put your professional or educational plans on the back burner to wade through IEPs and evaluations, scans and screenings, tests and therapy appointments.  You also have to exchange your dreams of a perfect child for the hope that they reach their full potential and are happy.  You may grieve over the fact that your child's disability prevents them from being an astronaut or opera-singer, but you learn to dream of them speaking, walking independently, or making their first friend.  In time, you learn that these aspirations are just as fulfilling.  This isn't to imply that all the little things fall away leaving you able to focus only on your child's health and development, because bills still need to be paid and dinner still needs to be cooked.  You life is never the same, though
     

 All this goes to say that today, I found myself holding my son down on a gurney and trying to distract him from his heart scan with a Dora the Explorer video.  After he'd thrown up the apple juice the cardiologist gave him and slept off the sedative, he awoke ravenous, and I nearly wept with joy to see how happily he gorged on a dinner of cookies and a few spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese.  Am I plagued by mommy-guilt?  Of course I am.  However, like other moms of developmentally atypical kids, I need to learn to cut myself a break over the fact that he sometimes eats crap and likes TV.

Written by Carissa Martos, member of Hands and Voices and the Oregon Association for the Deaf.  Besides mothering her two special-needs kids, she runs PDX Loves Signing, holds a BA in English from UC Berkeley, and is working on her Master's in Teaching. To see more, please visit www.PDXLovesSigning.com 

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We Survived

Lily spent 3 hours in day care today.  I am not sure what to think just yet.  The teachers told me she cried off and on the whole time.   She was the most upset when they asked her to sit in a chair at the table to eat.  They were very concerned that she couldn't hold a cup, self feed or eat much.

She really put them through all the paces.  Of course she can feed herself and hold a cup.  When she is firmly set on something, she won't be compliant.  She didn't like sitting in a chair - PERIOD!!!!!  They attempted art projects today, as well.  As you can guess, it wasn't her idea.  No way she was going to participate.

One of her cutest (most aggravating) characteristics, is her independence.  As long as she is making the decisions, all is fine.  When I try to ask her to do something, her first reaction is to cry and melt to the floor.  Thankfully her tantrums don't last long.  I am trying to keep calm, patient and consistent.  Most of all I am keeping a sense of humor about it, she is just frustrated.  I have to admit it is pretty funny when she follows me, when I try to ignore her tantrum.  She will even come over to me and pull on my pants or hit me to show her frustration.  She isn't a silent sufferer.

I am happy to see that all of this is not saved only for me.  She is spirited!  I think she is going to be a lawyer.  To be honest, I have to admit it is very trying at best to stay centered.  I find myself taking deep breaths and counting 10 many times during a day.  I have a theory about why girl's clothes are so darn cute.   When they demonstrate their differing opinions, it keeps us from getting SO ANGRY with them :)  Try to get mad at a little girl in a tutu and halo!!!!  It is impossible!!  I need to purchase a lifetime supply of tutus.

Take a look at this face and tell me you can get mad at it:

One blessing today, she didn't hit anyone!!!!  Celebrating small successes.  Tomorrow is a new day, pray for her teachers!!!!  I don't think I have seen so much relief on one person's face, until I came to pick up Lily.  (I am not referring to Lily.)

Shannon Henrici – NWAtlantaMommies Member since August 2008 

She is a writer for My Baby Clothes Boutique where you can find trendy baby clothes and tutus!

Is it Tilikum’s fault?

I am shocked, sad and not overly surprised by the incident at Sea World, the death of animal trainer Dawn Brancheau.  I don’t think the situation is unique for anyone working with animals professionally or even for recreation.   I have been in and around the world of animals for over 20 years.  My experiences have ranged from personal pets, professional pet sitting, fostering animals in need, riding – caring and training horses.  In my experience, the relationship with the animal is what determines their behavior - good or bad. 

When we decided to take animals into our lives as companions, we imposed our personalities on them.  In some cases we even anthropomorphize our pets.  The key word being COMPANION, many of us have replaced human relationships with animals.  Is this good or bad?  I am not the one to answer this question. CBS news stated the following in an interview with Brancheau’s sister – “Dawn Brancheau loved whales like they were her own children, her sister told The Associated Press. But the 40-year-old trainer was killed by one of the animals she loved most - Tilikum, a 12,000 pound killer whale.”   I am just as guilty in my relationships with the animals in my life.  Where do we draw the line in trust?

When does it go too far?  My frame of reference in viewing what happened at Sea World, is my experiences with horses.  I see myself as having strength in reading the body language of horses.  Using this strength has helped me to stay safe.  Horses are wonderful animals, but they are still dangerous.  Anyone who has spent time with them, understands that there is an inherent danger.  These animals are trainable, but they are still driven by their natural instincts.  They are a flight animal and when threatened will flee.  You will never take this out of them.  They can learn to respect their owners, but don’t test it.  The head trainer at Sea World says it best in the LA times -  He said Tilikum was probably agitated before Wednesday's attack, possibly from some kind of clash with the other killer whales.  Gary Wilson, a professor at Moorpark College's exotic animal training program, said it can be difficult to detect when an animal is about to turn on its trainer.  "One of the challenges working with any animal is learning to read its body language and getting a feel for what's going on in its mind," he said.

How many of you have been to a horse show or watched the Olympics?  Inevitably there is one or even more of the horses who will “act up”.  Is the horse bad for reacting to their instincts and causing their riders to fall off?  Does a horse intentionally dump or even kill their riders? I don’t believe that any horse or animal understands the concept of killing by our definition.  We view killing as an evil act with the intention of causing harm to another thing.  Animal view of killing, in my opinion, is for the purposes of survival.  Killing means the following in the animal world - to eat, protect, and incidental in establishing dominance.

Dreamer is one of my more reactive horses.  When I tried to take her to new places, I would be able to tell immediately if she was going to be able to overcome her fears.  In some instances, I have been able to see that she will not be safe.  I have been called a coward many times for not forcing the issue.  Am I a coward, because I choose to keep myself and my horse safe?  On those days when I can see that she is confident, we have a wonderful ride.

The first thought I had when I heard about the Sea World incident is that I would bet that the trainer knew the killer whale was off that day.  Sea World is in the business of making money, so they can’t cancel the show.  It is a tough decision to make whether to forge ahead or cancel the event for anyone in the world of training and showing animals.  You put a lot of time and money into getting the animal ready for that one day or show.  Many times you get to the event and your animal is not ready.  Are they feeding off of our nervousness, or are they sensing a danger we can’t detect?  What do you do?  I don’t fault anyone for trying to push through the fear and doing it anyway.  I think in doing so you have to weigh the pros and cons.  Death is always out there as a risk!!!!!!!

In some of the articles I read, the trainer knew and understood the risks of working with Tilikum.  The whale had a very troubled past and a history of instinct driven behavior.  I found some interesting information from the LA times interview with Chuck Tompkins, the chief animal trainer at Sea World.  “We didn't ignore those incidents," Tompkins said. "We work with him very, very carefully. We did not get in the water with this animal like we do with other killer whales because we recognized his potential."

I don’t believe the whale should be destroyed.  As for his release, that is a difficult situation.  He might not survive, because he has not had to find his own food.  I don’t know if it is fair to have him sequestered either.  I deal with this same decision with one of my horses.  She has been deemed dangerous by many people.  She can’t survive in the wild, but it isn’t fair to destroy her.  Her behaviors are instinctual and based on her previous experiences with abusive humans.  The decisions left up to Sea World at this time are very controversial and carry a heavy burden.  I am very sorry for the family of the trainer, Dawn Brancheau.  They all knew the inherent risks of death or even incapacitating injuries in her job.  I don’t believe anyone ever expected her to die, it is very unfortunate.  I can just imagine that she would not want anything to happen to Tilikum in response to her death though.  

By Shannon Henrici www.mybabyclothesboutique.com  

A Dad's Point of View: Taking Risks: When, How, and If

We went on a family skiing trip recently and on my son’s first run of the season, he fell and broke his arm.  Thankfully, it was a clean hairline fracture and he should heal just fine.  It may take his ego a bit longer to recover, as he was trying to follow his girlfriend when he fell. 
He recuperated and relaxed at the condo while the rest of our group continued to ski and enjoy the trip.  I resumed my regular skiing antics which include doing tricks that are mostly done by kids half my age or younger. 

Lots of sports have risks attached to them. When, as a parent, should we limit our kid’s activities and when should we show restraint? I do enjoy pushing my limits on skis, as I do tricks in the terrain park on the half-pipe (see attached photo), jumps, boxes, as well as hard mogul and/or steep runs.  I’ve also gone heli-skiing where there is the omnipresent danger of avalanches.


In fact, the first time I went heli-skiing, back in the day before the Internet or personal computers existed, I was caught in an avalanche, broke a rib, and had to be flown out the next day.

Last season, I inexplicably fell in the half-pipe and woke up in a ski gurney with a patrol-person holding up fingers and asking me, “how many.”  I was knocked unconscious and, to this day, I still don’t remember exactly what happened. I dislocated my shoulder from landing literally upside down and I broke a couple bones in my shoulder, as well as had a concussion in spite of wearing a helmet.

My neurologist said I was lucky as my MRI was worse than patients of his with genuine brain damage.  And, yes, I was wearing a helmet.

Am I being irresponsible doing these things?  My wife thinks I am and should “slow down.”  I maintain that there are worse and greater risks just driving the freeways, and that being in good shape has allowed me to survive my few accidents relatively unscathed.  Okay, she still maintains that my last fall only aggravated existing brain damage (just joking).


So, if we are not to be hypocrites in front of our kids, what are the risk limits? I assert that there are things that are too dangerous and shouldn’t be done by any family members--drugs, drinking, parachuting, motorcycles, bungee jumping, hang-gliding, and calling a woman a “girl.” 


I have always maintained that our kids see what we do and our role modeling is their teacher, much of the time. Therefore, it behooves us to also realize that the risks we take may encourage them to take similar or different ones.


Will and David are not particularly athletic, as David enjoys and excels at art while Will is a remarkable rock ‘n’ roll musician, playing drums, guitar, and singing.  Naturally, with this current injury, he’s sidelined for a while and has in fact stated that he may not bother snowboarding again due to its risk to his ability to play music.  His interest was always negligible.  David, on the other hand, does enjoy skiing, and is following in my footsteps as he gradually is improving and beginning to want to do the same “tricks” that I do.  He stated, on this trip, that he hopes to jump higher and get “more air” in the pipe than I do.  I replied that I hope he does.

When I was a teen, I wanted a motorcycle more than I wanted a girlfriend. And, believe me, my hormones were in full gear so the desire for a girlfriend was strong.  My parents forbade any discussion of a motorcycle. As I believed I was invulnerable and accidents only happen to other people, I was angry and wouldn’t let up in my pleas to get one. They held their ground and I respect their position especially knowing how fervent I was in trying to persuade them otherwise. 

Now, as is so often the case, I’ve become my parents and hold the same line on motorcycles and other things that I perceive to be too dangerous.  We witness our neighbor’s son regularly riding his motorcycle around the neighborhood, popping wheelies, and rarely wearing his helmet.  I’ve spoken with his father, who insists that his son wear the helmet, and punishes him for a day or so each time he learns he isn’t wearing one.  But, his teen is back out there soon riding around without the helmet.  I no longer inform his dad as it’s clear that his ground rules are much more lenient than mine.  For me, if I allowed my boys to ride a motorcycle, they’d get one warning if I found them without a helmet.  After a second warning, their bike would be sold.


I’m grateful that my sons are not pushing me about motorcycles the way I pushed my parents.  I’m happier to provide a drum set (I can wear ear-plugs), new guitars, and all the art supplies they want.  In the meantime, I’ll still be doing the pipe, taking my calculated risks, and supporting my sons in making those decisions for themselves within safe parameters.

Please visit www.brucesallan.com to contact Bruce and to enjoy the various features his new Web site offers, including an archive of his columns, contact info, links to his published work, photo galleries, and reader comments, plus much more.  Bruce Sallan gave up his showbiz career a decade ago to raise his two boys, full-time, now 13 and 16. His internationally syndicated column, A Dad’s Point-of-View, is his take on the challenges of parenthood and male/female issues, both as a single dad and now, newly remarried, in a blended family. Presently, his column is available in over 75 newspapers and Web sites in the U.S. and internationally. Find Bruce on Facebook by joining his “A Dad’s Point-of-View” fan page: http://www.facebook.com/aDadsPointOfView.  Just be sure to tell him you saw him here. And, you can also follow Bruce at Twitter: http://twitter.com/BruceSallan.

Breastfeeding Musings

Two sides, two boobs, coincidence?

Ok, I was just trying to be funny and it is not really working.  I have a much harder time being serious, but this is a topic I have to give a reality check to.  There is always tons and tons of talk, dialogue, controversy and strong opinions about breastfeeding.  And there are certainly more than just two sides and two points of view when it comes to this conversation.  Big Dub and I have been going strong for 10 months now and it has been a topic as of late because he is coming up on his one year.

This entire 10 months I have struggled with breastfeeding, sometimes loving it and other times hating it.  I have struggled with being the only one who can soothe him, get him back to sleep, with him refusing a bottle and making it very difficult for me to leave him 2 1/2 days a week.  I have struggled with breast feeding in public and how, when, if we should even attempt to cover up (Dub has solved that one for us, he does not allow any discreet nursing).  I have felt too needed and too pawed at, too tired and too thirsty. 

And I have loved every second of being with my son, providing him with the nurturing that he needs.

When we started breastfeeding I was committed to the first year, hands down.  I’m cheap and I was not interested in buying formula.  After breastfeeding him for a few months, doing more research and really getting in the groove, I decided I was comfortable nursing him until he’s 2, if he decided he would continue that long. 

Now that we are coming up on the one year mark, I am starting to get the “oh, you are still breastfeeding?” and “how much longer are you going to nurse him?” etc.  I have not been prepared for those comments in the least and have not been prepared to have to defend my decision to continue breastfeeding.  I have been more interested in the topic as of late, thus  have come across more blogs, comments, research, etc. and all of it supports my want, and instinct, to continue breastfeeding him.

Recently, in the emotional height of the sleep struggle, I was told (very lovingly) by a family member that Big Dub is “taking advantage” of me because he wants to nurse every 45 minutes to two hours at night.  I was told that it is probably time for me to dry up.  I admit that I went home and cried, thinking that it was time to dry up, that we made it this long, but at some point mama has to sleep in order to be a good mama at all.  I told my husband tearfully that it was time to start weaning, then sniffled some more and told him “but I’m just not done yet, I’m not ready” and he said “but you got to for 10 months, think about so and so who wasn’t able to breast feed at all…” and then he said he just did not understand why I would be sad about weaning him. He did not say that in a negative sense, but in a “that’s just not something I will ever understand because I will never give birth to a child” kind of way.

It was at that moment that I came to my senses.  I am not done yet.  Big Dub IS NOT DONE YET.  That is for sure.  I realized that disassociating midnight nursings with sleeping has to happen (although we have been working on that for months and he just has not taken well to it), but that does not mean that I have to be done nursing him.  And I realized that weaning him would not make him sleep through the night, he will continue to wake up as often as he wishes and he will sleep through the night when he decides to, he has made that abundantly clear.

I read on a website that a well known author on sleep and baby (or parent) training says that breastfeeding after a year is for the mom, not for the baby.  I can say that there is a part of me that agrees with that; I am just starting to feel really comfortable with breastfeeding, with not covering up, with nursing anywhere and anytime and I feel strongly about continuing to be an advocate and that includes nursing my son past one.  Maybe it is just to prove a point, something I am a huge fan of and have a tendency to do in all areas of my life.

But more than proving a point, it’s because I simply can’t imagine weaning him.  If he self-weaned I’d be ok, for sure, and I would celebrate with a night out with the girls and one too many martini’s…  But I can tell you that he is not done and (maybe especially after the sleep struggles we have had) I am not going to fight him on this one.

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STORIES OF TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, LAUGHTER AND HYSTERIA. POOR BIG DUB, YOU GOT ME FOR A MAMA...

I'm just and average mama who's not afraid to say all the things you know you are thinking.  Or just not smart enough to keep my mouth shut.

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