Father of the Year

Grandma and I took SB to the park yesterday evening for a  stroll in the grass before dinnertime.  She had a blast exploring the fields at Freedom Park and clearly demonstrated a future in sanitation as she attempted to pick up every scrap of trash in the park.  Paper wrappers, bottle caps, cigarette butts...you don't realize how much litter is out there until you have a toddler attempting to pick it up. 

Anyway, I observed a candidate for "father of the year" while we were there.   He was with his little son who looked about 3.  Dad was demonstrating how to kick a soccer ball into a big oak tree as hard as he could, and his son went running under the tree to catch the ball.  What he almost caught was a giant tree limb in the HEAD.  Missed him by inches.  Nice job Dad.  So what does he do instead of running over to his son to make sure he's okay?  He kicks the ball up into the tree again.  Seriously?  People should have a license to have kids.

That's Not a Gourd

The other night we were getting SB ready for bath time.  As usual, Daddy gets the bath ready while Mommy strips down the baby.  We usually let her run around in the buff for a few minutes, mainly because watching her bare booty run down the hallway is the cutest thing ever, and also because I'm sure cruising around with a diaper on all the time is a bummer.
Anyway, as I was tossing her clothes in the laundry basket, I noticed her squatting down to play with a toy, then I saw what  for a split second I thought was one of the little gourds that currently decorate my kitchen table.  I wondered "now how did she smuggle that in her room" as I stooped down and realized it was most definitely NOT a gourd.  Oops.  The hazards of diaper-free playtime, I guess.
She'll love this story when she's a teenager, don'tcha think?

To the Parents of the Graduating Class of 2027

With all the talk in the news about bullying and kids committing suicide as a result, to say I'm scared about Sarah Beth going out into this big wide world would be an understatement.  The thought of anyone ever being mean to this precious little person makes my stomach churn.  You can teach your children to be confident and kind, but how do you protect them from the small-minded, weak people out in the universe who find pleasure in knocking others down?

I know I have 4 years before sweet Sarah Beth goes off to school, but it's a terrifying thought.  If society is this messed up already, how will it be when she's in grammar school, a teenager, a college student?  I long for a childhood for her like I had, when 6-year-olds could walk to school by themselves and ride bikes all afternoon with their friends without fear. When we didn't lock our doors.  When most of the kids we started with in preschool were the same kids in our high school graduating class.  When kids were allowed to be kids.  When kids were innocent of so much of the ugliness in the world.  When kissing a boy in 8th grade was a HUGE deal.  When little girls didn't worry about being supermodel skinny, not that it mattered because we were all skin and bones from playing outside all day.  I know I'm looking back with rose-colored glasses - I'm sure kids were picked on and teased.  I'm sure I was one of them at some point, being the shy goody-goody that I was, but I can't remember one person in my youth who was ever really unkind to me.  Good God, certainly nothing like what's all over the news today.   Teenage girls hanging themselves in their closet because some other girls said mean things about them on Facebook or sent rude text messages?  Young men jumping off a bridge because some stupid kids outed him on the internet?  Were people always this heartless but it just got magnified because of all the "advances"  in technology?  Or is it that people can separate themselves from the pain that they are inflicting by hiding behind their computers and cell phones.

Whatever it is, this downward spiral has to stop or I, for one, will be moving our family to a desert island devoid of internet, cell phones, and mean people.  We all start out more or less the same.  Sweet, cuddly babies wanting love and care.  How does it happen that some children grow up to pick on other children?  What is it that these bullies are lacking that drives them to thrive off of the misery of others?  What is screwing up our children?

I hope that all the parents of the graduating class of 2027 feel the same way I do, and teach their children to be nice to others.  To have a good heart.  To show kindness to everyone.  To believe in themselves.  To stand up for those who do get picked on and to let the bullies know that their meanness will not be tolerated.  I have so many dreams for my little girl.  To me, the most important values that I can instill in her are kindness, compassion and love.  I hope her future friends and classmates and teachers and community will embrace her and love her as we do.

Please indulge me as I stroll down memory lane, I'd like to thank my wonderful, sweet best childhood girlfriends who loved me for who I was and never made me feel less.  Jen, my dear friend of 34 years who is still my sister in my heart even though I hardly ever get to see her.  Ishy, my kindergarten pal who danced to Copacabana with me in her basement, introduced me to the piano, and explored the wild woods of her backyard with me.  Hoda, my outgoing creative friend who was friends with everyone but always had time to spend with me eating peanut M&Ms and pizza in front of old movies on a Friday night or making silly movies of our own with her Dad's video camera.  Thank you.  And thank you to your parents for raising such great kids who grew up to be beautiful women, inside and out.

See what happens when we let her out of the bubble?

On Thursday we went to storytime at Imaginon and SB wanted instead to wander about and touch everything she could get her little hands on.  Including toys that other little kids were holding on to.  Whoops.  How do you teach your little one not to grab other people’s stuff?  The world has been her oyster up until the moment I told her not to steal Thomas the Train away from that nice little boy.  Anyway, that nice little boy or some other kid apparently shared their virus with SB and she got her first official cold, complete with fever and…drum roll…the dreaded croup. 

Poor baby.  I didn’t even know what croup was until I googled it.  “Inflammation of the voice box and windpipe” um that doesn’t sound good.  Our little baby girl doesn’t have that big a pipe to begin with.  Now she sounds like she’s been smoking a pack of Marlboros a day for 62 years.  The doctor says she’ll be fine in a few days.  Her fever is already gone and the runny nose is slowing down.  Now it’s just the awful barky cough when she gets fussy.

So this sick baby thing is all new to us.  It’s been quite an education.  First of all, I don’t know how you full-time working parents with baby in daycare getting colds all the time do it.  Our shiny happy baby was a sad, pitiful mess all weekend.  She has cried more in the past few days than she has cried in all her 15 months combined, I think.  Her sleep is all screwed up so she’s tired and cranky.  Oh my goodness.

Pitiful.

 So here are a few things I learned:

When baby is sick, the house quickly turns into a disaster.  Kurt said something about the kitchen being a mess but it didn’t even register to me because OUR BABY IS SICK hello!  She needs Mommy to snuggle with her, not clean the macaroni and cheese off the floor.  It’s easier to clean up once it hardens anyway, right?

When baby is sick, Mommy doesn’t sleep.  Even when SB does fall asleep for a few hours, I found myself laying there in bed glued to the baby monitor listening to every sound.  Naturally, the moment I finally dozed off, she woke up in need of Mommy comforting.  Incidentally, I tried sleeping on her floor but it was so uncomfortable, I kept moving around and waking her up.  I guess I need a blow up mattress instead of 20 small baby blankets in a pile on the rug.

When baby is sick, Mommy gets sick.  It’s impossible to avoid when my sweet girl sticks her fingers into her mouth and then sticks them into my mouth (or nose or eyes...)   She wants to share everything with Mommy.  Cough cough.

When baby is sick, there’s not much to do except watch TV.  Watching 8 hours of Nick Jr is enough to drive a person insane.  I knew that I had absorbed too much when I found myself humming the theme song to “Jack’s Big Music Show” at 3 in the morning as I was trying to fall asleep.

Her nap schedule has been out the window and as I type this she is asleep next to me on the couch.  I dare not try to move her.  Fortunately, she's feeling much better today and even managed a trip to the grocery store.  I got her a "Get Well Soon" mylar balloon which she has enjoyed toting around the house.  Hopefully tomorrow we'll get out for a walk and some fresh air and be well on the road to recovery...

Not a warm fuzzy feeling

We took a little family trip yesterday afternoon to Independence Park so baby could stretch out her new walkin' legs on some flat terrain and go for a swing.  She toddled all over the place, from the playground all the way to the little waterfall on the other side of the park.  She had fun exploring the new territory; Mommy had fun trying to keep her from picking up cigarette butts and licking the trash cans.  (She's attracted to anything with a hint of danger or germs, of course.)
After 45 minutes or so, we headed back to the car, walking past the gazebo with the usual harmless-looking homeless guy sitting there.  (Why homeless guys tend to hang out in this particular park is beyond me, but they do.) As we got to the top of the hill where we parked, we noticed a police officer crouched behind a dumpster, apparently staking out aforementioned homeless guy.  He gives us the "sssshhhh" sign, as we pass.
Um, not a warm fuzzy feeling as we wondered, should we also be ducking behind a dumpster?  We quickly got baby in the car and high-tailed it out of there, but I would love to know what in the heck was going on...

Sister Wives

I am ashamed to admit it but I stayed up late last night watching that polygamy reality show on TLC .  You want to watch it too, admit it.  So the guy is "married" to 3 women and is bringing a 4th into the harem.  Between the 3 wives, he has like 12 kids and one on the way.  Candidate number 4 has 3 kids of her own.  Seriously? 
So many things confound me here.  But my main problem with it is, this guy is a real tool.  He has weird hair and acts like a total d-bag (pardon the expression but it's true.)  What is so appealing about him that he gets 4 women to agree to share him as a husband?
Now I can see some of the appeal of having a "sister" wife.  Someone to help with the laundry and cleaning and errands and cooking.  Um, but she's also sleeping with your husband?  Ew.  And why oh why do they need that many flippin' kids?  The whole thing is just bizarre.  I know, they say it's part of their religion or whatever, but I read The 19th Wife and call me crazy, it sure seems like an elaborate scam for a man to get a newer model when he gets bored.
What really blew me away was the scene where he gets into his LEXUS SPORTS CAR to go drive 5 hours to meet up with #4.  Even if he has some killer job or is independently wealthy, how does it make sense that he drives a $45,000 car when he has 15+ kids to send to college?  I'm just sayin...