Tuesday, October 30, 2012

“Seriously, only your kid would get lead poisoning.”

My little sister stopped by today. One of the first things she said to me was, “Seriously, only your kid would get lead poisoning.”

She had me there. And she made me laugh. So like a million brownie points for her.

Of course she met it sarcastically. Jokingly. Satirically.

I’ve been so careful. So paranoid, if we are being honest, since these babes were in the womb. I wouldn’t even take a freaking Tylenol for crying out loud while I was pregnant with them because I was just so scared of what it could potentially do to them. I gave birth at home because I was terrified of the chemicals in pain killers.

I’ve researched what they eat until my fingers felt like they’d fall off and my eyeballs would fall right out of their sockets. I’ve just been so prudent with everything. Their food, their soaps (did you know there are chemicals in shampoo that are directly linked to the growing rate of poor eye vision in children??? I didn’t either for a while), the detergent I wash their clothes in, the soap that cleans our dishes. Even the dishes they eat off of.

Everything I’ve researched and investigated. I’ve questioned and then questioned again. Maybe to the point where you could say it’s almost a sickness. I’ve been terrified of chemicals and toxins that could potentially harm my kids. And I’ve looked everywhere for them.

Except that I didn’t. I never thought to.

Toxins in their toys just never even crossed my mind. I realize how incredibly stupid that is now. How could I question pretty much everything else, and yet forget to question their toys?

But I did. And it turns out it was the one thing that was poisoning my kids.

The one thing I didn’t research.

Go figure.

Our house has been tested. The lead people don’t think it’s the source of B’s lead poisoning. There are small amounts of lead in the trim work, the windows, the doors, and the stairs. But they said not enough to raise eyebrows or to make them think it’s what’s causing the lead poisoning, though.

But J is going to replace it all anyway. He said he’d rather be safe than sorry.

We are just figuring out the logistics right now. Time off work. Where the kids and I will go (because we can’t stay in the house while he’s doing all that). We have to find the balance between what is best for the kids and what will keep my sanity. So we’ll see.

We’re having our water tested still. Even though the lady I spoke to told me that she’d put money on it not being out water since we have all new pipes (replaced 3.5 years ago). She said that the lead poisoning would come from old pipes – not be in the water itself. We don’t have old pipes.

Nonetheless, we’re testing anyway.

The kids’ playmats are gone. Pretty much all their plastic toys. It’s hard. Like super hard. Obviously I cannot eliminate everything. H still has her two favorite baby dolls. I can’t take those away from her. And her flashlight.

I let B keep his favorite animal figurines – but really just until I can replace them with appropriate replacements.

I ordered B a wooden, non-toxic ride-on toy, because he will be devastated to see the Dora car go. I’ll employ Christmas to get H a new kitchen, once I figure out what is actually safe.

It infuriates me that I even have to think this way. What is safe? I mean, seriously, everything, made for our children should be safe. There should be no researching needed. Not to mention that everything I’ve found as a safe alternative seems to cost significantly more. But I guess you can’t really put a price on your child’s health. And when his health is directly linked to his toys, well…

I guess now I have to find an appropriate cup replacement. Damn. I ordered some safe, USA-made dishes for them. But I don’t know what to do about Sippy’s. We have two stainless steel ones, but I’m not in love with them. I’m in love with their spill-proof plastic ones. But they are made in China and colored and thus I assume that they are as safe as their toys…fantastic.

But really, I need to be more positive with this whole experience. I’ve basically just been so angry since I found this all out. So, so incredibly angry. Because I have no control. And I really, really suck not being in control. Of pretty much everything.

But my baby is going to be okay. It might take a little while, it might take a lot of re-doing the house, and getting rid of toys, and buying knew toys, and simply adjusting our lives, and that all cost more money, but it could be worse. It can always be worse. Money is just money. And there is no price that could every be put on one of my babies.

And lead poisoning can be bad. Like, really, really bad. But we caught B’s early, because something whispered in my ear and told me to test him. So we are so incredibly fortunate.

There is nothing in the world scarier than finding out your babe is sick. And having no control.

But God is good and we are blessed and at the end of the day everything will just be fine. I just have to remind myself that.

Like every second.

We’ll get there.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Support and an open mind can go a long way, motherhood is hard.

Wow.  The amount of reponses I received from my last post were huge.  Several people sent me private messages saying that they also struggle with their parenting decisions and often feel like such an outsider.

But what was shocking was the amount of women who said they also found motherhood to be an extremely isolating experience.

I mean,  what is wrong with us?  Not for feeling isolated,  but for doing this to eachother?  You would think that since we know how difficult motherhood is,  we would stick together.

I'm not saying we should compromise our morals and values.  If you don't agree with sleeping with your kid,  there is no need to pat me on the back for doing it.  But also,  comments about how they will never sleep is not helpful.

Unless someone is genuinely harming their child,  why can't we just be more supportive?  I might not stick my child in time out for acting out or swat her bottom for misbehaving in the grocery store,  but I sure as hell don't condemn someone who chooses to do so.

A little support for each other would go a long way,  instead of all the wars. And we would all be so much better off for it

It is interesting in ways because when things get really hard for me,  I have two go-to people for advice.  And their advice is often different,  sometimes to the extremes ,  but always incredibly beneficial.  Sometimes I employ the methods they prescribe to an exact,  other times simply hearing other ideas and taking on a new perspective help me to come up with something entirely different that works for us.

And that's ok.

But why is it that when someone shares a new idea or perspective,  so often we get bitter and defensive?  Motherhood is a learning journey.  No one is born knowing everything.  We learn.

All the things I know now -  all of my parenting beliefs and ideas -  I didn't have 3 years ago.  I have them because I was open to knew things.  My desire to better myself is an unending thing.  And as I know better,  I try my damndest to do better.

Sometimes I hear things that I feel are crazy and absurd.  Patenting styles or tactics I just feel could never work or be okay.  But then as I warm up to otherideas ,  I find myself using those same methods and laughing about how not so long ago I had thought it was crazy.

So be kind,  you can't rewind,  so always keep an open mind.

Be supportive.  Oh,  for Lord's sake,  please be supportive.  So the next time you judge the mother screaming at her child on the playground,  remind yourself that you have no idea what's going on,  even if you don't agree with the yelling.  Or the mom at Target who is coddling her tantruming preschooler when you think discipline should be handed out,  why don't you just smile instead?  You just don't know.

And it doesn't matter anyway.   We should just be pillars of support for mothers everywhere,  not another eye roll or muttered sentiment of disdain.

Motherhood is hard

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Parenting with fear - not what you think

Ever since I was as tiny as H people have commented that I have an air of superiority. The overly confident, my way or the highway, always right, know it all. To be honest it had always been the best defense mechanism I have ever had.

Especially now. I mean, let us be honest here. I am a 24 year old girl married to a 41 year old man. I made the choice to become a wife and mother at the tender age of 21. You have to be pretty damn sure of yourself to do that.

It is not like I had any support to do that. My family told me I was throwing my life, so beautifully laid out to be a powerful, independent career woman, away.

And for what?

To be a mom.

I sure as hell had better be confident. So I am. Or at least I try to be.

But I'm really not.

I read so much conflicting parenting crap because I am so afraid that I am going to mess my kids up. And by doing so, I probably really am messing them up.

I don't know anyone who raises their kids with all the same crazy ideas that I do.

And that is okay. Because I am right.

Right?

Wrong.

I do not know if sleeping with my kids is going to mess them up down the road. I have been told that meeting all their needs will make them selfish. I have been told that having spanked my daughter once makes me a child abuser and has ruined the possibility of us ever having a real relationship. I have also been told that by not spanking her I am ruining her chances of becoming a good person.

I have been told that feeding my children organic food is equivalent to dirt and disgusting. I have been told that giving them fast food is worse than arsenic. Sensoring their TV is too controlling. Allowing them to watch TV at all will ruin their brains.

Not teaching them about the mythical Santa Claus will hinder their imaginations. Not having H in a proper academic preschool will put her at a disadvantage. Having just enrolled her in a 'play' school will cause anxiety and security issues

I could go on. And on and on and on.

I have only changed my parenting methods and beliefs a million and two times in the past 2.5 years.

My poor kids.

Do maybe I come off confident in all my choices? Maybe. But I am not always.

Do you know how ridiculously hard it is to talk calmly to your toddler and stay with her when everyone else is telling you to hit her or ignore her? Do you know how hard it is to calmly pick up a thrown dinner or just walk away when your toddler is hitting you?

Do you know how incredibly hard it is to get up with your 1 year old 6 times before 3 am and not just stick him in a crib to cry it out when that is how everyone is telling you it should be done? Or try breastfeeding your 2.5 year old when you do not know anyone who has nursed that long and most people react like what you are doing obscene

So yeah, I am parenting with fear. Every decision I have to make puts me at odds with most people. Since my choices are not often the norm I feel the need to at least seem confident about my own choices, which inevitably makes others feel as if I am judging them and that I believe their differing choice is wrong. I'm not and I do not.

I knew parenting would be hard. But I didn't know how terrifying it would be.

Or that it would be the most lonely, isolating experience of my life.



Wednesday, October 24, 2012

B has lead poisoning

I was going to write this yesterday, but I was mostly still in freak out mode and mulling it over in my brain.

B has lead poisoning. Like, badly.

Although his levels are ridiculously high, he doesn't seem to have any of the common symptoms, which is good. He seems totally unaffected. And since Miss H's lead levels were completely normal, I'm hoping that this is either just a weird event that will pass, or that Miss H also had lead poisoning as a baby and her body naturally detoxed it, since this is the first time I ever had them checked.

Simply having him tested was one of the most emotionally horrific events of my life. J was originally supposed to be there. Even the receptionist commented on his absence, because as she said, "Dad ALWAYS comes to the appointments. Where is he????" Well, he had to go on travel last minute. So I got to do it solo. Which is fine. I do things solo all the time. But I didn't realize how emotionally devastating it would be for me.

They did little pinpricks on both babes. Neither of them even batted a lash. B ran around like a bleeding maniac when the little pinprick wouldn't stop bleeding though and he wouldn't keep a band-aid on or let me hold it. I'm sure that they brought a HazMat team in to sterilize that room!

But when B's levels came back high, they said they had to take blood intraveneously. Devastating. For him. For me. For both of us. The nurse asked if I wanted to stay in the room, or if I needed to leave. I thought she was joking. Who the fuck leaves their kid when something like that is going to happen? I don't care if it rips you to pieces emotionally. If you are not tough enough to stay with your child, regardless of their age, when something traumatic and/or painful is about to occur, then you shouldn't have had kids. And yes, that's cold. But I could never imagine walking away from my all ready scared baby just so I didn't have to watch him be in pain. That's wrong.

It took four nurses to hold him down while they took viles of blood from his pudgy baby arm. Tears streamed down his face and he just kept screaming "Momma!" until he was hoarse. It took everything in me not to cry, too. But with his sobbing and in pain, little H worried about her brother, someone had to be the grown up. And it had to be me.

Of course, during this time, when I possessed zero control to do anything legit for him, other than to sing and talk and rub his cheek and tell him how much I loved him, I started judging and berating people in my head. Because that's what I do when I'm powerless. When something is wrong with my babe and I can't do anything to help. I take out my anger and frustration on helpless people who don't even know what I'm thinking.

I started judging the world. I berated every single parent who has ever allowed their child to be in extreme pain - physically or emotionally - for a reason that is not truly medically necessary. I started judging what kind of parent could think it was okay to let their child experience such pain for any reason that wasn't serious.

Then I started judging myself. What had I done that allowed my son to have high levels of lead? What kind of parent doesn't notice this kind of stuff? How could my child be so sick, so poisoned, and I not even really notice it???

When they were finally done I held him and rocked him and told him how much I loved him. He was sweaty and pink from screaming so hard. But three minutes later her was running around and playing with his sister. So I know it was awful for him at the time. Extremely. But I'm the one with the lasting emotional impact, I think.

So they sent me home with a few papers talking about lead and its sources, telling me that his levels were so high they were sending it to the hospital for further analysis and would get back with me in a few days.

In a few days seems like a lifetime.

I fully understand the lead source is probably coming from our house. The windowsills. Stairs. Lead dust on the walls. So I cleaned like a maniac. I dusted and vaccuumed and washed walls and trim and floors. And then I read that there can be high levels of lead in plastic toys and plates, etc. So I threw them all away.

J said I was probably being a bit overzealous. I told him he didn't have to stand and help hold down his screaming baby. There is no such thing as overzealous when my child is sick.

So today I'm on a mission to get him some chorella and garlic. Maybe some citrus pectin if I can find it, and help his body gently detox. And then I just have to wait. Wait for the hospital to call. Wait for J to return from travel and lead test our house.

Wait for my baby to no longer be poisoned.

And I will probably have to wait a long time to be able to forgive myself for not preventing this from happening in the first place. Because that's my job. I'm his mom.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

"Shy," "Brat," and other words I cannot stand

We can’t help it. I get it. We all label our kids at some point or another. I refer to my daughter as “Wilde Thing” all the time. I call my son a “Walking Accident.”

But I also believe in self-fulfilling prophecies. I don’t call baby B a walking accident to his face. And well, H is a little wild, but it’s more a play on her middle name and the book, not a description of her behavior.

If I had a dollar for every time someone says to one of my children, if they happen to turn away, stare at the ground, or cling to me, “Oh, s/he’s shy!”

Um, no! I despise, I mean, absolutely, utterly loathe when people refer to children as “shy”. Without a doubt my dislike for the word stems from my own childhood when my family would always tell people I was shy because I didn’t like talking to strangers very much.

But I wasn’t shy. But I grew up hearing all. the. time. that I was shy and an introvert. So I thought this was true. Until I realized as an adult that this isn’t true. Yes, I enjoy being alone sometimes. It’s true I don’t particularly enjoy small talk with strangers. But that doesn’t mean I’m shy. At all.

But I was lead to believe that for most of my life. Because other people told me I was shy. So when people make that assumption about one of my children who simply isn’t feeling very particularly talkative, or is, you know, acting their age and naturally hesitant around strangers, I want to throttle them.

The things adults, especially parents, say to and call their children make an impression. A very deep impression.

Which leads me to other words I cannot stand when people call my, or any, children. Words like “brat.” Really!? As an adult you are going to call a child a brat? You are calling them names because you can’t come up with something better. And we are supposed to teach our children not to name-call others. Good job, my friend. Good job.

Or “bad.” I can’t believe people actually tell their children that they are bad! I’m sure that makes their kid feel great. I’ve heard it several times on the playground, when a mother shouts, “Little Johnny, you’re being bad so we are going home!” That poor, poor kid.

Yes, call them bad. Tell them how bad they are. If I remember anything about being a child, I guarantee you that they are going to do their best to fulfill that prophecy and prove you right. You all ready think they are bad, so what do they have to lose? Of course, why shouldn’t they do their worst at that point – to make sure that at least the name they are being called is true.

And “bad” includes all those words: naughty, awful, deficient, dense.

Oh, and people who call their children “stupid” or “dumb” should just be shot. Enough said.

It’s not just “mean” words I dislike. Oh, no, I don’t play favorites with the words I don’t like. I dislike them from all over the dictionary. Nice. Blah. Hate that word. I do use it on occasion, though I try my best not to. I feel like telling H that she is so nice to do xyz will make her simply do xyz in order to get the praise again. Don’t get me wrong, I totally believe in praising children, but I want to raise a genuinely nice girl, not one who is only nice when someone is looking. So although I think it’s important to notice random acts of kindness, instead of saying, “Wow, H, that was so nice of you to share that cookie with B!” I try saying, “Wow, look how happy B is that you shared with him!” That puts the focus is on the action and how it affected someone else, not just on her being nice

And really, nice? In one of my high school English classes we had to review each other’s work and give feedback. “Good” and “nice” were not allowed to be used in the feedback. Even if the papers was “good” or “nice.” Our teacher said those words were description words that people fall back on when they don’t have any real positive words to say. And I totally agree with that.

What I’m trying to say, if you’ve made it this far, is the words you call your children – they make a huge impact. They stick with them. Forever. Do you want to be the reason your daughter grows up thinking she’s shy, when really she isn’t at all? Or do you want your son to think he’s a mean, bad boy, because he acted his age, whether he is two or twelve? Do you want a little lap dog that will always be sweet as punch just to hear someone tell her how nice she is or “good job!”?

I don’t think so.

So the next time you are frustrated and really want to say, “You’re not listening and being really naughty right now!” stop and think. Maybe “It’s time to use our listening ears.” Or better yet, say nothing at all. More often than not, we’re best to just shut our mouths and wait it out.

Description words are great! But not when they are directed toward our children so often. They are so powerful. So be careful with what adjectives you throw at your darling. They just might stick.

Friday, October 19, 2012

When mortality comes knocking at your door and makes you shape up

I've been kind of pissed off at the world lately. Mostly for things that are no one's fault but my own. I thought those kinds of crazy emotions were supposed to become non-existent after the high school years. Apparently not.

Anyway, I was picking up the kids playroom while J was playing with the kids in the living room. Suddenly he asked me, "Okay, what's going on?"

Trying to deflect, not sure how to answer, because although I wasn't in a stellar mood, I'd been normal because I'm too big to throw fits in front of my own children, I replied with, "Um, where?"

After a few seconds J said, "Whoa, something is going on." He peered further out the front window and then announced he was going outside. Of course, the babes and I followed.

When we walked to the end of our porch my 2.5 year old promptly said, "Holy shit!" She took the words right out of my mouth.

In front of our neighbor’s house, in the street, a red car was stopped dead in its tracks. A 30+ ft tree having fallen on top of it. The entire passenger’s side was smashed, pretty close to the ground. The driver’s side was badly damaged, but not quite as badly. But by "not quite as badly", I still mean, "holy shit!"

I stood holding my baby boy, my girl at my side, and I had to choke back tears. Because although I know better, although I never should let my mind go there, it did.

Immediately I thought of how easily that could have been me. Us. We drive right there every single day. Several times a day, oftentimes. It could have been us. My babies. And if it had been, if we’d been in our own car, on the same side of the street, in that exact same spot, I wouldn’t have a little girl anymore.

And that’s something I can hardly even think about; it nearly kills me.

I could deal with a lot of devastations or tragedies. If J lost his job. If, God forbid, he left me. All the inevitable deaths of those I love some day down the road.

But my children. Their mortality. It is something I cannot let enter my brain without hyperventilating. They are amazing. They are everything. But they are mortal.

And that terrifies me.

Fortunately for them, I haven’t wrapped them in bubble wrap and forced them to live in a padded cell, though I’ve been tempted. I’ve always let them do crazy brave things at insanely early ages, trusting that they know better than me what they are capable of.

Mostly, I know how to deal with those fears. If they fall off the slide, if they nearly cut their thumbs off, or maybe knock themselves unconscious from falling off of a table (not that those have happened before…). Those are things I am more or less prepared for. Afraid of, but prepared for.

I’ve never thought to be afraid of a 30 foot tree falling on my car while driving. Never in my entire life has that thought crossed my mind. And I bet it hadn’t crossed the couple’s whose car got smashed today either.

And it always seems to be the things that we don’t know to fear that kick us in the ass. Kind of like the reasons that have been giving me such a negative attitude lately.

But you know what? I have two amazing children. They are happy. They are healthy. And nothing else matters at the end of the day.

Nothing.

Everything else is so minute and unimportant it doesn’t deserve my negative energy. So instead, I’m going to focus on those awesome babies that I do have, and just be happy. Because life is too short. There are too many unknowns.

And when my own mortality comes knocking one day, I don’t want to have spent so much time with the “woulda, coulda, shouldas.” I just want to have spent a lot of happy, good times, with my amazing little family.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The death of Ankor

We've always been open about death with the kids. Well, as open as you can be with a 1 and 2.5 year old.

We found a bird once that was dead. When H asked why it wasn't flying, I told her outright that it was dead. She just kind of nodded and said, "Oh."

When H gave her baby brother a rolly poly to play with and he promptly ate it, I told her it was dead.

When she dumped a bucket of rolly poly's into her water table, I explained that they had drowned since they could not swim, and they were dead.

When B stepped on some rolly poly's I explained to the kids how they were now dead.

You are seeing a trend here, right? You should probably call rolly poly homocide on us. As much as my kids love them, they sometimes forget to be gentle....

Well, for baby B's birthday my dear, sweet little sister bought them a fish. H named it Ankor. With a K. I don't remember how it became that it must be spelled with a K.

I told my sister a fish was too much responsibility. Too much feeding. Too much cleaning. Too much remembering to care for it.

For me.

Kids, I'm good with. Plants and animals, they don't stand a chance.

So Ankor died.

She looks like she has mold on her.

I swear to God I did everything I was told. I cleaned that stupid tank bi-weekly and fed it the "special" fish food because it was picky. WTF? A fish can be picky!

But it died anyway.

So I figured that since we have always be point-blank about death it wouldn't be a big deal telling H.

I was right.

Until she asked to watch her swim 2 hours later. And I had to explain again that she was dead.

And then H said that no, she would rather Ankor be alive and swimming, and could I please make her move now? (So maybe I left the dead fish in the tank to let J deal with...)

Finally I told her that her auntie would take her to get a new fish Thursday that can remember how to swim.

Apparently she doesn't "get" death as well as I thought.

But that's probably a good thing anyway. She's only 2.

Monday, October 15, 2012

That baby pang

I'm super envious of people who are done having babes. Like done having them because they want to be done, not because they have  to be done due to other reasons, such as financial, illness, age, whatever. People who are legitimately done and want to be done and feel done. They rock. They suck. Whatever.

I feel like everyone I know is having babies this month. Perfect, beautiful, tiny babies. Something I will never have again. Something I mistakenly made the choice to never have again.

Yeah, I just wish I could be one of those people who were done because they truly felt done. But I’m not. And I’m going to have to accept that. Even though it sucks.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

The things I learned but didn't really learn.

As I was walking my little girl to preschool this morning (post on preschool to come) I started thinking of nebulous clouds (I think there are such things). And then my mind wandered to nimbus clouds (I think those are real, or maybe something from Harry Potter). At that point I started thinking of volcanoes and sedentary rocks and indigenous trees and all those other things I “learned” in school, but didn’t really learn.

We were taught so much in school that we needed to know long enough to get an A on a test and then 2 weeks later would have looked at the same test as if we had never heard of such information in our lives.

And really, if we’re being honest, we hadn’t really. We weren’t learning the information, just memorizing it long enough to pass a test. And that’s all that was expected of us anyway.

It’s silly, in my opinion, to force kids to learn anything outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Everything else is simply an interest. Sure, I think kids should be encouraged to explore other subjects, and maybe even gently nudged towards those they wouldn’t so willingly delve into. But really, outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic, none of it is necessary.

I am sure this will come as a huge surprise, but since my 2nd grade class where we learned about different clouds, not once have I had a need for to know the differences.  I’ve yet to need my chemistry information, or to utilize that biology dissecting project. No one has asked me about volcanoes. And, wait…..wait for it….I’ve not had to do a single bloody calculus problem since my final exam. Go figure.

And that’s all good, because although I got an A for all those classes, I have retained nada  about any of it.

You want to talk literature or proper grammar (which admittedly I don’t always use), history, travelling, foreign countries or human rights issues, I’m your girl. I’m a butt load of information when it comes to those things. Because they interest me, so I genuinely learned them (though most on my own time, not in a class).

Guess what my college degree is in. That’s right! History and International Studies with a focus on Human Rights. Surprisingly, though really not, I didn’t major or even use any of the crap I was forced to “learn.”

I do think reading, writing, and basic arithmetic are very important, whether you like them or not. Those are three things everyone uses daily, whether you like it or not. I use them as a stay at home mom, my husband uses them as an engineer, my little sister uses them as a college student, my older sister uses them as a 4th grade teacher, and my step-sister uses them as a waitress. There is just no way around it. (And let’s face it, those are the only thing you are tested on for the SATs. Even they get that everything else just isn’t as important.)

But all that “extra” stuff? Nope. Honestly, what a complete waste of most of my childhood. I could have been playing, learning from the world around me and doing things that truly interest me (which also seem to be tools for learning). Instead I was stuck in a classroom for 7 hours a day doing meaningless busy work that have in no way contributed to me being a successful or well-rounded individual.

I’ve learned so much in my life thus far, and I’m learning so much more each day. But it’s really sad all the things I learned that I didn’t really learn.

I just hope I can give my kids something better. Sure, many are probably rolling their eyes thinking it’s a hippy-free-love way of thinking, but if you think about it; really stop and think about it, you know I’m probably onto something here.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

"I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children." Really!?

So there is this little picture-thing on facebook (what the heck are they called??) going around that says something like, “I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children.”

Really? I mean, really?

What a thing to fear.

Some of the best people I know were never hit as children. They are the most secure, academically and financially (career) best off. They have the least anxiety and depression issues. But okay.

Some of the wealthiest countries, such as Sweden, also have the lowest rates of crime, poverty, and emotional disorders. Guess what. It’s illegal to spank your child there. Coincidence? I think not.

And really, it makes sense.  I mean, if an adult were to hit another adult it is called assault. That is punishable by fine and/or jail time. That’s pretty serious.  If a child hits another child they are immediately reprimanded and oftentimes punished because as parents, we feel it necessary to teach our children not to hit since it is mean. And God forbid a child hit an adult. Just the idea of it is crazy. It’s an absolutely intolerable act.

And yet when a parent hits a child, a person a fraction of their size, a person most susceptible to the damages of inconsistencies, we get a pat on the back and commended for “being a parent.” Definitely showed that kid who is boss.

If we are supposed to teach our children that hitting is wrong, then what in the world is hitting them teaching? It’s only okay to hit if you’re bigger? It’s only okay to hit if you don’t like what the other person has done? Hm…that’s pretty inconsistent to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. Not always consistent. I just think the whole idea of spanking is screwy from the start. I can accept that people get super frustrated and lose their shit. That’s honestly about the only time spanking makes “sense” to me. Still not right, but I get it.

What’s super twisted is when people say you should never spank out of anger. Wait until you’ve calmed down and are rational, then spank. WTF? What kind of rational human being thinks, “Oh, I should hit my kid. I’ve only got 20+ years on him and at least 100 lbs, I obviously cannot come up with a better solution to handle this situation than with physical violence.”  Terrific.

But really, regardless of my feelings toward the whole subject I really don’t care if someone actually does choose to spank their kid. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it and I’m not going to stop talking to you (but you may me after you read this) or being your friend. I do however, find a statement that you actually fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as kids to be a tad bit ridiculous. Okay, a whole lot ridiculous.

There are some much greater things in this world to fear. Rather the adult next to me was ever hit as a kid just doesn’t make my list. Or if the kid in my daughter’s preschool class gets smacked for hitting, that’s really not my business (unless it’s actual abuse).

So yeah, I have a lot of fears about the way the world is run and by whom it’s run…but how they were disciplined (or lack thereof) as kids, just isn’t one of my fears. Just saying.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Time for an "update"

J is constantly trying to get me to “update” my life.

“Your computer is too old,” he says. “We can get you a new one. Faster, more updated.”

“My computer works,” I tell him. “After it’s fallen out of a window a few times, we’ll talk.” (Some of you get that!)

“How about a new phone?” he asks. “At least a smart phone. We can start small.”

“My phone works,” I tell him. “Why would I mess up a good thing? I see how much trouble you have with yours. Mine is no trouble at all.”

“How about a kindle and you can condense your library and read on the go?” he suggests.

“How about not and we’ll pretend you never suggested it,” I reply.

It’s not that I’m against technology (though I may have not given in to CD’s until high school or owned an iPod until college…way after they’d been the “norm”). I just really hate screwing up a good thing. I don’t believe in fixing something that isn’t broken.

But if it’s broken – I say, okay! Let’s update. Let’s fix it. Let’s see what’s newer and better out there. But I’m not going to do it if I have something good and functioning.

Take my eyes for instance. I just “updated” them. They sucked. They were blurry and couldn’t even read the freaking alarm clock without contacts or glasses.

So, I was all for it. A super quick procedure later, and I can see. Like perfectly. Without glasses. Or contacts. And it’s amazing.

So sure, when my computer has seen better days (or fallen out of a window) we’ll talk about it. Until then, I’m not in the market to fix something that isn’t broken. Even if there is “newer and better” out there.

Maybe I’m set in my ways.

Maybe.

Monday, October 1, 2012

My little monster(s)

Miss H is at this amazing age. Sure, there are moments (if we are being honest, typically several in one day) when she drives me crazy, but really, she is just awesome. She is so funny and quirky and comes up with the best things. Constantly she has me laughing until I'm in tears, and she gets baby B going too. It's great.

Today she wanted to wear her ladybug Halloween costume. But shortly after putting it on, she decided she'd rather wear her brother's. She she wore a fuzzy blue, three-eyed monster costume that was a few sizes too small. But she didn't care.

Then she toted around two Build-a-Bears that she calls the names of her "god sisters" and repeatedly kept laughing to me, "I'm soooo crazy! I'm just so crazy, Momma!"

She cracks me up. She makes me smile. She makes me so happy to be a mom. And sometimes, because she is just so awesome, it feels a little surreal. Like, really, how'd I get something, someone (okay, two someones!) so amazing and awesome and simply perfect?

Yep, this is all mush. All rose-goggle mommy-love. All that inexplicable bliss that you have right after having a baby has suddenly re-surfaced the past few days - and I didn't even have to have a baby! I guess mega jet lag does it, too.

So yes, although she may drive me insane - Miss H is the best little monster a momma could ask for (and so is B!).