Storm Talker

I’ve lived in New Jersey for six years now. In that time the local forecasters told us to expect rain and we saw sun. They worried us about blizzards and we got flurries. On the rare occasion they actually are correct in their prediction, and a storm actually makes its way to our neck of the woods, the meteorologists behave as if we should stock up on food for several weeks and take refuge in our bomb shelters.

Dude. It’s a little snow.

We are expecting one of those big snowfalls tonight and I am reminded of one of my favorite stories about impending bad weather. My husband and I were living in Manhattan at the time. New York City rarely gets a huge dumping of snow, and even when it does, the streets are cleared quicker than the papers are delivered. The only time I ever saw a store close was during a blackout, and those don’t happen in the winter (as far as I know). But one winter after Lily was born my father-in-law called my husband and asked what we had done to prepare for the Nor’easter headed our way.

“Um, nothing,” my husband answered.

“Didn’t you get groceries?” my father-in-law asked.

“Nope,” my husband replied.

“What are you going to do if the store is closed?” my FIL demanded to know.

“Probably walk down the street and see if that one’s open,” dear husband replied.

“Well, what if that one’s closed?”

“Guess I’ll have to walk across the street and check that one out,” my husband said. “Dad, there’s a store on every corner in Manhattan. I think we’ll be okay.”

Frustrated, my FIL called out to his wife: “They’ve got their heads in the sand, Linda!”

Hope those of you affected by the snowstorm are stocked up and ready to take shelter if necessary. You'll put my father-in-law's mind at ease if you do.

Photo by Bill Silvermintz, courtesy of stock.xchng

Bugged

She laid out her pajamas, a change of clothes and her toiletries, and carefully packed each item into her cinch sack. She tucked her pillow into it. She didn’t want any of her friends to see her blanket, so she shoved it down into the sleeping bag to hide it. (She had read about doing this in her American Girl book on Feelings.) She grabbed a few books in case she woke up earlier than the other girls.

“I’m ready,” she said, beaming. She gave me a thumb’s up. “I’m ready to go to the sleepover.”

My big girl, I thought to myself. I’m so proud of her.

I would have been even more excited but I was feeling a little queasy. When the phone rang at 8:30 p.m. that evening and the birthday girl’s mom was on the other end, I had an even worse feeling. I heard my husband answer her.

“Oh, no,” he said to her. “Oh, man. Is she okay? No. No, I will be right over.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She threw up,” he said.

“Oh, no,” I said.

She had only been at the party for three hours.

I worried this would happen but thought Lily was in the clear. Aimee got the stomach flu on Thursday. To protect Lily I made her sleep in the guest room for the next two nights. “Stay away from your sister,” I said. “You don’t want to get this, too.”

My instructions were hard for both of them to follow. When they are at home the two of them are practically inseparable. When Aimee found out Lily was going to a sleepover she asked if she could sleep in her own sleeping bag that night too. (On the floor of our room, of course.) Lily stayed away from her sister and whenever she touched anything of Aimee’s she ran and squirted a glob of hand sanitizer into her palms. She seemed perfectly fine when my husband dropped her off at the party.

After Lily got home and told me what happened I called the birthday girl’s mom (who has become a friend of mine) and apologized profusely. “I would never have sent her if I had any idea she was going to be sick,” I said. “I am so sorry and I hope no one there gets sick, too.”

My friend was gracious and wonderful. She actually got teary when she told me how Lily, who was devastated when she realized she had to leave the party, broke down and cried and simultaneously apologized to her. “She is so innocent,” my friend said to me. “She felt so bad for throwing up.”

I felt just as bad. I’m the kind of mom who keeps my kids home an extra day so they don’t infect anyone at school. Like I said, I would never, ever have sent her to the party if I thought she might be sick. But this illness came on quickly without warning. Even when Aimee got it she was happy and fine that day. She even ate as voraciously as usual. Just before bed she announced, “My tummy feels weird.” Half an hour later she vomited.

I got to know firsthand just how powerful this illness could be. Right after my husband left to pick her up I got the first wave of nausea. “Oh, crud,” I thought to myself. “My turn.” For three hours I ran to the bathroom every 10 minutes. I hadn’t felt this way since pregnancy. This nausea, however, was much, much worse. The stomach flu is an evil beast.

Lily didn’t seem to have it as badly as I did, but I made her sleep bed with me that night and told my husband to sleep in hers so he wouldn’t get ill, too. She was so exhausted I had to hold her up so she could get sick. She barely woke up and I had to use all my might to lift her weak body. I cared for her the entire night long while also trying to nurse myself back to health. I hope none of you ever have to care for your sick kid while you are sick, too. It totally sucked.

And I did it all for nothing, it turns out. Yesterday my husband got the bug, too.

Damn you, stomach flu. Damn you to hell.

Photo by Kriss Szkurlatowski, courtesy of stock.xchng

Flaming No-No

So here’s my question for today: whose bright idea (no pun intended) was it to give candles as a gift?

I honestly cringe any time someone gives me a candle. I know – any gift should be appreciated because the person thought about me. But, seriously? A candle? How much thought was actually put into the act of buying one? And where, pray tell, am I supposed to put it once I get it? I have been given baby blue candles (that color isn't present in any room in my house), candles in mason jars (again, where does that contraption go?), and candles made of beeswax (inventive and cool, but still).

Not that I don’t like candles; I actually do. But I like them on certain occasions – dinner parties, holiday festivities or birthdays. Considering there are only a handful of those events in an entire year, candles in my house don’t get much use.

Which brings me to the other problem I have with these wax figurines: they are just massive dust collectors. Have you ever tried to clean off a candle? It's close to impossible. The fuzz clings to those things as if it were glued on. Unless you spark the flame daily they just sit there on a counter, a desk or a shelf, poking fun at you for using them so sparingly.

"Come on," someone once said to me. "They're so romantic." I dare you to find me one man out there who insists on a room full of lighted candles to get him in the mood.

"Oh, but they smell so nice," I hear people say. Really? I have almost no sense of smell (click here to read more on that), and cannot tell just how pungent they really are. Plus, any time I burn those types my husband comes home and demands, “Oh, my God! What is that smell?”

Apparently he’s not a big fan, either.

I know there are lots of folks out there who enjoy a bubble bath with lighted candles around the tub. But I like baths about as much as I like massages at the nail salon.

Truth be told, candles just scare me. I have heard story upon story about how someone put a lighted candle near an open window. A light breeze then blew the drapes near the flame, sparked a fire and burned down the house.

No thank you.

Photo by Sabina Graczk, courtesy of stock.xchng

Hello, Rock? Meet Hard Place.

I’ve written before about why I don’t want my children watching movies that are too mature for them. (To read how my own parents ruined me for life, click here, and to read my other judgmental rants on this subject click here and click here.) When I decided to parent differently than many other folks in my community, I didn’t realize I’d eventually have to alter what I wanted for my children just so they could fit in with their friends.

If you are new to this blog, I'll explain. My eldest, who is almost 8, sometimes gets asked over to watch movies at a friend’s house. Whenever she gets this kind of invitation I head to my favorite movie Web site, KidsInMind.com and read up on whether the film’s content is appropriate. Each movie is rated based on how much sex, violence and profanity are present. Sometimes the themes seem worse than they really are; meaning, there may be a lot of profanity but the words and gestures themselves are not that offensive. If a character says words like “stupid,” “jerk,” “idiot,” etc., I don’t really care because those are things I can control in my own house (i.e., if I hear my children using that language I can say, “Those words are not allowed in this house.” Or I can commend them for using them properly.). However, if there are teenagers making out in the movie (and I’m not there to have a conversation about sex at the time), I have no control over what my kid will do with that information. And considering the principal of our early childhood school once bemoaned that kindergarten-aged girls chased the boys around trying to kiss them after watching Hannah Montana, I know I’m not far off from worrying my own kid might try to join in the fun.

So today’s decision is this: Lily is attending a birthday party tomorrow (the sleepover) and the mom kindly e-mailed me to ask if any of the films her daughter wanted to see were appropriate. I looked them up and only one seemed the least offensive to me, but all were rated PG. “She doesn’t want to see any of the G-rated movies at the store,” the mom said.

I wrote back and gave her my opinion but as I did so I knew I would probably be branded “that mom."

Here’s what pisses me off about being labeled “that mom.” I’m not a helicopter parent. I teach my girls to be independent. I don’t hover around them when they have friends over (Are you kidding me? I can finally get some alone time when they have a play date!), and I don’t stand in the driveway and watch them while they play outside. I allow them to make their own choices even if they’re wrong (so I can laugh, and laugh and laugh – just kidding). I talk openly about sex education and drug use. So, in my mind, I am far from being “that mom.”

But I also parent by experience. Meaning, I know what affected me greatly as a child (Um, hello – watching R-rated films at age 7?). It’s not that I don’t think my girls should ever see those films; I just want them to see them when they are mature enough to process the information and also so we can discuss them.

Is that so wrong?

I know I can’t completely control what happens outside my home but I wish I weren’t faced with having to always make these choices, either. I wish other parents would understand when I say, “That subject is too mature for my child.” I don’t care if they think their child is old enough to watch Hannah Montana. I personally think my child – who still loves to play with stuffed animals, American Girl dolls and Barbie dolls – is young. Which is just fine by me. She will grow up soon enough.

So tell me readers – should I just give up? Should I decline all the invitations? Post a comment and tell me how you feel.

Photo courtesy of stock.xchng

Don't Wake Up!

I overheard a woman complaining the other day about how her 2-year-old daughter still won’t sleep through the night. Several of her friends responded in kind about how their kids (various ages) also woke up in the middle of the night. My neighbor has told me for years how her now 6-year-old daughter crawls into her bed every early morning around 4:30 a.m. or 5 a.m. A woman I know bemoans that her 12-year-old is still not a very good sleeper.

When I hear the stories I have to fight the urge to wag my finger and jump up on a soapbox. Today, however, I’m not holding back; I'm going to hop up on it. Here goes: why do parents make their lives so much more difficult than they have to?

I ask this question because there are some aspects of parenting we simply cannot control. We can’t navigate how kids will feel, we can’t determine which friends they will pick and we cannot manipulate their every move. If parents want to complain about those problems I'm more than happy to agree with them. Sleep, however, is a factor we absolutely can manage. In fact, if we are doing our jobs right as parents, we should control our children's sleep. By doing so, the parent not only helps the child develop healthy habits (and, in turn, assists them with learning and behavior), but also the parent gets a good night’s sleep.

And if there is one thing out there that I love more than anything (yes, anything), it’s a good night’s sleep.

People, it’s not hard work to get a child – at any age – to sleep. Okay, I take that back. It is hard work. Parents who allow their heartstrings to dictate how they will parent don’t realize they are not doing themselves (or their kids) any good. Sometimes simple logic needs to come and get the job done.

So here goes:

If you teach a child to sleep:

The child will grow and develop properly.

The child will learn better.

Well-rested kids are overall healthier kids.

Well-rested Moms and Dads are happier, too.

If you don’t teach a child to sleep:

Restless or inconsistent night sleep can result in behavior that mirrors ADHD and other behavioral problems.

Children who don’t sleep well have less energy and, therefore, are more susceptible to childhood obesity. (Click here to read more on that.)

Kids who are tired have a hard time following directions. They also have a harder time learning and difficulty concentrating.

Boys and girls who don’t get enough rest may not grow well and are at an increased risk of getting sick.

Don’t just take my word for it: read more on this topic by clicking here, here and here. (This Web site even helps teach you how to help your child get more sleep, as does this one.)

So if you are one of those moms or dads who prefers to offer excuses rather than take the reigns, do everyone a favor and let your child get the rest he or she desperately needs. (If you need more help on this check out one of my favorite sleep books, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Dr. Marc Weissbluth. Most libraries carry this helpful periodical or you can order it on Amazon.com.)

POST SCRIPT: I wrote this post a few years on how to get some sleep. This method worked for me and every mother I know who tried it. So if you have a newborn or about to have another baby (or your first), click here and read what helped my second baby sleep through the night right away. (Make sure to click on the amendment at the bottom because I made a mistake in stating timing on the first post.) Oh, and by the way, I also had an experience with a horrible sleeper. Lily, my practice child, woke every two hours at night until almost 9 months when I finally decided to take the reigns and make that child sleep. Today she is an incredible sleeper. Signed, Reluctant but Thankful Mom.

Photo by Karthik S, courtesy of stock.xchng