We all know someone — heck, there’s a good chance you ARE that someone — who always brags about how smart his/her kid is. (i.e., “Bobby knows his ABCs … Amber knows all her colors!)
It’s so insane to me. Who cares? They’re 2! You know what? I know all my colors, too. Big whoop. And I can go potty all by myself!
Whenever another parent tries this with me, I always banter back with something I feel will shut them up. Only I don’t use an example of how smart my kids are. I counter with something stupid one of them has done.
In my quest to get Grace to eat as healthfully as possible, I’ve decided that we’re going to try a new food each week. This week, we actually tried three new foods — just because I had them in the kitchen. I won two out of three.
I had a can of tuna in the cupboard just for moments like these, and mixed it with mayonnaise and a bit of salt and pepper. I slathered it between half a slice of white bread (I’m still working on wheat bread), sliced it into two neat triangles and put it in front of her.
She had a strange look on her face when she saw it, but then asked, “Chicken?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said. “Chicken!”
A little white lie doesn’t hurt, and Grace dug in. I couldn’t believe it when she asked for seconds. I could just see those omega-3 fatty acids healthifying her heart.
A few weeks ago, I was up near Plainfield and stopped at Angelo Caputo’s, an fabulous Italian fresh market that has cheap produce, a fabulous array of meat and cheese and aisle upon aisle of pasta. I picked up a bag of gourmet cheese tortellini, thinking Grace would swoon. She didn’t.
“This is yucky,” she said.
I ended up eating them myself, then feeling guilty for ruining my diet.
Last night, I offered raisins. When I put the wrinkly little nubs on her plate, she frowned. But I showed her the box and pointed out that they’re grapes, which Grace loves. I popped a few in my mouth, exaggerating how good they were, and a hesitant Grace followed. Once one of those sweet morsels was in there, though, she perked up, grabbing a handful more. She especially loved eating them out of the box. I can see her growing into a huge raisin fan.
I came across a good article this morning by one of our wire services. It’s got some great tips on how to get your kids to eat healthy. I particularly like the homemade English muffin pizzas, which I think we’ll try that one tonight. Read the article, then check back in and let me know what you think.
I wrote yesterday about how, despite my ultra-obsessive cleaning tendencies, I came down with the flu. So now I’m waiting on pins and needles hoping Grace doesn’t get it.
Grace rode the storm the seven days I was sick. But a few nights ago, Grace woke up coughing in the middle of the night.
She’s had a somewhat dry cough for three or four nights, but not bad enough that I’m ready to schlepp her into the doctor’s office. But this is how it started when I got sick — a dry cough — so I can’t help but wonder how bad it has to get before I bring her in.
That’s because if she does have the flu, I want to get my hands on some Tamiflu before it’s too late. Tamiflu is an antiviral that can make you feel better 30 percent faster — shedding a day and a half off your illness — than those who don’t take the drug. The only catch? You have to take it within 48 hours of the first symptoms for it to work. If not, you’re out of luck.
We have always been fortunate to have our children enrolled in culturally diverse school districts.
I recall the son coming home from kindergarten and saying how happy he was to have both “chocolate and vanilla” friends. The group includes many Hispanics, too.
That caught the attention of the daughter, too, and she referred to her friends in these kid-friendly terms.
We find many African-Americans inspiring, not just during Black History Month, but all year long.
The newest one added to our list within the last year is Chris Gardner. (more…)
Today, it’s been a struggle to keep my eyes open.
They’re all red. And watery.
While I managed to get seven hours of sleep last night, I’m still recovering from the night before. That’s when I fought just to get three naps, which lasted about 30-45 minutes a piece during the wee hours of Monday morning.
It was the first official night that my wife, Zion and the newest addition to our family — my son, Jayden — spent the night together at home. Although it was a special moment, it was arguably, the most difficult night of my life.
After spending 3 1/2 days in the hospital, Alicia and I couldn’t wait to get home to sleep in our own bed and enjoy the many other comforts of our two-bedroom apartment.
That afternoon started off wonderful as we settled in. The 7 lb. 11 oz. Jayden kicked back in his new bassinet, as I held Zion in my arms as she stared down at him. I could only imagine what was going through the 1-year-old’s mind.
Perhaps, Zion just thought Jayden was a guest in her apartment. And I say “her” apartment because she’s turned our hallway into her personal race track, and she goes into the kitchen cabinets so often that you’d think she cooks the meals.
Or maybe, the super-bright Zion knew that Jayden was there to stay, and feared losing all of her attention as we spent the day feeding him and changing his diapers.
Nevertheless, all was well until about 9:30 that night — when all hell broke loose.
I’m a germophobe. Anyone who knows me will attest to that.
I was never like this until I had Grace. It started with her first cough. She was 4 months old, enjoying a ride in her swing. I was in the kitchen doing dishes when I heard a wet hack come from the living room.
“Was that — ?”
My heart rate sped up. A few minutes later, she coughed again.
“Oh my god,” I remember thinking. “She’s sick.”
My hands started shaking. I called my mom, then the doctor.
I finally got around to watching “Little Children” last week. This movie was nominated for 3 Academy Awards in 2007. The reason it’s been on my Netflix list was because the main character, played by Kate Winslet falls in love with a stay-at-home dad, played by Patrick Wilson.
The movie reminded me a lot of “American Beauty.” It’s set in the tony suburbs, where everyone is unhappy for one self-indulgent reason or another. But that’s not the reason I wanted to see the movie. My interest was as a stay-at-home dad. How was Hollywood going to portray Wilson’s character? Would he be the typical bumbling goof or would this movie be different?
Turns out it was different. Wilson’s character - Brad Adamson - is a competent parent. It was refreshing, though I still have a couple small gripes. First, Brad is beautiful… not that I normally notice that sort of thing with dudes. It’s just this guy has a chiseled stomach and a perfect tan. Sorry ladies, but most of us SAH Dads look like any other Joe you’d find in a bowling alley in Anytown, USA.
My other complaint is that Brad is studying for the bar exam. He has already failed the test to become a lawyer twice, likely because he has very little interest in a career in the courtroom. Why can’t Brad just be a SAH Dad because he chooses to be one? It seems that full-time parenting is only OK for men if it is because of some unfortunate event. Brad can’t pass the bar. I’ve also seen SAH Dads cast as unemployed mopes who were fired by some unfortunate circumstance and are now stuck raising the kids (See “Mr. Mom”). Or a dad with a particular handicap that prevents him from working, thus placing the burden of childcare on him.
The truth is most of us SAH Dads chose to make parenting our career. Very few of us were forced into this, or so I’ve seen. Also, I’d say spit-up is more of a priority to the average SAH Dad than sit-ups.
This week I spoke with two doctors about the importance of childhood vaccinations. I wrote about my findings in my weekly column . I soon received an email from a reader, asking a very good question. “Just wondering if the MDs you talked to discussed something else I have heard about vaccines. Since all of us that are procreating have had these vaccines as children, with the combo of vaccinated mother and father, our children may actually have some anti-bodies naturally in them. Our children might benefit from just having a titer instead of the full vaccination, because they already have some protection in them. I haven’t done much research on this, but it is something that I have heard.”
Unfortunately, I didn’t think to ask this question at the time of the original interview. Thanks to this blog, I can deliver an instant update. I posed the follow-up question to Dr. David Kimberlin and Dr. Robert Frenck Jr. Both docs are on the American Academy of Pediatics‘ Committee on Infectious Diseases.
“It is true that when babies are born they have their mothers’ antibodies in their bloodstream. However, these antibodies go away by 6 months of age or so, leaving the child defenseless against all the diseases. Only by giving the child the immunizations (or letting them get the actual disease and hoping they don’t die or have permanent damage from it) can the child’s immune system be “taught” to fight off the disease for the rest of the child’s life. This is a great example of someone trying to think too hard about vaccines — I wish folks would just trust the system and thereby protect their child.” Dr. Kimberlin replied.
“As for your question from your reader, there is data to show that immunizing mothers can protect babies for a short time (about 4-6 months) through antibodies transferred from the mother to the baby. As usual, the father is not of any use in this regard! There have been talks about immunizing mothers to protect the babies in the period until they are making their own antibodies from the vaccines they receive. But, there have been a number of concerns, none medical, that have precluded this from going forward,” Dr. Frenck said.
I have to start by saying our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of the victims of the Northern Illinois University shootings and that includes those who are recovering physically and emotionally.
As my husband and I try to imagine what it must have been like for those scared and shocked students, we think back to the freedom of Eastern Illinois University’s campus back in the late ‘80s. We think of the lecture-hall classes.
We think of how it would have been hard to escape when everyone was in a panic. It was hard to move on to the next class when people weren’t in a panic or if the lecture hall wasn’t full.
I think of how I liked to sit near the front so I could avoid distractions.
Then, we think of the emotional scars that will forever be with these students. How the horrible scene is replaying again and again in their minds.
My dinner plate was stacked high last night.
With sweet potatoes, macaroni and cheese, roast, green beans, white potatoes and cornbread — all leftovers from a family dinner Alicia’s family and I shared on Sunday evening.
Before I dug into my super-delicious meal, I placed my plate onto a snack tray and sat right in front of our living room TV. After all, meals like that should be enjoyed with a good action movie, right?
Or at least a great basketball game? Well, I feasted on those dishes the first time around on Sunday, while watching this year’s NBA All-Star game. But last night, while eating, I turned to Nick Jr.’s Little Bill.
Really, I was using the show to get Zion’s attention and to keep her from walking all around the house. I wanted to eat my food in peace and Alicia tried to rest, as she prepares her mind to deliver our son on Thursday.
Yet, I ended up engulfed by Little Bill more than Zion. I couldn’t believe it.
I’ve watched the cartoon with Zion several times before, as well as other cartoons such as Spongebob Squarepants, Miss Spider’s Sunny Patch Kids, The Backyardigans and Back at the Barnyard, which all air on Nickelodeon. Zion especially likes the latter two shows because the characters do a lot of singing. My baby girl just loves to dance.
But I must say, Little Bill is my favorite.
