To remove something your tot has pushed up his
nose, and nothing else is working, position your child as for CPR, with
the head tilted back. Again, as if giving mouth-to-mouth
resuscitation, position your mouth over his, but DO NOT pinch closed
the offending nostril. Then blow a quick, strong puff of air into
the mouth. Be aware that this method may give you a cheek full of
snot as well as the foreign object, so this is for those loving parents
whose children can't seem to blow it out on their own.
To remove something your tot has pushed into her
ear, and you can see it, get a small, blunt stick (like the end of a
Q-tip without the fuzz, or the non-business end of a bamboo skewer) and
some Super Glue. Apply a dot of Super Glue to the blunt end, then
carefully position and hold the gluey stick to the foreign object for a
slow count of 10. If your tot will not or can not sit still for
this to work, try it while she sleeps. Then, gently remove the
object.
We fortunately haven't had the opportunity to field
test these suggestions ourselves, nor have we ever had to retrieve
anything inappropriately flushed, but that doesn't mean we are home
free yet. A is still two.
We bought B some new shoes and the kind he wanted
that matched my criteria (really flexible soles) happened to be lace-up
black and pink Converse high-tops. This is his first set of
lace-up shoes, and we haven't yet taught him to tie them himself.
This is sometimes frustrating for him since he needs help
putting them on, but he's not to the point of wanting to learn enough
to work with us on it. It seemed sending him off to school (where
I wouldn't be there to re-tie his shoes if they came untied) with his
laces securely tied would be a good idea. And indeed it is, but
there is a way of tying a shoe securely without using a knot they can't
untie by themselves when they actually do want their shoe off...
The trick is to tie it by making two loops around
and poking it through instead of the regular one. It works
great. It makes is less likely to untie by itself, but comes
loose
with an appropriate tug on the lace end.
Thanks to PJ for this lovely new mommy trick.
I hate that ubiquitous workplace kitchen or
breakroom
sign: "Please pick up after yourself. Your mother doesn't work here."
First of all, of course she doesn't.
Second of all, even if she did, I wouldn't (and you
shouldn't)
expect her to clean up after you. I wouldn't be offended by a
sign
that stopped at reminding folks to clean up their own messes, but the
assumption
that mothers would/should/do pick up constantly after their offspring
sticks
in my craw.
I fully intend to teach my children to clean up
their
own messes. B and A aren't yet three and both of them
enjoy
running around the house in the evening putting their toys in the right
places.
A isn't fourteen months yet and he thinks it is great fun to
help
put wet clothes in the dryer and close the door. B loves
feeding
the dog and the cat.
Will my kids have chores? Formal ones? I
suspect
so. I believe a family is a community and that shared work is
more
fun, goes faster, and is necessary to the smooth running of a
household.
Kids and adults are each part of that community. I don't
want
any job to be beyond any of us. While I am happy to teach the way
I
have found most efficient at stacking plates or storing clothes, I
never
want to have to own, say, wiping the table, because I don't believe the
others
are capable of a good job. I don't intend to get my kids doing
all
of the scut work so I can play. Rather than have them wash the
dishes
while I read a book, I'd rather do as I remember growing up and have
all
four of us wash, rinse and dry, clear the table and put away food, and
sweep
the floor at the same time. As I said, shared work is
better.
Mothers have enough to do without going into their
offspring's
workplaces and washing their cups. Try doing what one of my
former
bosses did and recycle/donate/throw them out (after a suitable warning)
instead
of martyring yourself and cleaning up others' messes. Picking up
after
others doesn't make you a good mother, a mother, or a help to the messy
ones.
Do it cheerfully or not at all, but don't post that annoying sign.
I let B cry as hard and as long as he wishes.
I don't hush him or get embarrassed. I hold him and give
comfort. I affirm his pain and repeat his story to him calmly:
"You tripped on mommy's feet and your head hit the edge of the table.
That must have hurt
a lot. I'm so sorry that you were hurt. I love you very
much.
I don't like it when you get hurt." or "I'm sorry,
but
I can't let you play with that, sweetheart. You might bite
through
it and get hurt. It's dangerous and I want you to be safe.
I
know you're feeling angry and frustrated. It's hard when you
can't
play with what you want, but I don't want you to be hurt. I love
you."
Because...
I'm trying to convey that crying is okay. I
want him to cry it all out and be finished with it rather than stuff it
away
for later in some other form. I want to comfort him. I want
him to have a model for how to tell me what happened as part
of the regular routine of being comforted, or feeling upset, angry or
hurt.
I think it is especially important because B is
a
boy and these messages are not ones he's going to get from our society
without
our parenting filter. I don't want his crying to be hushed up or
ignored.
I don't want his cries to be always interpreted as anger rather
than
hurt. I don't want his hurts to be brushed off or laughed at as
though
he didn't or shouldn't experience them as physically or emotionally
injurious.
I will do my best not to magnify hurts by over-reacting, but I
will
also do my best not to minimize them by telling him not to cry.
For as long as I can remember, I have abhorred
the
words "tits" and "boobs." "Boobies" and "titties" are even worse.
They're "breasts," thank you. I have no real idea why; I'm
not sure if even my mom has a theory. (Did I hear them as
pejorative and refuse to
take part? Was it because other girls talked about theirs with
those
terms and I didn't have mine yet? I don't know.)
Now I'm in a stage where other moms' and my own
breasts have true function. I find myself inundated with new
slang terms for nursing and milk that also make me uncomfortable.
I refuse to use
"nee nee," "nursies," "num-nums," "noo noos," "maju," "drinkies," or
"beebees," and
therefore my kids don't either. I have referred to milk as
"sleepy
juice" and its converse, "a personally formulated energy drink," but
most
commonly use "mama milk" (to differentiate from cow milk) or the sign
language
for milk. That's what both of my children use. B's
first
sign was for milk, and I haven't taught him to be shy about asking
verbally
for "mama milk" in any situation he feels he needs it. A is
just
starting to put together an effective appeal to nurse and it's not
clear
yet whether that will include the sign, the syllables, or both.
What to call one's breasts, milk, and the act of
nursing is a very personal decision, of course. I don't believe
other women are wrong, necessarily; I just can't do it myself.
And so "breast,"
"nipple," and "milk" join the panoply of other body part names I teach
my
children: "head," "fingers," "knees," "elbows," "toes," "penis,"
"vulva,"
"scrotum," "teeth," "nose...." I am glad that they don't need
interpreters,
that they don't know or feel shame at talking about bodies, and perhaps
will
not inadvertently offend some far-off girlfriend who feels like I do.
Every newborn I know gets goopy eyes at some
point
early
in their lives. The best way to clear this up quickly and without
fuss
is with breast milk. Yup, breast milk. It's pH balanced,
full of
antibodies and a complement of immune system goodness, near at hand,
effective
and cheap. Squirt it in their eyes, was the advice I was given
(by
a pediatrician in a Bradley class before I had kids). This proved
harder
to do than it sounded only because I had to aim. In those early
breastfeeding
days, while I was checking or filling bottles for the freezer, I
sprayed
little streams of milk all over the place - I later found them inside
car
windows, on dressers, in books.
Holding the baby in the right spot, dripping it in,
timing it between blinks, wiping up the misses and the goop from their
eyes
with a tissue... it became sort of a family affair. Wipe the goop
away
until it is clear and repeat as needed. Our kids' eyes cleared in
a
day or so. As a last resort, if you're having trouble getting the
breast milk
in the eyes themselves, I suggest collecting it in a small bowl or
bottle
and dribbling from there instead. However you get the milk in
there,
it works like a charm.
It's going to happen. Some kind stranger,
or
the
staff at a restaurant, or a friend at a birthday party, or customer
service
at Whole Foods, is going to hand your child a helium balloon.
Perhaps
they will tell your child to hold on to it, however impractical advice
for
someone not yet one or two or five. You may fear the balloon will
pop
and scare your child, that they will choke on pieces of limp balloon,
or
that the ribbon will wrap itself around their neck. Your kid,
however,
will be delighted and enthralled with the balloon floating on a string
in
the air. You can prevent these tragedies by never leaving them
unattended
with the balloon. You can prevent heartbreak from the balloon
floating
away to a high ceiling or the clear blue yonder by learning a simple
slipknot
for the ribbon.
To create a loop that enlarges and contracts
smoothly
and repeatedly (as around your child's wrist, hint, hint), take the
ribbon
and fold it back up. Instead of tying it to itself where it is
floating
straight up, cross the upright ribbon and tie it to itself before the
cross.
That little knot now has its own loop threaded through it and can
slide
up and down it making the loop bigger, smaller, and bigger again.
It
is simple, easy (try it!), and a skill you will find teaching to other
moms,
nieces and nephews, strangers in the store, and eventually your kids.
Thank
you, Mo, for passing on this handy little mommy skill years before
I knew I needed it.
The immunization question has been a hard one.
On
one hand we have my midwife, friend, and the population of folks more
scared
of vaccine reactions than the diseases themselves. On the other
hand
we have the clinic, the CDC, and the status quo. My knowledge of
viruses
and vaccines, of human biology and health, leads me to respect
vaccinations
and the public health desire to improve the health of not just my baby
but
the community at large as well. I believe that I am a critical
thinker
and am not just accepting the small risks of vaccinations because I am
told.
Both B and A were also little and early; when a
contraindication
to the vaccine is being less than six weeks old, do I count them as
nine
weeks, or three?
So we refused the Hepatitis B vaccine at birth (the
risk
of transmission being limited to blood-borne methods and his size made
us
decide to put it off for a while). Mostly I read a lot and then
made
traditional choices. We decided to go ahead with the combined
measles
mumps rubella vaccine. We decided to go ahead with the chicken
pox
vaccine. We ended up doing everything on the schedule when it was
due,
actually, ignoring B and A's due dates. We still haven't
done
Hep B, but we likely will before they are school aged.
Deciding to go ahead and doing it, though, were two
different
processes. At B's two-month appointment, the nurse came in with
four
needles on a tray. I signed while C held B. We'd
given
B some infant Tylenol already since we'd been warned that pertussis
hurts.
C said he felt like he was betraying the little guy; said
B
handled it better than he did. B cried. Then he nursed
some
and went to sleep on our way out. He was fussy for about an hour
a
few hours later and I gave him some more Tylenol.
We want to protect him from devastating diseases and
one
way to do that is through some momentary pain now. It's a hard
lesson
anytime. Investments are not always easy, but often worthwhile.
Reading Faster by James Gleick has
changed
how I see television. Everything
is so sped up, from commercials to regular programming to Sesame
Street.
Not only do I want to limit the television that B is exposed
to,
but also I want to make sure that he's not fed a steady diet of super
short attention
span programming. To me that means baseball games with skipped
commercials, older family films as well as Mister Rogers. There's
a
hyperactive, attention-deficit, panic-at-the-lack-of-time, pressure
with
which I do not want to gift my child.
Though B is interested (at 5 months) in the
changing
lights, colors, and faces in the shows we watch, Gleick points out the
media
continues to push the limits into unintelligibility of what our brains
can
process. Cramming in, shaving seconds, overlapping sounds from
scene
to scene, cutting faster and faster. It is disturbing.
I want to give B time. Time to play, to
imagine,
and to daydream. Time to solve problems. Time to live a
good life.
After all, he gets the same amount no matter how he feels about
it.
Let him use it or fritter it as he wishes without guilt or
anxiety.
I'm afraid he will be contaminated enough by me and C and
the
rest of the MTV world, but I will try. I want to give him a
childhood,
let him be a kid. He only gets one shot at it, however long it
is.
When I read aloud, I always read the title page
first,
both sides. "Big Bad Bunny... by Alan Durant, illustrated by Guy
Parker-Rees..."
I'll say, for example, flipping the page, "For Josie, whose idea this
was
(A.D.), and To Bun in the oven and Bun's mum (G.P.R.)."
I want my kids to realize that someone in particular
writes
books, that someone in particular illustrates them. I want them
to
start learning the flavor of certain authors and styles. I want
them
to recognize that they always like the rhyming rhythm of Dr.
Seuss
or Charlotte Pomerantz, or that they are likely to find characters from
Peggy
Rathmann's books in her other books among the finely drawn details.
I
want them to be able to distinguish A.A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh
stories
from Disney's and value the more complex stories over the slicked
together
versions. I want them to understand that books come from people
who
have lives and kids, friends and gifts. I want them to imagine
writing
or drawing books themselves. "This is something you can do: make
up
stories and bring them to life for other people to read and enjoy," I
want
to say. I guess I am also saying that I value those
contributions;
that the author and illustrator are as important as the title.
Okay, so I don't (at this point) read ALL of the
small
print aloud. ISBNs and copyright dates are not a part of the
repertoire.
However, when my kids start telling stories and I staple paper
together
to make books for them to draw and write in, if they include ISBNs and
copyright
dates, library card holders and page numbers, you can be sure that I
will
read their small print contributions too!
this was formulated in response to a question
asking
for advice on parenting #2 when #2 was always getting into her
brother's
stuff
I will try to provide some specific examples of
things
that our family does to try to deal with similar issues since you can't
"watch"
us very well from where you are. Feel free to adapt as best
fits.
[My son B will be 3 at Thanksgiving and my son A is 15 months
(20
months apart). Both of them play incredibly well by
themselves.]
Ideally, you want your kids to be able to solve
these
issues without you having to step in. You will have to repeat
your
rules (a lot) in front of both children, and intervene whenever
someone's
about to be clobbered (of course), but your goal is to have your older
child
provide solutions so that they are both happy playing together or
separately
together.
First, some of the rules in our house:
* "No hurting each other." B will list things off for
his
brother "no hitting, no biting, no kicking," but this is what I try to
emphasize,
since it can be expanded to emotional issues as well as avoid the
logical
problems with kicking-is-okay-sometimes-(e.g. balls,
pillows)-but-not-others.
* "You may not take things away from someone else. There
are
3 acceptable options: wait for it, ask for it, or trade for it."
This
comes up a lot since whatever one is playing with is automatically and
suddenly
attractive to the other. Trying to interest the younger in
something
else can be difficult when the older then wants to abandon
whatever
he was wanting to play with "by himself" to join in with the younger
one.
This morning a baby gate became the solution between the trains in the
living
room (B) and the play room and a parent (A) when they decided
they
would most like to stand on opposite sides of the gate and laugh at
each
other.
* "It's not YOURS." At some point B and A will have
toys
that are just theirs, but not yet. Toys and books and stuffed
animals
were given to one (usually the older) or the other, but they are meant
for
the family as a whole. The "special toy" philosophy doesn't work
well
for our family - I have seen this get out of control (everything
becomes
special, or off-limits to others, or you end up fighting about what is
or
is not special). Even the dog that B often sleeps with can be
given
over with a "I'm not sleepy or hurt or crying so A can play with it
now."
We try not to emphasize that an object IS someone's -- by not bringing
ownership
up, for one, and by talking about (and praising when it happens)
sharing.
"It's OURS, and A has it now. If you want to play with it you
can
wait for it, ask for it, or trade for it." There are some toys
that
are not appropriate for A to play with yet (cardboard pieces that
he'll
chew on, or toys with little pieces) and I involve B in keeping
A
and the toys safe.
* "Ask for help." This came up more and more as A got more
mobile.
We committed ourselves to dropping what we were doing and come running
when
B succeeded at saying "Help, help" instead of pushing,
grabbing,
etc., or when A was in danger. What's the problem?, we
ask.
This gives B experience at diagnosing the situation and
verbalizing
what it is he wants (to play by himself, to keep his project intact,
etc.)
and then we can talk more about solutions and what we would be willing,
or
unwilling, to do. "I will try to keep A busy in the other
room,
but this is his living room too."
Okay, now for some more situations:
- B has set up the gears building set in the middle of the
floor
and A comes over. A grabs. I restrain his hands and
interpret
for him. "B, it looks like A wants to play with the gears
too.
Is there some part he can play with?" He hands over a
piece.
A rejects it. I interpret again. "It doesn't look like
A
wants that. Can he have some of the gears to spin?" B
says
no. "Well, I think then that he's going to be interfering with
your
project. He really likes to spin things. Can you make
something
that he could spin?" This appeals to B. He puts
together
a gear on a stick for his brother and they both happily play with
their
parts. This is not completed without squawking from A until he
is
satisfied, by the way; he doesn't like being restrained.
- Sand toys at the park. Some digging, some castle
stomping.
"B, what do you think A wants?" You want your son to be
able
to judge the situation and his sister. Then, you can encourage
him
to think about solutions. "How can you make A
happy?"
And then find one that works. "That didn't seem to work. Is
there
something else you could try?"
- B has animals standing up in a line across the floor.
A
comes over and knocks some down. B tries to shove A
away.
"No hurting each other, B." B complains. "Well,
that's
going to happen when you have toys on the floor. What else could
you
try? Maybe you could set them up on the coffee table."
- A table that is clear and out of reach of the younger is
helpful.
Playing one-on-one when you can is helpful. A portable baby gate
is
helpful. Like naps for the little one, a high chair and fun to
eat
snacks can help give you time with the older child as well.
- B grabs a toy away. A goes to bite. I
separate
them, repeat "No hurting each other, guys," and tell B to give the
toy
back to his brother, that we can't grab it away from him and give him
the
three options. I help return the toy and suggest he try asking
(which
has been working lately). B asks and A hands it
over.
I remind B that he has to thank his brother so A feels good
about
giving it to him. B thanks A, who has gotten
interested
in something else.
- B is building with blocks. A comes over and knocks some
down.
"B, can you find a way to play with A?" I suggest that he
build
towers for A to topple on purpose. I help set an example and
am
enthusiastic in getting this to be fun, providing boom crash sound
effects
and seeing how high we can build before A knocks it over.
- B is happy helping put wet clothes in the dryer. A wants
to
participate. "Oh look, B, A wants to help too. He
doesn't
know how to do this yet. Can you show him how?" Get the
older
to teach the younger. He'll start to parrot you too. "Put
it
in the dryer, A." "Good job!" "We're helpful."
The messages you are trying to communicate to your
son
with all of this are: Your sister is not going away. Your
sister's
needs and wants are valued. You are a family. You can help
find
a solution. You can play together. You can figure out
how
your sister is feeling and you can make her happy.
The messages you are trying to communicate to your
daughter
with all of this are: Both your and your brother's needs are
important.
You can play together. Sometimes you can play with your brother's
things;
sometimes you can't. Your brother's projects are not always more
important
than yours.
Solutions that your kids generate for themselves may
not
be what you would come up with. What looks "fair" to them may not
to
you, but if it works for them, leave it be. Most likely, the
ability
of your son to pawn off the broken parts of toys on his sister will be
short-lived,
anyway. It is the process that is important.
Also, another book to try is "Raising Siblings" by
Carole
and Andrew Calladine. Like "Siblings Without Rivalry," it is also
mostly
applicable to children able to reason, but was helpful in
suggesting
philosophies that may appeal.
This has been a very long-winded response, but I
hope it had some helpful bits. Good luck!
At the moment, B, A and I all have a cold.
Stuffy,
runny noses and nasty coughs. What is driving me up the bleeping
wall
is X's constant comment on each and every cough, or running nose.
Yes, they coughed, or blew their nose or had it
wiped.
That doesn't mean anything. Doesn't mean it hurt, doesn't
mean
they don't feel well, doesn't mean it even bothers them. Let's
not
invest it with our own meaning.
I'm trying to teach my boys to (and how to) talk
about
how they are feeling. They have a hard time identifying that, let
alone
voicing that, if we are constantly pointing out our own vision of what
we
think that should be.
I am prepared to admit that my own response to cold
viruses
(or unknown illness) may not be the best. I resent being sick and
find
it hard to relieve myself of responsibilities. But I certainly do
not
wish C's hypochondriatic tendencies or fear on my children.
X's
constant, unrelenting remarks on each cough seem to provide an
environment
that welcomes fear, panic, and worry.
I haven't done anything yet but provide my same calm
and
businesslike handling of the coughs and sniffles. I am hoping
that
the colds pass quickly, and that B learns more from me than from X
about
sickness and himself. B's only sign so far has been saying
"I've
got a nasty cough." I will continue to ask how my kids feel
before
suggesting how they should feel. I will believe their responses.
If
B asks for Tylenol, or mama milk, he likely needs it. If he
says
he feels well, as he did upon waking this morning, I will believe him
as
well.
I will hope they have little sickness to deal with
in
their lives, try to show empathy and care for those who are ill, and be
gentle
with their own sick selves. I will try not to swing too far
toward
blitheness
in response to C's worries, and drink lots of fluids in between
naps.
M asked the strangest question yesterday
(9/3/02):
"Do you love this one as much?"
The short answer, of course, was YES! And I
went
on to explain that love is not quantifiable, comparable. She
loved
her husband and her child each in different ways, not one more than the
other.
Just so with B and A. And the things that they do
and
are are a part of that loving. I don't love B because
he
is smart, strong, gorgeous, etc., but that is a part of my loving him.
A
has fewer of those type of qualities evident yet, though he still has
some.
He's got such impressive neck control and strength.
He
can make his little mouth into such a cute pursed "oh" that is SO
small.
He is beautiful. He is warm against my heart. My two
boys
make me very happy.
Love is not a pie, says Amy Bloom in one of her
short stories.
My love for B takes nothing away from A.
My
love for A takes nothing away from B. I am convinced of
that.
I try to spend my days these past five weeks demostrating that to
B.
My time is distributed differently (I get less right now), but
there
is love, and milk, enough for both.