Soap Box Alert...Where has all the common sense gone?

I read a news article this morning about a little girl who got horribly sunburned at school.  http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/kids-come-home-school-bad-sunburns-responsible-172200498.html

Turns out the school was one not too far from where I grew up.  But in a nutshell, the school was having a field day.  It was cloudy in the morning, and the mom didn't think to sunscreen up her girls before they went to school.  (though even if she had, by noontime, the sunscreen probably would not have been very effective) 

The sun, as it sometimes does in the Pac NW, came out in the afternoon.  And when it comes out around here, it doesn't mess around. 

Our state has laws in place, designed to "Protect our Children."  (In reality, they are designed to protect our schools and teachers from lawsuits.  Lawsuits, which admittedly, do happen.)  But these laws have rendered common sense completely useless.  You see, our "medication guidelines" restrict teachers from applying sunscreen to students.  The children cannot even bring sunscreen to school, unless they have a note from the DOCTOR. 

"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment to see the doctor.  Please bill my insurance, I'll cover the co-pay, and take up the doctors valuable time having him fill out an official school permission form for SUNSCREEN."

Sure, I get it.  Some medications are dangerous and toxic.  For instance, the medication for ADHD.  It's actually an amphetamine. It's got some street value.  Kids sell it to their friends.  (which , they do outside of school just as much as they do in school.)  But, a child comes home from school with a second degree sunburn - which increases the child's risk of developing skin cancer later in life - because the teacher was barred from putting sunscreen on a student, and the student was barred from having sunscreen at school.  (hmm, that could generate a lawsuit or two down the road, skin cancer caused by ridiculously stringent medication guidelines)

My daughters elementary school has gone so far as to have an "allergy" table in the lunchroom.  Yes, that's right, if you're allergic to peanuts, gluten, you name it, you are segregated from the general lunch population.  And made to eat with the "allergy" kids.  (that's what the other kids call them)

My daughter, by the way, is unable to digest the protein in dairy.  Does the school know this?  Nope.  I don't dare tell them, cause I don't want her to get busted over to the "allergy table."  Instead, I've done was most parents of children with food allergies and intolerances have done for years.  I've taught my child to ask "does this have dairy in it?"  And she asks this about everything.  It's actually kind of funny.  If she's offered juice, "Does it have dairy?"  If she's offered strawberries, "Does it have dairy?"  Her intolerance is not life threatening, just painful, so I'm not really putting her safety at risk with my bold statement.  But...even for those kids who are at risk, well the rest of the world doesn't come equipped with allergy tables... do you see where I'm going with this?

My other big question, I've yet to have satisfactorily answered, is this.  "Why are children more flammable at night?"  Don't tell the pajama police, but I've been making my kids pajamas for years out of 100% pure breathable cotton, without added flame retardant chemicals as required by the Federal Flammability Standards for Children's Sleepwear.  Risking their very lives in the process, I know.  But, I'd rather have them sleeping in comfort than sleeping in a toxic soup of chemicals and sweat on the off chance our home bursts into flames. 

This from the CPSC guidelines for production of  children's sleepwear

 What if sleepwear fails the flammability tests?

Rejected units may not be retested, used, or promoted

for use in children’s sleepwear. Rejected units can be

destroyed, exported (only with CPSC approval) ...

Apparently, the CPSC does think it's okay to set foreign children aflame in their jammies.  (btw, I made the "exported" all big and standy outy.  That's not formatting from the CPSC)

And don't even get me started on how quickly polyester nightgowns pill up and fall apart.  Just as an aside, a little observation if you will.  While polyester doesn't burn, it does in fact melt.  Into a solid lump of black plastic.  Hmm, flaming cotton which could theoretically be removed or molten plastic?  You make the call. 

Oh look at that, there's another CPSC clothing recall - seems someone sold a child's hooded jacket with drawstrings....again...oh the horror.  When will these people ever learn !!!

I'm Hungry !!

Where or where are my staff when I need them?  Oh that's right, no staff.  I'm a middle class mom.  We don't have staff.  Bummer.

So I had this dream where my 7 year old daughter was playing on a basketball team.  Which is interesting, because she's in the 25th percentile for height.  (She also just broke 40 lbs, which puts her into the 10th percentile for weight - which means thank heavens for capris and clam diggers.  There will be NO PANTS for her cause the ones that aren't high waters won't stay up around her tiny waist.)

Basically, I'm just typing, because I had this really great idea for a post (no really, I did).  But sometime between now and last night when I thought of it, the great idea has run away with the spoon.  Well, it's just hiding.  Every once in awhile, I get this glimpse of it, "Yes, yes, I was going to write aboooout....," then it's gone.  I'm so close to remembering this idea.  You would not believe how close. 

Shoot, the dog needs to go out. 

Where was I?  Oh yes, I remember, I forgot. 

In the meantime, let me amuse you with this shopping anecdote.  Yesterday, Samantha and I went to the mall.  She may be little, but she's growing like crazy right now, and she needed underwear.  I have determined the best children's underwear on the planet can be found at Gymboree.  I've never had to toss a pair of Gymboree undies due to "undie failure."  The elastic never loses it's stretch.  The seams don't come apart. 

One of the rules I live by, is that everyone in the family, for whom I do the laundry, must have at least 14 pairs of working underpants.  I know, I know, this seems excessive.  But 14 pairs = 2 weeks worth.  You can go without socks, you can re-wear a shirt...but you cannot recycle underpants (contrary to what most boy children believe ) And what if I can't get to the laundry?  (It has happened)  I never want to hear, "Mooooom, I don't have any clean underwear !!"

Back to my story.  We're walking through the mall, towards Gymboree, when suddenly, Samantha stops in her tracks, and looks up at me in horror.  "Mom,"  she says, wide eyed.  "The people in the store are going to know what my underpants look like." 

It seems we've entered a new phase of development.  Embarrassment. hmmm.  I'm going to have to think about that one for awhile.

Math Mom to the Rescue

Want to know how to get on the good side of your elementary school child’s teacher?  Volunteer to be the parent helper for math.  (or art)

 For some reason, we seem to be intimidated by those subjects. 
We really shouldn’t be.  Sure the “new math” we learned in school is now the “old and obsolete math” and confuses the kids when we try to draw on it for their homework.  But that shouldn’t stop us.  It’s a lot more fun to confuse a whole classroom of children than just the one or two we have at home.

And volunteering in the classroom has other perks as well.  For instance, when my daughter announced to me she wanted this boy in her first grade class to be her boyfriend…I knew the boy in question.  Which means I was able to see  my daughter was showing signs of being attracted to the “bad boy.”  Cause this boy likes to cause anarchy in the classroom by whispering the word “fart” to his neighbor while we’re doing our “new new math.”  Oh no, this will never do.  I can’t have my son-in-law whispering “fart” to his neighbor while we are offering up the prayer for our Thanksgiving meal.  Especially if the neighbor is my mother-in-law.  That would not be polite AT ALL.

I have selected a lovely boy in her class as a contender for future spouse.  My husband thinks we should let her choose her spouse….later.  I think though, that this girl needs to get down to business quickly, since I was nearly 40 when she was born.  If she wants help with the grandbabies, she’s going to need to catch me before I turn 80.  Otherwise, she may have an extra set of diapers to change.  (mine)

Besides, if I select her mate now, I have the opportunity to have a hand in raising the boy.  I can gently guide him, while teaching him the “new new math” to have a good work life balance so my daughter doesn’t have a spouse who’s never home in time for dinner with her and the kids.

Oh, and a lovely side effect of being math mom, is that I get to learn the “new new math” alongside my daughter, and hopefully progress at the same rate as her.  That’s right, Algebra…kiss my what?

Time for “the talk”

Today, I’m feeling all powerful and knowledgeable.  Well, not really, especially since I tripped over the dog earlier today and fell flat on my backside onto the hardwood floor.  With a large kersplat of the cup of greek yogurt I was eating.  And now I fully understand why it’s called “hardwood”  Ouch. 

Guess we’ll be finding out if Frankie is lactose intolerant.  Because of course, she licked it all up in the 15 seconds it took me to realize I wasn’t dead or hadn’t broken a hip.  On the plus side, I don’t have any mess to clean up….Of course, one has to wonder if it wasn’t all part of her cunning plan to get at my yogurt?

At any rate, I don’t recall how the subject came up, but this morning, our token bus stop dad asked me about having “the talk” with my older kids.  Seems his second grade son has “questions.” 

I told him not to worry about it, cause the kids on the bus can fill the boy in on the details. 

For some weird reason, he thought it was better if it came from him.  Modern parents, hrmmph.

He thought it was important to answer his son’s questions factually, using the real words.  And for the most part, I agree, but with young children, that’s really not the emphasis.  They aren’t looking for an anatomy lesson.  They don’t care about sperm, or ovulation.  They usually just want to know how the babies get into the mommy, and they want to know how they get out of the mommy.  And they want to know in 25 words or less.  Really that’s all. 

With my kids, I’ve just answered their questions in simplistic terms.  Believe me, if you aren’t imparting enough information, they will ask more questions.  My six year old’s focus right now is on how the babies get out.  So I did what all good modern parents do in this situation….I bought her a book. 

Yes I did.  I bought her a book with a cute cartoon bisection of a baby in the womb, and a cute cartoon depiction of the birth process.  This along with an explanation of the “special opening” mommies have in their private parts for the babies to come out was all she needed.  She was satisfied.  And now all her dolls are pregnant, with tiny stuffed animals under their shirts.  Every once in awhile, one of them will drop out, and voila, a new life enters the world. 

At the risk of raising the ire of feminists worldwide…not once did the words penis or vagina enter into the conversation.  Sure, she knows those words.  She knows the penis is a boys private part, and the vagina is a girls private part.  She hasn’t asked any more about it, so I’m not volunteering more.  (K.I.S.S.) – keep it simple, stupid.

When she wants to know more, I feel quite certain she’ll ask.  Children are very good at asking questions.  Oh yes they are !!

Parenting Nuggets

Before I was a mom, I was giving my 4 year old niece some grape juice in a cup.  I asked her dad how much to give her. 

His reply, "only as much as you want to clean up when it gets spilled."

Cut to today.  My six year old has hit the spilling phase.  Pretty much a day doesn't go by, that a cup of something doesn't get knocked over. 

Then it occurred to me...instead of putting her drink in a cute, yet unbreakable, plastic princess cup, why not put it in a heavy glass?  We have these seriously solid "French working man" glasses.  Takes two hands for her to lift.  Takes lots of force to knock over.  Our spills have been greatly reduced. 

Other great pieces of advice I've received:

• When your child says they are going to throw up....believe them.
• Underpants for small children are inexpensive...it's okay to throw them away after a poop incident.
• 2 weeks worth of socks and underwear is not an excessive amount.
• Not everything needs to be negotiable.
• Sometimes you just gotta say "knock it off"
• There's no such thing as too much snuggling.
• It's only paint.
• Don't be afraid of a little dirt.
• Say yes, more than you say no.
• Children should have an expiration date.  Somewhere around 18 years after they are born, at which point it's not unreasonable to expect them to behave like an adult.
• Think of the teenage years as "grownup practice."

What great pieces of advice have you received?

Why I like Junie B. Jones

Junie B. Jones is a brat.  She's mouthy, she's naughty, she's sometimes mean, she uses words I don't allow used in our house.  She usually means well, and often just gets in over her head and doesn't know how to get out.

As mom's and former kindergartners ourselves, we totally get Junie B. Jones.  (Once you get over the initial shock, and once you stop feel guilty for allowing your precious and impressionable child to read this)

Our children are either a) Junie B. Jones...or b) plays with someone just like Junie B. Jones. 

In short, Junie B. Jones and her behavior is nothing new to our precious and impressionable children. 

Junie B. Jones books do require parental involvement.  I read each one aloud to my daughter.  Snuggled on the couch, or cuddled up under the covers in her bed.  Junie B. Jones give us lots of "learning opportunities" and "talking points".  We talk a lot about how she would deal with someone who was like Junie B. Jones.

My daughter thinks Junie B. Jones is funny.  She thinks burping is funny.  She thinks knock knock jokes without a punch line are funny.  "knock knock, who's there, bunny, bunny who, bunny ate a rock"  (cut to fits of giggles)  She's seven.  (almost)

My daughter will spend an hour sitting on the couch, reading Junie B. Jones to herself.  Cover to cover.  Then read it over again.

Only guess what, that's why I like Junie B. Jones.

french 101

Might as well jump on the the French Parenting bandwagon.  BTW, does anyone actually know what a bandwagon is, and are strangers really welcome to just hop aboard?  I see an internet quest coming.

One of my favorite blogs is Design Mom.  (my all time favorite blog is "Methods of a Mostly Managing Mom...yours too, right?  Right? )   Her post today was regarding this topic. 

Then, on the way to finding "Curious George" on PBS this morning, we made a brief pitstop at "The Today Show", and they were talking about French parenting. 

French parenting was also the topic du jour amongst the bus stop moms and our token bus stop dad this morning.

All of this came about because of this Wall Street Journal Article last Saturday.  "Why French Parents are Superior."  I highly recommend reading it, if you haven't already.

The crux of the article, written by Pamela Druckerman, an American living in Paris and author of the book "Bringing Up Bebe," is that French parents have somehow managed to teach their children to be patient and wait nicely.  Like in public.  Like at restaurants.  Restaurants in public.  All the time.  Without meltdowns. 

The book is being released today.  Oh yes, I will be giving this book a read !!  Yes I will.

What's for Dinner?

"I'm hungry, when's dinner?"  Sound familiar?  I hear it every day starting around 4:00 pm.  Of course my first thought is "What, didn't I just feed you yesterday?!!" 

But, apparently children need to be fed each and every day...multiple times a day in fact.   Sheesh.  My husband and I both grew up in homes where dinner was at the table, all of us at the same time, every day.

By the time we got married, he'd been a single dad for several years, and dinnertime had kind of fallen apart for him and the kids.  He had a nanny, and she fed the kids before he got home from work, so he would either eat the leftovers, standing in the kitchen, or nuke a burrito.  I had fallen into the habit of eating dinner from the pan at the stove. 

We knew we had this family to make...so we started with dinner.  Together, at the table.  And boy was it a hassle.  The kids fought and complained about the food.  They complained that they couldn't watch "Sponge Bob" during dinner.  "What do you mean, I can't read at the table?"

And so it went.  Hurry up with dinner, so we can be out the door with the Karate Kid for his seven pm class.  Or Ballerina Girl for her seven pm class.  Youth group on Wednesdays.  Etc.  The battles over food and talking nice to each other continued. 

I can't tell you how many times I wanted to give up, and just run them through the drive thru on our way to wherever.  Just to have a little less stress and a little more peace.

Yet, now that two of the kids are grown and out of the house, when you ask them their favorite thing about growing up, they'll tell you it was when their dad and I got married and we started having dinner together every night.  Regardless of what was going on, it was something they could always count on.  Hmmm?  Kids !!