http://www.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/family/11/21/baby.buggies/index.html
Um... duh?
Other things I don't need a study to tell me:
- Babies whose diapers are changed often get fewer rashes than those who aren't
- Babies left in a crib staring at the ceiling all day learn less than those who are played with or carried in their waking hours
- Children wearing shoes get fewer blisters than children not wearing shoes
- Children wearing coats stay warmer in the winter than children not wearing coats.
Use freaking common sense, people. And also, if you have a stroller that face forward, don't go running out to buy a different model if you only have your kid in it for short walks & spend the rest of the time talking and playing with them.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Parents Are To Blame
I was working from home today and found myself participating in a conference call from the inside of a dark closet.
My office, you see, was too noisy. So was my living room, kitchen, and every other room in my apartment. The noise was coming from a young woman outside banging on the door to the building and screaming.
I couldn't really make out what she was saying, and I didn't have the attention span to try because I was busy discussing the finer points of vendor management with co-workers on the other end of the phone.
When my call ended I peered out the window to find my landlord and his wife engaged in a rather lively... um... "conversation" with the aforementioned young lady and someone I later discovered to be her mother.
"I WANT TO TALK TO MY FATHER!! HE WON'T ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE AND I KNOW HE'S LIVING HERE!"
"Look, you can't come around here yelling and banging on the door, telling me to go fuck myself..."
Kayla and Robin were out for a walk, so I leashed up the dog and went outside myself. The girl was waving a picture and a bunch of papers around, she and her mother were yelling at my landlord, and my landlord was doing an impressive job calmly explaining to them that whatever their beef with his tenant, they are not doing themselves any good yelling like lunatics. At one point he said, "Look, I got a lady with a baby living here and you're out here screaming."
Since I'm the lady with a baby he was talking about, I turned and looked their way, at which point the girl decided to start yelling at me.
"THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!"
"Actually, you're making it my business. This is my apartment right here."
"Well, this conversation is none of your business."
"Well then maybe you should be having it at your own home and not mine."
Her mother jumped in. "I'm sorry about that and for disturbing you and your baby, and I'll take it away from here, but now you can walk away because this is a private conversation."
My blood started to boil as I scrambled for a polite way to tell her that she was having her "private conversation" at about 104 decibels in public, and that I have more of a right to be standing here than she did, and that I will NOT walk away, and she and her skank daughter are welcome to try to make me. Then I remembered that my precious Treefrog was on her way back home and decided that I'd rather greet her calmly from inside the apartment than have her find me in the middle of beating some strage woman senseless and have to stop and wipe the blood and bone fragments from my hands and face before giving her a kiss hello.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I smiled and went back inside.
My daughter has done more just by existing to make me a better, calmer, more rational person than any self-determination, introspection, and therapy my entire life before her birth. That said, I have to wonder how gigantic a piece of shit the mother I encountered today must have been before the birth of her daughter if she is still this much of an asshole today.
As for the young lady who started this whole mess-- I pity her. She was young, mid 20's at best, possibly even as young as 17 or 18. Her father is obviously an asshole (won't answer his daughter's calls??) and her mother is probably the one who trained her to handle the situation in the most counter-productive, obnoxious way possible.
At the same time, I see a little bit of myself in her. There have been times when I tried to "handle" a situation by screaming and threatening my way through it, and I'm sometimes tempted to do things that way today. Oh, how I would have loved to leap across the conference table and gauge the eyes out of a condescending colleague last week... but that's another story. The point is, I was fortunate enough to have enough good influences in my life to get past the aggression-is-best mentality and eventually become a relatively mature, well-balanced person who can actually walk away from a senseless fight.
My goal is to be a good enough, strong enough influence in my daughter's life that she never feels the need to scream mindlessly at the empty apartment of someone who wronged her.
As goals go, not too ambitious, I hope.
My office, you see, was too noisy. So was my living room, kitchen, and every other room in my apartment. The noise was coming from a young woman outside banging on the door to the building and screaming.
I couldn't really make out what she was saying, and I didn't have the attention span to try because I was busy discussing the finer points of vendor management with co-workers on the other end of the phone.
When my call ended I peered out the window to find my landlord and his wife engaged in a rather lively... um... "conversation" with the aforementioned young lady and someone I later discovered to be her mother.
"I WANT TO TALK TO MY FATHER!! HE WON'T ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE AND I KNOW HE'S LIVING HERE!"
"Look, you can't come around here yelling and banging on the door, telling me to go fuck myself..."
Kayla and Robin were out for a walk, so I leashed up the dog and went outside myself. The girl was waving a picture and a bunch of papers around, she and her mother were yelling at my landlord, and my landlord was doing an impressive job calmly explaining to them that whatever their beef with his tenant, they are not doing themselves any good yelling like lunatics. At one point he said, "Look, I got a lady with a baby living here and you're out here screaming."
Since I'm the lady with a baby he was talking about, I turned and looked their way, at which point the girl decided to start yelling at me.
"THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!"
"Actually, you're making it my business. This is my apartment right here."
"Well, this conversation is none of your business."
"Well then maybe you should be having it at your own home and not mine."
Her mother jumped in. "I'm sorry about that and for disturbing you and your baby, and I'll take it away from here, but now you can walk away because this is a private conversation."
My blood started to boil as I scrambled for a polite way to tell her that she was having her "private conversation" at about 104 decibels in public, and that I have more of a right to be standing here than she did, and that I will NOT walk away, and she and her skank daughter are welcome to try to make me. Then I remembered that my precious Treefrog was on her way back home and decided that I'd rather greet her calmly from inside the apartment than have her find me in the middle of beating some strage woman senseless and have to stop and wipe the blood and bone fragments from my hands and face before giving her a kiss hello.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I smiled and went back inside.
My daughter has done more just by existing to make me a better, calmer, more rational person than any self-determination, introspection, and therapy my entire life before her birth. That said, I have to wonder how gigantic a piece of shit the mother I encountered today must have been before the birth of her daughter if she is still this much of an asshole today.
As for the young lady who started this whole mess-- I pity her. She was young, mid 20's at best, possibly even as young as 17 or 18. Her father is obviously an asshole (won't answer his daughter's calls??) and her mother is probably the one who trained her to handle the situation in the most counter-productive, obnoxious way possible.
At the same time, I see a little bit of myself in her. There have been times when I tried to "handle" a situation by screaming and threatening my way through it, and I'm sometimes tempted to do things that way today. Oh, how I would have loved to leap across the conference table and gauge the eyes out of a condescending colleague last week... but that's another story. The point is, I was fortunate enough to have enough good influences in my life to get past the aggression-is-best mentality and eventually become a relatively mature, well-balanced person who can actually walk away from a senseless fight.
My goal is to be a good enough, strong enough influence in my daughter's life that she never feels the need to scream mindlessly at the empty apartment of someone who wronged her.
As goals go, not too ambitious, I hope.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
On Birth Plans
In a previous post I mentioned that birth plans often get a bad wrap by people who don't know what planning is.
Good plans include contingencies. Your birth plan will basically be a list of contingencies and preferences. For example:
"I would not like to be offered an epidural. If I want one, I will ask for it."
"In the event of an emergency C-section, I would like to remain conscious unless there is a medical reason to put me under."
There is nothing stupid or naive about wanting your partner, doctor/midwife, and others present at the birth to all clearly understand your needs and preferences, especially where they may differ from the norm. Lord knows you won't have the wherewithal to articulate them when you're in labor.
A birth plan should not be a laundry list of demands, like, "I want to be able to move freely" or "I insist on being allowed to eat solid food during labor." Those are the kind of things that are allowed or restricted by hospital/birth center policy, and you should speak at length with your provider about the policies and regulations for the facility in which you plan to give birth. If an act is against hospital rules, having it in your birth plan won't do a damn thing. It's not a legal document and no one is compelled to follow it. If your provider says that the policy is one thing but that they can make an exception for you, get the exception in writing and add it to the labor bag.
The process of writing a birth plan should be an experience of discovery for you. Look up birth plans online and consider all of the various points they touch upon. Do you agree or disagree? Would you want the same thing mentioned in this plan, or something different? Does your facility allow for your personal preference? What if circumstances change, like the baby's heart rate drops or you turn out to have a higher or lower tolerance for labor pain than you're currently predicting? Write it all down. If you did it right, a few weeks later you should end up with about 10 pages of soul searching and know yourself a little bit better than you did before. This is not your birth plan yet.
Now take the main points of those 10 pages and skin it down to a single-page, bullet-pointed list for your health care provider. Take it to your next appointment (or if they schedule a longer appointment for just this purpose like many providers do, take it to that one) and discuss it.
Remember those contingencies. For every "I want" or "I don't want" on your list, try to think of a situation where that would change, and include it in the shortened list. For just about everything you don't want, you can add "unless deemed medically necessary by the attending." For just about everything you do want, you can reword, "I would like the option of..." since you really don't know what you'll want until the time comes. If what you want is already hospital policy or standard procedure, don't bother including it. No nurse is going to read a list of your preferences and take them seriously if they look like what she's trained to do anyway. For the brief plan that you'll share with those at the birth, focus on that are unconventional.
And if you mention your birth plan to someone with 5 kids who says, "HA! Good luck with that... it's so ridiculous to try to map out exactly how your birth is going to happen," just tell them that yes, moron, it would be ridiculous to do that. Good thing that's not what a birth plan is.
Good plans include contingencies. Your birth plan will basically be a list of contingencies and preferences. For example:
"I would not like to be offered an epidural. If I want one, I will ask for it."
"In the event of an emergency C-section, I would like to remain conscious unless there is a medical reason to put me under."
There is nothing stupid or naive about wanting your partner, doctor/midwife, and others present at the birth to all clearly understand your needs and preferences, especially where they may differ from the norm. Lord knows you won't have the wherewithal to articulate them when you're in labor.
A birth plan should not be a laundry list of demands, like, "I want to be able to move freely" or "I insist on being allowed to eat solid food during labor." Those are the kind of things that are allowed or restricted by hospital/birth center policy, and you should speak at length with your provider about the policies and regulations for the facility in which you plan to give birth. If an act is against hospital rules, having it in your birth plan won't do a damn thing. It's not a legal document and no one is compelled to follow it. If your provider says that the policy is one thing but that they can make an exception for you, get the exception in writing and add it to the labor bag.
The process of writing a birth plan should be an experience of discovery for you. Look up birth plans online and consider all of the various points they touch upon. Do you agree or disagree? Would you want the same thing mentioned in this plan, or something different? Does your facility allow for your personal preference? What if circumstances change, like the baby's heart rate drops or you turn out to have a higher or lower tolerance for labor pain than you're currently predicting? Write it all down. If you did it right, a few weeks later you should end up with about 10 pages of soul searching and know yourself a little bit better than you did before. This is not your birth plan yet.
Now take the main points of those 10 pages and skin it down to a single-page, bullet-pointed list for your health care provider. Take it to your next appointment (or if they schedule a longer appointment for just this purpose like many providers do, take it to that one) and discuss it.
Remember those contingencies. For every "I want" or "I don't want" on your list, try to think of a situation where that would change, and include it in the shortened list. For just about everything you don't want, you can add "unless deemed medically necessary by the attending." For just about everything you do want, you can reword, "I would like the option of..." since you really don't know what you'll want until the time comes. If what you want is already hospital policy or standard procedure, don't bother including it. No nurse is going to read a list of your preferences and take them seriously if they look like what she's trained to do anyway. For the brief plan that you'll share with those at the birth, focus on that are unconventional.
And if you mention your birth plan to someone with 5 kids who says, "HA! Good luck with that... it's so ridiculous to try to map out exactly how your birth is going to happen," just tell them that yes, moron, it would be ridiculous to do that. Good thing that's not what a birth plan is.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sesame Street is Not For Kids
At least, it wasn't when I was watching it. As a kid.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/18/magazine/18wwln-medium-t.html
“These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”
I wonder if this explains my demented sense of humor. But then, why don't I eat pipes?
Saturday, October 18, 2008
First Flight
I have to travel occasionally for work, and told my employer that if I had to be anywhere overnight, Kayla would have to come with me. So for the past two weeks I've been on business trips and I dragged the whole fam damily along with me.
First we went to Virginia, which wasn't bad because my in-laws live 40 minutes from where I needed to work. So Kayla got to visit with her grandma and uncle. The 6 hour drive was actually not too terrible and we did a good job by NOT over-packing. No crib, no bulky stroller, just some clothes, diapers, & a few key toys. She did start to get a little stressed out sometimes by the change in routine, but all in all she took the whole thing in stride.
Next we went to Florida by plane, which I was very nervous about. I worried about her little ears popping, about her being cooped up in a flying tube for three hours, and about jail time I would have to spend if any passengers gave my little munchkin so much as a dirty look if she cried.
But Kayla is a far better diplomat than I am. On the way to our seat on the plane, she smiled at each and every passenger that made eye contact with her. One man in particular had a very hard face. He looked at her, she gave him a big smile. He looked away. Then he looked up again and she was still smiling. Now he looked a little worried and looked away again. Finally he looked up at her gummy smiling face one more time, and she broke him. He submitted to what was probably the first time his face cracked a grin in decades. "Don't worry," I said, "she's just softening you up so you won't hate her when she's screaming later."
Me of little faith! The timing worked out well in that she was hungry as we took off, so I latched her on and she happily nursed during take off, falling asleep by the time we reached cruising altitude. I couldn't believe it was that easy.
The landing, however, was a different story. She wasn't hungry, and she was bored out of her skull with the plane. And the descent must have been more rapid than take off, because I felt the pressure in my own ears much stronger. She squirmed and cried and screamed and was generally inconsolable for about 5 or 6 minutes, which seemed like an eternity. But she got over it quickly once we were off the plane.
Our stay in Florida was uneventful, and the flight back wasn't much different from the one there, except that she needed three diaper changes while we were required to be buckled in. Hubby and I have mastered the art of changing a squirming infant in the back of an Airbus 320 in high turbulence.
We did encounter one grouchy passenger on the way back who would not be broken by Kayla's persistent cuteness. We put the car seat next to us this time to see if it was more convenient than having her sit on our laps, but that means that the seat in front of it can't recline. There were plenty of other open seats and the man sitting there was by himself, so when he approached the row I said, "Sir, I'm sorry but because of my infant car seat, this seat won't be able to recline. So if you want to recline you might want to take one of the other open seats." Kayla and I both smiled gently at him. He just looked at me like I just told him his dog was ugly and said, "No, this is my seat." He took it, and throughout the flight periodically turned around to inspect the infant seat as though I had somehow purposefully installed it in a way that would mess with him, as though I had any other option. Well, fuck that guy. I tried.
Lessons Learned:
First we went to Virginia, which wasn't bad because my in-laws live 40 minutes from where I needed to work. So Kayla got to visit with her grandma and uncle. The 6 hour drive was actually not too terrible and we did a good job by NOT over-packing. No crib, no bulky stroller, just some clothes, diapers, & a few key toys. She did start to get a little stressed out sometimes by the change in routine, but all in all she took the whole thing in stride.
Next we went to Florida by plane, which I was very nervous about. I worried about her little ears popping, about her being cooped up in a flying tube for three hours, and about jail time I would have to spend if any passengers gave my little munchkin so much as a dirty look if she cried.
But Kayla is a far better diplomat than I am. On the way to our seat on the plane, she smiled at each and every passenger that made eye contact with her. One man in particular had a very hard face. He looked at her, she gave him a big smile. He looked away. Then he looked up again and she was still smiling. Now he looked a little worried and looked away again. Finally he looked up at her gummy smiling face one more time, and she broke him. He submitted to what was probably the first time his face cracked a grin in decades. "Don't worry," I said, "she's just softening you up so you won't hate her when she's screaming later."
Me of little faith! The timing worked out well in that she was hungry as we took off, so I latched her on and she happily nursed during take off, falling asleep by the time we reached cruising altitude. I couldn't believe it was that easy.
The landing, however, was a different story. She wasn't hungry, and she was bored out of her skull with the plane. And the descent must have been more rapid than take off, because I felt the pressure in my own ears much stronger. She squirmed and cried and screamed and was generally inconsolable for about 5 or 6 minutes, which seemed like an eternity. But she got over it quickly once we were off the plane.
Our stay in Florida was uneventful, and the flight back wasn't much different from the one there, except that she needed three diaper changes while we were required to be buckled in. Hubby and I have mastered the art of changing a squirming infant in the back of an Airbus 320 in high turbulence.
We did encounter one grouchy passenger on the way back who would not be broken by Kayla's persistent cuteness. We put the car seat next to us this time to see if it was more convenient than having her sit on our laps, but that means that the seat in front of it can't recline. There were plenty of other open seats and the man sitting there was by himself, so when he approached the row I said, "Sir, I'm sorry but because of my infant car seat, this seat won't be able to recline. So if you want to recline you might want to take one of the other open seats." Kayla and I both smiled gently at him. He just looked at me like I just told him his dog was ugly and said, "No, this is my seat." He took it, and throughout the flight periodically turned around to inspect the infant seat as though I had somehow purposefully installed it in a way that would mess with him, as though I had any other option. Well, fuck that guy. I tried.
Lessons Learned:
- Travel light. If your baby can barely roll over, don't bother lugging a crib, even a portable one. Use a baby carrier whenever possible and don't bother with a stroller. Only take enough diapers to get you through the first day & buy what you need when you arrive. Use the extra space in your luggage for extra changes of clothes.
- Understand that the change in routine will be stressful on your little one. Try to follow her lead in terms of naptime, mealtimes, playtime. It's never a good idea to impose a schedule on someone who can't tell time, but in this stressful context it's especially ill-advised.
- Be courteous to airline passengers, but if they give you dirty looks anyway, fuck 'em!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
3 months
Kayla is 3 months old today. This is the end of what some call the "fourth trimester."
She can roll from back to front but not front to back. She tries to talk, and listens when you talk to her. She smiles at everyone. She gets a kick out of watching the dog. She lurrrrrrves her daddy. She thinks I'm pretty neat, too. Her favorite toy is still the Itzbeen. We read to her and point to the words as we read them, and she follows along for about five minutes before she gets bored.
Also, why is this news? Are there no scientists out there with kids, or even nieces or nephews? Or do we just pay that little attention to our children?
She can roll from back to front but not front to back. She tries to talk, and listens when you talk to her. She smiles at everyone. She gets a kick out of watching the dog. She lurrrrrrves her daddy. She thinks I'm pretty neat, too. Her favorite toy is still the Itzbeen. We read to her and point to the words as we read them, and she follows along for about five minutes before she gets bored.
Also, why is this news? Are there no scientists out there with kids, or even nieces or nephews? Or do we just pay that little attention to our children?
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