Peekaboo Beans - quality children's clothes with some pretty cool benefits

I was compensated for the following review with a pair of pants that didn't fit me well so I gave them to Brandon. Opinions are my own.

My good friend, Vicky, sells this Canadian brand of clothing - Peekaboo Beans (PB) - and the quality is amazing. When she asked me if I would do a review, I was happy to oblige. 

Brandon calls his Peekaboo Beans clothes "peas in a pod" because of the company's logo sewn on to all their clothes. It's seriously cute.

PB clothes are meant to be comfortable, functional and allow kids to play. (This is mostly why I was so disappointed that they didn't fit me. I like comfy clothes. Sorry, Vicky; there's a downside to every product.)

The tags even encourage children to play!

All the pertinent stuff we parents need to know is right there on the front of the tags.

Rather than toss it away, you can give it to your child to turn into a wee little piece of art.

As the mother of a child with autism who also has sensory processing disorder (SPD), I have so much appreciation for the thought that has gone into PB clothes. That tag being removable means that kids who are bothered by tags won't have problems wearing Peekaboo Beans. 

Even though the big tag is gone, I don't have to wonder what size Brandon's clothes are with the less bothersome smaller tags left behind.

Another bonus is the thumb holes that are so helpful to Canadian kids and parents for roughly nine months of the year (maybe 6 depending on where you live). Thumb holes mean arms of your child's shirt aren't going to get bunched up when it's time to bundle up. (No doubt this is also helpful for kids with SPD.)

Brandon really loves his pirate ship shirt with the thumbholes. (Don't try saying that too fast.)

He doesn't wear this shirt without using the thumb holes.

The pants have fake ties for the younger kids, but Brandon is old enough now to wear pants that have a real drawstring. 

So, how does this outfit look now that I've talked about it so much?

Not too bad at all when it's sitting on the counter.

Though I think the best part is when there's a cute kid filling it out. ;)

In addition to selling Peekaboo Beans, Vicky is just a really great person to know. You can get to know the uber-fabulous Vicky by following her on Twitter or liking her Facebook page.

I've been a little behind on my writing (as you may have noticed since there's been a two-month gap between this post and my last), so the PB line has moved on from winter and is into spring and summer. You should definitely check out the new line!

We all need a better mirror and a little kindness

I was in sixth grade when I started noticing the things about myself that were different. The most obvious difference was my skin. I don't tan. I burn and then go back to my pasty white skin.

I was dubbed Casper. It could have been worse, I suppose.

And then it got worse.

"Did your mama drop you in a tub of bleach?" was just one of the cracks they made about my pale skin. 

It wasn't bullying. No, it was just inconsiderate children not knowing when to stop because they're hurting another human being.

The day it stopped was the worst day of all. Incessantly pointing out how pale I was. Making jokes that weren't funny...at least to me.

I felt like less and less likeable the longer the barrage continued.

I finally left the room without a word to my teacher or fellow students. I ran to the bathroom and cried, wishing with everything in me that I was not the person I was.

If you can’t see something beautiful about yourself

Get a better mirror

Look a little closer

Stare a little longer

Eventually I stopped listening to the voice in my head telling me that being different was a bad thing. I learned to appreciate my pale skin. I stopped caring so much what my peers thought about me. I figured out how to like myself as I was. 

It may seem like a trivial matter, this issue of having pale skin. So, let me add some context: I was eleven and lived in Florida.

It mattered to me, even if it didn't matter to anyone else.

It's still a battle sometimes to like parts of me that I view as less than perfect. But I have never let myself go back to feeling as if the person I am isn't good enough.

I hope everyone who sees this video goes out to find a better mirror, take a closer look and stare a little longer until there's no doubt in their mind that they are beautiful and valuable, just as they are.

Kindness Week in Ottawa is wrapping up today - let's go be kind to one another every day for another year, my friends.

Sunrise to sunset: a beautiful, but tragic day

As I drove in to work this morning, I had the urge no less than about 20 times to stop the car and get out my camera to capture the sunrise. I was so captivated by it. The sun was this huge orange ball in the sky, slowly rising into obscurity behind a bank of clouds, only to slowly peek out again over them. For 30 minutes, I watched as it got higher and higher, hoping that when I (finally) got to a place where I could stop that it wouldn’t be too late to take the pictures I wanted.

This wasn’t the most stunning part of the sunrise, but it was still very pretty. The day started out with this beauty that fascinated me. I became obsessed with capturing that beauty, even if only a piece of it, to look back and remember.

It’s hard to believe that with such a beautiful start to the day it would just hours later turn to grief and heartache for the community of Newtown, Connecticut. The sun no doubt rose over Sandy Hook Elementary in similar brilliant fashion. But I’ll never understand what drove a young man to murder his mother, eight of her colleagues and 18 children. There is no doubt in my mind that he was a very troubled young man. 

This mass shooting - a horrendous tragedy - has had a profound effect on me. I’ve never cried before. I did today. I cried because my own little boy is in school and I know I would be devastated if he witnessed or was injured or even killed through similar circumstances.

All afternoon, I fought tears in my effort to maintain a professional front. All I wanted to do was go pick Brandon up from daycare and hold him close. Though I ended up working late, that’s exactly what I did. I gave him a big hug and then we just hung out together. 

He helped me smile again, despite the sadness of the day.

The best part of the day was bedtime. I lay in his bed snuggled with him where he told me he loves me very much. And I cried, because I love him so much too, but also because hearing those words out of my little guy’s mouth is one of the sweetest things I could ever receive. I can count on my hands how many times I’ve heard those three words pass his lips, but tonight he said it three times. 

It’s almost like he knew I needed to hear it. He let me snuggle with him and hug him close and tell him I love him back. And I stayed with him until he dropped off to sleep.

My heart aches for the parents and loved ones who won’t ever hear their children say they love them or get to hug and snuggle with them again. I hope and pray that they have beautiful memories to cherish. Most of all, I hope they find peace. The Sandy Hook children and faculty will not be forgotten. 

The key to selflessness is having children...yeah, right.

I have often said that parents are the single most judged group in society. I have no statistical analysis to back up my claim, but there has never been a stage of my life where I’ve felt looked down on or held to a certain standard more than since I became pregnant with Brandon.

I think many parents (especially mothers?) feel that way at one point or another. Matt and I have talked about it a lot and decided early on not to get too caught up in comparing what Brandon is doing with other kids. I’ve had those discussions where we all talk about the age our child did something and how they went about it, but that’s rarely purely comparison so much as it’s sharing different experiences. Every child is different, after all.

One discussion I don’t think I’ve ever had with friends is why they had kids. I have no idea how I’d answer that question myself. I’ve always wanted to have children and I can’t tell you why. The desire for a child became overwhelming after I had a miscarriage - a pregnancy that wasn’t “planned”. The topic of when I was going to have kids came up a lot after I miscarried, mostly among people who didn’t know I’d lost a baby.

In one instance, a chauvinist pig coworker decided to ask me when I was planning to have kids. It had been over 18 months since I miscarried, but I was still raw and this guy was the last person I would ever confide in. I lied and told him I didn’t know if I would have any kids. (Well, I guess it wasn’t a complete lie - you never know 100% for sure you can.) He proceeded to ask me why and tell me I really should think about because parenthood is so great.

His persistence on such a personal issue left me without any words other than the sarcastic ones ringing in my head: “Yes, I’ll be sure to let you know just as soon as Matt and I decide on the when. You’ll be the first on my list to tell.” 

After the grilling I received, I vowed never again to ask someone if they want kids or when they will have them. (Well, unless it came up in conversation and there was a natural opening that wouldn’t make me sound like a total busybody. There’s a difference between getting to know someone and being nosy about their decisions.) The main reason? Because it’s none of my business what someone else’s life plans are. 

The expectations that are default in society are being challenged and changed by each new generation. Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in controversial ways. 

Somehow, though, there are still some archaic ideas out there that shock me:

Having children used to be the point of being a pair. It was the great aspiration — along with finding love everlasting — a biological impulse to go forth and multiply and, later, once your babies reached a certain age, to cajole them about the merits and benefits of doing their bit to join the ranks of parenthood while giving Mom and Dad some grandkids.

This is a quote from Joe O’Connor’s recent piece in the National Post (my favorite rag this week), “Trend of couples not having children just plain selfish”. Sure, there’s some truth to what Mr. O’Connor says, but that doesn’t mean that it’s the right reason for “being a pair”. I didn’t marry my husband for his sperm or ability to procreate; I married him because I wanted to spend my life with him - kids or no kids.

I remember a couple telling me years ago that they were too selfish to have children. And you know what? I respect that. Life changed for that couple and they now have a child. They’re great parents who are involved and unselfish. But I certainly wouldn’t fault them if they’d maintained their “selfish” stance and remained childless. I think there is an overburdened foster care system that proves truly self-centered people who refuse to change are not good candidates for parenthood. So, why should anyone be faulted for knowing they don’t want or shouldn’t have kids?

So, while this article focused on the lavish lifestyle of childless couples, which is a suspect claim to say the very least, it completely left off many very legitimate concerns. What about the following situations?

• Are infertile couples selfish?
• Are couples with financial troubles selfish?
• How about adults who grew up with abuse and fear doing the same? Also selfish?
• And a couple who finds out both carry cistic fibrosis or another life-threatening genetic marker?
• Or perhaps a couple where one or both have a debilitating disease or disability?
• The article addresses life partners who choose not to have children, but what about people who choose not to enter a relationship and have children? Are they also selfish? 
• Am I selfish for having only one child? Because having another isn’t a guarantee.
• What about couples who make a conscious choice to adopt rather than have their own biological children? (I would say that’s the most unselfish option of all, personally.)

I wonder if Mr. O’Connor and the people who (in the comments) agree with him have stopped to consider that their tunnel vision perspective on this issue is unfair and rather exclusive to what is likely a small minority of people that choose not to have children. And if they genuinely are too selfish, having kids isn’t likely to make them less so. Let’s consider that there are legitimate reasons that have nothing to do with selfishness that drive couples to remain childless. 

It's the end of the world as we know it...

This morning, something really horrible happened. 

I swore that I would NEVER, EVER, EVER let this happen. 

It was one of those things that - while I absolutely do not judge other parents for allowing (heck, some out there probably like it) - it just simply wasn’t going to occur in my home with my child. 

I have been determined in this for twenty years - yes, more than half my LIFE! - ever since I first heard that song. The one many of us loved to hate.

Is it the end of the world? Of course not. Don’t be silly.

Is it the end of my sanity? It’s entirely possible.

So, what exactly happened? 

THIS is what happened:

Just HOW did this happen? And WHO is to blame?

The real person to blame is the creator of the show. Seriously, I have no issue with purple or dinosaurs. I just object to annoying purple dinosaurs.

Matt has to share the blame, too. He just sat back and let it happen. How could he do this to me?

Lastly, I blame Netflix. Oh, they have their pretty little interface that showcases all those wonderful shows and movies and they make it super easy for even a 3-year-old to navigate around everything, finding “fun” new kids’ shows to watch and enjoy. Shows like:

The Backyardigans - I think it’s pretty cute. It’s only annoying when Brandon wants to watch the same episode over and over and over and over again. He’s three - it happens.

Arthur - I’m still trying to figure out what some of the characters are supposed to be. They just aren’t a discernable animal to me, but at least it seems somewhat realistic to life with children.

Franklin - It’s weird to me that a turtle, bear, duck, rabbit, beaver, fox and whatever other animals are in this show would play together. But at least it teaches some good lessons.

Little Bear - The music in this one is so calming to me. It also makes me want to give Brandon the biggest hug when he calls me Mother Mommy after hearing Little Bear call his mom Mother Bear. So cute. It is a little like Franklin with the whole “animals playing with their prey” thing. 

Jimmy Neutron - Geekalicious kid movie. This is one even Matt and I really enjoy.

Clearly, children’s programming is so not my thing. Netflix seems to have every one of the 493,284 13 versions of The Land Before Time movies - EXCEPT the only one that’s good: the first one. Good thing we bought it a while back.

Those are just a few of the ones I can watch without getting too stabby.  I keep trying to get Brandon to like Babar and Inspector Gadget. Unfortunately, he insists on watching shows that never should have seen the light of day, such as:

Caillou - Is there a whinier child on the face of the planet? Or wimpier parents? 

Max and Ruby - WHERE ARE THEIR PARENTS!? Why is no adult responsible for these children!? I’m hoping their parents find them and stop letting them play on TV. This is a good solution.

Thomas & Friends - The constant sniping in every episode of this show grates on my last nerve.

I shudder to think what he’ll be watching in a few years. I might have to start scouring eBay and other sites to find some Belle and Sebastian, Transformers, He-Man, ThunderCats, Silver Hawks, She-Ra, Jem and Holograms, and other decent cartoon shows that I got to watch as a kid. Because, frankly, the stuff I see these days is just not that interesting.

Can you tell I was sandwiched between two boys based on my TV watching as a kid? :)

What are some of your favorite shows you wish your kids could see?

Day 2 - My Children Will Do It Differently

My Children Will Do it Differently - If you could choose one thing that your children will do or experience in a different way than you have, what would it be and why?

*****

I’ve thought about this a lot over the years. I have so many things that I would do differently if I had my life to live over again. Yet…would I be the person I am today if I changed those things? Was I (or my parents in many cases) wrong to take the approach that I/we did? 

The answer to those to questions are not necessarily and no, respectively.

I want to encourage my son’s interests regardless of how I feel about them. I am hoping he has no interest in hockey, but if he decides he wants to play, I’m going to let him try it out. You never know where someone will find their passion in life. If he decides his interests lie in more geeky endeavors, I will mentally jump for joy and then encourage him just as much.

Some of the things I’d do differently revolve around money - or the lack thereof. I paid for large chunks of my university fees. I knew my parents couldn’t foot the bill entirely and I was okay with that. I worked very hard for the two years I attended university, working nearly full-time for most of my second year. It was hard, but I was young and full of the kind of energy that can handle the load.

I hope my son doesn’t have to work as hard as I did, but I don’t want it to be at the cost of him knowing the value of what he’s getting. That’s a delicate balance to achieve.

The greatest thing I want to be different for my son is an openness to the possibilities in life. I have a personality that has always been so focused on steps. This first, then that. I hope to teach Brandon that there’s more than one way to do things. College/university don’t have to come right after high school. (Who’s idea was it to make 18-year-olds decide what they want to do for life anyway?) A career doesn’t have to be an office job or a profession and it definitely doesn’t have to be about money - though paying the bills is important.

I think we’re in an age of raising a generation that has no choice but to be different. They’re learning and experiencing things at very young ages that we couldn’t even fathom when we were that age. Nor could our parents. I think the best thing that parents can do is keep an open mind to what’s going on. Look for the advantages to every new situation. Find the adventure and go for it with your child(ren).

Better communication could have mitigated hard ball ban backlash

This past week, the news broke that a school in Toronto had contacted its parents to communicate an immediate ban on hard balls - basketball, soccer, baseball; the stuff that hurts if you get hit from a good throw. The ensuing backlash that was sparked prompted my friend, Alison, to write about the innappropriate response of the parents, media and people in general as they made judgments about the school - I was one of those people who reacted. I strongly disagree with what the school did, but I thought Alison made some salient points that we should all think about. Parents by-passed the appropriate people to contact and turned the situation into a media circus, but I think the school could have responded differently to mitigate this possibility.

So, I would like to play devil’s advocate a little bit and say, first of all, that any organization that is making what will always be a controversial decision like this needs to have their story straight in advance. Be ready for the media to catch wind of it, because you will never be able to rely on parents who passionately disagree to remain quiet about it. That’s simply not realistic in this age of information entitlement. The story, as presented, is inflammatory, probably lacking full details and ripe for the viral spread of negative views.

Assuming that it happened the way that the story described with no missing details, the school made a couple of missteps:

1. They could have issued a letter stating that they were banning the balls until such time as they were able to have a full consultation with parents to see how widespread the concern is and come to a general consensus/compromise on what should happen.
2. If a consultation had already taken place, they should have given a full accounting to parents.

Sure, administration has the right to make decisions based on what they believe is best for the children, but based on the coverage so far the principal’s only defense of the decision is that she has the right to make it. I recognize that could simply be quotes taken out of the context of a more thorough explanation, but the school’s site is silent on this and that seems counter productive. If this decision was made legitimately and not as a knee-jerk reaction then I have to wonder why the school doesn’t give more information to the parents and media rather than become a laughingstock. Even if it was a “knee-jerk reaction” to an angry parent or group, banning the balls temporarily until a solution is found makes more sense than an all out ban. It also likely wouldn’t have escalated to this point.

People are not going to stop spreading this kind of information because they know it has traction. The general public want to know because it is often relevant in their own lives - from personal experience as a child or because they have children themselves.

I have been watching the story because my own son is about to start school next year and I don’t want him coddled. I want him to learn how to address situations when he’s hit with balls like this and, conversely, that it is wrong to hit others with balls in a way that can hurt them.

The reality is that this story was going to get out. There was no stopping it happening. From a communications standpoint, I think that it has been handled horribly by the school. 

As bloggers and social media users, most of us think about what we’re putting out there before we hit send/publish. We draft, edit and consider the possible response (at least I do). Sometimes, we adjust the way our message is presented to provide better context or clarification and create a more open environment for discussion. Other times we want to express a hard line view and that can generate a completely different kind of discussion. There are pros and cons to both techniques. 

The school took a rigid approach and it went badly for them, but this is the official reality of the world we live in today. Right or wrong, it means that the traditional ways that organizations handle situations have to be adjusted to account for the possible response.

Should the expectation be for people to stop sharing out of turn or do organizations need to expect it? What are your thoughts?

Simple conversation. Complex lessons.

RemembeRED prompt. Image source.We weren’t what you’d call friends. We walked the same halls, knew each other’s name, but little else about each other. I’m not sure how we struck up a conversation in the first place. I think we ran into each other at a baseball game where our younger siblings were playing. Neither of us had any of our respective friends to hang out with, so we gravitated toward each other. Actually, she probably approached me. I was too shy to do more than wave and smile.

I had a vague idea of the type of person I thought Maggie was. I’m sure she had ideas about me, too. Ideas based exclusively on reputation - whatever mine happened to be, I honestly couldn’t say. Hers was the reputation of being a fun girl. Popular, but not necessarily the most popular. She was friendly and had boyfriends at the ripe old age of 12, whereas I did not. Unfortunately, having boyfriends at that age sometimes meant gaining the wrong kind of reputation. 

It’s unfortunate that there was so much judgment that went on between different groups of kids. If you didn’t wear the “right“ brand of clothes (I didn’t) and hang out with the “right“ people (I didn’t), you were not in the “in crowd”. I always perceived Maggie to be part of the in crowd and not someone I could ever be friends with. I didn’t realize it then, but I suppose I had a bit of an inferiority complex. I wasn’t unhappy about my place in the grand scheme of things, but I knew I was considered an outsider.

I thought I was an outsider to Maggie until I actually had a chance to talk to her. Then I found out that we had something in common that was important to both of us. We were concerned about family members smoking. I gained a respect for Maggie that day that has stuck with me for over 20 years. At a very young age, she told her family that she was going to start smoking if they didn’t quit. I was stunned. I gasped and said, “Didn’t they get upset?”

Her reply that they didn’t get upset and that her family members who smoked had stopped was a revelation to me. I had no idea I could actually say things like that to adults and not get into trouble. I admired her courage to say how she felt.

I don’t think Maggie and I ever spoke again after that day, but I never forgot the conversation we had. I learned - for the first time in a meaningful way - that reputations don’t always accurately reflect the character of a person and what they truly care about. And, though it took me years to figure out how to do it myself, I learned that it’s even more important to stand up for what you believe in with your family and others you care about as it is to do so with people you don’t know.

*****

Should parents be scared of kids using technology?

I read this blog post today in which the author describes his daughter, who is under 2 years old, and her ability to use and interest in his iPhone. The final paragraph poses interesting questions about children and technology:

It’s hard to know how, as parents, we should handle our kids’ relationship with technology because theirs is the first generation born in this technology obsessed age of Facebook. Is this just part of being a 21st century kid? Or is there something we should do as parents to curtail this?

My first instinct was YES, this is just part of being a 21st century kid and NO, we shouldn’t curtail it. I decided to comment on the piece, because Matt and I both have a healthy interest in tech that has led to a generous supply of gadgets strewn about our home. When I comment, I tend to fly past other comments so as not to be influenced in my thoughts about the post. Then I will go back and read them. Here’s what I said:

I love tech and gadgets. I want my son to love them too. He’s three and he has his own iPod Touch which we bought used to protect our iPhones that are far more expensive to replace. He’s been very good at taking cre of it. He’s also careful with our iPad. We’ve taught him these things.

Here’s my take on it: kids *need* to learn these things. It’s going to be essential for their success in this life. Tech is only going to get more and more integrated in our lives. To cut them out of that would be a real disservice.

That said, they also need to know how to put it down and turn it off. To establish boundaries that they keep – perhaps better than their parents who are the first generation to have these things incorporated into their work/personal lives.

After going back and reading the other comments, I started to wonder if I have it all wrong. Words popped out at me from the comments: worry, scary, misgivings.

iPods are good for more than just playing games. They make nice hats too.I don’t get it. Why is this scary? Do we not remember our parents reacting the same way when we instinctively knew how to use the first CD player we ever touched without reading a manual? I’m pretty sure there was a time in the late 1800s when parents said, “I don’t see why Billy needs a phonograph. If he gets one he’ll spend all his time playing with it. I don’t like these new-fangled gadgets the kids always want.”

And a hundred years from now, parents will be saying, “No, Billy, you can’t have a jet-pack. You’re still too young to fly to school.”

Those parents who dealt with the phonograph handled it. My parents who had the VCR to contend with handled it. We’ll be able to handle the iPhones and I’m happy to leave the jet-pack question to my great-great-great-great grandchildren.

I used to be the non-mom who swore up and down that I wouldn’t let my kids play video games or watch TV. Well, Brandon’s (almost) three and I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve broken both of those vows - many times.

You know what else? We also turn off the TV. And the iPod. And the iPhone. We play with Brandon - inside and out. We take him places around town and he’s slowly learning to play with other children.

It isn’t scary that a child so young can unlock an iPod/iPhone and use it. Children learn by watching and it only takes a couple of times for them to see how mommy or daddy do it - and voila, they do it themselves. Brandon unlocked Matt’s iPod Touch for the first time when he was about 18 months old. Now he has his own (bought used) and he knows how to pick the music he wants to listen to (he also figured out how to delete it), open any app he wants and play the games I’ve installed for him.

I think the iPod Touch is just about the greatest kids’ toy ever. And you know what? For the price of about four or five Leap Frog interactive educational toys, I can buy the (used) Touch along with countless interactive educational games that he loves that is compact and extremely portable with zero loose parts to lose and scatter all over the world. As a bonus, I’m teaching Brandon to love Angry Birds, much to his father’s chagrin.

As I said in my comment on the blog, teaching children how to set boundaries around the technology that they will grow into adulthood with is what our biggest challenge is. Trying to bar them from any access to technology is futile and, in my humble opinion, probably not the wisest decision. Children need to learn how to use technology. They need to learn about the negative sides, like spam and other deceptive practices that are used. Parents can help their children navigate these issues, teaching them along the way. The end result that I hope for is a child who has a healthy interest and attitude toward technology, gadgets and the time spent using them.

How do you deal with gadgets and children in your house? Do you think restricting gadget use entirely is more beneficial? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

*****

I recently read this post by Maranda of Momicon and I love her perspective and the balanced way she applies it with her kids. Tech, gadgets and games are a legitimate interest - just like playing sports and other childhood activities.

Update on 2011-03-27 03:51 by Karen

I didn’t address social media sites specifically, but Finola did. She’s outlined her plan for her daughters’ getting access to Facebook and how it’s working out.

Day 06 - Something you hope you never have to do.

Photo Credit: Kym Shumsky (Relishing.ca)

I think it’s pretty obvious that I hope to never have to say a permanent goodbye to my son or husband or any future addition to our family. I wish there was a way to guarantee that I’d never have to lose anyone I love again, but life just doesn’t work that way.

So, I’m going to go for a less obvious choice.  

I hope I never have to sit and watch my son or husband treated for any serious injuries.

You’re probably thinking, “That’s not so different.” But it is. I’m not talking life-threatening stuff here - broken arm, a gash that requires stitches. Anything that involves pain, needles and possible grunts, groans or screaming.

Why?

Because I’m a complete wimp. The first time I had blood taken, I passed out as soon as they pulled the needle out of my arm. I even warned them and they didn’t believe me! Fortunately, I was in a kushy recliner that was the perfect place to pass out. I’ve since become accustomed to the whole blood-taking process. Since I moved to Canada and every doctor’s appointment seems to lead to a bloodwork requisition, I had to stop being a complete sissy about it.

To watch someone I love in pain or being put through pain to heal them isn’t something I’m sure I can stomach. I would desperately want to be there for them, a supportive and comforting presence. Not a presence that will pass out at the first sign of icky or a needle.

I did pretty well last summer when Brandon developed celulitis in one of his eyes and had to be treated via IV antibiotics, but it is not something I ever want to repeat. Thankfully, when the infection moved to his right eye just 6 weeks later, we took him to CHEO immediately when we saw his eye swelling. No IV!!

This was always one of my fears about having children. My own mother was fortunate enough not to have injury-prone children. I’m fairly sure none of us ever broke any bones. The worst injuries were a couple of gashes that needed stitches. Me and my older brother both got them on the head and my younger brother got a fantastically huge splinter at St. George Island when he was running on one of the boardwalks. I don’t remember any other injuries. Perhaps because my own head injury wiped those memories clean?

Children have accidents and some are preventable. Others are not. I guess I’m just hoping that my child will bounce and not break skin or bones when he has these accidents. Otherwise, I’m going to have to figure out a way to de-sissify myself so I can be that calm, supporting presence.

Are you squeamish about injuries like I am? How do you handle your kids’ injuries?

*****

This post is all about truth - Day 6 of my 30 Days of Truth. I’m not the only one, so here are some others if you’re interested.

Becoming a hard-hearted mama

As we walked into the shopping centre, I told Brandon that he needed to do as mommy says while we were in the mall. Snuggled into my arms, I don’t know if he fully understood what I said since he didn’t respond. My attempt to warn him not to try manipulating or going off on his own was prompted by Matt’s experience with him earlier in the day. One that included a trip to a different shopping centre that was unfruitful as he had to take an upset little boy out of the store.

After relaying this story to me, I realized that we’ve gone too long without setting firm boundaries with Brandon. We’ve (knowingly) allowed him to manipulate circumstances and get what he wants when he wants it. In general, he’s a well-behaved child, but I know he can do better.

My two (almost three) year old should not be calling the shots and I’m done letting him. Oh, he’s probably going to find the transition difficult, as always. But it’s worth it for his long-term well-being. I want him to respect authority figures - first and foremost myself and Matt.

As Brandon and I left the shopping centre, we had a few too many items for me to comfortably carry both him and them. If he put up a fight, I knew I’d be faced with my very first challenge. He was easygoing and congenial through the whole shopping trip, willingly following me to each area of the store that I needed to visit. I didn’t have much to get, and I did get him a small treat for being so good and helpful too. (He carried a step stool half his size all the way through the store - no small distance, I can assure you.) It was slow going, but I wasn’t in a hurry. When we got to the cash register he helped me put everything on the counter for the cashier. I praised him for his good helping.

He asked to be picked up, so I did and then grabbed my unwieldy bundle of purchases to carry to the car as well. As we got closer to the doors Brandon got squirmy wanting something out of the bag and I had to put him down. I should have kept going.

After sitting on the bench, Brandon wanted to take 3 of the 4 items we bought out of the bag. Again, I wasn’t in a hurry, so I decided to go with it for a few minutes. Really, it wasn’t hurting anything.

Several minutes later, I decided to attempt to move on. I carefully repacked the bag, allowing Brandon to carry one item, knowing that this wouldn’t appease him about leaving and that he would eventually drop it.

I was right.

Thirty feet from the door, once again squirming in my arms, he dropped his one item. The nice man who walked by us, pointedly not making eye contact didn’t bother to help me pick it up, despite the obvious struggle going on. (Thanks a lot, mister.)

I had clearly asked Brandon to hold on to this one item and not to drop it. He dropped it so I would put him down, so I took it away and that made him mad. He proceeded to sit on the floor in the front of the mall, eventually laying all the way down on the floor to express his displeasure about leaving.

By then I’d had enough. I picked him up, despite his toddler-drop attempt, grabbed my unwieldy purchases and pushed my way out the door and to the car. I put him down by the car and told him how disappointed I was and that he needed to apologize to mommy. 

He did. Then he asked to hold his one item. I gave it to him.

Who can resist such a sweet face?Perhaps that was an error in judgement. I’m not sure. As I was buckling him into his car seat, he wanted to have his iPod. Said iPod was sitting nice and cozy and warm back at our house. When I broke this news to him, he got very upset. The screaming and throwing that one item prompted me to take said item away from him. I told him he needed to say sorry before he could have it back and that he couldn’t listen to his favorite song or watch a movie until he said sorry.

For 10-15 minutes, he cried and occasionally screamed, except for the odd break where he asked for a movie or music. I hardened my heart to it. I needed him to say sorry. By the time he finally did, I knew he was just saying the words to get what he wanted. Maybe I let the battle of wills go on for too long. Would I change it, though? Not until I know it isn’t working.

Because I very much fear that I’ve spoiled my child. He isn’t rotten yet and I don’t ever want him to be.

Do you take the easy way out with your child(ren) at times? Does it make you feel like a total pushover or is there an acceptable amount of easy that we as parents can get away with?

These are the posts that made me appreciate "the magical moments"

It’s been a few weeks since I did my weekly wrap-up of the posts I liked during the week. The last couple of weeks I either forgot or had something else to post. This week, there were several posts that made me smile because they were family/relationship focused. They highlighted moments that make family so special. The moments that can make you feel like the richest person in the world on the days you’re at your lowest. That’s powerful and comforting. I had one of those moments myself this week, and it was just what I needed after a couple of less than stellar days. So, here we go!

• The magical moments - A little perspective
  This post is appropriately named and was the reason I picked this particular theme this week. Take some time to check out Amanda’s blog - she just started a couple months ago and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading her posts. I get the added bonus of getting to hear the scoop from her in person each week at Book Club. ;)
• An Interview with Justin - This Heavenly Life
  You can read this post and it’s amusing and cute. When you read between the lines, though, you can see a couple who enjoy each other. A couple who clearly practice good-natured teasing on a regular basis. There are a hundred things that are important in a relationship, but I think having a sense of humor is one of the essentials.
• deconstructing santa - BAD MOMMY MOMENTS
  Some of the moments we have with kids are difficult and signal the end of an era. One more phase of their innocent childhood gone. I don’t see these moments as any less magical, as it’s all part of growing up, but they can be a minefield for parents to navigate. Which direction is best for your child? Are they ready for the truth and how do you maintain your values and beliefs while avoiding disillusioning your child unnecessarily?
• The one with the earwigs - Postcards from the Mothership
  By the title, you can probably guess that this one is hard to find the magical moment in. Well, to be honest, I doubt the moment itself will ever be considered magical. But can you just imagine the retelling of this story - for years to come? It’s funny and horrifying, perfect for the type of legendary family tales that stand the test of time. Hopefully, by then the earwigs will be long gone.
• Water Nymph - Here Where I Have Landed
  I recently took my son downtown to my own office when I was off one day. He ran all over the place, making everyone smile who saw him jet past. He took up residence in my co-worker’s chair, played with her computer and phone, having a tough conversation where he kept telling the caller “No”. Like Justine, having him there created memories in a different context for me that can help me smile on the days when work stress gets overwhelming. 

I hope you enjoy these “magical moments” and have a few of your own with your family this week!

Who am I?

Recently I found out that by taking my husband’s name when I got married, I gave up my own identity.

Wow! I had no idea. So, how do I get it back? I mean, I’m pretty sure my husband is equally as annoyed with me now as he was before we were married – he’d probably say I haven’t changed too much at all. Okay, maybe I’m even more annoying, but that tends to happen when you go from living 1,500 miles apart to living 15 inches apart. Not that we stand that close all the time – I’m being a tad facetious. (Don’t you love that word? It has every vowel in the order they appear in the alphabet!)

So, if I’m basically the same person I was before we got married, how does changing my name mean that I’ve given up my identity? I found this quote from David McKay – I am pretty sure he’s a late somewhat high up member of the LDS church, which is completely irrelevant to the quote.

“Some people think that if they change the names of things, the things themselves will have changed, too.”

Of course, Shakespeare said it even more eloquently in Romeo and Juliet:

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.

I don’t think you can put it anymore succinctly than that. One argument for not taking a husband’s name is sentimentality about the loss of self. Is this just a cover for being afraid of change perhaps? Marriage – with or without a name change – is life altering and can certainly be challenging to your personal perspective of self. You have a partner and life filters through that partnership, for the most part, instead of filtering through your individual side. That’s a HARD adjustment to make and the divorce rate proves it.

Another argument that was just pointed out to me is a little more practical, and filled with a dash of bitterness and a touch of disdain. This particular woman’s case against taking your husband’s name is coming from a more practical perspective. When you take his name, you have to change everything – passport, health card, driver’s license, etc. It affects your credit rating and when you divorce, you have to rebuild all of that.

Give me a break! No, seriously – that’s your case for not taking your husband’s name? Because it’s inconvenient when you divorce?

Perhaps it’s naïve of me, but it seems as if there is an assumption going in to the marriage that it will be disposed of eventually. I actually see that as more of a problem than changing the name. Granted, I was raised in a conservative Christian home where my parents stayed married to each other until my mom’s death, but I think it’s really, really sad that so many people start married life with the notion that, if they find they’ve made a mistake, there’s an out. To me, it seems like a good idea to take more time and just be sure. But I digress.

I decided to do a little research and found a couple of sites that give details about name-change practices in various parts of the world and other sites that attempt to give some of the history of why women change their names. Of course, some of the history is based on Biblical customs, though I’m not sure why since the article actually specifically mentions that surnames didn’t become the norm until many centuries later. The whole Biblical argument is one that seems pretty thin to me, but I’m not a Bible scholar! Personally, just like with the legal institution of marriage, which is based on Biblical principles, but not necessarily Biblical itself, I think name changes fall into the same category. It became a practice based on an interpretation of scripture. We’ll skip the discussion of dodgy scripture interpretations for now – that’s definitely a topic best left for another day.

I’m sure there are people out there who think that if a woman doesn’t take her husband’s name she doesn’t actually love him – or she’s a raging feminist. That type of conclusion isn’t going to stand up any better than saying that taking your husband’s name will cause you to lose your identity. In writing about this, I tried to think of all the women I know who married and didn’t take their husband’s name in any form. I was only able to come up with a handful. The majority of my acquaintances/friends seem to change or hyphenate their names. That surprised me since I have a fairly diverse group of friends from all different types of backgrounds.

Personally, I’m not for or against women changing their names upon marriage. It’s a personal decision that can be based on a multitude of reasons. I have never heard of any valid moral argument for or against the practice. Some women can’t wait to change their last name to something simpler. Some don’t want to change to something more complex. High profile women may keep their maiden name for use in their profession. Sometimes a woman is fine with changing her name, but just can’t be bothered with doing the paperwork. For some, they want to avoid confusion when they have children – so they choose to have the same last name as their husband/children. Some women really feel attached to their name; others feel a strong inclination to take their husband’s name.

Whatever the decision, whatever the reason, whoever the person – does it really have to be such a big deal? My name is not my identity outside of legal identification. My name does not define me, whether I assume my husband’s name or not. It’s just a name; it isn’t who I am.

Free Range Kids: Finally! I’m not the only one!

Okay, that’s overstating things just a tad. I know people who have similar views, but I often feel we’re in the minority. The thing is, since before Brandon was ever even thought of, I have disagreed with the concept of “baby-proofing” and tonight is the first time I have known of an actual movement to go back to the long-abandoned ways of parenting.

I’m so fired up right now I can hardly even think straight, so this may be the ramblin’est blog post ever! Why, you ask? Well, a friend of mine posted a link on Facebook to this article by Tom Henderson at ParentDish about Lenore Skenazy. Lenore ended up in quite a firestorm when she wrote an article about her son (a 9-year-old) riding the NYC subway by himself. The uproar after the article was published prompted her to write a book, Free Range Kids, that I am holding myself back from running to Chapters to buy right at this moment (yes, it’s there; I checked availability).

Initially, I – like many who read Ms. Skenazy’s aforementioned column – thought that I wouldn’t put a 9-year-old on the NYC subway. That is until I read on her site that NYC’s crime rate is basically on par with Provo, Utah. My guess is that in the 70s and 80s, it wasn’t all that unusual to see a kid that age on the subway in NYC. We all know that crime rates are improved there now, so if the crime rate is better now than then, why shouldn’t her son ride the subway?

There’s a fantastic quote in the ParentDish article that sums it up for me very nicely:

"It's like we're supposed to be baby-proofing the world, when what really keeps kids safe is 'world-proofing' them - teaching them, for example, what not to touch," she said.

Yeah! I always wonder what parents, whose houses are baby-proofed to the nines, do when the kids are at someone’s home who doesn’t have children (or someone like me with kids and minimal baby-proofing). There are no locks on the cupboards that contain cleaners (actually, we do have a lock on that one), the stove controls are within reach (like mine), the tables have sharp corners as opposed to rounded or some sort of protection on them.

We have one single gate at the top of our second floor stairs and we put it in so that Brandon could freely run around on that floor without us having to watch him every minute. However, over the last nine months, he’s learned that he is not to go up or down the stairs by himself. The handful of times he’s started to go up (he hasn’t tried down yet) by himself, one or the other of us was nearby to catch up with him and have a little talk to clarify our expectations. ;) If I had gates everywhere, he’d be trying to figure out how to get around or over them, which strikes me as even more dangerous. I’m actually okay with Brandon going up the stairs on his own – he’s careful, confident and knows what he is doing well enough that I am not concerned about it. We still stick with him because he IS only 18 months old. He’s not old enough or developed enough yet to be able to right himself if he loses his balance or slips.

I think the issue of baby-proofing is a good metaphor for life in general. My father used to tell me that his job was to help me grow from “dependence to independence”. By creating impenetrable barriers shielding children from all possible harm, it doesn’t give them the benefit of learning self-control and respect for consequences. I’m not saying that it’s a good idea to leave cleaners in an unlocked cabinet (I don’t), but how does a child learn boundaries and how to respect them if there is no way to cross over them? In my view, they don’t. They just learn that there’s a cabinet there that they’d desperately like to get into, but they don’t really know why they aren’t allowed.

The funny thing is that kids are really smart. I’ve had several friends specifically say they’ve given up on baby-proofing because their kids have figured out how to get around it anyway. I’ve witnessed that type of determination in Brandon with the few things we have baby-proofed in the house. If they see you get past the barrier often enough, they will figure it out, too.

Another kind of protection that’s gotten out of hand over the last decade is the concept of everyone being a winner – even if you don’t win. Kids are being taught that no one is a loser; all the kids get a trophy now. Are you kidding me? How is that possibly going to help them in the real world when not EVERYONE gets a promotion? Will they cry because they didn’t get a company car and their friend who made more sales did? Will they expect to get the job just because they’re called in for the interview? When they don’t, how will that affect their self-esteem? Part of developing healthy self-esteem is learning how to handle losing.

Beyond even that, what if the child just isn’t good at the sport in question. If Brandon (god forbid) decided to play hockey and wasn’t any good, is giving him a trophy going to help him realize that he is NOT going to become a future Wayne Gretzky? No, it just keeps him believing in something that he’s not good at – and possibly preventing him from finding something he IS good at. Well, that is until the day that he doesn’t get to the next level and the awards-no-matter-what stop. Talk about a crushing blow.

Brandon’s growing so fast and trying new things all the time. He’s going to get scrapes and bumps and bruises and possibly broken bones. I dread all of that, but I would rather him learn the consequences of reckless behavior with minor injuries that encourage him to be more careful. As a parent, I do not want my child to get awards for just showing up. He deserves the chance to find out what he’s good at and passionate about and then earn any rewards he may receive for doing a good job.

I know that there are a lot of people out there who disagree with my views on this subject and I respect that. As parents, we each have to decide what we’re comfortable with. It’s a difficult choice to make – whether to give them freedom or do everything possible to protect them from harm. I’m banking on my personal theory that if I give my child the “dignity of risk” that he will learn to make better choices for himself more quickly as he moves from “dependence to independence”.

If you give a Karen a coffee, she's going to ask for a donut!

Today has been just about as good as a day can possibly get! I got up with Brandon so Matt could sleep in (Sunday's my sleep in day). We had breakfast, played and read (If You Give a Mouse a Cookie - 4 times in a row, thus it was the inspiration for my title) until Matt woke up. Around mid-morning, we all headed over to my friend's house to pick her up so we could go to the OutGrow OutPlay sale. Matt left us to go to the sale while he went to pick up some things for the fence. I'm really glad Tracy came with me, otherwise I'd never have had a chance to look at what was on sale. We took turns watching over Brandon while the other looked around. I ended up leaving with a good haul - some clothes, a seriously annoying Elmo doll (I hate Elmo, but Brandon spent 15 minutes sitting and just watching it do it's thing...no brainer) and an ENORMOUS bear - just because I wanted to see Matt's face when he saw it! The picture of the bear is taken on one of the landings in our stairwell. The bear took up almost half the landing - it's huge!

The bear was worth every penny. Matt stuttered and stammered through trying to ask why, who, what, etc., for about 5 minutes! It wasn't until I told him the bear was only $20 that he finally warmed up to the idea. The thing is, we took the bear off the table, sat it down to see how Brandon reacted and he climbed into the bear's lap - it was SO cute. I wish I'd taken a picture, but I am terrible about thinking about those things in the spur of the moment. Thanks to the bear, the back of our car was packed full of stroller and bear...the rest was pretty inconsequential in comparison.

We dropped Tracy back at home and decided to go to a park to let Brandon burn off yet more steam. Even after spending over an hour running through the Ben Franklin Superdome, he still had energy to burn. We had such a good time at the park. Brandon was in a fabulous mood, smiling, laughing and running all over the place. He loved it whenever one of the bigger kids was on the play structures near him; he'd just smile and laugh with them - especially the girls. And, for the most part, the big kids that play around him are very considerate and careful, even though he makes their play slower.

There was one little boy who attached himself to us for about the last 20-30 minutes we were there. He was cute for about 5 of those minutes and by the end, I was ready to throttle him. His mother watched him from the pathway around the play area and occasionally yelled at him to be quiet or that they should go home. Yet they never left - WHY? At first, it was funny when he called me a monster and I played along with him. Then Matt pretended to be a monster and the boy said very loudly, "You're not a monster; only the woman is." A dad sitting with his two kids looked at me and laughed. Nice.

I can handle being known as a monster, but he also kept "shooting" at me with his fingers and talking about how he was shooting the monster or shooting the monster in the heart. The whole time I was sitting there thinking that THIS is why parents don't want their children playing at shooting guns. Okay, many parents don't - his mom apparently didn't have a problem with it. The boy was somewhere in the range of 9-11 years old and had watched way more Star Wars than I have. At one point, he declared that Brandon was on my team and that he was going to shoot him and then pretended to take a lightsaber and bring it down on his head. That was the point at which I was ready to leave. If I hadn't, that kid would have gotten an earful and so would his mom.

Okay, way too much focus on that little experience, which, despite being upsetting did not actually ruin the greatness of the day or even the trip to the park. After the park, we stopped by Tim Hortons - the evilest place in Canada to pick up some lunch for Matt. The silly man had skipped breakfast AND lunch. He wanted a combo and said for me to just have the coffee. Oh sweet temptation! I didn't resist, even though I totally SHOULD have! And, to make matters worse, I ordered a donut to go with it, because I've gotten into this horrendously bad habit of having something (not usually a donut) with my coffee whenever I go to Tim Hortons. I'm telling you, that place is pure evil!

I knew what I was doing was not good and I did it anyway, but I refuse to obsess over it. That one incident is not going to sabotage my diet - I won't let it. However, I have learned that I have absolutely no willpower when it comes to Tim Hortons and that it is best if I pretend I have an order of protection against me and stay at least 3 miles away from each and every one. That is so bloody hard to do when there is one every 3 freakin' miles! ;)

After we got home, I put Brandon down for a nap and when he woke up, he was extremely groggy, poor kid. I actually started to worry that he wasn't feeling well, as in getting sick. He did eventually perk up when I took him down to the basement and he saw his gargantuan bear. He played for a while and when I noticed he was in need of a diaper change and that it was time for dinner anyway, we went back upstairs.

What happened next was like something from a parenting horror movie. I got all situated for the diaper change - stupidly deciding to chance it without a pad underneath (never, ever do that with #2s). Only when I went to unsnap his pants did I realize that we'd had an epic diaper failure. At this point, I knew I needed help and yelled for Matt, hoping he'd hear me outside where he was helping out the neighbor with his fence. Being such a good husband, he ran over immediately. He walked in the door and the first words out of his mouth were, "Why is there sh*t everywhere?" Somehow I missed that Brandon had already tracked it up from the basement and across the main floor. See? EPIC diaper failure. We're calling about carpet cleaning on Monday. Ewww.

I'm exhausted after today - and tired of reading If You Give a Mouse a Cookie after having to read it another 5 times while Matt fed him dinner. I think he's learning the concept of cause and effect lately, which may be why he's so fixated on that book. I may have to go get a couple of the other ones so I don't lose my mind reading about the mouse.

I have to say that, even though it's a pain to deal with the occasional exploding diaper or other calamities that occur when you have kids, it's gratifying to come through it feeling that you work well together as a team. I can't imagine trying to manage everything that needs to be done with Brandon without Matt's contribution - he's amazing.

A Necessary Change in Perspective

I woke up today, as my mother would say, "on the wrong side of the bed". Everything went downhill from there. By dinnertime, I was having a good little pity party, including the requisite meltdown. Then, something happened that changed everything.

I got an email from a high school friend, Erin, asking for help. Erin is a few years older, so I only went to school with her for a year but her sister Alison and I were in the same graduating class and were in band together all four years. Erin and Alison have been working for several weeks to finalize a Web site for a foundation – The Brendon Scott Coates Foundation – that was set up to help families of children who are fighting cancer. I eagerly agreed to do some proofreading of the site this evening.

Brendon's story is both heartbreaking and inspiring. In 2006, he was diagnosed with Ependymoma, an aggressive, fast-growing brain tumor when he was 3 years old. For over two years, Brendon was treated with chemotherapy, radiation and even experimental treatments until it was clear that nothing more could be done to stop the progression of his cancer. A year ago, on September 10, 2008, Brendon passed away.

I never met Brendon, but my life has been touched by him. He endured so much in his short life, but remained positive and upbeat, even looking forward to attending kindergarten classes just before he passed away. When I try to find words to tell Alison how very sorry I am for her loss, none suffice. I grieve for Alison's and her family’s loss and I admire her courage to keep Brendon alive through this foundation because I know it can’t be easy.

As I read the details of Brendon’s diagnosis, treatment and the progression of the cancer, I cried for the pain he suffered and the time he lost to being in hospitals when he should have been outside playing, being a kid.

As I read, I realized that none of the concerns of my day even mattered. I let a lot of inconsequential nonsense – that will eventually work itself out – turn me into a whiney crybaby.

As I read, all of the worries and cares of the day receded and I felt peace mixed with the sadness. I am blessed, but I forgot that for a minute. We all have problems that require our attention from time to time in varying degrees, but how we react to them shows our true measure.

I’m going to hug my little boy, Brandon, a little bit tighter now and be thankful for the good health and happiness he enjoys each and every day. And when things start to get me down, I’ll think about Brendon’s spirit and perhaps I’ll finally learn to "pick my battles" wisely rather than turning everything into a battle.

Now, go hug someone you love and remember how blessed you are to have them in your life.

To shoot or not to shoot; that is the question!

As a child, the only girl sandwiched between my two brothers, I remember playing plenty of games that were typically considered to be for boys. We had nail bitingly intense Whiffle ball games, played exciting nerf football tournaments in the front yard, organized severely unfair games of H-O-R-S-E on the excessively tall basketball goal and occasionally indulged in some spy/military games that would have made Tom Clancy proud. Under the direction of our commanding officer (my older brother, Jimmy), my younger brother, Paul and I would help search for and destroy our enemy attackers with the aid of our trusty toy semi-automatic gun, cap gun and a pair of Radio Shack walkie talkies that were bigger than our home phone. We were SO stealthy! (I tried to find an appropriate picture of those walkie talkies (or something similar), but they apparently didn’t make the 80s toys hall of fame cut on the Internet. The closest thing they resemble is the old Zack Morris cell phone from the days of Saved by the Bell...and you know how hot that phone was. They had an enormous antenna and the Morse code button, with a Morse code guide that we did actually attempt to use.)

Wait…wasn’t my point to discuss whether to shoot or not to shoot? Yeah, I wanted to explore my thoughts on toy guns and kids. When I started delving into this particular parenting issue, my gut instinct was that it’s yet another political correctness issue that is based on a few studies that may or may not have reliable data. I started out by trying to remember playing with toy guns as a kid. Many would probably say, "But you’re a girl; it’s different." True. But I am a girl with two brothers. I wouldn’t classify myself as a tomboy then or now, but I still had brothers. I rarely got to play games of my choosing unless it was only me and Paul - because I was bigger and older than him.

Sadly, I don’t remember much about the games that my brothers and I played together. Jim was 6 years older than me and 10 years older than Paul, so we didn’t actually all three play together very often. But there were a few times that we pretended to be the A-Team or some other spy/military type group with our walkie talkies and toy guns. (Oddly, I don’t think we ever played cops and robbers, but that could just be my faulty memory.) This all took place back in the days when toy guns looked like guns and also made noises that were supposed to resemble a real gun.

We were normal siblings; we didn't have any serious rivalry or competition issues, but we did fight. Sometimes we fought really dirty, too. In our games, we pretended to kill each other, or our friends, if we’d chosen to divide into good versus evil. Of course, once all the bad guys had been defeated, we’d adjourn for a snack of milk and cookies and vow to fight the forces of evil another day. I don't know if my mom ever had reservations about us playing with guns, but it’s possible. I don't recall having any restrictions put on our play, such as not pointing the guns at each other or animals – after all, we did "kill" the bad guys when necessary. We knew for a fact that those guns were toys and that it was okay for us to play with them ONLY because they were toys. I can’t imagine my father having reservations about toy guns, though he is not the stereotypical gun-toting/loving Southern male. Despite that, he did own a rifle. His rifle was a gift from his father that he’d only used one time to my knowledge and I don’t think he even had any ammunition for it after all those years. He kept it for sentimental reasons only.

Since the 1990s, toy guns have become taboo. Initially it was because some “clever” kids figured out that they looked close enough to the real thing that they might just be able to get away with robberies. It was big news when police started finding teenagers and children robbing convenience stores with toy guns. It was even more shocking and tragic when cases started popping up where police shot suspects who were carrying a harmless toy gun as their weapon. The toy gun manufacturers appropriately bowed to pressure to produce toys that were not so realistic anymore and stores were stocked with fluorescent green, orange and pink toy guns.

The issue of kids and toy guns has taken a new, even more restrictive direction based on studies that conclude that playing with them can promote aggressive tendencies. Those who are strictest don’t allow their children to play with actual toy guns or anything that approximates a toy gun (i.e., imaginary stick gun or homemade Mega Blok/Lego gun).

My son, Brandon, is fortunate that he get the opportunity to be cared for each day of the week by a friend of mine who loves him almost as if he was her own. She runs a home daycare and we couldn’t be happier to have Brandon in such a good environment. Since I have the car during the day, I usually drop Brandon off each morning and since I’m unemployed I often hang around to visit. Sometimes I read to the kids as well. Recently, I was reading them a book by Mercer Mayer, There’s a Nightmare in My Closet and there is a point in the book when the child says he’s going to shoot the nightmare – and does!

After I finished reading the book and the kids requested another reading, my friend mentioned that it’s "get", not "shoot". I immediately understood that it’s her preference that the children not be exposed to the concept of “shooting” someone or something through this type of children's book – and it wasn’t a great surprise since we’d had conversations in the past about it. Of course, the word came up pretty fast and my mind just isn’t that quick! The kids brought me a second book and it happened AGAIN – I can only hope children’s books will lay off using these concepts, particularly for books that are written for very young children (this group was all under 4).

It did get me thinking, though, about what Matt and I will do with Brandon. I have nothing but respect for the choice my friend has made, particularly in a daycare since it tends to be easier to be cautious to account for the different and sometimes conflicting values that are inevitable when you gather children from multiple different families in one place. I have a couple of immediate reactions, though, based on our specific circumstances:

1. We live very close to an artillery range for Canadian Forces training and you can hear the gunshots and Howitzers going off at various times and children will definitely notice and be curious about the noise. I was once out for a walk and stopped to chat with a neighbor who has two boys – 3 and 5 – and the older one kept talking about the fireworks. I knew there hadn’t been any recently, but I asked when he’d seen them. He hadn’t – he’d heard them…his parents were telling him that the artillery firings were fireworks. I understand why they did this, but I don’t feel comfortable at the thought of lying to Brandon outright that way. And, personally, I think having the artillery range nearby is an absolutely perfect opportunity to teach a child about the positive uses of a gun for law enforcement and military and why it isn’t a toy and any other values you feel are essential to instill. As uncomfortable as it may be for a parent, once a child shows interest in a subject, they are ready for an age appropriate explanation – in my humble opinion.
2. Since I read to Brandon every day and buy him books very regularly, I have to decide when it’s appropriate for him to hear stories with words like “gun” and “shoot” and other related words/concepts. My gut reaction is that they are only words and reading them in a book, knowing their meaning does not produce a violent child (or adult). Let me be clear that I am not at all critical of anyone who chooses to avoid or hold off introducing those words/concepts – I don’t think that it’s necessary for very young children to be familiar with these terms. But on the flip side, what if they hear them from someone else? Is it then essential to teach them within the context of your own values or do you downplay and not give attention to it until they are older? And what age IS appropriate for children to freely read about these concepts? It’s certainly not an easy choice!

I’ve been thinking about this issue for quite a while and I have asked several different people – parents, non-parents, family members – what they’ve done or would do because I appreciate different perspectives, though I’m still undecided on what I feel is right and appropriate. To be honest, since I played with toy guns, I don’t see it as a detrimental type of play; especially since I personally remember more about our gargantuan walkie talkies than I do about any of the toy guns we ever had. (Perhaps that’s the key; "distraction parenting".) At the same time, I respect the right other parents have to restrict this type of play. Of course, when I picture my beautiful little boy picking up and aiming a toy gun, it’s not a mental image that I’m at all comfortable with (unless it’s a water gun). It’s funny how becoming a parent so drastically changes your perspective.

More than anything, I simply want Brandon to have an innocent, fun childhood full of learning, imagination, creativity and discovery.

"It's Just Another Manic Monday"

This morning started out pretty much the same as every other weekday morning. Matt got up first and started with his morning routine and then Brandon and I woke right about the same time. I got my shower while Matt was feeding/dressing Brandon. Usually, this all goes like clockwork, but not today.

As Matt was trying to take Brandon's onesie off, the child did some crazy lunge and ended up with a "pulled elbow" and we had to take a trip to the hospital. (We did not know what was wrong before we left, but it is apparently a very common injury in children his age.) I hadn't had a chance to dry my hair or anything else, so my look somewhat resembled that of a drowned rat. No, I did not care, but it does give you an idea of how quickly all this went down.

I dropped everything and started packing anything we might need, fully expecting to be waiting for hours and hoping we wouldn't! We had bottles, food, diapers, change of clothes, toys, more food, etc. I walked into the emergency room with three bags - we could have moved in for a couple of days, which is kind of what it feels like when you have to wait for any extended time in those places. Of course, I was imagining the worst-case scenarios: they'd call CAS reps and accuse us of abuse, he had something broken and how do you deal with that in a 15-month-old - you name it, I was probably thinking it or about to when they called us back for treatment.

Here's what actually happened:

We were in the waiting room for about an hour and a half - alone. There was not one single other person in there with us the entire time. I truly was wondering why it took so long, given that we were alone. Though I know that there is a logical reason for our wait; I'm sure they were busy overnight and were likely working on the last of a rush. We were told to go to another waiting area where we sat for less than 5 minutes before the doctor came around. She was a very nice woman who asked a few questions while looking at Brandon's arm for about 1 minute and then she stood up and said, "It's all fixed."

I wish I had a picture of our faces - we honestly didn't even know she'd done anything more than examine Brandon. He cried, because it is painful to have your elbow popped back into joint, but it didn't last long at all. It helped that he was busy with a bottle at the time. Less than 5 minutes after we went back to have Brandon treated, we were outta there. We left for the hospital at 6:30 and I dropped Matt off at work before 9:00. Not too shabby a turnaround for a trip to the emergency room. Now, Brandon's doing fine and back to his usual self and Matt and I are sort of exhausted from the stress of the morning! :)

I don't know what I'd do without my friends

I recently joined a book club. Our leader says, “The first rule of book club is you don’t talk about books.” And we don’t. I even brought a book one week and all we talked about was related topics, but very little was discussed about the book. Why do we call it a book club? Well, the intent was to actually have a book club in some form or another, but we realized that we just enjoyed getting together and chatting so much that we didn’t care about the book part. The categorization of our gatherings just never has changed and now it’s become a bit of a joke to discuss what we’re going to do next at “book club”.

The great thing about this group of women is that it’s so inclusive - you come as you are, when you can, if you can; no expectations. The only one I really knew when we started meeting together was the Stalker of the group (*wink*). Since then, I’ve been getting reacquainted with her and getting to know the others in our group as well! They are all wonderful women to know.

Thanks to Stalker :) asking me to join in, I was able to connect with Talker, who runs a daycare and is amazing with children. She had an opening right when I needed to get my son into daycare and he started today.

There is nothing in this world that is more peaceful than knowing you can trust and rely upon the person you hand your child to for care. I spent the day doing projects around the house and wondering from time to time how Brandon was doing. I missed him, but I wasn’t worried about him. When we picked him up at the end of the day, it was clear he’d had a good day away from us.

I like to work, but now that I’ve got my son, I am torn between wanting to be home with him and needing to go to work. Being able to leave Brandon with Tracy makes it so much easier to make the choice to go to work. I’m really, truly blessed.