Will The Circle Be Unbroken
Last night I handed out the first real punishment of my parenting career. To say I did not like it would be an understatement.
We had a pleasant enough evening to start off with. Dinner was pretty uneventful, and afterward I decided it was a good time to treat Ava to her first ever bubble bath. I started up the water and poured in the bubble making goo. Immediately we saw bubbles. This made Ava a very happy little person. Squealing and giggling commenced. We got in and had about half an hour of frolicking, blowing bubbles and dumping cups of water over each other. Then it was time to get out. And the trouble started. She didn’t want to get out. Never mind that the water was getting cold and the bubbles were pretty much gone. Except the ones that stuck to my ass – and why is it that always happens? Nary a bubble in sight…except for one’s derriere? But I digress. Protestations at leaving the tub commenced. Drying off? No thank you. Getting on a fresh diaper? Nope. Putting on pajamas? Nooooooo. What she did want to do was: turn the tub water back on, fill up the plastic cup with more water and dump it everywhere, pour soap into the tub in the vain effort to create another bubble bath, and in general be unruly. After the 3rd time she wouldn’t do what she was asked I had enough. Jammies went on, and she went straight to bed. Normally after bath time we have about 15 to 20 minutes of cuddle time, during which we usually watch Caillou and “discuss” the episode. We skipped the Caillou part last night. Let me just say that it was not well received. Anyone passing by our home last evening, upon hearing the wailing and sobbing that was being emitted from Ava’s room would have immediately called 911, certain that we were beating this child to within an inch of her life.
The sobbing and wailing did not last long, as it happened. Within 20 minutes or so, she was asleep. No, it didn’t scar her. I, however, was left to brood about it all night long, and a good part of today. I know she’s 2 and she doesn’t even remember last night. I know that this is the first of many times I am going to have to punish her in some form or fashion. What sucked was that in punishing her, I had to punish Darin and I as well. We got no cuddle time. We got no soft kisses and sweet goodnights as we put her to bed, as we do normally.
I keep flashing back to my own childhood. Having my stereo taken away, or being grounded for something I did, or said. I remember being so upset, thinking my world was OVER and OMG, I HATE YOU, HOW CAN YOU BE SO MEAN TO ME? I remember thinking my parents must not love me, for how could they be so cruel? I remember being told that I could not, after all, go to the Motley Crue/Poison concert in Memphis with my cousin. I don’t recall what I did to be kept from going, but I do remember feeling as though my reason to live had been taken from me. My father, in his quiet way just told me that we were doing this for my own good, and one day I’d thank him.
Of course, I grew up and realized that my punishments were for my own good, and while I may not be “thanking them later” I do understand now, as a mother, why they had to be doled out. I see battles in my future. I know I’ll have to pick which ones are worth fighting over. I see me butting heads with this girl. This strong willed, stubborn and so-like-her-mother girl. I see her yelling the same things to me that I said to my parents: “I hate you! If you loved me, you’d let me go!” I see her thinking that I’ve shattered her world because of something I’ve taken away. I’m hoping to come up with something better as a response. Something to help her understand that sometimes, you don’t always get what you want, and it’s ok. Life will go on. I want her to learn from her mistakes, not just be punished for them. I will love her enough to say “It’s okay” when she tells me she hates me , “Because I love you no matter what.”
An Open Letter To Pampers Vice President, Jodi Allen
This is a copy of a letter I sent to Pampers Vice President, Jodi Allen this morning. And if you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about?
Go here: http://www.kptv.com/video/23481190/
Frankly, I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it any more.
Dear Ms. Allen,
Let me start off by saying that until a few weeks ago I was a loyal Pampers customer. My daughter is almost 2 and has been wearing Pampers from the day she was born. Being a working mother, I never once considered cloth diapering for my child. I asked every parent I knew for advice about diapers during my pregnancy, and overwhelmingly, time and time again I heard “We used Pampers. They were the best and had the fewest leaks.” I trusted my friends and family, so we stocked our nursery with Pampers Swaddlers as we prepared for our daughter’s arrival. Swaddlers were used on her the moment she was born. We changed to Cruisers as she outgrew Swaddlers. We experienced very few leaks.
About a month ago, I purchased a new box of Cruisers. These had the new Dry Max Technology. I didn’t think much about it, having trusted the Pampers brand for the last two years. Almost immediately, I noticed my daughter scratching her bottom and stomach. Within days she had redness on her bottom, and pimple like blisters developing. These blisters spread to her genitals, and even on to the lower part of her stomach. We tried several different over the counter creams, and even a prescription cream we had left over from her last diaper rash (that looked NOTHING like this current one). Nothing worked. I was at my wit’s end. It was obvious it was painful, as she would wince and say “hurt” if I touched one of the sores. I started doing research online and discovered that hundreds, if not thousands, of other babies were dealing with the same issue. Our common thread? All several thousand of us, from all walks of life and different parts of this country? Pampers Dry Max.
I’m sorry Ms. Allen, but I don’t believe this is coincidence. There has to be something in these diapers that is causing allergic reactions and in some case, much worse.
I cannot stress to you how upsetting and frustrating, not to mention disappointing, it is to see the response from your company, specifically from you. Instead of being sympathetic or concerned, and saying “Maybe we SHOULD look into this”, you’ve chosen to vilify the mothers out there who want nothing more than to protect the children they’ve brought into the world. We’re not all cloth diaper advocates. We don’t work for your competition. We’re asking for a company to do what’s right. What’s fair. We’re asking to be treated with simple respect. Instead we’ve been slandered. We’ve been portrayed as bad parents or stupid parents.
I’m 37 years old. I am educated. I have a good job. I’m not stupid. I know how to change a diaper and I know how often a baby should be changed. If it were my lackadaisical parenting, my daughter would have been experiencing these rashes for her entire life.
When this entire thing started, I would have gladly stayed with the Pampers brand if the old diapers had been brought back. At this point, I can no longer say that. I can no longer give my money to a company that thinks so little of its consumer as to slander and insult them when a problem arises. If this is how Pampers and Proctor and Gamble wish to do business, I will no longer be a consumer of their products. I realize that your company’s bottom line will not be affected one penny by my refusal to buy your products. However, I will sleep better at night knowing that my hard earned money went to a company that does not attack the very consumer to whom they are beholden for their success.
________________________
If you’ve been using Pampers and have not been having problems, I am grateful for that. Truly I am. Because what I and thousands of other moms have been through with our kids has not been pleasant.
The White Glove Test
If a stranger were to take a fine tooth comb to my house (or a white glove, as it were), they would find a house far from being spotless.
There is currently a plate sitting on my kitchen table with a half eaten peanut butter sandwich.
In my living room there are bits and pieces of a plastic toy tea set. Some on the sofa, some sitting in the window sill.
In that same room is a pile of clothing waiting to be put into a storage bag.
In my bedroom, if you look closely, you will see some small chocolate stains on sheets that haven’t been washed.
In my bathroom are plastic bath toys and several tiny washcloths.
What you don’t see – is that sandwich sitting there? Is because we spent so much time laughing at dinner we had to hurry to get jammies on and get ready for bed.
The bits of toys everywhere? Because the new tea set is so enthralling, it has to be enjoyed in every room of the house.
The clothing? Well, coloring on the floor was way more fun than sorting baby clothes.
The chocolate? A result of nibbling on fresh made cookies while snuggling in bed.
The toys and washcloths? What happens when a toddler decides she would rather shower with me than take a tub bath by herself.
Yeah, so maybe my house wouldn’t pass the white glove test. And you know what? I really don’t think I’d want it any other way.
One Is a Lonely Number
I knew it would happen. I thought I was ready for it. I was wrong.
I have several clients that had babies around the same time I had Ava. We chat from time to time about how our kids are doing, share stories of all being first time moms. I knew eventually one of them was going to tell me she was pregnant again. Yesterday it finally happened.
I’m truly happy for her and her husband. They’re darling people and I wish them all the happiness in the world. I truly do.
But hearing the news was like a physical blow to the stomach for me. I’m not having another baby this year. Or next year. Maybe not the year after. Maybe not ever. I’m 37 years old. By the time we are in a place that we can give what is needed to another baby, the simple fact is that I may be too old. But it can’t be helped.
Ava is going into preschool next year. That is going to take a huge chunk of money from our budget. So daycare for a second child? Not possible. We’ve been over the budget a million times and there just isn’t wiggle room. Not even if we cancel cable, never eat out again, and keep our cars once they are paid for. All the not eating McDonald’s for lunch in the world won’t equal up to full time day care costs and preschool for Ava.
My mother in law has provided care for Ava since I went back to work 4 weeks after she was born. Ava, that is, not my MIL. She’s done it free of charge. She’s done a wonderful job with her and I could never repay her for that. It’s been a huge burden lifted to have good, trusting care for my girl and not have the expense of daycare. But she doesn’t want to take full time care of another baby. I don’t blame her for that. She wants her time free, for herself, and at this stage in her life she’s earned it.
Unfortunately, that means Ava may never have a sibling, something I swore she would have. And it scares me. No. It breaks my heart. When my mother passes away, with her goes my only family. I don’t want that for Ava. I never have. I want her to have a sister to mentor, or a brother to tease. I want her to have a co-conspirator for a late night raid on the kitchen or someone to cover for her when she sneaks out at night.
It’s lonely not having siblings to talk to and share with. I’m fortunate enough to have two best friends who I’ve adopted as family, but as amazing, loving and caring as they are, we don’t share a past. We don’t have the common background of growing up together as children.
I hope by the time Darin and I are gone, Ava has a spouse and a family of her own. I hope that if we aren’t able to give her a brother or sister she has someone to help her deal with our care as we get old and need help. I hope she has someone to hold her hand while she grieves over us. I desperately hope she is never alone.
Girl Talk Thursday – Punishment
Today’s Girl Talk Thursday topic is one that is actually very difficult for me to discuss. Punishment.
I’ve written about it before. My parents handed out the usual punishment, grounding, taking away the TV, the stereo, etc. But my mother went a bit further. Not just spanking. Hitting. And not just with her hands. But with whatever happened to be lying around close by. A wooden spoon. A fly swatter. Usually these objects made contact with my face. She was very quick and physical with doling out punishment for whatever act I may have committed.
Needless to say, now those acts would be called child abuse. Back then? Nobody gave it a second thought. However, it left a lot of scars. Not physcal ones, mind you. The emotional kind.
I was terrified of becoming a parent. All I knew was the kind of life I had as a child. I didn’t want to treat my daughter the same way. But I feared I would, because after all, we are our parent’s children.
Ava is not quite yet two, so we are still a number of years away from the big punishments. However, I have caught myself in moments of sheer and utter frustration, and had to step away from her. Physically leave the room. So I wouldn’t do to her what my mother did to me. The twenty minute tantrums that escalate. The meltdowns that won’t allow me to even get dinner cooked. Times when I cannot take one more second of her throwing food to the floor. Being bitten on the arm. Slapped in the face.
All those things are moments where I have had flashbacks of my mother’s punishments. Moments where for one, split second, I could see myself acting exactly the way she did. Instead I walked away. I turned my back on my red-faced, howling child and walked away. I’m not sure if that in and of itself will leave scars. I fear it will. But I fear the alternative much worse.
How Long Before She Demands Perrier Water With a Twist?
I discussed a while back my challenges with getting Ava to eat. We went through about three weeks with her eating very little at all. I know all toddlers hit that “Hell no I don’t want to eat, I have better things to do” stage. However, Ava was losing weight. That became a concern.
I turned, as usual, to my Twitter gals, who plied me with ideas for us to try. After discovering that my little non eater was nursing a stomach virus (that she passed to me, thankyouverymuch) we worked on getting her over that and then tried to tempt her with new, exciting and previously forbidden foods. Anything in an attempt to get her eat. Chocolate chip waffles. Fish sticks. Macaroni & cheese. Chicken nuggets. Most of it was still turned away, except for the waffles, which turned out to be a big hit.
And then? Once day she must have decided she was hungry, because she just started eating again. Huh. Okaaaay, then.
What I find odd about this kid is the choices she will make. Last night she wanted nothing to do with the Mac & cheese (which I have gotten her to eat on a few occasions) and instead gobbled up a plate full of smoked salmon and pear slices.
Let me repeat: She chose SMOKED SALMON over Mac & cheese. What 20 month old do you know that does that?? She has also professed a love of blue cheese, salad, lemons (yes, you read that right) and beans of any kind, shape or form.
Things she won’t touch: Hot dogs, bologna, chicken nuggets, fruit juice, burgers, fish sticks. Pretty much if it’s a typical “kid’s food” she won’t touch it.
Also, after months of her pushing away any homemade food that was placed in front of her, we finally found victory with my beef stew. She picked around the meat, but loved the carrots, potatoes and celery. She liked the broth enough to turn the bowl up and slurp the last of it. Success!
We put Ava on the scales and she has gained back all the weight she lost, plus another pound. Which is awesome to say the least.
My only concern, considering her current eating habits, is how long before she demands only lox & bagels for breakfast, insists on eating on the fine china and turns her nose up at “domestic water”. It seems I’ve bred a little food snob here. But as long as she’s eating, that is just fine with me.
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