Valley Parenting

My daughter notices the changes in my home and in her ever-growing mother, but does she really understand there is a baby coming and that she is going to be a big sister? A lot of people ask me that. Yes, she does.

She may not know when exactly, why or how this infamous baby she keeps hearing about will come into the world, but she knows he’s coming.

During the first few months of my pregnancy, I’d tell her that her sibling was inside my belly and could hear her. She walked up to my stomach, lifted my shirt and shouted, “Wake up!” Ahh, the sibling torturing begins.

Then, for a while there, as my stomach became a basketball, she didn’t want kiss my belly/her brother goodnight. She didn’t seem so happy that he is coming, or supposedly is. In her mind, it’s probably taking forever.

I looked for children’s books on being a big sibling and that helped. One book even addresses some details I never even thought of, such as, “Why does the baby drink milk from mommy.” Holy crap, I thought, I have to answer stuff like that!? Ready or not, yes I do. Heck, this little girl has already asked me about my body. So, it’s best to have a game plan, right? I’m working on that.

She seems excited again, especially after she felt him move and kick, and the books helped a lot. I love seeing her sweet smile. I’d feel awful if she thought I wouldn’t love her as much. I’ve made it a point to tell her that no matter what, she is mommy’s girl. I’ve told her, and still do, that she can help me if she wants when her brother comes and that he is growing and can’t wait to be big enough to play with her. She likes that idea.

By PRNewswire
WASHINGTON — Consumers should stop using this product, which is being recalled voluntarily, unless otherwise instructed. It is illegal to resell or attempt to resell a recalled consumer product.
(Logo: http://photos.prnewswire.com/prnh/20030904/USCSCLOGO)

The recalled product is an X-Rider Car. It is a red, plastic toy scooter with a yellow handlebar and seat, and two blue stickers that simulate headlights. It is 14 inches high, 14 inches wide and 19 inches long. The middle of the handle bar contains the Step2 logo. Step2’s contact information is on the rider’s left side of the car. Children use their feet to propel the toy.

Incidents/Injuries: The firm has received four reports of incidents, with one incident resulting in head bumps and one resulting in a minor concussion and cuts to the gum and lip from the child’s front teeth.

Sold at: Target and other retailers from January 2012 through August 2012 for about $25. Manufacturer: The Step2 Company LLC, of Streetsboro, Ohio. Manufactured in: United Recall

Children’s Riding Toy Hazard: Children who lean too far forward on the seat can go over the handle bar and hit the ground. This poses a fall hazard. Remedy: Consumers should immediately take the recalled toy away from children and contact Step2 to receive a free replacement toy. Consumer Contact: Step2; toll-free at (866) 860-1887, from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. ET Monday through Friday, or online at www.step2.com, and click on the “View Details“ link under Recall Information for more information.

On Page A16 of Sunday’s edition of The Record, we ran an article about disabled parents and the challenges they face when it comes to raising their children. In a lot of cases, these parents have had their children taken away from them. One family’s children were taken away just for the mere fact that they were using sign language. That one was hard to believe.

I have a set of friends who are deaf, and their verbal skills are minimal. They have three children, all of which can hear and speak just fine. Their parents are amazing. These kids have never gone without anything of necessity, and they are polite and smart. They communicate with their parents through sign language. When my friends first became parents, they had lights that flashed and other gadgets to help wake them up when their child cried in the middle of the night. They are employed and work hard to maintain a decent living for their family, too. They are such good people that I have trusted them to watch my child often.

How many really unfit, nondisabled parents are out there with their 10 kids and get to keep them, when officials know the kids are not in a safe or healthy environment?

My cousin adopted three children who were taken from their drug-addicted mom who is constantly in and out of jail or prison. She’s had nine children, all of them but two were taken away from her. Yes, this known meth addict and occasional prostitute is allowed to keep two of her children, but a blind woman who had trouble breast-feeding her child within a few days of having her baby was caught in a fight to keep her child just because she was blind.

Ironically, on Sunday, we also ran a story on Page A7 about a foster mother in Florida whose child was missing for nearly a year before anyone noticed. The girl had been taken away from her crack-addicted mother and put in the care of another woman. That woman is now facing murder charges. Officials have yet to find the child’s body, but key witnesses are likely to testify this week.

What I’m getting at with all these anecdotes is that an unfit parent should be based on the well being of the child, not someone else’s standards of how a child should be raised.

To take away children of the disabled just because they are disabled is absurd.

My family and I frequent Caldwell Park, tucked just behind S-Mart at Pacific Ave. and West Alpine. It’s a nice area and has a small playground for toddlers with two toddler swings. A lot of parents I meet there say that this is one of the only parks they know of in Stockton with swings even at all.

I took the challenge. I called the city Parks and Rec office, but their answer wasn’t so solid. They gave me a few parks to try. So, I ventured out and looked at a few parks for myself, much to my toddler’s delight. It’s like she’s Goldilocks, and we’re on the hunt for parks that are a good fit for us to change up our play scene and to also give other parents an idea of where to go for their children that is age appropriate.

Here’s a small list of what we’ve checked out so far:

Sherwood Forest Park at West Robinhood and Claremont Avenue: Has two toddler swings and a small plastic play area for toddlers.

Atherton Park at Grouse Run Drive and Quail Lakes Drive: Has two regular swings and two toddler swings. This metal and wood structure might be more suitable for children older than 3. I say this conservatively. My 2-year-old daughter is adventurous but the big metal slide was too much for her as the sides are not raised for more protection.

Caldwell Park at Allston Way and West Alpine: Has two toddler swings and a medium-size plastic play structure for toddlers.

Holiday Park at Elaine and Kermit: Has two toddler swings and a metal and wood play structure suitable for children older than 3.

Please feel free to add to this list or email me: cteldeschi@recordnet.com with your favorite parks and what they have to offer.

A Canadian couple caused a stir when they went public about their efforts trying to raise their children genderless. None of their family members or friends know the sex of their youngest child, who is in toddlerhood. Their other two children, who have penises, however, have been raised without gender pegging. The idea is to banish social perception of gender beyond the battles for equality, and in turn, they are “freeing their children from the bonds of gender norms.” Their boys like pink and purple and sometimes wear dresses. The oldest likes his hair braided.

Is being genderless too far out there? Is it even possible?

We all know other kids can be mean, and those mean kids usually have mean guardians or someone who behaves in a way that is influencing them. Should that change who you want to be or what you like, despite your physical gender?

About 1 percent of the population is born with androgynous genitalia. Many parents don’t choose their child’s genitalia at that time and wait until the child is old enough to understand and chose for themselves. Some stay the way they were born.

I think kids are underestimated. They aren’t idiots, and we shouldn’t treat them so naively. My daughter is 2, and she already gravitates toward reds as her favorite color, sometimes blues. She likes to wear her sparkly shoes, or sometimes her boots. She likes dresses. What do her preferences peg her as being? If so, by whose standards? She just likes what she likes. Is a girl “supposed” to like pink? No. Can boys like pink? Yes.

An example: Some fast-food restaurants occasionally have gender-specific toys with their kid-size meals. “Would you like the girl meal that comes with a doll, or the boy one, that comes with a car?,” the worker asked me. That pissed me off. Really? “Well, I am a girl, and I want the car,” I responded. Her light bulb clicked on at that moment.

With all the influences of advertising, stereotypes and peer pressure, it seems impossible to raise a completely genderless child. Anyway, what’s wrong with being a girl or being a boy? We can defy the stereotypes with our preferences. As children get older, they know who they want to be and what they want to do with their gender-determining physical parts. Like it or not.

We’re parents. Kids look to us to be strong and know the ways of the world. To guide, protect and teach. They don’t just come out of a womb with ideas. Why not teach them to be proud of who they are and to stay confident behind their choices from the get-go?

 

http://www.foxnews.com/world/2012/01/20/british-couple-reveals-sex-child-raised-as-genderless-for-5-years/

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/baby-storm-raised-genderless-gender-dangerous-experiment-child/story?id=13693760

http://www.edmontonjournal.com/news/Baby+Storm+mother+speaks+gender+parenting+media/4857577/story.html

Hey all you breeders and caretakers,

Have a funtastic holiday. Read today’s Record, Page A3, for some helpful safety tips from San Joaquin County authorities.

One thing they left out, be sure to inspect your little one’s bags when you get home.

Some people are awful and give out inappropriate things, and their always is the possibility of dangerous and open/bad/sabotaged treats.

And, the inspection is a great way for adults to scour through and pick out our favorite treats! LOL

Love,
Christine

If you’re a stranger, is it ever OK to tell someone else’s kid what to do? Or is it better to talk with the parent? It’s a tough call.

I find myself siding with option 2, but then I know that some parents might get offended at the suggestion that you know what’s best for their kid. I guess it just depends on the situation.

I bring this up because my daughter and I were shopping the other day. She wasn’t in the seated part of the shopping cart like she really should have been. She was in the main basket area. I always tell her to sit down, and she does but then gets back up. We go through this the whole time we are in the store.

At the register, she stood up in the basket and helped me load the items onto the belt. She likes to be helpful, and I like that she’s busy doing that instead of grabbing at candy and other items on the way out.

I told her to sit down after she was done, and she did. But then she got up again right as I was paying. The clerk at the counter then told my daughter to sit down. She said it just matter-of-factly, not rude or too sweet.

Now, I know she had good intentions, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t taking care of business. Right? Well … maybe she was just being helpful. Admittedly, I did feel a little offended, but then I realized that was just my own insecurities. After all, if my daughter had fallen, that would have been a disaster. Gulp. I would really be a bad parent!

I was doing what was easy. I caved in to my daughter’s wants of being inside the basket. Even though I explain the dangers and tell her to sit down, she is 2, she isn’t going to rationalize it all. I need to be more firm and take more control. Yes, readers, I am not perfect. Read that again, because it’s hard for me to admit when I am wrong sometimes! LOL

I am curious to some of your thoughts on this though.

So, two weeks ago, I took a pretty embarrassing tumble on California Street while walking to work. Who put that sidewalk there? It all happened in slow motion, but it seemed like I had stubbed my left foot on an uneven piece of concrete, then landed on my left knee. Then, I put my left hand out to brace myself but didn’t quite do that, and just let gravity take me down as I rolled onto the ground onto my left side.

My pregnant belly must have weighed me down. Whatever, it was pathetic. I was like a fallen turtle.

A woman in a car at the light nearby saw me and shouted in a panic, “Are you alright?”

As I gracefully emerged from the sidewalk, careful to make sure my dress hadn’t exposed all my business to everyone in Stockton, I forced a smile and waved to her.

“Yes, I’m OK. Thank you.” She looked shocked, like maybe she didn’t believe me.

She shouldn’t have.

Truth is, I was lying. My knee was bleeding all over the place and as I started to walk, I had a pimp limp. That may have looked cool on the outside, but I was in agony on the inside. I picked a few pebbles out of my hand. My wedding ring got grinded on one side and the metal was sharp. I was completely embarrassed more than anything.

My lunch and water had spilled into the gutter. I just picked up my things and started to move along. Nothing to see here, folks.

But I still had about a mile to go. I called a friend and coworker, Tara Cuslidge, to come pick me up.

I kept walking just to get as far away from the scene of the fall, and the people staring, as quickly as possible. The mental health hospital was nearby. Maybe they thought I was going there.

Tara arrived and I felt relieved when I climbed into her passenger seat and we set off for work. She took a sort of long way around, but I didn’t question. Then she told me that right before she picked me up she had pulled over nearby because she had seen me walking and yelled at me to get in the car. It wasn’t me. It was some other random pregnant chick walking the streets of Stockton. The woman was mortified. Tara sheepishly drove off.

That made me laugh so hard that I forgot about my pain for a bit. I wasn’t the only one embarrassing myself today.

(FYI, I checked in with my doctor after I got to work to tell him of my fall and to see if I should be worried about my son. Everything is fine, though I am sure he had a wild ride in my uterus.)

(And, if you are the pregnant woman Tara scared on California Street, she is sorry.)

I recently attended the funeral for a dear friend’s son. He was 13.

He was amazing, just like his mother. I couldn’t help but be amazed by her strength, but I guess she had gone through so much already.

Her son had an aggressive form of cancer in his brain that was found accidentally a few years ago after he had been playing baseball at school and was hit in the head. Hopeful, doctors removed the tumor and started chemo. His recovery was strenuous on his family, but he prevailed with flying colors. He seemed to be miraculously cancer free.

Then, another tumor appeared. Then, another. Surgeries, chemo and hospital stays became the norm.

His mother made T-shirts and held cancer rallies to raise funds to help her pay the hospital bills and to benefit other children as well.

He couldn’t go to school. You’d think he would want to get out of classwork, but he studied hard while stuck in bed most days. He was very intelligent and a sweetheart.

He also was an inspiration to other children in the hospital with him. He stayed upbeat and always had a smile on his face. He liked to make cookies with his uncle.

For a time, he seemed to prove his doctors wrong that this cancer would cripple his life and end it soon. He went back to school. At the beginning of summer, he went in for a routine checkup. His mom was certain he was fine and healthy. Doctors found another tumor, and bloodwork showed that the cancer had seeped into every part of the kid’s body, including his blood. There was surgery, and after, only time.

Through it all, he smiled, he prayed and he was thankful. He loved his mom so much for all she had done for him, pretty much on her own. She took him to concerts, the mountains and other trips all the time. He even met the Jonas Brothers, and his Make-A-Wish was granted. He met Kobe Bryant. This amazing boy wanted to be an inspiration for his little brother, too. He never complained and played with him as much as possible.

A few weeks ago, he told his mom that he wasn’t afraid to die and that he was ready to be with his grandma and grandpa in heaven to watch over his family. All the while, his mother stayed by his side.

At his funeral last week, his classmates sang a song to him. They made posters and other artwork to celebrate their friend. Songs from his iPod were played while photographs of his life were shown to attendees on a big screen. A smile in every picture.

Being a journalist, I read tons of awful crap in the news every day. So, now that I am a mom, I am on high alert for anything. I am a worrier by nature, so you can imagine my frantic thoughts about crib death, choking, child-seat safety, armed robbers and pedophiles, just to name a few. You would think I was a basket case; I swear I am drug free.

Over the weekend, my husband shared a story about how when he was young, his seemingly sweet neighbor watched him and his siblings as well as other children from the neighborhood. But once the door closed and the parents gone, she was verbally abusive and would make him stand in a corner all day for really no reason at all. It wasn’t until the devil woman watched an older kid when parents got an idea of what was going on and took action. You can imagine my horror after hearing this story. What if something worse happened? I love my baby sitter. Can I trust her? Can I trust anyone who watches my daughter?

A parent’s trust is not easy to come by or earn, so I was heartbroken recently when my babysitter of nearly 2 ½ years told me she was moving out of town. I had found her on Care.com, and I was instantly drawn to her after we met in person. She has been like another grandmother to our daughter and a friend and mother-like figure for me. I will miss our chats about men, life and bodily functions (she is a retired nurse), you name it. She would bring us some of her famous southern food and we would shower her with gifts on any occasion to let her know how much she was appreciated.

Bummed out, I placed an ad on Care.com again, and some of the caregivers’ requests and expectations on there were laughable. One woman asked me what she should do with my child while my husband and I are at work. I thought, “Um, if you don’t know, lady, then you shouldn’t be watching kids!” I was polite to her though I’m sure I couldn’t help the look of WTF on my face. Of course, she didn’t make the cut. Another woman told me she didn’t like to hold babies that much. She was a retired prison guard. Yeah, she was not my ideal sitter. I got my hopes up when a former daycare worker applied. Her resume seemed perfect, until I called her references. Make that attempted to call her references. Every phone number listed was disconnected or I got no answer – even two weeks later. I was beginning to feel discouraged.

The next wave of interviewees was fantastic. Yay, I don’t have to quit my job! The interviews were so good I actually had a hard time choosing. One woman was a college student who I had seen watching other children at the park we frequent. I knew she was gold. Ultimately, I chose a woman whose references were stellar, and she has two daughters, one who just started school and another about a year old. I thought it would be great for my daughter to enjoy their company and friendship – she only needs a sitter 12 hours a week, thank goodness. My wallet couldn’t handle much more. I don’t know how parents without family close by manage to afford day care or full-time care for their kids. Our new baby sitter is crafty and energetic; I really like her. We made another great choice.

So, although Ms. Jackie is leaving us this week, the parting is bittersweet. She will become a great treasure for the new family for whom she will care, lucky bastards. We’ll keep in touch with her though. She could never be replaced in our hearts.

UPDATE: We bought a bigger family vehicle this week. I stayed strong and am proud of myself. My husband was already set on a minivan, but I changed his mind. So did the vehicle we bought – a Toyota Highlander.