Friday, May 28, 2010


Brody has eczema. Because of this condition we have had many issues regarding his diet and unfortunately we have had to deal with issues of very sensitive skin. To explain just how sensitive my son’s skin truly is I will tell you that certain lotion, “BURNS, BURNS MOMMY!!” Lotion people..lotion burns his precious baby skin. So with that said he has been unable to eat ice cream with the other kids. And Mommy hasn’t worn perfume around him in 2 ½ years. It’s been unpleasant to say the least. Finally our Pedi suggested that we visit an allergist.

Dr. Nathan Tang is supposed to be the best in the biz. He is of the Asian persuasion. I have reverse prejudice with people of Asian descent. I assume that they are all geniuses. I do. It’s my thing. I’ll deal with it in therapy. So keep your opinions about it to yourself. I’m so excited to meet this man I sort of feel like I might pee. With a quick scan of his office and a brief introduction I can see he’s everything I hoped for and maybe a little more. He has more plaques of certification on his office wall than should be legally allowed. After saying hello I realize that I am going to require an interpreter to truly understand everything he says. The accent is thick people. I am delighted. We are going to figure this out. I can feel it. I can see the glimmer of hope radiating in my husband’s eyes too. We are so giddy we allow Brody to have a lollipop. What the hell, right

After showing the doctor the 900 supplements and vitamins our son is already taking, he suggests a skin test. I have never taken a skin allergy test and have no idea what it entails. Therefore I am foolishly enthusiastic about the process. I trot my precious two year old to the examination room with a light heart and pep in my step. The nurse arrives with a box of potential allergy suspects. She gives us a quick rundown of the procedure and assures us that it isn’t painful and will be relatively quick. It is NEITHER! The only good thing I can say about this test is that they condense the testing for children. This means that instead of single pokes they take about 10 at a time. Retraction, I am not sure if that’s good or not. The whole thing sucks! The first row causes Brody to scream as if he is being run over by a truck. His body tenses up and his face turns the color of a stop sign or a cherry tomato. It’s horrid and my eyes begin to fill with tears. He fights and screams throughout the rest of the testing. The extra nurse is holding me and telling me that it’s going to be ok while I try to soothe Brody. My husband is restraining him and trying desperately to hold himself together at the same time. When the test is finally completed both Brody and my husband are soaked from Brody’s body heat. The nurse says she is going to give him the award for the strongest toddler she has ever seen. The compliment eludes me and I just want to punch her in the face. I know she was just doing her job but it’s my primal reaction. We are forced to endure another 20 minutes of holding him so that he will not scratch his back. His crying is subsiding but hasn’t exactly disappeared. He complains that it still hurts and he is desperate to dig at it. Finally the 20 minutes pass and the doctor returns to view the results.

In the end, we found out that he is allergic to eggs, peanuts, cats, pine and oak pollen. He is also allergic to the mold that grows on the back of dead leaves. Brody is about the most outdoorsy fellow you will ever meet. He worships the ground that dead leaves rest on. This news makes me sad. The good news is that they believe he may have already outgrown his allergy to milk. I’m crossing my fingers for him and sending up prayers. We will take a blood test next week to verify everything on the skin test. I am planning a trip to Coldstone in the event that the milk allergy comes up negative. My little guy deserves it. He’s had to put up with an awful lot of poking and prodding for a two year old. Keep him in your prayers. Peace out.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Needy, Weepy, Clingy Mother of Two…Your Table Is Ready

When I visualized myself as a Mother before giving birth to my first son I saw a sort of tribal, earth mother. She was chill and open to sharing the love of her children. She was going to puree her own baby-food, use cloth diapers and let other people hold and kiss her baby while she looked on with beaming pride. What I turned into 30 mins after giving birth was a raving lunatic that wanted to run off into the woods with her baby so she could have him all to herself and no one else could touch him. I remember the first time they let me hold him I began ferociously scanning him for identifying marks. I was fearful that some jaded nurse would try and pull a switcheroo on me or worse steal off with him in the night. He had two dimples above each ear. Wooo..ok, I could pick him out in a line up. Some semblance of peace returned to my body.

Now I realize that your hormones, post delivery, are going nothing short of ape-shit but I sometimes wonder if my sanity wasn’t released from my body with the after-birth. When I returned home with my first son my house was packed with family and friends. I’m a pretty social creature. Usually this sort of scene would delight me to no end. However, after about 30 minutes of dealing with the mob scene I was crying uncontrollably. When I say uncontrollably, I mean that if you had offered me 10 million dollars to shut off the water works I would have told you to, “Suck it!” I simply could NOT stop crying. It was too much. I wanted, again, to be alone with my child. I’m embarrassed to say it now but the truth is it nearly made me break out into a rash when someone else would even hold him. Crazy, Mother of One, your cell is available.

As time wore on I became less of an emotional basket-case and more of what appeared to be a cool, calm and collected female nurturer. That was of course until the over-nights started. You know, these are when your child stays the night at the G-Rents house so that you and your husband can get to know one another in a biblical sense again and do so without whispering or covering one another’s faces with pillows. While the absence of children may have brought sexy back to our house it also revealed the following. I am the Mother who in the middle of the night stands at her child’s door way and weeps quietly. I am the Mother that while out to dinner with her husband will speak incessantly about the children. I am the Mother that will call so many times you will wish you could change your # while you are caring for her babies.

I was certain that I was getting better and that my paranoia was becoming a shrinking violet. But that was before we booked a trip to Antigua in June for 4 days. 4 days must not sound like much to the average traveler. But to me it’s 4 days of not knowing how many meals my kids have eaten, when was their last bowel movement, are they sleeping well, did they get any boo-boos today or worse did they reach any milestones without the presence of my watchful eye???? I am doing what I can to alleviate some of my fears by making a list that will surely be 10 miles long. This list will include minute to minute instructions on how to care for my children while I am away. I am sure much of it will be ignored. I mean my mother did manage to raise 3 children of her own. But nonetheless it will give me some peace of mind. I’m hopeful my dr. will be able to prescribe something to alleviate my heart-palpitations in my children’s absence. I just hope my fellow travelers don’t mind the crazy lady doing the ugly cry at take-off.

Friday, April 16, 2010

I spank my kid and I really wish you would spank yours too….

If the truth be told I am an utter and complete puss when it comes to discipline. The fact of the matter is that if I didn’t think my children would suffer remarkable consequences I would likely let them throw dirt in your kid’s eye and eat candy all day long. I don’t like violence or confrontation of any kind. (hard to believe?) My tough as nails attitude in an argument is really an attempt to bully you out of arguing as fast as possible and work our way back to “hugging it out.” However, since I really don’t want to visit my boys in the State Penn someday I discipline my children. Brody, my 2 year old, is in the full throws of “terrible twosies.” He likes to kick, punch, slam doors, yell and act like a regular A-HOLE a lot of the time. He has many times attempted to inflict physical harm on his 3 month old brother. I don’t know about you but any and all endeavors to have a rational conversation with my 2 year old have been marked unsuccessful. I would love it if Brody and I could sit down and have a real heart to heart about his inappropriate behavior. I’d love it even more if he would reply to my list of complaints with a heartfelt, “I’m real sorry, Mom. I’m going to do everything I can to correct that behavior and be a better boy. PS I love you and thank you for making me a better man,…in advance.” But, alas, that conversation has never come and likely will not for years. So he gets swatted on the bootay. It grabs his attention. After a swat Brody is all apologies and love for whoever he has offended. You can tell that he feels badly for the infraction. This gives me great relief. This likely means that it is in fact just the terrible twos I am dealing with and I am not raising a sociopath.
Now that I have mentioned that with great discomfort to myself I still discipline my child for his benefit. I’d like to say that I’d appreciate it if you could find it in your heart to discipline yours too..mmmm…K!! There is really nothing more grating to me than attempting to enjoy a day at the park with my little boy and finding that the park it littered with other tiny little A-HOLES who are running amuck without any attention from their parents or guardians. The park is NOT a place to go talk on your cell phone for hours or chit chat with your girlfriend over a latte while your child pokes another in the eye with a stick. Especially if the kid who’s eye is on the other end of the stick is mine.
A couple of weeks ago a child who appeared to be 5 or was otherwise a giant 3 year old pushed my 2 year old son Brody at the park. My husband, who really kind of loves confrontation, searched for a parent to the little NUTCASE of a 5 year old but no one came forward. He watched silently for a moment to see just how aggressive the child would become towards our son. The boy loomed over Brody as if challenging him to get up. My husband had seen enough. He walked over to the unattended child and told him in a threatening tone, “if you touch him again you are going to GET IT!” My husband was greatly annoyed and disturbed that he had to discipline someone else’s child. He waited to see if someone would come forward to collect the child but alas no one did. WTF WAS HIS PARENT DOING?? Why did my husband have to do his or her job??
Now let me tell you the situation in reverse. Brody and I are at the park. Brody is playing with a previously confirmed 4 year old. They are in the sandbox…I hate the sandbox. Brody begins slinging dirt. (this is why I hate the sandbox) I give Brody his verbal warning. “No throwing sand! You can dig in it and make castles or whatnot but NO throwing.” He throws it again. The final warning is served. He completely disregards my attempts to “reason” with him. He throws it again but this time it lands in the 4 year old face and undoubtedly his eyes. I grab Brody and ask, “What did Mommy say?” He replies, “NO!” I spank his butt and put him in the stroller and explain that we are leaving because he didn’t listen to Mommy. The other Mom says, “Oh, its ok. You don’t have to leave.” Um no, it’s not ok. How else will he learn?? So I thank her for being kind in her response but reassure her that I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. She looks at me like I’m crazy. And then I realize it…she probably doesn’t spank her kids. Oh well. I hope that everything works out for her in the end. I hope that when my child’s cognitive abilities are more developed I will be able to simply “time him out” or “reason with him.” In the meantime, I am going to swat his butt when he attempts to hurt someone else or himself. Call me crazy but I do believe a swat every now and again is effective and necessary. Maybe I’ll start using that tactic on his Dad. : )


After months, perhaps years of procrastination I have decided to start my silly little blog. If not for you, the readers, spiritual enrichment and intellectual development then maybe just for my own sanity. (If you cannot hear the sarcasm in the previous statement then this blog really isn’t for you.) This blog simply will not be for everyone. It will be laced with foul language, brutal honest, TMI and hopefully humor and amusement. All negative comments will be cherished and perhaps savored like a fine wine and a great steak. They will also likely be mocked relentlessly by my girlfriends over aforementioned wine. So feel free to comment…or not.