The Daily Fuss

Dream Maker

Occasionally the littlest Freemans have bad dreams.  Upon inquiry, it seems that varying degrees of "bad" are subject to interpretation.

"Bad" runs the gamut from Lulu (who is partially toothless in reality) trying to bite someone, to someone not getting any candy from a pinata at a party.

The former is far more upsetting than the latter.

I respect my girls, and so I take these fears seriously.

As a prophylactic measure against such horrific episodes, we invented the Dream Maker and incorporated it into our bed time routine.

Once jammies are on and teeth are brushed and books are read and lights are dim ... we fill our dream makers for the night.

First, I put my hand (open palm) on the wee subject's forehead and slowly draw it back closing my fingers - making a slurping sound to effectively vacuum all of last night's dream remnants from the mind.

Then, I ask her (in a low and serious voice), "What shall you dream about tonight?"

Answers always include up to ten of the following: rainbows, flowers, hearts, Dorthy, Toto, Mommy kisses, Daddy kisses, Lulu licks, Grandma/Grandpa kisses, Holly kisses, my whole family, Felicity, McKenna, Saige, going to Frell, swimming, campfires, s'mores, painting, dress up stuff, going outside, lollipops ..."

With each item, I point to to them middle of the forehead, repeat the request, make a noise like a "click" and press the dream material right in.

When we have ten or so items, I "seal it in" by planting  a big smooch on her forehead. She then closes her eyes and takes three big, deep breaths to swirl the dreams around and activate them for a pleasant slumber.

We've been doing this long enough that it's expected. Mairin likes to fill my dream maker with items like, "spending time as a family, bountiful harvest, clean laundry, vacations, daddy hugs, Leighton and Mairin kisses and so forth."

My dreams are less inclined to look like a sheet of Lisa Frank stickers, but are no less exciting in my mind. And, honestly, I can't remember the last time any of us actually had a bad dream.

Why Did You Put That Up Your Nose?

This morning, Mairin was playing with a necklace she had made - basically a fat, bright-pink shoelace with colorful, chunky beads strung on it.

She was quiet for a moment (never a good sign).

MAIRIN: "I lost the pink bead, mama."

ME: "Where did it go?"

MAIRIN: "In my nose."

I remained as calm as possible and inspected my little prankster.

It didn't look like she had anything jammed up in her nose. However, when I gently palpitated the side of her right nostril, sure as anything, there was a hard lump.

Luckily, she didn't pack it up in there. I knew it was a smooth little object and after a few quick downward strokes, it fell out.

ME: Deep breath. "Why did you do that?" 

MAIRIN: "I don't know. I just wanted to try it."

ME: "Will you ever do that again?"

MAIRIN: "No. NEVER. I was scared (pronounced skee-ad)."

I'm not sure why I even asked her why she did it. I knew the answer.

I knew the answer because almost everyone I know has had a similar experience - both as a parent and as a curious child.

I wedged a raisin up my nose when I was three. By the time we removed it, it was a grape. Just this morning, my nanny confided that her parents fished a band-aid out of her nose, and my neighbor ... a pea. 

I'm sure none of us knew why we did it, other than the obvious fact that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Experts have a few theories of their own.

“This is how children investigate their environment,” said Dr. Jonathan Powell, a pediatrician with Resurrection Medical Group in Chicago. “When they are babies, they stick everything in their mouth. As they get a little older, they try other places. It’s very common.”

Dr. Michael Pitt, the director of the Pediatric Convenient Care Clinic at Lurie’s Children’s Hospital of Chicago, said this happens most often in kids between the ages of one and six.

“I think there’s a misconception that boys do this more than girls but that’s not the case,” Pitt said. “For items found in the ears, it’s equal between girls and boys, but for the nose, it’s 2 to 1 (ratio) girls.”

The most common things found in the nose, Pitt said, are Barbie shoes. Other popular items, according to Pitt and Powell, include Legos, beads, seeds, coins and erasers. 

If you find yourself in this situation as a parent, all on-line research indicates that you should not attempt to remove the object by putting anything up into your child's nose - such as a Q-Tip or tweezers.  Tweezers may be used by a medical practitioner, but generally a last resort as nasal cartilage is delicate in a wee one and can be damaged easily.

From my cursory research, other methods a doctor may use to remove an object include magnets (for metallic objects), oil (should an insect be the object), holding one nostril shut and having the child blow, or holding the nostril shut and having the parent puff lightly into the child's mouth with their own (Mother's Kiss technique). 

The bottom line is, if your child puts a foreign object in his or her nose, you may find yourself at the doctor's office.

And, if you simply must ask "Why did you do this?" Fully expect the answer to be a resounding, "I don't know."

Safe Fall

We (by "we" I mean mostly Ryan with help from my dad) erected a massive play set in our backyard. It was much bigger than the previous - quite a sturdy situation, in fact.

It has swings and slide and climbing wall and a rope wall thingy and a playhouse with working shutters and a chimney and dormers and ... you could fall off of it and die it's so big.

Did you know that falling on grass can cause head injuries and bodily damage tantamount to a fall on concrete?

If you were not aware, unfortunately you are now.

Due to this bit of information, I didn't want anyone to play on the imposing structure until we laid at least six inches of something relatively soft beneath it. (Luckily, it rained that week).

What to pick? Gravel? Wood chips? Mulch? Sand?

I found this handy dandy guide to playground surfaces in the instruction manual for my Gorilla play set. So I went with it.

Since I could not find such a succinct and on-point chart anywhere else quickly, I thought I'd share.

We chose rubber mulch (6" depth), which is basically shredded tires. It looks great (better than my natural mulch on most days) and is so soft and bouncy, I am no longer terrified when the girls ascend the ladder. 

{Top 5 Friday} Why It's Great to Be One of My Kids

Dearest Leighton and Mairin,

Here are 5 reasons I believe it would be most excellent to be you, in reverse order.

5)   You spend more time with my iPhone and iPad than I do. You are adept at working these items and we rarely deny you the apps you desire. Plus, we don't charge you for them. Your piggy banks are safe .... for now.

4)   People applaud when you sing at the top of your lungs all day long. Two words for you: "I WISH." I would support this as a career someday in case you're wondering.

3)   SPF 100 smells so unbelievably good on you. So much so that you don't need to bathe every single day. Or, you bathe in the kiddie pool. In the midst of our "private" slice of nature.

2)   You are not modest, nor are you shy about being naked. You love to run about in the buff. And, bless you for it because you look damn adorable, happy and supremely satisfied with your nude little selves.

1)     You get to sleep. A lot. Even though you find naps and bedtime to be somewhat of a punishment from time to time, please know that we know sleep is important. We know, because we don't get enough. Largely because we love spending so much time with you.

Happy friday! What makes it great to be one of your kids? Please post a comment and share your fuss with us.

Legidiot

Leighton makes up words.

She should.

She's four. 

Occasionally, her sing songy experiments yield an undeniable gem.

Yesterday Lei chirped away for several minutes before coming to the conclusion that Legidiot should be a word.

LEI:  "Mairin, is signiet, dignient, abniet, dabniet, midiot, legidiot." [She stops here as if she's just tripped over something interesting.]

MAIRIN: [Gives quizzical look and puts the toy down with which she has been poking her sister.]

LEI: "Mairin is a legidot. You're a legidiot Mairin."

ME: "I'm sure you don't know what you're saying and it sounds like something you've heard before, but buried in your rhyming game is a not-so-nice word."

LEI: "Mairin is a legidiot, mom. And, it's okay. Legidiot means genuis."

Now, I can't stop using this word. It could stand for "legitimate idiot" or "legendary idiot" and it just really captures what I'm feeling when I encounter someone who happens to be tragically clueless or dense beyond rescue.

Even though this one has made its way to the urban slang dictionary, we haven't added it to the Freeman lexicon until today. Thank you, Leighton, for your contribution.

Unfortunately, you are not allowed to use this word for several years.

The Girl Who Wears Pink

Me: How about these pjs, Lei? 

I offer her pink pjs.

Leighton: No thanks.

Me: These?

Also pink.

Leighton: Um. Nope. Not Pink. 

She says this as if pink is NOT unequivocally her favorite color. And that she did not just tell me the other day that while wearing pink, she feels like herself again.

Me: Sooooo, you're going to start rotating other colors into your wardrobe?

Leighton: Yes. I am.

Me: Which ones?

Leighton: Purple, blue, yellow, green, orange, red ...

He tone indicates a certain obviousness and implies that I do not know my colors.

Me: Why the sudden change?

Leighton: I don't want to be known as "the girl who wears pink".

I'm suspicious.

Me: So your very favorite dress in your closet is what color?

Sheepish look melting into a huge grin.

Leighton: Pink.

Me: Your favorite top?

Leighton: PINK!

Me: And, your favorite pants?

Leighton: Oh that's silly mom. I look HORRID in pants.

It's really just another day with Lei - full of zingers. I have to write them down from time to time or I fear they will be lost forever.

Cow Boobie Dish

Putting Lei to bed tonight, we got into a conversation about what milk is and where it comes from.

Oh joy.

We went through the list: coconut milk is from coconuts, almond, soy, sheep, cow, mommy and the like.

Leighton asked thoughtful questions while I tickled her back and tried to get her to sleep. I could almost hear the gears turning. I was confident that a conversation about milk would send her off to dreamland.

BO-RING.

Leighton rolled over and looked at me squarely and said, "So milkis really cow boobie dish?"

I answered in the affirmative unsure of whether she would find it gross or fine or something else. She said, "Hmm. Oh. Okay. I like it."

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring with regard to this topic. I wonder what food and beverage questions are coming down the pike. I'm just happy she's thinking about food in ways most people don't.

My kids calls breastmilk "boobie dish". It evolved over time. It started with Lue, who eats what we call "dry dish" which is our word for kibble. Sometimes she gets "fish in the dish"or "pasta dish" or whatever. Maybe we watch too many cooking shows. Whatever the reason, it's dry dish for Lue and boobie dish for the baby. It is what it is.

Rainbow Dress Up Birthday Party

Leighton turned 3 last week. {SIGH} And, to wrap up the Freeman kids' birthday season with gusto, we had a party.

As soon as Mairin's 1st birthday party drew to a close, Leighton began spewing unsolicited themes for her own impending extravaganza.

She landed on "Rainbow Dress Up with hearts".

We had six weeks to turn her vision into reality. I think we did a decent job.

  

I made the invitations with paper from Paper Source and cut the hearts on my Silhouette. All but a few of the tutus and dresses are from Leighton and Mairin's personal collection.

I decorated my Ballard Designs wreaths with a rainbow assortment of cocktail parasols.

I'm not sure why we have so many pairs of glasses.

Happy little girls!

The Martha Stewart 70's revival tissue pompons made the cut once again.

Favor boxes included boas, glasses, jewelry, purses, gloves and rainbow hair extensions. I bought a Fuji Instamax camera and took instant photos during the party of each little girl. I used them to designate each guest's favor box.

I used my silhouette to make signs per Leighton's instruction out of adhesive vinyl.

Once again, amazing cookies by the Darling Baker - Kristine Borzych. (847) 322-3610.

I used a few tablespoons of Jello to flavor each cake layer and then added food coloring to brighten it up. The rest went into the rainbow cupcakes. The frosting is homemade buttercreme. It was delicious. What was left by the end of the party toppled over, but it still tasted just fine the next day.

Since this was our first kid party and none of the parents had ever been to our house, I decorated the flower boxes outside so they'd know where to go.

I promise myself after each party that "next time we'll tone it down" but I have a feeling the girls will never let that happen.

A Three Year-Old's Interpretation

Leighton: Why does she say "damn"?

Mom: It's not very nice, but those are her lyrics.

Leighton: "Damn" is a bad word.

Mom: Yes.

Leighton: Sometimes big people say "damn"?

Mom: Yes.

Leighton: Sometimes singers say "damn"?

Mom: Yes. Now stop saying it.

Leighton: Why does she say "damn"?

Mom: I don't know why she chose that word. I guess it goes with the song.

Leighton: She's just mad because strangers are in her bed.

 

Katy Perry: Last Friday Night

There's a stranger in my bed

There's a pounding in my head

Glitter all over the room

Pink flamingos in the pool

I smell like a minibar

DJ's passed out in the yard

Barbies on the barbeque

Is this a hickey or a bruise

Pictures of last night

Ended up online

I'm screwed Oh well

It's a blacked-out blur

But I'm pretty sure it ruled

Damn

Last Friday Night ...

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Bleeping Haters

Oh boy. Apparently, Modern Family is eroding what's left of the Leave-It-to-Beaverishness in America.

I should have known better than to watch that show. Prudish 18 year-olds are all the rage these days, anyway.

Admittedly, I would be a much better parent if I just pretended certain words don't exist and joined the no cussing club.

This is just so silly.

FUCK.

It's a word. It's part of our lexicon. I've studied language and literature extensively prior to studying law. I'm smart and funny and use the f-word from time to time. Okay. Let's be honest - several times each day.

I truly appreciate language (structurally, contextually, historically and culturally). I also have an affection for the 1st amendment as it relates to creativity.

I'm thirty-five years old and have two small children. I work and watch this show with a glass of wine when it's time to relax. Modern Family is a smart show. It's hilarious and far more family-centric than the commercials bookending segments of children's shows airing on ABC (Viagra etc.).

Once McKay Hatch has lived some real life, I'm sure he will look back and see what a useless and ill-placed crusade this is.

To be clear, let's remember one more thing - this is just my fucking opinion.

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Multitasking

So, I'm feeding Mairin. Since she's almost one, she only requires a top-off around dinner time and then some evening nursing. On this particular night, I'm also still working - tap, tap, tapping away at my laptop.

Leighton is quiet for a moment or two (which is certainly suspicious) and so I look up and whip my head around.

Woosh. Woosh.

Not to worry. There she is on her little, green PBK couch with a baby doll stuffed up her Dorothy dress, shimmering her fingers about. ("Shimmering" is the best way to describe it. "Fluttering" would be close too.)

"Are you feeding your baby?", I asked.

"Yes.", she replied with confidence. "But I also need my laptop."

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Please Mommy Dad

I have yet to explain to Leighton that Feliz Navidad is a song about Christmas, sung in Spanish.

This occurred to me while I listened to her singing her spin on the happy tune.

Please mommy dad

Please mommy dad

Please mommy dad because you know I know a fuzzy dot

She's so cute, I can hardly stand it. Someday, the little lisp and Jersey accent will disappear and I will miss it terribly.

Excuse Me?

A toddler can turn a ten-minute car ride into an hour.

A toddler who needs to stop to pee in crowded downtown Chicago on a friday night on the way to your brother-in-law's rehearsal dinner can turn that ride into a circus sideshow.

Ryan, his mom, Leighton, Mairin and I packed into the minivan for the brief trip from Navy Pier to Maggiano's. As soon as the last seat-belt clicked, Lei informed us that she had to pee. I said, "We will be there in five minutes. You can pee at the restaurant.

Traffic was horrendous and we made a wrong turn. A series of wrong turns and one-way streets led us a bit north. The whole time, Leighton was calmly repeating that she needed a rest stop.

Mairin started crying.

Lei's volume increased. "I have to go potty. I have to go potty." In a sing-songy cadence.

The radio was on. (Don't ask me why).

My mother-in-law dug frantically for an address.

My husband began sweating.

I focused on breathing in my nose and out of my mouth. I was feeling car sick.

Finally, it became obvious that Lei felt she needed more attention. "I HAVE TO PEE DAMMIT. DAMMIT I HAVE TO PEE. DAMMIT. DAMMIT. DAMMIT."

Whoa.

We stopped at a restaurant and Grandma whisked Lei out of her seat. We were parked around the corner from the entrance (another one-way situation) so we couldn't readily see that this particular restaurant was closed.

Grandma came back twelve minutes later, sweating, carrying Lei in heels, back aching because the toddler insisted on being carried the five block trek to find a suitable potty and Grandma obliged.

Ryan's brother was married in July (feel free to go back and reread that knowing it was 85 degrees outside). Until yesterday, I had forgotten about that car ride and how we spent the remainder of it trying not to laugh at Leighton's proper use of such a naughty word.

Yesterday afternoon, Lei was goofing around on a chair and knocked over my external hard drive. As it crashed to the floor I yelled "Dammit Leighton". She happily skipped around the house yelling "Dammit Leighton" for the next five minutes.

I no longer have to guess as to where she learned that word.

Oh Boy!

Earlier this year, I had a revelation related to the use of foul language in front of Leighton. It was the first phase of me coming to the realization that she is impressionable.

This realization has escalated to a new way of life that involves me always having to eat my vegetables and to stop saying things like "I'm not really a nap person" even though I'm really not.

Leighton is incredibly verbal and super duper stubborn. This lethal combination can be frustrating. I just need to remember that she's sixteen months old, not sixteen years when I feel my face getting red.

Everything has to be her idea or it sucks. (Ryan will tell you that she gets this from me. I disagree, but only because it's his hypothesis). So I need to be crafty in suggesting activities such as putting on pjs or petting Luella.

Instead of "oh shit" or "damn it" I say "Oh Boy". I apparently utter this quite a bit because Lei tosses that little nugget out there with serious frequency. "Oh Boyiee!"  I must also have an affection for "okay" because she's been using it in place of "yes" and it's driving me insane. Wanna play on the swing? Kay! Wanna come in for lunch? Kay! Wanna stop saying Kay? Nope.

Scraping the bottom of the patience barrel is incessant use of the word "mine". I know it's just one stepping stone on the steep path of self-actualization and identification, but it's maddening. Last week I told Lei that I didn't like the way she was using that word. "Who taught you that?" I asked. I knew her truth before she uttered the answer - a sweet little "You".

Ear-itation

I'm fed up with ear infections.  Lei isn't quite eleven months old and we've already had five. SINCE OCTOBER.

We started the one-day-a-week at daycare thing October 1st. We took December off completely because we couldn't take being sick anymore and miraculously escaped antibiotics for much of that month. Last week was our last day. For now anyway.

SIDEBAR: I do not consider antibiotics an over-the-counter equivalent. In fact, I'd rather not rely on them. However, when my kid is too tiny to tell me what's really wrong and to what degree. And, her ped prescribes them. And, I'm positive this is the last ear infection. And, we're getting on an airplane in five days. WE TAKE THEM. Defeatedly. But we take them.

The owners of our day care were initially defensive about our choice to temporarily pull Leighton from day care. I GET IT. Day care doesn't cause ear infections. Still, there is a reason most parents refer to day care as a petri dish. My logic, leading to what I consider a good parenting decision, is as follows:

At day care, a small herd of children are playing on top of each other all day long. Thus, I must assume that germs and toys are shared alike. Plus, as I mentioned previously, Leighton looooooves her friends. She loves them hard. If germs are present, Lei will certainly pick them up. If she's crawling with germs, she will get sick. If she gets sick, she will absolutely get an ear infection.

CONCLUSION: I must keep this child healthy until her eustachian tubes develop or she can properly blow her nose.  Leighton had never been sick until day care and was perfectly healthy for the month she was away. And so it goes ... No more day care. No more colds. No more ear infections. I pray to every god out there that this works. I will do whatever it takes to NOT PUT those tubes in her little ears.

I need your feedback, dear readers:

1) What is your experience with nanny versus daycare and your kids getting sick?

2) What are your thoughts on taking antibiotics versus watchful waiting?

3) Did your child have ear tubes and did they actually work to some degree of success?

Thanks so much for reading. Please leave a comment to answer one or all of the questions and share your fuss with us!