“Evan French kissed me,” said my five-year-old daughter. We were sitting in the living room after dinner. She was just about to play cards with Daddy.
“What?” we both said.
“What’s a ‘French kiss?’” I asked her.
She stuck her tongue out and rotated it. “He put his tongue in my mouth.”
“Where did this happen?”
“At Kids Club,” she said — her after school program. “I tried to tell someone there, but they were too busy. He did it to my friend, too.”
My poor little girl. “I’m gonna call your school, Sweetie. When did it happen?” read more
I hate being a food-allergy family. We resisted for so long, but we can’t resist anymore. My daughter is allergic to artificial colors. They make her crazy and self-destructive (See Dethroning the Drama Queen). And I just discovered that I’m allergic to corn. It was a huge contributor to my migraines. (See A Hill of Beans)
So now, like so many moms, when I go to the grocery store, I read every single label on every single product I buy. Or don’t buy. The other day I went shopping and I told my husband I’d be fairly quick. I only had seven items on my list. I was wrong. With the new regime, I had to read every single label, and reject product after product. It took me an hour and a half to buy those seven items. read more
What a difference two weeks can make! Until about two weeks ago, my almost-six-year-old daughter was having frequent, epic – and I mean epic — meltdowns. She wouldn’t just cry and scream and hit, she’d try to hurt herself to get attention. She’d punch herself, try to make herself vomit by choking herself and once she tried to climb off the second-story deck. But now the meltdowns have pretty much stopped.
That’s right, stopped. After reading “Dog-tirade,” a close friend commented about what she thought was going on. She said that my daughter’s tantrum sounded a lot like her daughter’s behavior before she stopped consuming artificial colors. I never thought we’d be a family that had dietary restrictions. It’s not that I don’t believe in them, it’s that we weren’t allergic to anything. Even my friend said “I felt like a crazy hippie at first, then I said to myself, what are artificial colors? Chemical dyes. Red is made out of coal. Yellow is made out of petroleum. If I gave my daughter, say, a small amount of methamphetamine and she had a reaction, no one would be surprised. So…my daughter reacts to the chemicals in artificial colors the way a tweeker reacts to meth.” Because I haven’t watched “Breaking Bad” yet, I’d never heard the term “tweeker,” but I took her word for it. read more
It all started innocently enough. The landscaper for our next-door neighbors always brings his dog to work. The dog’s a cute little Silky Terrier, and my daughter always wants to play with him. This time he wandered into our yard, and she asked if she could go see him. I said okay and off she went. Then the landscaper called the dog back to him. My disappointed daughter stood on our lawn, watching him go, longing for the dog. I called her back in and she asked if we could go play with the dog next door. I said no, the landscaper has to do his job and we can’t walk on his grass seeds after he spreads them, but we will go talk to him in a while. I wanted to get an estimate.
We went next door and my daughter called the dog as I talked to the guy. He gave me his card and he told me that he’d be by once he was done. I told my daughter to come back home with me. She didn’t want to, but she came. All the way home, she asked me if she could go back. I assured her that the guy would come over with his dog later and she could play with him all she wanted. read more
Who doesn’t love a playdate? I do. The kids are occupied, and if I keep my finger on remote’s trigger, I can watch “Orange is the New Black” until they come bounding in. Ahh, mom time. Sometimes.
We have a little trouble with playdates. We are slowly, painfully, teaching my five-and-a-half-year-old daughter to be a good hostess. She will, for reasons only she knows, abandon her friend during a playdate and go sit in her room. Sometimes she will sulk over some perceived injustice. Sometimes the friend didn’t want to go to her room. Most of the time, she doesn’t even invite her friend.
Last weekend, my daughter had a new friend over. She met her at the bus stop on the first day of school. I’m very excited about this friend because she lives in the neighborhood and has time available for playdates. We have some scheduling and personality conflicts with the other neighborhood kids. read more