https://www.facebook.com/joshuasfootprints
This couple lost their baby boy and are doing what they can to bring some joy to the world in his honor. Today would have been his birthday.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Friday, September 4, 2015
12 Reasons Why Your Rant About Peanut Free Schools is a Whiny Load of Crap: an Open Letter
So, in my Internetting, I came across this: http://www.decisive-empowered-resilient.com/12-reasons-why-peanut-free-schools-are-not-okay/
Fair warning, I didn't actually go to the bother of writing out 12 counter points, because it just wasn't worth the time.
I actually had to stop reading the thing part way through, because, well, I actually like English, and reading it was like being stabbed in the soul with a rusty fork. But I digress.
Dear Annoying Purveyor of Clickbait,
I'm assuming you have never experienced anaphylaxis. I'm assuming this because anyone who has, and has offspring, would realize that having their child forgo peanuts for one meal a day is a tiny, infinitesimal bother, barely worth mentioning (let alone composing a badly written, rambling "article" about) when compared with the prospect of a child losing consciousness for the last time, unable even to gasp for breath. Imagine your tongue swollen to the size of a balloon in your mouth, and the edges of your vision turning grey. That ought to shut you up - not least because you can't actually talk with your tongue swollen like that. Can't talk, can't yell for help - believe me, I've tried.
Let me tell you something. No, my child is not important than yours. No, it is not your responsibility to look out for my child. But you can be damn sure, even if your kid was the only one, I would happily have my kid miss out on something for one effing meal a day, rather than expose your child to something which could kill her horribly. Because your normal, healthy child actually is more important to me than my supposedly disabled child's need to eat something at every fucking meal. Unless your kid is the Wicked Witch of the West, yes, I will make concessions to stop my child from accidentally killing yours.
You go on a lot about living in the real world and responsibility and learning to live with the hand you're dealt - and I agree, to an extent. My own peanut allergy was discovered at a time before epipens and as a very young child, I carried a glass vile of epinephrine and a syringe. I was taught to ask about the ingredients in *everything*. But we're not talking about a situation where "live and learn" applies. We're talking about one slip up could KILL A CHILD. As in, that normal, healthy child you're so proud of, who shouldn't have to cater to a "peanut allergy kid"? You would have to explain to her where people go when they die, and why little Billy won't be back to class. "Well, you see, peanut protein is very important. And Billy didn't ask what was in the cookie you offered him (or you didn't know, or maybe you lied because you didn't comprehend the severity of the situation and thought it would be funny), so now he's dead. Don't worry, though; not your responsibility."
A lot of your points centre around other allergies that schools don't make allowances for, like soap, etc. First of all, unscented soaps are a healthier option for everyone - second and more important - we're not talking about a rash or a reaction that can be easily avoided by a kid using their own supplies. Some peanut allergies are severe enough that touching something that's been touched by another person with peanut butter on their hand could be deadly. I hope your normal, healthy child is good at washing her hands after lunch - oh wait, my bad, it doesn't matter, because the "peanut allergy kids" should be at home wrapped in cellophane anyway, where they won't bother your normal, healthy, athletic child with their inconvenient habit of having a potentially deadly allergy.
Your whole argument is basically that you shouldn't be mildly inconvenienced in order to help avoid a potentially life-threatening situation for someone else's child. Well, maybe you shouldn't. But what can I say? Life is. Schools shouldn't have to change the rules to accommodate your inability to adapt. And if your kids' health is so frail that they can't make it through the day without that healthy peanut protein, maybe you should consider home schooling.
Fair warning, I didn't actually go to the bother of writing out 12 counter points, because it just wasn't worth the time.
I actually had to stop reading the thing part way through, because, well, I actually like English, and reading it was like being stabbed in the soul with a rusty fork. But I digress.
Dear Annoying Purveyor of Clickbait,
I'm assuming you have never experienced anaphylaxis. I'm assuming this because anyone who has, and has offspring, would realize that having their child forgo peanuts for one meal a day is a tiny, infinitesimal bother, barely worth mentioning (let alone composing a badly written, rambling "article" about) when compared with the prospect of a child losing consciousness for the last time, unable even to gasp for breath. Imagine your tongue swollen to the size of a balloon in your mouth, and the edges of your vision turning grey. That ought to shut you up - not least because you can't actually talk with your tongue swollen like that. Can't talk, can't yell for help - believe me, I've tried.
Let me tell you something. No, my child is not important than yours. No, it is not your responsibility to look out for my child. But you can be damn sure, even if your kid was the only one, I would happily have my kid miss out on something for one effing meal a day, rather than expose your child to something which could kill her horribly. Because your normal, healthy child actually is more important to me than my supposedly disabled child's need to eat something at every fucking meal. Unless your kid is the Wicked Witch of the West, yes, I will make concessions to stop my child from accidentally killing yours.
You go on a lot about living in the real world and responsibility and learning to live with the hand you're dealt - and I agree, to an extent. My own peanut allergy was discovered at a time before epipens and as a very young child, I carried a glass vile of epinephrine and a syringe. I was taught to ask about the ingredients in *everything*. But we're not talking about a situation where "live and learn" applies. We're talking about one slip up could KILL A CHILD. As in, that normal, healthy child you're so proud of, who shouldn't have to cater to a "peanut allergy kid"? You would have to explain to her where people go when they die, and why little Billy won't be back to class. "Well, you see, peanut protein is very important. And Billy didn't ask what was in the cookie you offered him (or you didn't know, or maybe you lied because you didn't comprehend the severity of the situation and thought it would be funny), so now he's dead. Don't worry, though; not your responsibility."
A lot of your points centre around other allergies that schools don't make allowances for, like soap, etc. First of all, unscented soaps are a healthier option for everyone - second and more important - we're not talking about a rash or a reaction that can be easily avoided by a kid using their own supplies. Some peanut allergies are severe enough that touching something that's been touched by another person with peanut butter on their hand could be deadly. I hope your normal, healthy child is good at washing her hands after lunch - oh wait, my bad, it doesn't matter, because the "peanut allergy kids" should be at home wrapped in cellophane anyway, where they won't bother your normal, healthy, athletic child with their inconvenient habit of having a potentially deadly allergy.
Not a single other student should be accommodating for another child’s inability to meet basic expectations and requirements of being in a public, social environment.Ok, what the Hell? Really? So, your magical, normal, healthy, athletic, second-coming-of-Christ with a cherry on top sees a blind child walking toward them and you teach them, what, exactly? To say Fuck you, blind kid! I'm not moving out of your way; if you can't get around me, you should be home schooled? Or, a deaf child asks to swap seats with your perfect specimen of health and normalcy, so that they can see the teacher (or, the horror!, the ASL interpreter)? I assume your kid has been well trained to sneer and thumb her nose?
Your whole argument is basically that you shouldn't be mildly inconvenienced in order to help avoid a potentially life-threatening situation for someone else's child. Well, maybe you shouldn't. But what can I say? Life is. Schools shouldn't have to change the rules to accommodate your inability to adapt. And if your kids' health is so frail that they can't make it through the day without that healthy peanut protein, maybe you should consider home schooling.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Genius Baby Part 7: Det? & a rant
So the monster has started to use "Det?" / "Dat?" with pointing and upward intonation to ask what things are. He smiles or laughs delightedly when I answer.
I thought this was a bit soon, so I looked it up, apparently it usually starts around 21 months, so that's kinda cool. I know it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but I always feel proud about these things - proud of him, of course, but also a little proud of Mr. Wolfman and myself, for making his environment one that's conducive to learning.
My parents came for a short visit with my brother last night. Of course a lot of the visit was them saying to my brother, "You were doing _____ at his age," and similar. When I pointed out the monster's new question, my mom just kinda shrugged and said, "Yeah," not in an intentionally mean way, but in a all babies do that kind of way.
No mention of what I was doing at the monster's age. No questions for Mr. Wolfman about what he was doing or what milestones he'd reached. Before, the only things that mattered were the made up similarities between my monster and my brother, but now it seems like those aren't enough* and we're in some sort of fucked up competition.
Newsflash, guys: I don't care if my brother was more advanced at the same age. I give literally no shits. Since the ages at which he first did various things change with every retelling of the story, I kind of suspect he wasn't. But maybe he was. WHO THE FUCK CARES?
My monster is a baby now. My brother is an adult with his own shit going on - and while I understand the desire to wax nostalgic, my son is not - and never will be - in competition with yours. For anything. Likewise, I am not in competition with you over who the better parent is. That's not a question I need answered. Mr. Wolfman and I do the best we can, we give 100% and we have a happy, healthy, intelligent and active baby to show for it. That is what matters to us.
*perhaps because they were tenuous at best when the monster was fresh, and now that he's a monstrous bear child who basically only shares his ethnicity with my brother, they're downright laughable.
I thought this was a bit soon, so I looked it up, apparently it usually starts around 21 months, so that's kinda cool. I know it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but I always feel proud about these things - proud of him, of course, but also a little proud of Mr. Wolfman and myself, for making his environment one that's conducive to learning.
My parents came for a short visit with my brother last night. Of course a lot of the visit was them saying to my brother, "You were doing _____ at his age," and similar. When I pointed out the monster's new question, my mom just kinda shrugged and said, "Yeah," not in an intentionally mean way, but in a all babies do that kind of way.
No mention of what I was doing at the monster's age. No questions for Mr. Wolfman about what he was doing or what milestones he'd reached. Before, the only things that mattered were the made up similarities between my monster and my brother, but now it seems like those aren't enough* and we're in some sort of fucked up competition.
Newsflash, guys: I don't care if my brother was more advanced at the same age. I give literally no shits. Since the ages at which he first did various things change with every retelling of the story, I kind of suspect he wasn't. But maybe he was. WHO THE FUCK CARES?
My monster is a baby now. My brother is an adult with his own shit going on - and while I understand the desire to wax nostalgic, my son is not - and never will be - in competition with yours. For anything. Likewise, I am not in competition with you over who the better parent is. That's not a question I need answered. Mr. Wolfman and I do the best we can, we give 100% and we have a happy, healthy, intelligent and active baby to show for it. That is what matters to us.
*perhaps because they were tenuous at best when the monster was fresh, and now that he's a monstrous bear child who basically only shares his ethnicity with my brother, they're downright laughable.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Genius Baby Part 6: Sentences
So far, the little monster has used two sentences.
The first, a few nights ago, was "Mum, no!" (Mum being in English and No in his other language) when I tried to put him back in his crib after a night feed.
The second, today, I told him we needed to change his diaper and he responded with "[his name] dai dai?"
Yeah, not going to lie, I'm a little freaked out. Mostly delighted, but eep. He's only 11 months.
The first, a few nights ago, was "Mum, no!" (Mum being in English and No in his other language) when I tried to put him back in his crib after a night feed.
The second, today, I told him we needed to change his diaper and he responded with "[his name] dai dai?"
Yeah, not going to lie, I'm a little freaked out. Mostly delighted, but eep. He's only 11 months.
While The Monster Sleeps
Damn. It's already evening, and I have done nothing today. Yesterday was supposed to be my getting stuff done day, but I barely slept and then I was all-caps ILL. I ended up throwing up, and then when I went back to the bathroom to throw up again, had time to call out to Mr. Wolfman that I was going to pass out, before falling on the floor and doing just that. The last thing I remember is the door hitting me in the head as he burst in to rescue me. Had a small seizure, Mr. Wolfman said it only lasted a minute (it was the first of mine he's ever seen). He handled it like a champ (cold water on my face, so nice. Who knew?) though he was pretty alarmed by the colour I turned. Woke up punching the bathroom scale, causing the monster to cry.
So now Mr. Wolfman is on his 16 hour days from Hell and I'm already massively stressed and still feeling pretty assy.
I was going to go to the dollar store for supplies for a sparkly water bottle thing, and a doorstop so that I can use the building's laundry room without worrying that someone is going to open the heavy metal door into LO's head. But I'm pretty sure they're closed. So, yeah. Tomorrow, I guess.
Other than being a clingy fuss face, the little monster is doing so great. He's walking most of the time now, pointing at stuff, playing jokes on us (his favourite, to stick his finger in his mouth, then try to stick it in mine and laugh evilly at my reaction) and just being generally wonderful.
I'm looking forward to my parents coming, and I'll admit that a huge part of that is to show off how great my son is. I am a little nervous about possible confrontations, because anything that comes up will likely be something I've been mulling over for a while, but to them, it's going to seem like it's coming out of left field. IE: if my father uses the term milk wagon to refer to me, he'll get one warning and if it happens again, he'll be asked to leave. If he accuses me of being crazy for not wanting him flashing a camera in my sleeping baby's face, same thing. Grabby hands, and hand the kid over will be shut down. It's not likely to come up, but forced affection, discipline of any kind, feeding without asking first, sharing food, same thing.
All that, I know is reasonable. But I am going to have to keep myself in check, because after their last visit, I'm pretty sure that them even looking at my monster wrong is going to set me off. So I'll probably have to replay things in my head and possibly be liberal in dispensing benefit of the doubt. The nice thing, though, is that he doesn't need to be held, so they can't act like they're doing me a favour by taking him. He can play in his play area (aka the entire living room) and they can sit and watch or play with him, but they don't need to (and he probably won't let them) hold him all the time.
Also, since Mr. Wolfman decided to take on the extra hours, and then, despite my telling him I 100% NEEDED to be driving before my parents' visit, did not get the license necessary to teach me to drive our standard car (which we've now had for a year and a half), so I have no transportation for my parents' visit, which means either relying on them (not thrilled as they're not good drivers and never have a reliable car) or not going anywhere outside of walking distance. So, yeah, there's that.
Ugh, wasn't intending to turn this into a whiny post. I've had enough of those lately, and will likely have more in the nearish future (got some terrible news recently that I need to work through) and my aim for this one was not that.
Ok, enough for now.
Finally
I finally set up an appointment to see my therapist. It's not until the 26th (thankfully, that's the day before my parents arrive, so I won't need to have that conversation. I'm realizing, slowly, that it would be a conversation, since "I have an appointment" would, at the very least, be met by expectant stares).
I really, really need that appointment, especially with Mr. Wolfman going back into the insane work schedule for another 5 weeks, as of today.
And now I need to cut this short. I'm getting irrationally mad at my toddler (he toddles, officially a toddler) for pushing boundaries, specifically, pulling on the power cord and opening the DVD drive repeatedly.
I really, really need that appointment, especially with Mr. Wolfman going back into the insane work schedule for another 5 weeks, as of today.
And now I need to cut this short. I'm getting irrationally mad at my toddler (he toddles, officially a toddler) for pushing boundaries, specifically, pulling on the power cord and opening the DVD drive repeatedly.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
I Guess I'm Just a Bad Mom.
I haaate when people say this. It's right up there with we can't all be perfect.
Seriously, people who say this sound like whiny teenagers with bruised egos.
It doesn't help that it often follows the admission of doing something stupid/dangerous/ill-advised with their babies. Like, I let my 10 month old watch Frozen ten times back to back. I guess I'm just a bad mom. Uh, yeah. Barring extreme circumstances, you kinda are. But even if whatever it is you're "admitting" to is something totally normal, that in no way makes you a bad parent, the sullen-stompy footing discredits you hugely.
Anyway, that's my little rant for the day. The monster is teething and fussy, but otherwise wonderful, and I'm calling 1st thing Monday to set up a therapy appointment. More to follow on the cuteness of a singing 10.5 month old.
Seriously, people who say this sound like whiny teenagers with bruised egos.
It doesn't help that it often follows the admission of doing something stupid/dangerous/ill-advised with their babies. Like, I let my 10 month old watch Frozen ten times back to back. I guess I'm just a bad mom. Uh, yeah. Barring extreme circumstances, you kinda are. But even if whatever it is you're "admitting" to is something totally normal, that in no way makes you a bad parent, the sullen-stompy footing discredits you hugely.
Anyway, that's my little rant for the day. The monster is teething and fussy, but otherwise wonderful, and I'm calling 1st thing Monday to set up a therapy appointment. More to follow on the cuteness of a singing 10.5 month old.
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