I've had to call Audrey in sick a lot this school year.  No surprise, of course, but it's still not something I'm fond of doing.  The biggest reason I hate reporting an absence is because when you leave a message on the school's "Absent/Tardy" line, you have to give your child's symptoms or else "You will receive a call back from a school administrator."  I don't like being threatened by an elementary school.  Every time I had called her in, I left a lengthy and probably obnoxious message, but at least I knew I wouldn't be getting a call back from a school administrator. 

Of course, back on October 26th, I was able to leave my finest message yet.  "Hi, this is a parent of Audrey C. She has the swine flu. Any questions, please call."  That's really what they're getting at anyway. They need to report any significant absences to the Health Department and any child with a confirmed case of Swine Flu was pretty significant.

In a previous blog I had stated how I was scared silly over the thought of Audrey getting the Swine Flu. Her compromised immune system and JRA made her a likely candidate for complications from the flu.  On October 20, we had an appointment in the Immunology Clinic at Children's Hospital of Wisconsin.  They told us to be the first to get the H1N1 vaccine, and not just Audrey, the whole family.  The problem was, no one had it. There were a few free clinics going on at that time but they mostly had the nasal spray and people with compromised immune systems can't take it, go figure.  So it goes without saying that within 48 hrs of being told "GET IT!" We indeed got it, just not through the vaccine; the old fashioned way.

Audrey's symptoms included a sore throat, headache, and very high fever. This then progressed into severe congestion, cough, and more fever.  Her fever would come and go and it never came in unnoticed. She was so hot at one point I had her sleeping in a tank top and undies. One hour later, she'd wake up completely drenched in sweat and shivering to the point you could hear her teeth across the room. She slept more in those 10 days than I had seen in more than 2 years from her.  She had no energy, no appetite and had big dark circles under her eyes.  She was not put on Tamiflu because when we had gone to Urgent Care that Friday night we were told it was just a virus, she'd be just fine.  By the time we had taken her to her regular pediatrician on Monday, it was certain this was not just any ol' virus.  "H1N1; definitely. Too late for Tamiflu, but let's keep a careful eye on her." Her lungs sounded fine at that time but they wanted to be certain she wasn't developing pneumonia.

For me, I had the strangest cough, high fever, and body aches that are hard to describe. Of all things, my hands and fingers hurt so badly that I had trouble holding on to a spoon to eat soup; the only food I could handle for almost a week.  I slept whenever Audrey slept, and again, that was a lot. Our house went to shambles and I don't think my husband came home to a good meal that entire time we were out of commission. 

After all the aches and pains, we survived.  Patrick never ended up getting it from us.  Audrey didn't end up with complications, and heck, I lost some weight with all that not-eating nonsense.  I haven't had to call in to the dreaded "Absent/Tardy" line since that last week of October and for that, I feel blessed.

Have you ever looked at your child and wondered "Now where in the heck did he/she get that from?" For my daughter, the question pertains to her fashion sense.  Her father and I are pretty casual people, not too hung up on name brands, and are most comfortable in jeans and tees.  But for Audrey, life is nothing but a fashion show.

Last week, Audrey was home 3 out of 5 days from school due to various illnesses ('tis the season). She hung out mostly in her jammies, but when it came time to go back to class, a choir of angels could be heard in her closet.  "Ooohhh, what am I going to wear this day?" Audrey asked and the angels answered back "Pick something pink and pretty, my little dove."  And so the daily process began. First it was a Barbie shirt with some pinks and browns and a pair of brown pants. That lasted about an hour until she decided the sleeves were too short so she found another brown and pinkish shirt that had some gemstone buttons. It was adorable on her, but the tag was too itchy and even after I cut it out, the moment had been ruined. She found yet another brown and pink shirt and decided it was good enough; now if only she could decide between the pink shoes with the purple flowers, the brown shoes with the pink flower, the brown Crocs with the fuzzy inside or the brown boots with the pink and white flowers.  I think the Crocs won. 

When she got back from school that day, we decided to take a run out to Johnson Creek to check out some outfits for my nephew and I promised she could pick out one shirt and one dress.  The dress was very easy to find, purple and pretty. The shirt was agony. She didn't like any of the shades of blue or green they had, she already had a purple dress so she didn't want a purple shirt, and white was just ugly. She chose a brown and pink double-layer t-shirt (she must have forgot the 3 other pink and brown shirts she owned). She got home and needed to try on the new clothes and came in to model them for me. "I'm a fashion girl, momma." she said as she pranced around the room with pouty lips and hands on her hips, and at that moment I realized where this had all come from.

This is payback for the fact that she spent the first three months of her life in either yellow or green. Indeed, we did not find out the sex of our baby when I was pregnant so neutral colors meant either yellow with ducks or green with random sayings.  We were asked constantly if our baby was a boy or girl and I'd always reply "This is Audrey" all the while thinking, my child does not need to be dressed in the customary pink or blue. She is a strong modern woman and yellow and green suit her just fine.  I'd remind people not to buy things that said "Princess" or anything close to that because I didn't need her to think she was a spoiled princess.  Karma is something else.  At four, my daughter is clad mostly in pink (with a splash of brown), refers to herself as a fashion girl, calls her father "her prince", and wouldn't be caught dead in the wrong shade of green.  She really is four and fabulous.

So many times throughout today, I have been reminded of what people were doing "on that day".  Almost everyone who was alive 8 years ago can remember exactly what they were doing the first time they heard that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers.   For a new generation, it was our time to talk about an event that changed the course of history.  My dad remembers being home sick when Kennedy was shot and I certainly have foggy memories of watching the space shuttle explode while we were watching on a tiny tv in my elementary school.  But what happened on September 11, is something that we as Americans must never forget.

My husband and I had just recently moved to Evansville, IN and I was incredibly homesick.  I had not found a job yet so I was still lying in bed moping when Patrick called.  "Can you please turn on the news? People in the office were saying there was some kind of explosion or a plane crash in New York City."  I told him I would and I'd call him back.  I turned on Good Morning America moments before the second plane crashed into the other tower.  Not knowing what had happened prior to this, I thought maybe they were replaying the first plane.  The look of terror on the anchor's faces told me differently.  I called Patrick back and for the next hour, we stayed on the phone together with me giving him updates, but mostly there was just silence on the line. 

Then came word that there were other planes that were unaccounted for.  My stomach sank as I tried to imagine what the family members were going through knowing their loved ones were on one of the planes.  Since we've been together, my husband has traveled intensly for his career.  I was always worried about him flying so much, and then this happened.  Travel was briefly postponed, but within a month he was back on a plane almost every other week.  In the months that followed the attacks, new security measures were being tested and Patrick always seemed to be one of the test subjects.  He was a single guy, carrying just a small suitcase, and his flight patterns were always a little off. He'd fly into Tennessee, drive to Mississippi and fly back from there. He was subjected to more additional security checks than anyone I had ever talked to.  Patrick, my red-headed, freckle-faced, blue-eyed, husband was seen as a security threat.

The years have gone by and every once in awhile I take out the copies of the newspapers and Time Magazines we have kept.  I look over the photos and my stomach twists just as if it happened yesterday. Today we relived the horror again and for many of us, so much has changed since that date.  If you had a baby in 2001, they're 8 years old now and probably have a pretty good understanding of what happened. For me, my very inquisitive 4-year old asked why so many people were crying on the news.  She wanted to know about the smoke, the firemen, the airplanes.  Could that happen to daddy's plane, did the smoke hurt a lot of people, why were they wearing masks? In very little detail I told her about the things we experienced that day.  I made no promises that it would never happen to daddy but I did promise her that when she was older I would tell her much more, after all, I'll never forget where I was or what I did on that day.

Did anyone else hear that strange sound around 8:00 AM yesterday morning? After much research, I've concluded that it was the collective sigh of Southeastern Wisconsin parents who were sending their kids off for the first day of school.  The biggest sighs were from the parents experiencing the first firsts.  The first time sending their child on the bus (that would include me), the first time sending their child to a big-kid school (again, I'm included), the parents with kids entering middle school or high school or maybe just a new school in general. 

For some parents it might have been a sigh of relief.  No more kids fighting or having to listening to them complain that they were bored or that they felt cheated out of a nice hot summer (oh wait, that was me).  For some parents it was a sigh because they just can't believe how quickly their children have grown, and for some parents it was a sigh because now the fun really starts. 

I was one of those kids that loved the first day and first week of school.  I loved seeing who was going to be in my class, loved organizing my locker, loved reading every detail of the syllabus.  The prospect of a whole year learning new things was so exciting that half the time I couldn't remember important details like what bus to get on.  I saw that enthusiasm in my own child and I was quite happy.

Although she got on the bus with a little hesitation (and with me suffering a private breakdown), she came home talking a mile a minute about the day she had.  She met new friends, though she couldn't remember their names yet, they were assigned their hooks and talked about their special folders.  They had a lovely snack, learned a new song, and were assigned homework of reading every night with mommy and/or daddy. 

The most important thing she wanted to talk about, however, was fashion.  My 4-year old has informed that she only wants to wear pretty things to school and the clothing can only consist of the following colors: pink, orange, purple, light blue, and light green. No dark blue, brown, black or red (too bad because 75% of her clothing has some shade of brown). This all stems from the fact that she thinks her teacher is so incredibly pretty and dresses "AWESOME!"  "I just love her pretty dresses and pretty shoes, mom!" And with that, I let out another sigh as I'm sure many other parents did as well.  The sigh that said, without any words, "Oh Lord, here we go."

Other than Facebook and email on Yahoo!, I really have no need for the internet.  You see, I have my own source of information who happens to be 3 1/2 feet tall and 4 years old; my daughter.  Others may check Wikipedia, but I have Audipedia and I find myself growing smarter every day. 

Find yourself falling out of touch with Pop Culture but feel weird checking PerezHilton.com?  I was reminded that Hannah Montana is indeed just Miley Cyrus with a wig and that Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez were two really cool actresses that have a movie called "Princess Protection Program".  I feel hip with the youngsters all thanks to Audipedia.

Can't seem to remember the lyrics to the most popular songs or even a golden oldie?  Audipedia has not only corrected me on my version of "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Swift but also that the first line of "Sugar Sugar" is "Sugar, oh honey, honey" and not "Honey, oh sugar sugar". If either of those songs are part of a karaoke contest, I'm an instant winner.

Wondering what to have for a meal? I not only get fantastic restaurant reviews such as the Chinese place that gives fortune cookies AND almond cookies, Fiesta because they have better chips, or the pancake restaurant that has the coolest crayon holder ever, but I also get cooking tips as well.  Why, just yesterday morning I was asked "Do you know what makes bacon even better, mom?" When I didn't have an answer, Audipedia said "Syrup". I now know.

I get my Geography questions answered, horticultural questions answered (those are indeed Black-Eyed Susans), and even interior decorating tips.  While my husband and I debated the new paint color for our living room, Audipedia piped in with her own suggestion.  "I think a brown wall will look much better than a green."  I'll be darned if she wasn't right.

I am in no need of a joke of the day website.  Audipedia is also a budding comedienne.  Her best joke to date (Boy I hope I remember the punchline) "What kind of phone does a dog use?"  "Bone phone. 'Cuz they rhyme."

Perhaps one of the most useful resources Audipedia provides is that of trivia.  I'm a trivia junky, having once auditioned for Teen Jeopardy and knowing that I could definitely win the million on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.  I'm inundated with random facts throughout my day.  "Ferryboats hold cars, mom."  "It goes Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, mom" "Sometimes horses wear shoes, mom".  Remember that kid from Jerry Maguire? Audipedia is giving him a run for his money.

I love my free resource and never have to worry about the site being down.  Now if I can only get it to do the on-line banking...

Last July I wrote a blog titled "Whoosh, There Goes The Room" http://www.milwaukeemoms.com/blogs/kitchentable/42740277.html.  It consisted of all the things that make me worry, keep me up at night, and, as I call it, give the very room I'm sitting in the "whooshing" sensation.  It's as if you're sitting still but everything around you has moved.  Unfortunately, I have been having a lot of those moments lately.

It all started a few weeks ago.  As we were getting closer and closer to Audrey's 4th birthday, I began to wonder where all the time had gone.  I remember when she was a newborn and how I kept thinking that I couldn't wait until she rolled over, sat up, walked, learned to talk, etc.  I wanted her to be able to play more independently, be potty-trained, take some classes, go to preschool, etc.  All that has happened, and now I'm left to think that I'm the one who has wished it to go so fast.  Whoosh, there goes the room.

The prospect of 4K starting is now weighing heavily on my mind.  Did I make the right decision to send her to the public school program that happens to be 5 days a week?  Yes, they are only half-days, but still, that's 5 days in the afternoon that she's not with me.  I could have kept her in the private preschool she was in last year and put her in the 3-day program, but I had made a list of pros and cons and since the pros of the public program outweighed the cons, I signed her up.  I second-guess myself on almost a daily basis about this decision.  I'm sure she'll be fine and I'll be the one left to cry.  Whoosh, there goes the room.

This last week I have also had to make the decision regarding Audrey's vaccination schedule.  Now that we know more about her JRA and her auto-immune deficiency (IgA deficient) we know that certain live vaccines can do more harm than good to her immune system.  During a discussion with her rheumatologist and pediatrician last month, we had agreed to hold off on the MMR and Varicella (chicken pox) vaccine indefinitely.  Audrey is still currently in remission and knew there was a slight chance that she could have a negative reaction to those two live vaccines.  The time came on Tuesday for her 4-year check up and the discussion of whether to go ahead with the other vaccines she was scheduled for.  I made the decision to hold off on those as well until we have her next rheumatology appointment.  Sometimes I hate that I have to make these decisions.  I want her just to be well enough that we go ahead as schedule as we've done since she was a newborn.  Whoosh, there goes the room.

Speaking of vaccines, there's one illness out there that gives my heart palpitations and sweaty palms, the H1N1 Flu or as it as lovingly referred to as Swine Flu.  I've heard most people say they're not as concerned about it; more people die from the regular flu and they think the media is blowing it out of proportion.  When you have a child that very likely might not be able to fight something like this off, it gives you a completely different perspective.  The Swine Flu seems to be affecting younger people more than the elderly which isn't the case with the "regular" flu.  It greatly impacts those with underlying medical conditions in which my daughter just happens to have 2.  So they're developing this vaccine to possibly lessen the probability of catching the virus, but here's the rub, it's a live vaccine so some people who need it the most, will not be able to take it.  We've made an agreement with her pediatrician that if the symptoms show up, we are not to wait 48-72 hours, we will be given an appointment immediately.  All precautionary, but WHOOSH.  I really hate to have to think about this.

I tell people I've been walking around like a zombie because of my allergies, but really it's lack of a good night's sleep;  a sleep where I'm not telling my brain to shut off and stop thinking about so many things.  So if you happen to see me at the beach or at State Fair this weekend and I look a bit tired, I'll most likely blame the heat wave we're about to have but secretly you'll know it's all about the "Whoosh".

In just two short weeks, my baby turns 4.  We are having a birthday party the day before the actual birthdate, and this year, I let Audrey pick her theme.  For her first birthday, there wasn't much of a theme, just a lot of light pink and pastel green decorations and hand decorated cupcakes.  For her second, we did a beach theme and her cake was ordered from a bakery near my parent's home. It was beautifully decorated to look like an ocean, complete with a small drawing of a mermaid.  Last year's birthday was a garden party and her cake (ordered from the same bakery) was simply covered in flowers.

Back to the fact that I let Audrey choose the theme.  She first chose Barbie and the Diamond Castle and I was totally fine with that because I knew instantly that we would do one of those fancy Barbie cakes.  Then she changed her mind and picked My Little Pony and then shortly after that, Tinkerbelle.  She has never seen Tinkerbelle and her friend had a Tinkerbelle party so I nixed that idea.  She finally decided (with a gentle nudge from her mother) that a Fairytale Princess party would be perfect.  I'm not completely sold on the "Princess" idea, but I do love a good fairytale.

I immediately thought that a cake made to look like a castle would be ideal.  The bakery we've ordered from just so happened to have made a cake like that before, but as I got to thinking of the cost associated with the cake, an idea was brewing.  Yes, I could indeed make my OWN castle cake.  I googled "How to make a castle cake" and whaddya' know, hundreds of suggestions came up.  I chose a style that looked simple (I am an amateur mind you) yet elegant.   My mom told me that Michael's even had something called a "Castle Cake Set" and I went a few days later armed with a 50% off coupon.  Do you all realize how expensive cake decorating is?  I went home with new cake pans, decorative icing tubes, sprinkles, candy, the said cake set, two boxes of cake mix, the ingredients to make my own frosting AND ice cream cones just in case the cake set castle parts didn't work out.  It was time to make the test cake.

Three hours later, I had the most pathetic looking castle cake ever made.  How in the heck does that Ace of Cakes show make it look so easy and fun?  I know they use fondant and I used homemade butter cream frosting, but is that really what did me in? I never did end up using the castle cake set because it was all plastic pieces that you needed to ice and decorate and I figured cones were cheaper and were at least edible.  The bottom part of my cake was two layers of chocolate cake made into a rectangular shape and the top was two layers of square yellow cake.  I used gum drops as decorations and experimented with different tips for the decorative icing.  I was able to make the little star shape tip work, but everything else was just plain sad.

I took no pictures of this monstrosity. I just needed to forget it.  I invited my neighbors and their three children over to enjoy my mistake.  We all agreed the cake tasted great, but it was time to go to plan B.  After all that and many trips to the stores to return the items I didn't use, I ended up ordering a cake from my favorite bakery.  No, I didn't get the castle cake, but I came up with something better.  The cake will be decorated in pinks, purples and greens and I have little figurines (A Knight, Queen, Dragon, and Frog Prince) to place on the cake.  Instead of a traditional birthday greeting, Audrey's Fairytale Princess cake will simply read "Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale".  That Hans Christian Anderson was on to something.

Skinned knees, Swimmer's Ear, rashes of unknown origin; yes, you can be sure summer has arrived in the Cairns' household.  Audrey is currently sporting bandages on both knees; Spiderman on the right and a dachshund on the left.  She didn't skin the knees doing anything dangerous like jumping off the monkey bars because she is, after all, my daughter.  She has two freshly torn up knees, simply from walking.  She swears the right knee happened because she slipped on some rocks in the cul-de-sac, but there were 4 adults present and we all witnessed her just walking along happily then suddenly falling and screaming bloody murder.  Today's skinned knee was brought to us by the sidewalk at Ft. Cushing Park in Delafield.  Merrily walking back from a potty break, looking for her friend Emma, and OOPS! watch out for that crack in the walk.  Down she went, out came the first aid kit, and there went the rest of the fun at the park.

You see, when Audrey skins a knee, she becomes inconsolable and incapable of walking.  She'll cry for hours with small breaks to have a snack or a drink.  Then she'll remember the horrible incident and whimper some more.  She needs to be carried places and nothing can touch her skin.  Tonight she went to bed with a very short nightgown and no covers on because God only knows what would happen if the sheet touched the knee.  She is, in short, a drama queen.  Tomorrow she'll wake up and announce that she has healed, she can walk again, and she is so happy that the skin is growing back over her wound. 

Not only are we dealing with the absolute horror of skinned knees, but we just got over swimmer's ear and now that same ear is sporting a mystifying rash.  Mystifying is not an exaggeration, three pediatricians have examined the rash and have come up with three different diagnoses.  Next Tuesday we're headed to the dermatologist if diagnosis #3 doesn't pan out (a fungal infection). 

The Swimmer's Ear started early last week, but we didn't see a doctor until Thursday when Audrey wouldn't let me come near her left ear.  We were given drops with both an antibiotic and steroid in them and three days later, the rash started.  Then swim lessons started and they take place at the beach (as in lake water).  She has lessons every day, and every day the rash has continued to spread.  We're told the ear infection has cleared and that it probably wasn't an allergic reaction to the drops, but the verdict is still out on that.  So we're either dealing with a reaction to the drops, a secondary bacterial infection (maybe it's the dang lake water) or a fungal infection (again lovely lake water). 

The common denominator is the lake water which ticks me off because Audrey loves swimming more than anything.  There is no drama when it comes to the water, she simply jumps in and is carefree.  She dives to retrieve diving sticks, floats when told to float, and today jumped off the pier and swam to the lifeguard.  I can't describe what it's like to watch a kid who is such a complete klutz on dry land, but takes to water as if she was a mermaid in another life.  If we find out it's the lake that causing the rash to spread, my guess is we'll be told to keep out of the water until everything clears up.  I'm really hoping some magical medicine will do the trick and she'll be able to continue to swim.  Honestly it would be horrible if she had to stop lessons, because, really, she can't trip and fall in the water and skin up any more of those precious joints.

The past few weeks have been an emotional roller coaster.  There was the elation that came with my brother graduating from nursing school and him finding a job almost immediately.  The excitement of Audrey's last day of school and the beginning of summer vacation.  Pure frustration in my car that has now been to the dealer three time for three different major problems (new transmission, new ABS, new harmonic balancer for the engine).  On top of all this, we were preparing for the big Arthritis Foundation Walk (www.arthritis.org).  Our team, Audrey's Arsenal, managed to raise more than $3600 that may one day help to find a cure for Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. 

Since Audrey was the honoree, it was our job as her parents to prepare a little something to say to all the participants at the event.  I had spent the night before writing a speech that would recognize the many people who had gotten us to that point.   With this in mind, here is how the speech ended up going on the actual day.  After Dr. Tine has introduced the Cairns Family with "And now to say a little something about what the walk means for them, here are Niki, Patrick and Audrey Cairns." (cue drumroll and the handoff of the mic to me).  "Thank you (HUGE SOBS)", "Dang, I knew this was going to happen (more HUGE SOBS)", "Just thank you," and then I proceeded to hand the mic off to Pat who had absolutely nothing prepared.  He managed to thank the big teams that had showed up, then said "You would never know that Audrey has this (his HUGE SOBS) except for the fact that her parents are always crying."  At least he managed to throw in some humor.

Me, the person who can talk about any subject at any time.  Me, the person who can stand in front of hundreds of people and talk about the effects of MS and Premature Birth (from working for both the National MS Society and The March of Dimes).  Me, who could talk your ears off about my kid.  It was me, who couldn't hold it together for a mere two minutes because the subject was just too raw at that moment.  I will say that I was totally fine (relatively speaking) until Dr. Tine mentioned the fact that there are 1.1 million adults in Wisconsin who have been diagnosed with a form of arthritis and 5400 children.  Knowing that my child was 1 of those 5400 hit  very hard.  Hearing 10-year Heather Nickolett (the first honoree of the walk) talk about her school project in which she decided not to save the Earth, but to save kids from Arthritis by raising funds to help find a cure, that hit home too.  Then there was Diana Spiegelberg, Waukesha County's Fairest of the Fair.  She too had been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis.  She spoke of how she used to run cross country and track and could no longer participate in those sports so her parents ended up running the meets for her.  How could that NOT bring forth the tears? 

Now that I've composed myself, a mere three days later, here's who I would have thanked.  I would have thanked my dear friend Stephanie who put me in contact with the Arthritis Foundation.  Dr. Olson at the Children's Hospital Rheumatology Clinic for answering all of our questions. All 26 members of Audrey's Arsenal, some who drove more than an hour just to show their support.  The Arthritis Foundation for giving me valid information and made me get off the internet and stop scaring myself with the plethora of information on the web.  I'd thank Patrick for coming out of his shell and asking every person he knew to donate.  Most of his donors gave at least $100 some up to $250.  Patrick managed to raise more than 50% of our overall total! And finally, I would have thanked Audrey for being so brave and so strong.  I'd thank her for making us realize that she was asked to be the honoree to make a difference and to put a face on JRA.  I'd also like to rake this time to thank her for making me a mere human; a sobbing, bumbling, can't put a cohesive thought together, mere human. 

The “Testing 2’s” the “Terrible 3’s”, what exactly are the 4’s? Are they the “Fear me, I’m 4”, 4’s? “Frustrating 4’s?” “Forget the 2’s and 3’s, here come the 4’s”. Whatever they are, they’re hitting hard. Audrey doesn’t actually turn 4 until August, but since she has already had her birthday celebration at school (dang summer birthdays), she already considers herself to no longer be 3 ½. I once read in article in one of those parenting magazines on how a child’s personality ebbs and flows on the “half years”. So when they’re coming up to that next step, say 3 to 3 ½, expect a change. I definitely can see that in my own child. When she was just about to hit 3, that’s when she experienced her bout of separation anxiety. As that tapered off and we came closer to 3 ½, the need to be more independent was upon us.

Approaching 4, is something entirely different, and well, frustrating. In the past two weeks, I’ve seen my very polite and considerate child become obstinate and sometimes, outright rude. This is the girl who said “thank you” to automatic doors and yet, on Monday she refused to say “Thank you” to the clerk at Piggly Wiggly who gave her a special token AND a free carnival ride ticket. When I asked her to say “thank you” she peaked her head out of the dang car grocery cart and shook her head at me. I was stunned.   That night, she also refused to eat dinner and was sent to her room for the first time in months. “I’m not eating. I didn’t want to leave my friend’s house and you made me come home. I don’t like chicken and I don’t like broccoli and I am NOT eating.” “If you’re not going to eat then you need to go your room” I stated. Then she started crying and telling me “no” again so, without saying a word, I picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her room. I really hated to do it, but I told her what would happen and I needed to stick with it. 

The next day at school, three parent’s were talking about just how horrible things had been lately and one mom put it this way “I really thought it was some sort of sibling rivalry, but now I think, nope, it’s just 4.” At least I wasn’t alone in this! 

Wednesday was starting out to be a good day and we made it all the way until dance class, when the “4’s” came out again. She stuck her tongue out at me five times at the beginning of class, and as I’m making the motion to knock it off, she just gives me the hands on the hips sassy look. The rest of the night her tongue was hanging out her mouth just to spite me. During the last five minutes, she felt the urge to pick her nose and when a booger got stuck to her finger she screams out “Mom, what should I do with this booger?” As the other mom’s laughed, my cheeks turned red and I told her to come over by me. She refused and then proceeded to wipe it on her leotard.    On the way home I explained to her that her recital was next week and that she needed to stop messing around, start listening, and for Pete’s sake, stop picking her nose during the routine. Her response “It was just a little booger, mom.” 

This morning was another battle extraordinaire. Despite the beautiful sun, the wind is chilly so when we were picking out her clothes for school I explained she should wear pants. I picked out cute pants and a Navy Blue tee. “I don’t like BLACK shirts” she screamed at me. I argued that it wasn’t black, it was navy and it was cute and she was going to wear it. She wanted capris; I explained again about the weather. She went to school with capris, a short-sleeve shirt and to compromise, a sweatshirt that is pointless because the zipper broke off so it hangs off her and exposes her bare little arms anyway. The little voice in my head is telling me to pick my battles and it was one I was willing to lose. I’m hoping when I pick her up today and tell her that we’re going to garage sales that she’ll be thrilled; it was one of her favorite things to do last year. But then again, that’s when we were in the midst of the “Terrible 3’s”. I don’t know what I should expect today!

In a parent’s bag o’ tricks, we have certain items that help us get through our daily lives. As our children age, the items in the bag may change, but one item that is a constant is “distraction”. Your distraction techniques will change with your child, but I have found that food is always a good one (the nasty Gerber Puffs come to mind).   

But then comes the trickiness of distraction, the age of questions. Audrey has always been inquisitive, but one-word answers or very brief explanations of things were enough to keep her satisfied. This, of course, has changed drastically over the last few months, and the topics she is most concerned about are babies and dying. Yes, the Alpha and Omega of things mommy really doesn’t want to discuss.

The baby thing started with her Auntie Katie’s growing tummy. She knows that babies grew in there and that they came home from the hospital, but she wondered how exactly a baby gets in the tummy and what happens at the hospital to make them come home. I could really use some of those Gerber Puffs every time she brings the subject up. 

The last time we had the baby talk, we were driving past Oconomowoc Memorial and she said “That’s where I was born, remember mommy?” (yep, remember every detail, my love). “How did I start to grow in your tummy?” I didn’t answer, just put on one of her favorite songs by Pink. The question was posed again; the volume went up a little louder. Didn’t I have some licorice or something in the glove compartment?  I was really trying to think of the best way of answering. I could have said something like “God put you in there,” but then we’d have to have a God conversation and seeing that she’s only been to church one time in her life, I wasn’t ready for that one either. Luckily, the song had distracted her long enough to reach the new hospital being built in Summit where I cleverly announced “Look, there’s another hospital where many more babies will be born.” The art of distraction had worked; her question had been side-stepped for another day.

Then there’s the death thing. On our way to school, we pass four cemeteries. At the beginning of the school year she’d simply ask what they were and I’d answer “cemetery”, good enough. Then she started to ask what exactly a cemetery was and I’d answer “It’s a place where families bury their loved ones.” Nothing further at that time either. But now, “What does bury mean?” “Why are they dead? Are they coming back? When I am buried in the cemetery will you be there with me?” I’ve done my best at answering and tried giving examples like when you squish a bug, it’s dead and never coming back and that we don’t bury bugs in cemeteries because then we’d have millions of cemeteries and so bugs just go back into the earth. That sounds highly educated, doesn’t it? It isn’t good enough for her. I think the next time she brings it up, one, I’ll be prepared with a yummy non-nutritious snack, and two, I might go with the “Angel angle”. Kids like the idea of angels, right? Moms, help me out here, my bag o’ tricks has run out of distraction when it comes to the death talk!

Disclaimer: I am not a huge fan of Oprah Winfrey.  However, I could not miss yesterday’s episode.  The entire premise involved confessions from real moms about what it’s really like to be a mom.  Some were funny, some were a tad sad, and many times I thought “Yep, that was me too.”  The most common thread was that moms never knew how hard it would be, how many sacrifices we’d make, and just how much our life would change after having children.  Watching this, I decided to list my confessions. 

I think it’s fair to start from the beginning.  I never thought I’d have children.  It never seemed to be the right time, never thought we’d have enough money, didn’t really want to give up all of that quality “me” time.  But then, of course, I got pregnant with Audrey.  Suddenly I was forced into mommy mode.  There were days I loved it, and days I wondered what in the heck I was thinking bringing a child into this world. 

You know how some mom’s say “You’ll forget the pain right after you give birth, otherwise everyone would have just one child.”?  I never forgot the pain.  I guess that’s because I had an epidural that went hay-wire.  Those 1 in whatever chances? I was the “1”.  I went numb on one side of my body, had the epidural reinserted and then went numb waist up.  By the time they had tried a third time, I had a gaping hole in my spinal column, and because we were too close to push-time, I gave birth naturally. That was SO not in my birth plan!

Breastfeeding and I did not get along.  Audrey had trouble latching on which meant that the breastfeeding dominatrix (excuse me, I mean lactation consultant) was sent to “help” me.  I’ve never felt more violated.  I was sore, my head hurt like nothing else (good ol’ epidural headache), I was tired, and I was feeling guilty because I was not good at breastfeeding.  I tried for three weeks to get the hang of it, but when I went took Audrey to the Pediatrician when she was 22 days old (I will never forget that day), and had a small nervous break-down, she assured me that all would be just fine if we switched to formula.  I felt guilty about that incredible weight being lifted off my shoulder.

Audrey had colic, but I’m pretty sure I cried more than her during that period.  My husband had to come home from work on more than one occasion, and my mother had to come up to give me a mental health break frequently as well. 

I felt guilty wanting to get back to work just to give me some of my life back.  Then I felt guilty being at work and sending Audrey to daycare.  I felt guilty when she was sick and I had to take time off because I just knew they were angry at me for having a sick child.  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore (and neither could my employer) and I started to stay home when Audrey was 10 months.

The first two months were hell.  I didn’t know what to do with her.  I couldn’t figure out how the daycare could manage feedings, changings, art projects, and naps while I couldn’t even figure out how to clean the kitchen AND take a shower in one day. 

I rocked Audrey to sleep for her nap (and only her nap) until she was 3 years old.  It was our special time and really the only time she’d snuggle up with me and let me rock her.  It was a bit selfish too because I really wanted that 2-hour break that naps brought.  I’d hear parents tell me that they’d never rock their child to sleep and I’d think “well then you’re missing out.”  Judge me, and I'll judge right back  I let her have a pacifier to sleep with until just after her third birthday.  I’m still getting over it, and she acts as if the thing never existed.

I let her watch tv.  Sometimes the show is educational, sometimes it’s for entertainment purposes only, and sometimes, I just really need to get something done.  I buy as much as I can organic and natural (especially milk…can’t have all those growth hormones) thinking it will have a positive effect on her health.  But I’m pretty sure McDonald’s French Fries and her most coveted food of all, Lucky Charms, negate all that nutrition.

I let her quit dance when she cried the entire class even though I swore I wouldn’t raise a quitter.  I let her jump on the couches even though I used to get so angry when people wouldn’t even use a coaster.  She’s gone outside without a coat on because I decided to pick my battles and I figured she’d discover rather quickly that she was freezing.  She bumped her head once when we were at our neighbor’s and I said “Are you bleeding? No, than you’re fine. Go play.”  I got looks from another mommy from that one, but then I realized she probably wasn’t perfect either.

In my heart, I know that I am doing the best that I can.  So many of my confessions have had little, if any, impact on the overall well-being of my child.  She’s happy, smart, and incredibly respectful and polite.  Somewhere along the way, I must have done something right. 

In my pre-mommy days, I was a Special Event planner for two different national non-profits. In my positions, I planned culinary events, youth-focused fundraising events, a cycling event and most notably, many Walk events.  I remember speaking to individual walkers and team captains about the importance of fundraising for such events.  My advice was always to ask anyone and everyone.  People are very willing to donate when you’re passionate about the cause. 

I have done my fair share of donating and soliciting as well.  I donate whenever a friend or family member are participating in a fundraising event and for years I walked for JDRF and the American Diabetes Association as both my uncle and grandmother passed away due to complications from diabetes.  Yes, it was hard and sometimes uncomfortable to ask for donations, but I never fell short of my fundraising goals.

Now, however, the tables have turned.  When Audrey was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA) in March 2008, I turned to the Arthritis Foundation for support (www.arthritis.org).  We received invaluable information from them and were also informed that in April of that year they would be holding their annual AF Walk.  I signed up and formed a team immediately.  “Audrey’s Arsenal” had more than twenty team members and raised more than $2500 in our first year of fundraising and we vowed to be back in 2009.

The stakes are higher this year because Audrey was just named as the 2009 Waukesha County AF Walk Honoree. You will see her picture and bio in brochures, in press releases, and some time in the near future, she’ll make her television debut.  I was asked if I felt uncomfortable putting all this information about Audrey out there, but the answer is, not one bit.  This is our opportunity to educate people about the Arthritis Foundation and about JRA.    

My goal for this year is to at least double the amount we raised in 2008.  I have to follow my own advice and ask anyone and everyone to donate to our cause, after all, who is more passionate than a mother trying to find a cure for their child?  Donations to the AF Walk provide services, advocacy and, most importantly, research that may one day provide a cure for certain types of arthritis and maybe even prevent the disease from ever affecting another young child again. 

I believe everything happens for a reason.  Would I rather Audrey not have JRA? Silly question, of course, but the fact is, she does have it, and now it is up to us to decide how we’ll move forward.  Maybe the reason I spent those years working for non-profits has led me to be a better team captain and fundraiser.  Perhaps Audrey was chosen as the honoree to inform people that it doesn’t matter how old you are, you can still make a huge impact on people.  Whatever the reasons may be, I am very proud of our 2009 AF Walk honoree.  Now I just need to convince her that, yes, she is going on tv, but no, it’s not to sing on American Idol. 

http://www.arthritis.org/media/chapters/wis/PDF%20events%20or%20programs/Audrey%20bio%202009.pdf

For the past two to three weeks, Audrey has reminded us every day that she either wants a pet or a new baby brother (or sister, depending on her mood).  She’s fairly persistent in the pet area and would absolutely adore a cat, but I’ve told her numerous times that both of her parents are allergic to cats.  She then asks for a dog knowing that we’ve never mentioned allergies to dogs before. The truth is, I really want a dog too so I’ve started the process of adopting a rescued Golden Retriever. We have our home visit next Tuesday night.  I haven’t actually told her about this because I don’t need to be reminded of it on a consistent basis.  I mean what happens if we don’t get approved or if we have to wait a few months to get the “perfect” dog for our family?

The other part of the equation is the desire to be a big sibling.  She notices families a lot more lately and it really peaks her interest when there is more than one child.  She reminds me constantly that all of her classmates have brothers and sisters and even points them out as I pick her up.  “See mommy, there’s baby E and there’s baby F.  Aren’t A and C lucky to be big sisters?”  Yes, it tugs at my heart strings, but no, we haven’t changed our mind about having an only. 

She is very excited to meet her baby cousin, but he won’t be born for another three months.  She gets that babies come from mommy’s tummy as she told me the other day “I wish Liam would come out of Aunt Katie’s tummy now.  I really want to play with him.”  I mention this, because our conversation Tuesday started out normal and went quickly to bizarre.  Again she brought up the fact that she would like a cat and once again I told her “no.” “Then can we just order a baby brother?” she asked.

“Order a baby brother? Where would we order a baby brother?”

“We can order it from the pizza guy and then he can bring it right to our door.”

Holding back laughter, I explained that a pizza guy wouldn’t be able to bring a baby to our door and people don’t just “order” babies.  I heard a loud sigh from the backseat followed by “How ‘bout just a dog then?”

Last night I was recounting this story to my husband when Audrey chimed in with “We could order the baby from a catalogue if the pizza guy can’t bring us one. We can order a baby brother and we can name him Dongo.”  This time my husband reminded her that we have a very special family even without a baby brother.  Then she gave him her big ol’ grey eyes and pouty lip and said “Than can we please get a dog, daddy?”  He said that we were thinking of getting a dog and that it would be a big responsibility but it would probably make us all very happy.  With a giant smile, she whispered in response “How about three dogs, daddy? One for me, one for mommy and one for you then we can be really really REALLY happy.”  Don’t be surprised if you one day end up buying a used-car with two extended warranties from this child; she’s one heck of a saleswoman.

Monday evening I had a Parent-Teacher conference. I wasn't aware, but, over the last two months, the children have been given a series of assessments to see just how much they know and/or have learned since beginning 3K.

We went through colors, shapes, body parts, letters, and finally we came to numbers. Her teacher said that she'd been waiting for so long to tell me this story about Audrey and her numbers. From her tone, I couldn't tell if this was going to be good news or bad news. I was told that she was, indeed, able to identify all of her numbers and she counted up to 29. Well great, so what's the issue?

For each number, the children were shown a flashcard and had to tell the teacher what number they saw. The cards were not in order and for most children, the process took about 30 seconds to complete. For Audrey, it was almost 5 minutes. Why is that? Because for my kid, every number told a story in relation to her age.
"Oh that's a 5. That's what I'll be after I'm 4."
"1, that's what I was when I was really, really little."
"3, that's what I am now. I'm 3 1/2 really."
"9, that's what I'll be when I am SO big."
"6, that's what I'll be when I go to first grade."
"10, wow, that's a big number. That's all my fingers, I'll be really really big."

As it turns out, this isn't the only situation where a simple answer would have sufficed, but Audrey has to provide as much detail as possible. If you ask her how her night was, be prepared to get a full synopsis of the evening, including details of her dinner, the shows we watched, the pajamas she wore and the books we read before bed. If you ask her about her clothing, she'll provide you full details on the color, the feel, if there were any tags that had to be cut out, and why she chose the shoes she chose. I suppose she's preparing for the day when she walks the red carpet and the reporter asks "And who are you wearing this evening?"

I left the conference wiping away tears. Tears due to the fact that I was laughing too hard to control myself. Her teacher joined me in the laughter and said "We always know we'll get complete answers with Audrey, and we never know what exactly will come out of her mouth."

It was a wonderful feeling to know just how far she has come since the beginning of the school year when I had to leave her crying in the classroom. All the guilt I felt about whether I had done the right thing by keeping her in school has dissipated and I'm left with a warm feeling in my heart; a feeling of pride and a tinge of "What in the heck is that kid going to say next?"

I like a lot of things about my daughter. I like that she's self-confident ("I am so pretty mommy"), I like that she tells a good joke, I like that she tells it like it is, but one of the things I like most about her, is her imagination.

Last summer, for weeks on end, we had to call her Mickey Mouse. Starting in October or November, she was Penny (Penny from the movie Bolt). Recently our family is the gang from Scooby-Doo. She is Daphne, I am Velma (or Melma as she says), my husband is Shaggy, her stuffed dog Bolt, is Scooby-Doo and some imaginary dude is Fred. She enters a room and announces "Melma, Shaggy, we have a mystery on our hands." Usually we're looking for the Creeper or the Witchy Witch, and we often find the evil-doer in a closet. We then pull the mask off the bad guy and discover who was behind the mystery. It never gets old to her.

Last Thursday after I picked Audrey up from school, I had to make a few phone calls to my bank (the real evil-doers in this story). I told Audrey to go in her playroom and play nicely by herself for a little bit. When I came downstairs, this is what I found.

This configuration was originally a school bus that was taking all the kids to school. It then became the school itself and Audrey was the teacher. I asked why the teacher didn't sit in front of the class and she told me that all the kids weren't listening so they had to face the other way. Makes sense, I suppose. Later that day the chairs became the seats at a movie theater where they were all enjoying a screening of "Hotel For Dogs" along with bowls of pretend popcorn and chocolate shakes. In the evening it was the Polar Express that was taking them all to meet Santa.
The chairs seen in the picture go with the new white table she received as a Christmas gift. The table was set up in the playroom for her to work on puzzles, color, and set up some of her Barbie Dolls. I think the table has been used once to color, a couple times for puzzles, and never for Barbies. The table has been a fort, a place for the babies to have a tea party, and as a stepping stool to get on top of her play cottage.
Perhaps Danzae Peace said it best. "I think the world really boils down to two types of people-those who see shapes in cloud formations, and those who just see clouds." I think my dear Audrey sees shapes, many, many shapes, and I happen to like that about her.

We’re back in the throes of illness.  On January 1, as in the first day of a whole new year, Audrey went to bed as she normally does and within an hour was whimpering in her sleep. Two hours later she was awake, crying, and I could feel the heat from her little body.  A dose of Motrin and a move to mommy’s magic bed and she was a little better.  The next day we saw the pediatrician who immediately ordered a Strep Test that just as quickly came back as positive.  New year, new illness.  Hey, nothing like digging into that deductible right off the bat. 

That night after her dose of straight-up penicillin, she had a mostly restful night of sleep.  I should have known that things are never that easy with a kid who is battling two immuno-deficiencies.  The next day the cough started and for the first time, she lost her voice.  I thought it was odd to get a cough with Strep, and I was right.  She acquired a virus on top of the lovely bacterial infection.  So that night she took the penicillin and some more Motrin and coughed for nearly 90 minutes before falling asleep.  We were back at the pediatrician’s the next day where she was given cough medicine with codeine, or “magic syrup” as I lovingly refer to it. I hate to think of “drugging” my kid, but the one thing she needed was sleep and if a little codeine could do the trick, then I was all for it.  HA! Two hours of coughing Monday night led to a wake up time of 6:00 AM because the cough wouldn’t let her sleep.

Tuesday night, another dose of penicillin, another dose of the “magic syrup”, a teaspoon of honey, a rub down of Vick’s, and a humidifier with a tablespoon of vinegar in it (Thanks, mom for the tip).  I was absolutely sure the kid was going to sleep that night.  She fell asleep only after 10 minutes of coughing but by 8:30 was up again coughing to the point where she couldn’t catch her breath.  She was scared and refused to go back to her own bed. 

In to my bed she goes again.  I rubbed her back as my husband got his things together to go sleep in her room.  “We really need an extra bed”, he said.  “That air-mattress sucks.”  I told him I was sure this wasn’t going to last forever and that we’re all so tired and cranky that we should do whatever it takes to get some sleep.  As I was speaking, I felt myself drift off. 

I don’t know what it is about mommy’s bed, but it has always worked in calming Audrey.  Through colic, teething pains, stomach flu, and now Strep with a little bit of virus added in, my bed has been a source of healing.  I don’t know if it’s the coolness of our room, the loveliness of the plush pillow top, or just my presence, but last night we both slept better than we have in a week.  Who needs “magic syrup” when you have the magic of mommy’s bed?

In 364 more days, it will be Christmas all over again.  The weeks (maybe even months) of anticipation for Christmas 2008 have come and gone all too quickly.  The memory of a restless night of sleep has already started to fade.  The leftovers sit in the refrigerator waiting to be thrown out with next week’s garbage.  Oh, how I can’t wait to do it all again.

We all promised not to buy each other gifts (the adults that is) and yet, everyone had at least “a little something” under the tree.  Audrey is thrilled with her Barbie and the Diamond Castle gals and couldn’t wait to test out her Swim To Me Puppy in the bathtub.  She is ready to hit the driving range with her Papa this spring with her brand new golf clubs, real clubs, really nice clubs.  She has new movies to watch, a new outfit for Spring, warm jammies to cuddle in, and a kid-size keyboard and mouse for the ‘puter.  Her new table and chairs fit nicely into the playroom and the Polar Express train set was only a minor hit; she liked the “reindeer bell” that it came with much better.

We still have two more Christmas exchanges to get through and then it’s time to put the tree on the curb.  If you just blow on it, the needles fall off in piles; thank goodness for the new canister vacuum we received as a gift! 

We’ve hit the after-Christmas sales and picked up our cards and paper for next year as well as a couple more plastic storage bins to pack up the extra ornaments, lights, and garland we purchased this year.  The lights outside will stay on until New Year’s Day, and when we get a warm day after that, we’ll be taking them down as well. 

364 more days.  Prior to that we’ll hit Valentine’s Day (Kmart already has cards if you’re so inclined), St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Independence Day, Audrey’s 4^th Birthday, a start of a new school year, Halloween, and Thanksgiving.  Only 363 days until TBS’ annual 24-hours of A Christmas Story starts again.  Approximately 330 days until we start watching The Polar Express and Shrek the Halls on a near-daily basis again.  Even less days until two Milwaukee radio stations start their “All Christmas Music All the Time” promotion again. 

Yes, it won’t be too long until we start complaining about how Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year. It won’t be too long until we tell our children that Santa is watching so they better be good.   It won’t be too long until we figure out who will have the best Black Friday deals and if we should wait until AFTER Christmas to get the best bargains.  It won’t be too long before we almost forget what the season is supposed to be about and that when it’s over (too quickly as always) we’ll sit with a bit of sadness waiting for 364 more days to celebrate all over again.

Audrey has a new dog.  He may not be real to me and Patrick, but he is very real to her.  His name is Bolt, as in THE Bolt, from the movie.  I had taken Audrey to see Bolt two weeks ago and she was slightly afraid of the beginning and ending of the movie; she actually cried during one part.  However, she has talked about Bolt and Penny ever since.

We picked Bolt up from Toys R Us yesterday in the “Plush” section of the store. When did stuffed animals become “Plush Figures”?   Do our toys need to be p.c. too? I digress.  I wasn’t planning on buying her anything at the store since Christmas is just around the corner, but I did need her to be distracted as I picked up a present for her.  Luckily, she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a Polar Express train set discreetly covered by my coat in the cart.

Bolt tagged along with us to Target, our last stop of Monday errands.  We hadn’t eaten lunch so we decided to get hot dogs at the food counter.  I have to add, Audrey loves the hot dogs at Target. I have no idea why, but if you ask her where she wants to go for lunch, she’ll answer “Let’s go to Target and get hot dogs.”  So there we are, me, Audrey and Bolt sitting at the table with our hot dogs and grape juice.  Suddenly, Audrey gets up out of her chair and walks back up to the food counter.  “Audrey, what are you doing?” I asked.  “I’m getting Bolt his food” she answered.  I encouraged her to sit back down, but she waited for the employee to come back to the register.  I heard her ask “Can I have some dog food for Bolt please?”  The gal looked utterly confused.  I explained that Audrey was asking for some dog food for Bolt and then picked up the “Plush Figure” and showed her what I was talking about.  “Oh, okay” she said and the proceeded to hand Audrey a paper plate with nothing on it.  Audrey sat back down and placed Bolt on the plate and said “Here you go Bolt, eat up.” 

So now the three of us were enjoying our lunch.  I was trying hard to contain my giggles and was so thankful for the Target employee for playing along with a 3-year old’s imagination.  I know there would be some people who would have just written her off, but she was very sweet about it.  When it was time to clean up our plates, Audrey picked up Bolt’s plate and placed it in the garbage can.  She then came back over and wiped his face and told him he was a good boy for eating all his lunch.  Funny, I think I did the same thing to her.

Since our return from Target, Bolt and Audrey have played house, doctor, school and Candy Land together.  He sat by the tub as she took a bath, curled up next to her as she watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, and became the first “Plush Figure” to sleep next to her.  He rode with her on the way to school this morning, and is still sitting in her car seat waiting to go pick her up.  Bolt has blended in nicely with our family, and lucky me, no house-training was necessary.

About two months ago I was selling baby items on Craig’s List.  My husband and I had decided that we were going to be parents of an only child and thought we could free up some space in our garage and basement by getting rid of some of the bulkier baby items.  As things so often go, our plans came to a halt when my brother called to tell me that he and his fiancé were expecting their first child.  I was a bit shocked at first.  He is, after all, my baby brother and I had expected them to get married next year and not have a baby next year.  That’s just me, being the big sister that I am.  But now that I’m past that, I am so excited to be the best aunt ever and to spoil my niece or nephew!  I started to make a list of all the things they would need to register for (meaning the things I had already sold), the things they didn’t need, and the items that are just worthless (wipes warmer???).  Then I started to think of all the advice that was given to me when I was pregnant and when I first brought Audrey home.  Some of it was really good; things I still think about today.  “Tell your children you love them every day, and kiss them and hug them whenever you feel like it.”  “When in doubt, call the nurse.”  Things like that have stuck with me.  Since I’ve been giving advice to my baby brother since he was, well, really a baby, now is a great time to give him my “best advice.”

For your newborn:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*If you want to hold your baby all day, then do it.  I hated when people hinted that I was holding Audrey too much.  You can NOT spoil a newborn.

*For Katie, don’t beat yourself up over breastfeeding. It works for some, but not all.  I would have saved myself a lot of tears and pain if I would have believed that myself.

*Let your baby fall asleep on your chest.  It’s the best feeling in the world and I wish to this day that Audrey would still do that.  I mean, not her whole body, but her head lying on my chest would be great right about now.

*Sleep when your baby sleeps.  Whoever was the first to say this was a genius.

*When in doubt, call the nurse

*When people ask if they can help, say “yes”.  When the baby starts to get older, you’re not going to get as many offers, so take full advantage of this honeymoon period.

*Read to them every day.

For your infant:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart

*Hold your baby whenever you want, but you’ll probably start wanting breaks here and there, and that’s OKAY!

*There are times when it seems like the day will never end, the crying will never stop, and the demands will never be met. When you feel like you’re at the end of your rope, it will magically lengthen for you.

*If you ever get beyond frustrated and just want to scream or cry, put the baby in the crib, walk away, and cry.  Babies sense when their parents are upset, so even if it’s just for a minute, give yourself a time-out.

*Read to them every day.

For your toddler:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*Kiss them, hug them, hold them and also give them their own “baby space” to let them explore.

*Toddler communication is difficult. A lot of pointing, crying, and grunting, but I promise you’ll know what they’re “talking” about before anyone else does.

*Read to them every day.

For your preschooler:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*Kiss them, hug them, hold them.  I can guarantee there isn’t a person who ends up on a therapist’s couch because their parents loved them too much.

*Read to them every day.

I have so many more things that come to mind; television isn’t going to ruin them.  Fruit juice once in awhile isn’t going to break them, and a lollipop is the cure-all for just about everything.  Try your best not to compare your child to anyone else’s.  It’s very hard when you hear “Billy is already walking” and “Tommy rode a two-wheeler before he turned three”.  Ask your pediatrician if your child is on track and stick to that.  I found myself constantly comparing Audrey to other kids, and then I realized that Audrey is Audrey and I wouldn’t want her any other way.

I am no expert in raising a child.  I won’t give advice on meal planning, potty training, or discipline, because I think every child and every family is so different.  What has worked for me, may not necessarily work for anyone else.  Read as many books as you want about child rearing, but the best expert will be you.  Know that every parent has had at least one moment where they thought “I can’t do this anymore”.  Most won’t admit it, but it’s the truth.  It doesn’t mean you don’t love your child, in fact, it’s the opposite.  You love them so much that sometimes you wonder if you’re doing the right thing; doing enough.  I can guarantee you that as long as you trust your gut, listen to your heart, and love them with all your heart, you’re doing the right thing. 

To my baby brother, Alex, and to the lovely Miss Katie, I wish you a happy and healthy baby.  I promise to try and keep my mouth shut unless asked for specific advice.  Besides, you’ve got enough here to get you started on your incredible journey.