Wow

I just read this story and am far more baffled by all the comments on Babycenter (of all places) that seem to be anti-child, or at least anti-child flying. As a firm believer in the power of travel and exploration to shape a child's mind, the idea of not flying with my son is completely anathema to me. Obviously, I can understand the pilot's need to maintain safety on the plane and perhaps that really was the issue here, though it did sound as though the parents managed to get their daughter strapped in prior to being kicked off.

Given that we are flying across the country again in a few weeks, I better start stockpiling my bag of tricks now. One suggestion from a commenter that I liked was carrying a couple of small gift cards (maybe $5 or $10 at Starbucks) or earplugs for your nearest neighbors in case the crying (or your child's go-to annoyance) gets out of hand. All I can say is hooray for the iphone and ipad so I don't lose my voice from the constant reading. Apparently books are just better when they are read 5 or 30 times in a row.

Who me? Shriek on a plane? Never!

Life in the fast lane

Ever wish your hot dog could walk and talk? Now here's your chance to make dreams come true...introducing Happy Hot Dog Man! Definitely doesn't bode well for any future "don't play with your food" warnings. I'm thinking about having a BBQ just so I can bust these suckers out and start a real food fight.

This morning we enjoyed a scream-a-thon courtesy of Mr. Monk and his infinite lung capacity. Jury's still out on why, but the little guy straight up yelled for a good two hours when he first woke up. After going through our usual checklist--hungry? poopy? fevery? tiredy?--I finally figured he just needed to express himself. Loudly. Perhaps he's actually getting some teeth after all? They have to come some time, right? I imagine the gummy smiles aren't so cute past age 10 or so. This morning, while nursing, he chomped down on one of my special straws. I shrieked in pain and watched the babe's face crumble in horror. He immediately burst into tears--what? why? I thought I was the one hurt. The biting, combined with the tantrums, combined with the fact that he needs teeth to chew makes me think that one is coming soon. Or, more likely, five at once.

My husband is watching "Revenge of the Nerds" and laughing so hard he's practically snorting. Clearly I didn't marry an Alpha Beta.

Yesterday we took advantage of the heat to visit the one truly air conditioned place in San Francisco, the beach. The babe? His cuteness did enjoy. So much that he fell asleep.

Oh boy!

This morning my dentist told me that she spent two hours in the ER last night with her four-year-old daughter, trying to get out a metal clasp that the little one had shoved up her nose. As if going to the dentist weren’t already scary enough! The entire time she was filling my cavity, all I could think about was how my 6-month-old baby already seems like a little dardevil. He’s always trying to launch himself out of his car seat, stroller, vibrating chair, my arms, etc. Every single thing he touches right now has to be taste tested and shoved halfway down his throat. I have also detected a definite glimmer of delight whenever I twirl or flip him upside down. After emerging from my own childhood basically unscathed, am I doomed to spend my son’s carrying his crutches and signing his casts? Is it too much to make him live in a bubble for the next 18 years? What if I make sure there’s wifi?

When I was a kid, I remember my mom getting mad at me when I’d hurt myself. She was sympathetic and caring too, but her first reaction was always a bit angry. As I got older, I called her out on this and asked her why she would yell as soon as I started crying. She said that it probably was due to her being mad at herself for not protecting me and then projecting the anger to me. After I pointed it out how ridiculous this was given that I was already hurting and didn’t need to be yelled at thankyouverymuch, she tried to curb her reactions. Unfortunately, I have realized in the past few months that I may have inherited this not so wonderful trait. My voice definitely goes up several octaves whenever anything goes wrong. I try to remain calm, but I notice myself becoming more than a touch shrill. I am determined not to scream at my kid when he’s in pain. I figure it’s the least I can do once my kisses lose their magical power to make it better.

We’ve been lucky so far and haven’t had any real scares or issues. Seeing friends go through the nightmares of dealing with a sick or hurt kid makes me treasure my baby that much more. As much as I hope to protect him and keep him safe from his own damn curiosity, I realize that fear and pain are two very important teachers in life. Though I will hate it, I have to let him be stupid and irresponsible so that he learns from his own mistakes. I just hope that those mistakes don’t involve any big booboos.