Category: Evan

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Don’t treat the symptoms

Our society has a propensity to treat symptoms and not problems. Our commercials promote the quick fix. The prevalent attitudes toward recycling and environment show a tendency for thinking only about now. Even our government acts as if tomorrow does not matter.

Ocean Nasal Mist

A runny nose is a symptom, not the problem; however, our doctors are quick with antibiotics, and mothers rush to the pharmacy for an antihistamine. The runny nose is your body’s attempt to fix a problem. By drying up the symptom, we deminish the body’s natural ability to fight the problem.

Nose sprays are very effective at clearing up a running nose or opening blocked sinuses. When you feel congested there is nothing more relieving than to use some 4 Way Nasal Decongestant and moments later blow everything out to be able to breathe again. Nose sprays are also addictive. If you use too much, days after your cold is gone you can find yourself needing the nasal spray just to breathe. I try to limit myself to one squirt from a nasal spray per day and focus instead on a saline nasal spray. Ocean (manufacturer site) is a great product! The saline nasal spray keeps your nasal passages moisturized and helps minimize nasty stuff from coming out of your nose. Saline nasal sprays are not medicine like 4 Way or Afrin but a natural way to help your nose.

Evan has been fighting a cold and hates having his nose wiped. On a whim, I started giving him minor squirts of Ocean after cleaning his nose. He liked it! So much in fact that he fights the nose wipe less and asks for the Ocean. He helps me hold the bottle, leans his little head forward, directs it to the nostril, and smiles big when I squirt then he moves it to the other nostril and smiles more. Kids are a riot! Oh, and his nose is better for it.

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Dear Target, sorry about the stink in the bathroom…

I love having a big family! Big families teach self-sufficiency and team work.

Last night in Target I heft Evan up on my shoulders as he giggles maliciously. Seconds later the smell hits me. That familiar smell of a runny diaper filled to capacity with sludge. Microseconds later he is off my shoulders and being held in that non-loving pose at the end of my outstretched arms using only my finger tips as if carrying hazardous waste all too aware that squeezing the diaper could make John Belushi’s zit seem tame.

I pass Noah playing demos in the video games. I speed past aisle after aisle knowing I could easily be walking right past Cathy and crew. Then I see a cute little Amy peek out. I alert Cathy that I must go to the car and she deftly produces "equipment" from her purse.

Wordlessly I grab the diaper and wipes and rush to the nearest restroom. One thing parenting has taught me is that stores abound with hidden restrooms. Some are singles; some are family; some are "employee only"; but if do not have children, these secret water closets are invisible to you! In Target, I was nearest the rear one located in toys. The men’s room is a single shooter graciously outfitted with a changing table with a broken safety belt. Not having the belt means one hand holds the baby, while another hand handles the wipes, another hand keeps the baby’s hands from helping, another hand removes the diaper, another hand guards the clothes from sliplage and overflow, two hands bag and seal the toxic waste, and two hands put the new diaper on the baby.

I plop Evan on the table and open the diaper. Huggies should be proud! Evan immediately goes for the flip and almost simultaneously throws in the helping hands. I am off to a bad start and recognizing I misjugded the diaper threat level I know I need reinforcements. Evan at this point is in full scream and sending a text message sos is out of the question. I dial Cathy’s number and put the phone down as I attempt to salvage the situation. Assuming I went to voicemail. I slap the phone shut, hit redial, and return to mud wrestling. Moments later, a 4 year old girl opens the men’s room door. Then a 13 year old girl opens it slight further. My reinforcements have arrived!

Suffice it to say that with Evan now outnumbered we won the battle with minimal damange. All hands, including Amy, pulled their weight. The 13 year old deserves a purple heart for casually stepping into the men’s room. From Cathy’s perspective, when the phone rang she could hear the baby screaming in stereo and knew to deploy the more mobile of reinforcements. Good choice on the special ops!

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Respect to the Mommy Bloggers

In the brief times that I solely try to simultaneously watch and keep Evan happy in the name of giving Cathy a break I have accumulated dozens of half finished draft blog posts. How do you guys do it with infants, toddlers, and other assorted rug rats?! On top of producing great content for our reading pleasures, the Mommy Blogger Brigade tends to the emotional, spiritual and physical needs of the children and even squeeze in time to clean house, cook, and in some cases work a job or two among all the other varied things on their calendars. Amazing! I salut the Mommy Bloggers!

I’d say more but Evan wants me to be a jungle gym for a bit…

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I love my kids. The toddler blows bubbles!

Evan at 14 months knows to pickup a bubble wand, pucker his lips, and blow!

Amy astounds me with her sentences and vocabulary.

Noah is taking an interest in juggling and technology! Way to kiss up to dad, son!

Sarah confidentally jaunts off to Palm Beach and handles herself appropriately. I am so proud of her accomplishments.

Tommy has matured into a "normal" teenager. I hesitate to label him Asperger anymore.

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Store your bullets out of the reach of toddlers!

I went upstairs and couldn’t believe my eyes. Mixed in with the toys scattered across the living room floor was a, um, er, a marital aid. Obviously a 1 year old dragged it out of a storage space and became disenchanted with the toy dropping it in the middle of everything to move onto less embarassing toys like kitchen knives.

Coming close to a recreation of a scene from Parenthood, I openly point out what I am holding to my wife while my children’s backs are to me. They of course whip around with a "What?!" response but I’m too quick. Good thing too because we have a policy in this household of "if you bring it up, you explain it!"

Asking, "What would Alan Shore do?" I reacted calmly, slipping the tool into my pocket, making eye contact with the wife, and calling Sarah to babysit for 3 minutes.

Now honey, your neck massager needs to be put somewhere different. And feel free to read all kinds of double entendre into that.

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The cute things they do that we don’t talk about

So parents have to go to the bathroom too. You find an activity that may occupy the child just long enough but at one year old they move fast. Pretty soon this knee high, nearly bald bundle of cuteness has snuck up behind you, grabbed one knee with both hands with a squeeze that would make you think the floor was about to fall out beneath him, then from his hidding place behind your leg he slowly peers around your knee looking up at you with these wide round eyes as if to say " Whatcha doing? Oh Daad! Don’t you know you are supposed to do that in your diaper?!"

Not yet son.