Mutiny On the Bottle

The books tell us to ween children off the bottle around one or so years old. I, as a knowledgeable member of the Speech Therapy community, know there is sound reasoning behind this rule of thumb, not the least of which is it aids in the general development of your child. So naturally I totally blew off that bit of wisdom and let my youngest, Jack, just suck away at that bottle till his little two year old heart's content! I'd like to say that there was some good reason behind the decision but the truth of the matter is I am lazy and I forgot. I was too busy to be bothered with weening, I may have even hoped he'd just chose to switch to a sippy cup. Never mind there is absolutely no precedence for a one year old demonstrating the maturity needed to rationally put away the bottle and self elect to evolve into becoming a sippy cup drinker. History has no impact on me, I'm totally unaffected by it. So I went along doing my thing, thinking I'm an okay parent, my kids are still living. It was a little after Jack's second birthday that my husband mentioned to me maybe we should start getting him off the bottle. My first thought, "Be my guest," then I murmured something, ignored the rest of what he said and pretended to agree with him. Awful yes, but, before you judge, the truth is I was already thinking about it and I knew it was time to start the switch, but after a seconds worth of thought, I decided it would be too hard and he would protest and it was just easier not to, and that's where I left it. Besides Suri, Katie Holmes daughter was about the same age and still using a bottle. So I felt a little better about neglecting my duties.

Moving right along to about three months after my husbands initial broaching of the bottle subject. I am taking my oldest son, Max, to the doctor for his school physical and I have the other two, Sofie and Jack, with me as well. The doctor is a very nice young woman who is about eight months pregnant. She does the physical and all is going along swimmingly until just before we are about to leave she turns to Jack (whose bottle is literally hanging from mouth) and asks, "How old are you?" I answer for him, it's hard to hear through his bottle. Then she looks at me and jumps right in with, "You know, he's a little too old to still be on the bottle." I answer politely, "Yes, I know. I am lazy and don't feel like fighting him on it." She replies sweetly, "You need to get him off the bottle, this kind of thing is prohibiting his development. He's not a baby and he needs to stop using a baby bottle." To add insult to injury she then advises, "It's best if you just take all of his bottles and throw them away all at once. Cold Turkey. Some parents find it's easier for the child if you tell them, 'an angel needs your bottles and is taking them away for other little kids who don't have them. Isn't that nice?'" Cute. I then made some comment about how clever that was, sounds great, yes I will try it, thanked her and left. The verbal tazing left me feeling like an idiot as I shuffled back to the car and loaded the kids. Then I reflexively filled Jack's bottle with juice and handed it to him. Well I wasn't gonna start right then.

In the car on the way home I began to talk to Jack about getting rid of his bottle. I told how he was a big boy now and he was going to get use a big boy sippy cup now, won't that be fun! H*** no, I'm paraphrasing, he didn't really say that. He did protest a lot and got very upset with me, almost crying, but not quite. My plan was failing, and fast. Trying to hold it together I needed a new tact. Just then Max asked, "Why are you taking away Jack's bottles?" GREAT! I'll have Max and Sofie help me. Good idea! "Because the doctor is right, Jack is a big boy and he needs to start using a sippy cup." Max, not missing a beat, replies, "No! You can't take away Jack's bottle, cuz then he'll be sad and he'll cry!" Sofie, adding to the gathering storm, chimes in, "Mommy don't take Jack's bottle away, he needs it for his juicey!" They're turning on me. I try to use sympathy, it's a nasty trick, but I was losing options, "Honey, you heard the doctor, she said Jack needs to stop using bottles. Mommy really needs your help with this, will you help mommy?" Max responds, "No I'm not gonna help you take away his bottle. The doctor is mean. He'll be sad if you do that." Sofie starts to cry, literally, "Mommy please don't take his bottle. Jack loves his bottle. He will be very sad if you take it!" ABORT ABORT ABORT Mission failed, the crew has taken over and mommy is no longer in control. New plan, agree with everything. "Sofie don't cry, mommy won't take his bottles today. It's okay. We can try later, maybe." I quick change the subject and take them to McDonald's and buy them all happy meals. Bullet dodged.

Now, I did not see that coming at all. I was totally unprepared for mutiny in the mini-van. My kids don't generally turn on me all at once like that. So what life lessons did I learn. I learned that raising kids is hard work and I usually like to avoid that. Also, know in advance who your allies are, know when to jump ship and give up, and McDonald's solves everything.

We did eventuall get Jack off the bottle. Next up, potty training. Which he is alread saying no to.

Puppies for Peace

I saw this photo and an ingenious plan began to develop. "Why not? Why not puppies for peace? Who doesn't love a puppy?" It's so simple, and, it solves two problems at once, 1) it takes care of all the unwanted puppies we have in our country, and 2) it creates a warm and fuzzy feelings between the U.S. our enemies all because of the beauty and goodness of puppy love.

So, not wanting to waste any time on my plan for world peace, I got the Air Force to agree to airlift all the puppies to Iraq. Once the puppies safely arrived in Iraq after 36 hours without food or water, our special forces prepared the puppies for their very important job of showering our enemies with puppy kisses and creating world peace. The puppies were then groomed and fed and a big red bow was put on each of them. They looked precious. An airman who tied the bows was quoted as saying, "They are so cute, how could those heartless bastards not love these little guys?" The Puppy War On Terror (PWOT) was under way. The puppies were then transported under the cover of night to the hideouts of known terrorists. The special forces unit were instructed to run up to the doors, leave the puppies on the door steps, ring the door bells and runaway unseen. Each puppy had a note attached that read,

Dear Terrorist Coward,
Here's a cute puppy,
let's be friends!

Love,
The U.S.

All the puppies were delivered without incident and I was thrilled that the world was finally going to be free of war and pain and suffering all because we are one people and we speak a common language called "puppy".

Unfortunately, this was not the case. The puppies, it turns out, were actually CIA operatives trained to kill terrorists, not love them, as I had been led to believe. Yeah, who knew puppies could kill? So once the puppies were delivered to their new owners, they were trained to kill anyone wearing a kaffiyeh, you might know it as that black and white checked scarf thing they wear on their heads. I was devastated when I heard Fox News report 146 of Al Qaeda's most deadly terrorists had been killed by my puppies. So instead of our country helping to bring about peace and harmony, we just ended up with a bunch of dead terrorists and some really lethal puppies, which the military is now sending to North Korea.

CAUTION: Children at Play Therapy

After lamenting about my children, a counselor friend of mine told me about the benefits of "Play Therapy". I am a speech therapist by degree, and after years of studying and doing therapeutic techniques that had fancy names but were so basic in principal it was hard to believe they got a patent for it I was immune to the sillyness of a therapy called "Play." The basic concept is play that is child directed, using simple toys, nothing fancy, blocks, wooden objects, sticks, anything that inspires imagination and promotes creativity. The object is to get the child to talk about their feelings, environment, what they think about, all the while you shut up and don't interrupt and if your daughter wants the dresser drawer to be a birdhouse you smile and say "great idea!" I was willing to give it a try and why not? It was play, I like to play. It was with my daughter, I love her. So what's the problem? Little did I know. There is a reason Psychologists use this technique to find stuff out, because it works! I had no idea that shutting up and letting her direct my play was going to be so INFORMATIVE.
So I get down on the ground and we begin to play with the dollhouse. It's a simple wooden dollhouse, check, with simple wooden toys, check, basic little animals, check, okay, everything is exactly as is should be. So I start by asking, "What should this little bear do?" She replies, "He can go here and sit in this room." Okay, "What should his friends do?" "They can sit with him and they can watch T.V." Okay so far so good, she's setting up a nice little party in the living room. "Okay, now what should we do?" Wait for it....... "You can stay here and babysit while I go out for a while. I'll be home at 3." BAM! Direct hit to the head! What was that? I was totally unprepared for that one. So I said, "Okay." And I sat in the room by myself and babysat her bear collection until she got back.
What did I learn? I learned that Play Therapy sometimes means your kids will tell you through play that YOU SUCK. It also taught me not to ask questions I don't really want the answers to. But more importantly, and I really do think this is the point, don't ever put yourself in a position to hear the truth from your children. Statistically they are 100% guaranteed to be messed up in some way shape or form. Just leave them alone, let them collect their baggage normally and then send them to counseling using the "Children s Counseling Fund" you started on their first birthday. Really, just don't meddle in your children's play. Ever.

Steyn Rocks! (and rolls)

Mark Steyn's article in NRO "ROCK'N'ROLL GOVERNMENT " addresses the all too problematic reality faced by both young and aging rock stars alike, what to rebel against? I thought they would have long since solved this problem after Clinton's two terms. Hard core rockers like Streisand and Fleetwood Mac were so jubilant at the prospect of a Dem in the White House they stopped their 879 city mega tours to sing at the Inauguration. I kid. Streisand's doesn't do tours. Every now and then she will grace the Democractic National Convention with her presence or she'll do a private show to fund raise for one of Clinton's legal funds, but she doesn't tour. Back to my point. Yes what will the rocker establishment do now? They've got their man. They have one of two options, as I see it, they can a) start singing about how awesome Obama is, with songs like, and I'm just spitballing here, "If I had Obama, I'd Obama in the mor...or..ning, I'd Obama in the evening, all over this land... I'd Obama out danger, I'd Obama out war.. ar..ning, I'd Obama out love between my brother's and my sister's aaaalll.. over this la...a...a..nd." Or, possilby, "You say you want Obamalution, well you know, he's gonna save the world," You see where I'm going with this, it's almost like the songs were written low these many years ago, to one day be re-written for Obama. Watch how well they work, "I am a woman in love with Obama, And I'd do anything to get you into the White House, It's the right, I destest, over and over again, They're gonna get screwed.." See it works perfectly. Or they can b) still gripe over the minority of Republicans who are still saavy enough to stop bad legislation from being passed (I'm speaking hypothetically here, I have not yet verified these mythological Republicans even exist), those songs might sound something like this, "You don't pay my health care, you don't buy my cable..." Or maybe, "Wouldn't it be nice if no more Republicans, ever held an office in this land, wouldn't it be nice if they would go away, and let us pass our socialist bills yeah, then the people would think we were awesome, they'd keep on voting for us in eeeeeeeevery election, then we'd have all the power..." You kind of have to use your imagination but it's not that far off. My only hope is that these poor formerly tortured souls can finally find peace and shut the hell up about how bad off the rest of the world is while they waste far away from anything that even remotely smacks of poverty. But, that's probably not a hope I can believe in.

Why Running is Awesome

1. If you're fat it makes you not fat.
   
2. You can run by people who are walking and know you're better than they are.
3. If you are being chased by a lion, you'll probably still die, but you'll last a lot longer than the guy who was walking.
4. You get to annoy people with boring stories about how many miles you ran over the weekend and how sore your muscles are.  Co-workers love to hear that kind of stuff.
5. It's impressive to turn down an invitation somewhere because you have to go run.
6. Firm butt.
7. People will automatically think more highly of you, not like that tool down the hall who bowls.
   
8. Running is also an emergency procedure.  Ex:  You're being chased, which skill do you want honed?  Running, or Badminton?  
   
9. You look cool listening to your IPOD while you run.
10. Firm butt.

10 Things W and I Have In Common

1. Great hair
2. Making snakes is our favorite thing to do with playdough
3. We both voted for Bush in '04
4. We both have an amazing capacitization for creating words on the spot when a suitable one doesn't exist.
5. We are both left handed (unverified)
6. We are both our parents favorite
7. Unicorns

8. Neither one of us made Valerie Plame's christmas card list
9. We both think the U.N. is a stupid waste of taxpayers dollars going to a bunch of ungrateful nations who would just as soon step over our dead bodies as lift a finger to help themselves
10. We don't mess with Texas

11. We think guns make nice gifts

12. We believe in UFO's and know the Air Force keeps lying about them

13. We both use the word "neato" 

14. We think terrorists should die, preferably a horrible death if there's a choice

15. We both speak spanish, he speaks it fluently, I speak it at Taco Bell and other fine Mexican Restaurants

Give the Girl a Break, Numbers are Hard!

I know a lot has been made about Nancy Pelosi's number gaff , the one where she passionately states that if congress doesn't pass the stimulus package 500 million Americans will lose their jobs every month. Okay, so obviously Ms. Pelosi hasn't seen the most recent U.S. census data. That's not the point. Numbers are hard. They are everywhere. Sometimes there is more than one of them, like 34. I mean, we're expected to remember all kinds of things, like phone numbers, street addresses, our mother's birthday, the number of kids we have. It's madness the amount of numbers we are forcibly forced to memorize. So in Ms. Pelosi's defense, she really can't be expected to keep track of large numbers. A staffer should probably be hired to do that kind of thing. A number keeper tracker ofer. That way she can focus on important things like improving the congressional approval rating. Ooops, wait that's a number too. Which would explain why she hasn't managed that one well either. Ok, she should just stay away from numbers. That's the safest thing for her and the 500 million Americans who just lost their jobs.

"Please type the following"

Am I the only one who has trouble reading the security encrypted code things you have to type at the end of every internet transaction? I swear I saw an omega sign in one of them. Where is THAT on my keyboard? This could just be me, and I realize that we need to keep things secure so that twelve year old Chinese hackers don't steal our identities but when the letter and numbers I'm supposed to type start looking like a Rorschach test I begin to feel like it's just intentionally difficult.

Fire the Nanny (state)

Let us reflect for a moment on a movie classic, Mary Poppins. The consummate Nanny if ever there was one. Ms. Poppins was everything young Jane and Michael Banks needed. She was punctual, well proportioned, prepared for any eventuality, caring health care provider, kind to the less fortunate (I’m of course referring to her association with Dick Van Dyke’s character Bert, the chimney sweep), nice singing voice, and she could fly. These are all quite wonderful attributes for a Nanny, anyone would agree. What modern mother or father wouldn’t want a Nanny who can pull a lamp out of her hand bag? Marketable skill if you need a lamp. Now, recall if you will why young Jane and Michael needed the Nanny. Agreed, there is the unfortunate fact that the former Nanny quit, but it’s more than just that. Well then perhaps they required a Nanny because that's just what the British do. I digress. Back to the question at hand, why did Jane and Michael have need for a Nanny? Simply put, they were too young to take care of themselves. They hadn’t the maturity or knowledge to navigate the complex, confusing and sometimes dangerous lessons of life. Ms. Poppins was there to ensure that they safely arrived at adulthood. She was preparing them to become productive, independent and personally responsible members of society. These are wonderful things to instill in a child. As a parent, this is my role and responsibility to my own children, to raise them so they can leave my home and become gainfully employed one day. I have young children so I can make that statement without the pang of a soon to be recognized reality. It is good for Mary Poppins to dutifully care for her two young wards. It is sweet because they are young and helpless; it’s not so sweet however, when they are fully capable adults. Let us now look at what happens when Mary Poppins is charged with caring for Tina and Danny, all their children, cousins, overweight, underweight, short, tall, ugly, pretty, stupid, and smart neighbors. The image of the once attractive young governess is marred by the reality of what has turned into government babysitting. You should be disturbed by this image. But why should you be so bothered? Because at the base of your soul you know this model is wrong and ineffective. You know that regardless of what legislatures think about the food you eat, or your disgusting smoking habit, how much red meat you consume, or neutering your puppy, at the end of the day you are responsible for how you behave and the decisions you make. So why do some people tolerate the government coming in and babysitting them? I would first argue they have no shame, but that maybe to simple and incomplete an answer. A better and probably more accurate answer is that government oversight into their lives allows them to be victims of their own devising. “I’m fat because I eat too many trans-fatty acids, which are bad for me because Mayor Bloomberg says they are.” “I’m not responsible, McDonalds’s dollar value meals are.” “I can’t stop smoking because it’s addictive and the cigarette company’s tricked me by making it so attractive on billboards and Hollywood films. Never mind that I threw up the first seven times I tried smoking, eventually after all the puking and coughing I became addicted and my body craved the nicotine. It’s not my fault!”

All humor aside, there is something going on here that is more insidious than the government just babysitting victims. There is the purposeful sustainment of victimhood by the very institutions that purport to protect these "victims". One can argue otherwise, however, the fact of the matter is that history, statistics, research, and good old fashion observation suggests that this is indeed exactly what happens when the government steps in and Nanny’s the masses. People give up their right to choose and simply accept their condition. Their hope for self-control and discipline is supplanted by government regulations that dictate how they will think and behave.

I’m quite sure this is not the world Disney envisioned when he gave us Mary Poppins. In all his creative fancy he never conceived of Ms. Poppins lecturing grown men on the evils of smoking, or red meat. That could be because Disney smoked and ate red meat. Don’t quote me on that, I don’t know that for a fact. Whether he did or not is irrelevant, what is relevant is that he still had the choice. I do believe that if fifty years ago Disney were asked what he thought of a Nanny State that regulated and controlled targeted populations of people it deemed at risk, and products it deemed harmful, he would without hesitation tell you to fire the Nanny.