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Mickey’s in da house!
We have mice. Not because we are dirty. But because we live in London. A couple weeks back, in New York, we had mice there too (and one very large rat downstairs by the garbage cans). It’s a part of life when you are a city dweller. In fact, I once heard that in London, you are never more than 6 feet from a rodent of some kind. Pleasant thought, no?
Anyway, in my old life, I would have just popped some poison down in the kitchen and outside on the deck. The kind that the mouse eats, takes home to his family, and dies in his sleep two or three days later. The aftermath of which I don’t have to see. But this is my new life. With children. Children who think nothing of eating paper, plastic and food wrappers. They eat potted pork and baked beans, so what’s a little rat poison?
The problem with most rat poison is that it is actually a blood thinner that builds up slowly and causes massive internal bleeding after several days. It’s extremely poisonous to young children. The alternative would be a manual trap, but I like my children and I would prefer for them to retain all 20 digits until they are at least 5. So what do you do when children and mice try and coexist?
I called the exterminator and explained that we can’t have poison in the house so he’d better have a good alternative. “See you tomorrow, Madam,” was his reply. (It’s the UK, so “Madam” is a polite term. He’s not implying that I run a brothel.) And he arrived almost on time the next day, armed with large sheets of “Rat Glue.”
Well how is that supposed to work? I wait until my children are in bed (because otherwise they would crawl right through it and get stuck.) Then I put the sheets out all over the kitchen. And then I can go to bed or I can wait up and listen for the screaming. What? Yes. They scream. Then he’d like me to just “pick it up and put it in the bin.” Again, What? I offered him cash to return at 6 the next morning and he politely declined.
But this is being a parent, isn’t it? We do things we’d rather not. If I can scrape undigested corn kernels off Zoe’s butt, I can dispose of an unwanted rodent. Or so I thought. For exactly 20 minutes. Then I picked up the glue sheets, tossed them out and decided on a new approach. They do sell “pet friendly, child friendly, no poison, no visualization” traps. You put some tasty treat inside, set the trap and when the arrow moves to, “Caught!,” you chuck the whole thing. So yesterday I bought two of them. And a jar of peanut butter. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Gimme some sugar, Sugar.
As you can see, I’m having a bit of trouble catching up on my jet lag, getting my children back on London time, and organizing photos of our trip to find time to say hi to all of you. But one of those photos made me think I should drop you a quick note, just in case you find yourself sitting there, wondering if a bit of sugar is really going to ruin your child for life. I know I’ve brought this up before, but I love letting you know what goes on in my house, lest you think it’s a case of, “do as I say, not as I do.”
I’ve heard a lot of people say that babies and young children shouldn’t have any sugar (or salt for that matter! Which is a shame, since a diet devoid of any sodium is certainly fatal at any age.), and I want to take 3 minutes to prove to you how strongly I don’ t believe this. I’m a fan of moderation and firmly believe that restricting any one food from a kid makes a child crave it all the more. Meaning the first time he gets a little pocket money, it’s Twinkies and Mars Bars until he pukes.
Anyway, Eva’s birthday month finally came to a close after the third (yes, THREE) party. Party one was on her real birthday and delivered a cupcake decorated in chocolate icing and mini M&M’s. She looked at it, picked off about 10 candies and then ate some polenta fries. Underwhelmed.
Party two was with cousin Olivia, her aunt and grandparents. All three girls were served giant white coconut cupcakes. Zoe shoved her face into hers, the other two ladies poked at the coconut and then went over to the table where chicken nuggets and blueberries awaited them.
Party three was back in London. I made a hideous English Sponge Bob cake mix, complete with brilliant yellow cake mix and its own tiny baking dish. Then I decorated it with good old Betty Crocker vanilla frosting and topped it with mini-marshmallows. It was really a sight to see. One of my friends saw the photos and asked if I had used packing peanuts to decorate. That’s how truly talented I am. Anyway, Eva enjoyed the candle, looked happily at the cake and then ate exactly 3 marshmallows. (Zoe, of course, was more than happy to vacuum up an entire slice).
Why am I sharing all this? Because a little sugar never killed anyone. And presenting a varied diet means a child can taste and explore all there is to discover in the great world of food. Maybe she’ll like her sweets, maybe she’ll prefer hummus. But in no way should you sacrifice a photo opportunity like a first birthday and a giant pile of frosting. It’s not everyday, after all.
Mean Old Ladies
Good morning. I’m having Halloween candy for breakfast. Oh, it’s not as bad as you think; trick or treating in England brought in a whopping 6 small pieces of hard candy, one mini-chocolate bar and a couple pieces of something I’m not about to eat. How disappointing. Hope all of you did better. Anyway, clearly we are back home and the return flight went as well as it could, with one notable exception being the nasty lizard lady seated next to me. May her wrinkles grow deeper and her teeth more yellow with each passing day. What did she do, you ask?
I got to my seat and was waiting for the flight attendants to install the infant chair (it’s Europe—car seats not allowed) so both kids were on my lap for a moment. Lizard Lady reached her assigned place, right next to me. She took one look at me and my adorable children and stood back up, announcing to the flight manager that, “I’d better be moved or I’m going to shoot myself.” What? Could she have maybe said, in a very nice tone, “Is it possible to move so as to give this nice woman more room for her babies?” But to be so nasty about it? Before my kids had even had a chance to wreck her day?
I hope she felt marginally embarrassed, not just when she heard me laughing and calling her rude names to the flight attendant, but when my children were perfect. Two naps, not one cry. The closest we got to disturbing anyone was just Zoe’s normal chatting volume. I even had time to read a magazine (yes, 6 hours, one whole magazine!). Something I read disturbed me so much I need to share it with you.
Parents were asked what techniques they would use to keep their kids quiet on an airplane. 66% said, “Endless DVD’s.” Okay, I buy that. But 32% admitted to slipping their kid a sedating medication such as Nyquil while only 2% would use “junk food.” Seriously? 32% of you would rather risk an adverse medication reaction than give a kid a donut? Never mind that a significant percentage of toddlers will have the opposite reaction to a “sedating” drug and go completely nuts. But these are medications, not harmless “off-switches!” I do know some people who use a dose of a children’s antihistamine to great success, particularly if their kid suffers from motion sickness. So I can see that although I can’t recommend it for everyone. But I really draw the line at using any medication not indicated for children. Respiratory depression, alcohol toxicity: are these really preferable to a bucket of gummi worms? That’s ridiculous.
So my girls got endless goldfish crackers and Disney on their flight home and were perfect angels. Now it’s just a matter of getting over our jetlag, which will certainly be hastened by just one more of these dumb pieces of hard candy…
Happy Halloween!
I am going to interrupt my fantastic tale of Traveling With Children to bring you a public service message about this coming weekend. It’s Halloween. Unless you subscribe to a particular religion that prohibits participation (and therefore probably don’t subscribe to me anyway), chances are you will be spending an inordinate amount of time and money dressing your children with the hopes of not only out-doing your neighbors but also getting yourself some yummy candy that “has to be tested first.” But it’s my responsibility to stop here and give you the obligatory “preachy pediatrician” Halloween talk.
Oh don’t worry. I’m not telling you to not go out. But I’ve got to remind you that face paint is better than a mask because masks can slip and make it difficult to see. Of course my mother never let me have face paint because it gave me a rash so I was forced to work my own mug into my costume. (Many, many years of being a doctor wearing a mask are what followed. And one year with a pig nose. So be careful picking your kid’s costume in case there is an element of prophecy here.)
And of course, brightly lit costumes or reflective tape in strategic places increases the chance that your kid will be visible to both cars and the adults in your group. Remember good footwear and keep the hemlines high enough to avoid tripping. And then there are the obvious things: don’t let your Samurai carry a real sword, make sure the Light Saber doesn’t really slice through skin.
Finally, try to stick to houses that you know and only accept treats that are in sealed, individual packaging. That always annoyed me, getting a homemade candy apple and having my mother immediately take it away. Inspect everything at home in the light before letting your little one have a snack. And if you are answering your own doorbell, don’t give raisins. That’s mean and they are just as bad for your teeth as JuJubees. Of course, my kids aren’t going to get to eat their loot. Because Princess Leia and Wonder Woman (any idea who is who?) have a Mommy who couldn’t possibly let they pollute their bodies with KitKat bars. I’ll have to save them from themselves. Somehow, someway. Happy Halloween everyone!
Grumpy Old Men
And I bring you Part Two: flying alone with infants. Is it brave or just stupid? You be the judge. Of course, the real point of this part of my Transatlantic saga is to complain loudly about the miserable mean toad seated next to us on the plane. What kind of person doesn’t like babies? Who doesn’t have even a smidgen of sympathy for a very stressed lady with two babies on an airplane? Especially one who is trying very, very hard to keep her kids happy and quiet. Quiet being the key word.
So, the girls fell asleep at take off and Zoe actually stayed that way for almost 2 hours. (I had binkies at the ready for ear pressure but they don’t really seem to mind and for that I’m mighty grateful. Older kids might need a little gum, drink or a snack to help pop those ears.) Eva woke up as lunch was being served so the two of us shared my salad. She had 3 pieces of garlic bread and a prawn. Then she watched 2 Disney videos. Zoe woke in time to grab some pasta and some fruit. And there we were, only 5 hours left to go.
I stood up and let the girls stretch their legs. Then out came the bag of new toys. Which entertained them for all of 3 minutes. What was far more interesting was the people! Eva pulled herself up and looked over my seat at the man behind us. She happily babbled and clapped. And do you know what he did? This miserable wretch actually looked up and said, “I’d really rather she didn’t do that.”
“What?,” I asked, a bit surprised.
“I’m trying to watch a film,” he said, with a stiff British accent.
Well excuse me, mister! My kid was looking at you. She didn’t touch you. She didn’t touch your movie screen. She looked at you and smiled, with her adorable 7-tooth grin. She wasn’t crying. Oh no, the crying started when I quickly pulled her down from her perch and tried to entertain her with something else.
It is always on our minds, isn’t it, when we board an airplane and see an infant? There is nothing worse than a crying baby or an out-of-control toddler on a long flight. I’ll admit that it makes me nuts—unless the parent is trying to do something about it and then I just feel guilty for being so selfish. It’s a fact that babies and children exist and are allowed in public places. If you don’t like it, fly private, buddy. As a doctor, I’m often asked for medical advice when flying. (Ear infection? Sedation? That’s yet another conversation!) But as the parent in this situation, I was partly furious, partly embarrassed, partly concerned (100% human!) that I’d really not done my job to the best of my ability. Thank goodness for the flight attendants who kept telling me how well behaved they were and what a good job I was doing. And the bonus was they even watched the girls while I went to the loo. So what’s our lesson here? Most people are kind and good and you shouldn’t be afraid of traveling with your little ones so long as you don’t expect to watch a movie or read a book. I feel sorry for Mr. Toad. He must have a sad life.
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