Advice from the Parent Center

Scenario: Your kid has acquired a new skill, one that's different and therefore exciting. A child's first swear word is usually the result of direct mimicry; either from mom and dad or a playmate. Not surprisingly, potty training can also give rise to endless streams of scatological talk. In almost every case, it's an experiment: "Here's something I heard, which people seem to react to. Let's see what happens when I say it!" No matter where this language comes from, though, it's never too early to teach your child that it isn't acceptable.
What to do about swearing and potty talk
Treat toileting matter-of-factly. If you wrinkle your nose every time you change your child's diaper or stage-whisper the common words for elimination, it's no wonder that your 2-year-old quickly latches on to the idea that bodily functions and the terms used to describe them are guaranteed attention-grabbers.If you don't attach too much significance to her fascination with potty talk, it has a better chance of passing (eventually!). Reading fun picture books like Everyone Poops, by Taro Gomi, and The Gas We Pass, by Shinta Cho, can also help de-emphasize the forbidden (and thus endlessly alluring) nature of these subjects.
Keep a poker face. When your child says a swear word or makes a reference to bodily functions, resist the urge to chuckle, which she'll take as wonderful reinforcement for doing it again. The ability to make adults laugh — or angry or upset — is enormously powerful when you're small.
Substitute fun-but-clean alternatives. If your child's just trying a new word on for size or sing-songing it under her breath for the thrill, you can probably swap a similar-sounding goofy word for the inappropriate one — snoopynose for poopynose, for example. If the problem is that she's short on acceptable words to express intense anger or frustration, it may help to encourage her to say loudly, "I'm mad" or "I'm frustrated."
Set limits. If your baby has latched on to a serious profanity or two, she needs you to set some guidelines. It's crucial to do this calmly — without becoming agitated or mad — otherwise, each time you blow up, you just remind her how much power she has to make you pay attention to her quickly. "That's not a word you may use." "We don't allow that kind of language."
Teach respect. You're not doing your 2-year-old any favors by letting her think it's okay to hurl even baby-variety epithets at other kids. (Ask her how she'd feel if someone called her a "farthead," for instance.) Swear words and excessive bathroom talk won't be looked upon kindly at daycare or preschool, on the playground, at playmates' houses — or at Grandpa's dinner table. Explain that these words hurt people's feelings, that it makes no difference if other kids are using the same language, and that name-calling simply isn't allowed.
Watch your own mouth. Sure, there are different rules for adults' and children's behavior, but if your 2-year-old hears you casually pepper your daily conversation with profanity, it'll be a lot harder to convince her not to talk that way herself. If she mimics something you said, admit that you shouldn't have said it either, then quickly distract her with a song or story — and vow to clean up your act.
For more good advice on a range of topics, visit www.parentcenter.com
--Misty

"We didn't do anything fun"

When I was making a big deal over Faith's first day of school, she told me: "Mom, my first day of school was last year." Sure enough, she started Pre-K last year, but this was kindergarten. I told her that when her parents went to school, kindergarten was the very first day of our school careers. We didn't have pre-kindergarten. Before she left for school, she didn't mind posing for pictures, so I snapped a couple of quickies before she got on her way. Gone are the bangs from last year, her hair is a lot longer and her uniform is a little shorter. She seems so much more mature, but is she ready for the real world? When I asked her about her first day, she sounded disappointed when she said: "We didn't do anything fun. We only got to color a little right before we left." Wow. It is the real world.
- Liz Fabian

Taking the plunge and making a splash

The summer's flown. We'd promised Faith a little mini-excursion to an amusement park. But since my mother's been ill, we just couldn't get away. We finally ventured to Whitewater last week before school started. A check on the Website showed that some of the "splashier" rides had a 48-inch height requirement. Time to get out the measuring tape. Oops - about 46 and a half to 47 inches. How could we go and not take on The Tornado? Faith had no fear, so we piled her long hair in a bun on top of her head and hit the park. No one even checked her height at the twister and she checked her fright in the first few seconds. As we entered the giant funnel on our raft, there was a momentary look of terror that broke into giggles as soon as I said how much fun it was. Next stop - The Cliffhanger. "I want to go first," Faith said as she was heading to the 9-story freefall slide. No, Daddy should go first so he can be at the bottom as she came down. We got a horrified stare from one mom waiting for the adjacent ride. How could we be letting our little one take the plunge? I didn't want to discourage Faith, but wanted to prepare her. It was going to be scary, I told her, but by the time she could get scared, it would be over. When we got to the top of the tall staircase, it was shift change for the lifeguard on duty. "Where's the height stick?" the new guard on duty asked as we were getting closer to the top. Luckily, it was down on the ground. It was a very short wait for this ride. Not many people are brave enough to give it a try. "Step back to the mark," the new lifeguard told Faith. Between her pool shoes and the bun, she was in. Down daddy went. Faith handed over her shoes to me and followed him down. "I've got to see this," one young man said as Faith loaded herself onto the top of the slide. About a half dozen people peered over the edge as she dropped down below. I couldn't wait to go next because I was so afraid she'd been traumatized. I don't even remember much about the experience except when I got down to the bottom, by bathing suit was now a thong. Thank goodness I was wearing a little swim dress over the panty part. Faith was laughing and giggling, while my heart was pounding. After I quickly adjusted my suit and retrieved my dignity, I was beaming with pride over my fearless child. After a few hours on the kid rides, we discovered there were more big slides on the other end of the park. I pried Faith away from the treehouse of downpours and kids-only slides. We stopped at the map and I read her the titles of the other attractions. "I want to do on the Dragon's Tail," Faith said excitedly jumping up and down. Unbeknownst to her, she picked the last 48" requirement ride. We started singing the theme to Dragon Tales on PBS and were off. There were two rippling slides and Faith wanted us to go down at the same time, so we got in separate lines. My line moved much faster and I got ahead of her, though. As I was barreling down the plumes with my body coming off the slide and bouncing back down on my bottom, I knew this ride might be too much for Faith. Her little body would really be weightless on the slide. I was hoping that the lifeguard would measure her and abort her run. We left our shoes at the bottom this time, so I knew she wouldn't make the cut. I could see her and Matt up at the top, but couldn't understand why he was in the chute first. I thought maybe she had been turned away and was coming back down the stairs. When Matt splashed down into the pool with great glee, I asked him about Faith. "She's right next to you," was his reply. Somehow I missed her tiny body coming down the slide as I focused on the top. As she looked up at me, her eyes were wide and her mouth was closed. She seemed like she was in a daze. "I hated that one, Mommy," she said. Daddy was the only one who wanted to go again. When I asked her later about what she was thinking, "I just wanted it to be over," she said. No more butt busters for us.
- Liz Fabian

Snips and snails and dragon tails

I introduced Daniel to "Pete's Dragon" during our little storm Saturday night. Now it's his favorite movie.
We go through these phases - "Aristocats" lasted about two months, "Oliver and Company" lasted almost six - I think that's because the lead dog looks like our own pup. "The Brave Little Toaster" probably would have lasted longer than its two-week run, but I couldn't take it any more.
But "Pete's Dragon" has all the winning bits for boys: Dragons and ships and colorful bad guys. Plus, lots and lots of kids in the cast. Singing, playing, dancing, there are kids everywhere. And I watched the movie just grab his little imagination and plant ideas. So the next few weeks should be fun - who knows what he'll come up with?
--Misty

It could happen to any of us

My heart and prayers go out to Octavia Ammons, the mother of 6-year-old Jabriel Eason. Jabriel slipped out of the house while mom was taking a nap Sunday, even though she had moved a sofa to block the door. His little body was found in the lake behind their home today. I guess I feel like this could happen to any of us.
Because how many times has an exhausted mom lay down on the couch "for just a few minutes" while the kids are engrossed in Dora the Explorer? Or in my case, been in the kitchen cooking dinner while junior plays in the back yard, only to have him climb the fence and be found two streets over? Or worse, be in the mall bathroom and have the slippery little devil slide under the stall door and out of the ladies' room before you can get your jeans zipped? (I witnessed that one years ago - before I had a child.)
But really, as far as this case goes, I can't fault mom. I can't honestly say "you shouldn't be sleeping while you are taking care of your kids." Because I know what it's like to put a four-year-old down for a nap, thinking I can squeeze in one of my own once he falls asleep. Only to have him take a twenty-minute nap and then destroy his room as I sleep on. If he cracks his bedroom door, the mommy ears come on and I'm up. But I owe that more to a sticky bedroom door than to my own mom-sense. So I feel for Jabriel's mom. And I'll be keeping a closer eye on Daniel from now on. No matter how tired I am.
--Misty

101 reasons not to go to bed

I thought I'd have more time before Daniel entered this phase. You know the one - you put the kid to bed, go through the ritual, tuck him in, and turn out the light. Five minutes later, it's I forgot to brush my teeth." An hour later, you're still going through the last glass of water, then the last potty visit, thgen another kiss goodnight. Then it's "where's my red truck?" or "teddy bear got lost" (under the covers) or "I want to sleep in your bed."
After spending two years trying to get him to sleep through the night, I had really hoped Daniel would settle into a human sleeping pattern. Instead he's up until "God knows when" and gets up at "oh my God, it's early." The pediatrician says "some people just don't need as much sleep as others." We'll see if that holds when he's a teenager.
--Misty

Penny candy and the $100,000 heist

Growing up on the northern edge of Long Island, I remember my trips to the St. James General Store where penny candy was in vogue. There were large jars of all kinds of treats - licorice whips, rock candy and my ultimate favorite, the dots. I'm not talking about the chewy package of gumdrop-shaped colored domes that was my favorite candy of choice at the movies, but the strips of white paper with tiny globs of confection that started in one color and morphed into others. My recent trip down candyland's memory lane came when I looked in a vending machine at work the other day. I did a double-take when I saw the $100,000 bar. First of all, I don't know where I've been all these years since Nestle changed the name to 100 Grand. An Internet search informed me that the candy formerly known as the one-hundred thousand dollar bar was renamed when the manufacturer hit the computer age. Apparently the dollar symbol didn't jive. I don't know, that explanation doesn't make "cents" to me. Anyway, after I got over that shock, I noticed the candy seemed about half its size. I don't think this is a case of the shrinking backyard at my childhood home where everything seemed so much larger when I was little. I really think the candy shrunk as I grew. There was only one thing to do. Buy one. Perhaps it's just the packaging. It was a tight squeeze on its little dark cardboard tray instead of having a little breathing room for the chocolate-covered crunchy caramel chunks. A few days later, I broke down and did a little more "research." Maybe it just tastes great, less filling. I guess it's just a fact of life, $100,000 went a lot farther when I was a kid.
- Liz Fabian

Kids stuff recalls

The consumer Product Safety commission (http://www.cpsc.gov) has put out a recall on girls hide and seek hooded drawstring sweatshirts. If you haven't bookmarked their site, it's high time to do so. Because even though toy makers and clothing manufacturers test their products continually, they don't have Daniel the Destroyer on staff.
--Misty

Home business bummer

Saturday was my big open house. A number of other home business consultants and I got together, put out our displays, placed an ad, and waited for customers. And waited and waited and waited. In a 5-hour period, we had three people. So now it's back up, regroup, and focus on expos and other ways to find new customers. It's frustrating, but every time I think about quitting, I go and have a great show or meet great new people. I guess it's like raising a kid: every time you want to just ship them to Grandma (because after all, the little monsters can do no wrong in HER eyes), they go and do something cute like gather you a bouquet of yard flowers.
--Misty

Where's Trevor?

As I'm sure will happen a lot over the next twelve years, Daniel and his best buddy from 3-K are in different classes in 4-K. And while he didn't mention it on Friday, This morning he woke up talking about Trevor. Fortunately, we arrived in time for large-group time, and Trevor was there. And they were both wearing Superman shirts. So the dynamic Duo ride again, at least until class begins. I feel like leaving a note: Hey, Trevor's mom, shall we arrange a playdate?
--Misty

School daze

Daniel's first day of pre-K started out with a bang; I overslept.
So we hustled through the morning ritual, and it was as he was polishing off his cereal that I noticed the dog. So I snapped a few pictures, and we were only five minutes late for class. The teachers were still sorting out who was whom and what symbol each kid got. (Daniel is now the red rooster) I noticed as I was typing bus schedules for the last two weeks that elementary buses are usually coded: yellow crayon, orange basketball, and so on for easy identification for the kids. Cool.
So whether your kid is starting his first day of kindergarten or the first day of her senior year, or whether you're packing up mini-fridges and bed linens for a college dorm room, take a minute, mom. You've gotten them this far.
--Misty

Winter wardrobe land

It's a little hard to be thinking sweaters, coats and corduroy when it's pushing 100 degrees. But if you can muster the energy, it's time to mark your calendar for some more kids clothing consignment sales. Misty filled us in on some dates around Warner
Robins, but there are a couple of bargain bonanzas coming up in Macon. The bi-annual Kidz Replay sale will be September 6th through the 9th next to Lipson's Fabrics on Riverside Drive behind Natalia's in the newly renamed River Street Corners shopping center. While the Mothers of Preschoolers of Martha Bowman Memorial United Methodist Church will be holding their sale September 22 and 23 at the Hephzibah Children's Home across from Lake Wildwood on Zebulon Road.Both sales feature half-prize Saturdays from 8 a.m. until noon where most of the items are 50-percent off. The Replay sale begins on Wednesday with Grandparents Day from 9:30 a.m. until 7 p.m. (Moms can attend along with Grandmas.) The hours for Thursday's sale are from 9:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. and Friday from 9:30 a.m. until 1 p.m. The MOPS sale runs from 9 a.m. until 7 p.m. on Friday before Half Price Day on Saturday. Thanks to both sales, my daughter is a clothes horse without us having to mortgage the farm.
- Liz Fabian

Hey Grandma, look at this!

I got a call from my mom last night - "What did you do to my grandson's hair?!"
Turns out she'd been reading the blog and saw the photo of a freshly-shorn Daniel painting on the sidewalk. Well, here's another one for you, Grandma. Daniel can write his name!
I dropped him off at school this morning and his teacher handed me a sheet of blue construction paper with his name at the top, followed by the letters in his very own handwriting. I'm so proud I'm not even hanging it on the fridge - I'm putting it up in my cubicle!
--Misty

The mommy ping test

In the first 30 minutes of consciousness, Daniel must have called "mommy" 64 times. I'm convinced it was just a ping test.
You know, like when submarines send out a signal and listen for the "ping?"
Because he didn't actually WANT anything from me - he just wanted to know I was listening to him chatter on. Thank God I've got the automatic response - "mommy?" "Yes, Daniel?" "mommy?" "yes, Daniel?" "mommy?" "yes, Daniel?" "Mommy?" "WHAT?!?!?!"
--Misty

One last summer weekend

For some of us, school starts in a week. Are you ready? Are the kids ready? What are you going to do with your last "official" summer weekend? Here are some ideas (in case you haven't got around to them yet)
1. Have a picnic. Take the kids and their favorite finger foods to the park for an afternoon. Eat, play on the swings, and take lots of pictures. When you get home, pass the popsicles.
2. Paint a picture. "Draw me your summer vacation." Then keep it in their scrapbook.
3. Go to the lake. Or pond. Or beach. Whatever. It's a day trip, and everybody's gotta get some sand between their toes.
4. Movie marathon. It's storming? It's 105? Bake cookies, then make a pallet of blankets on the living room floor for some serious cuddling, tickling and (hopefully) snoozing.
5. Berry picking. Blueberries, strawberries, heck, figs, pears and peaches. Go get a bunch and bake, freeze or can them up.
Whatever you do, enjoy these last few days before the early bedtime/homework grind begins again.
--Misty

Penny candy and the $100,000 heist

Growing up on the northern edge of Long Island, I remember my trips to the St. James General Store where penny candy was in vogue. There were large jars of all kinds of treats - licorice whips, rock candy and my ultimate favorite, the dots. I'm not talking about the chewy package of gumdrop-shaped colored domes that was my favorite candy of choice at the movies, but the strips of white paper with tiny globs of confection that started in one color and morphed into others. My recent trip down candyland's memory lane came when I looked in a vending machine at work the other day. I did a double-take when I saw the $100,000 bar. First of all, I don't know where I've been all these years since Nestle changed the name to 100 Grand. An Internet search informed me that the candy formerly known as the one-hundred thousand dollar bar was renamed when the manufacturer hit the computer age. Apparently the dollar symbol didn't jive. I don't know, that explanation doesn't make "cents" to me. Anyway, after I got over that shock, I noticed the candy seemed about half its size. I don't think this is a case of the shrinking backyard at my childhood home where everything seemed so much larger when I was little. I really think the candy shrunk as I grew. There was only one thing to do. Buy one. Perhaps it's just the packaging. It was a tight squeeze on its little dark cardboard tray instead of having a little breathing room for the chocolate-covered crunchy caramel chunks. A few days later, I broke down and did a little more "research." Maybe it just tastes great, less filling. I guess it's just a fact of life, $100,000 went a lot farther when I was a kid.
- Liz Fabian

School bus safety

Okay, intellectually, I KNOW school buses are safe. Millions of kids, year in, year out, blah blah blah. That being said, the freak me out.
One driver. Up to 40 kids. No seat belts. No way of enforcing the rules, because "I'll pull this bus right over young man!" just isn't real. And have you ever been driving behind a school bus, just watching what those kids are doing?
So, here we go. In the week before school starts, lets drill some rules into those heads.
1. We do not pick on the kids on the bus. We do not pull hair, make fun, take things from others.
2. We stay in our seats. You may not HAVE a seat belt, but you'd better act like you do.
3. Do not run to or from a bus. The law of gross tonnage says any moving vehicle - no matter how slowly it is moving - will do more damage to you than you will to it. Plus, you can see them better than their drivers can see you.
4. Act like I'm sitting right next to you. Or I just might be!
--Misty

Best baby shower ideas

I've already told you about the "dad's" shower - a poker game with a package of diapers as the "buy in." But here's one for couple's showers that a co-worker passed along:
Hostess: get a number of plain onesies and some fabric paint. You know the stuff - comes in glittery, puffy, slick and a rainbow of colors. Every attendee gets to decorate their own onesie to give to the new baby! This also works with burp cloths - just buy packages of cloth diapers to paint. They last forever - literally. I have some my mother painted for ME 30-some years ago.
--Misty

More outdoors fun

Sometimes, I like to see Daniel having a good time making a mess. Now, those times don't usually include anything with food - or crayons. But Crayola has offered one of the coolest ideas since finger paint, and when you and the kids are done making a mess, everyone gets a washdown with the hose and comes out cool, refreshed, and clean.

Daddy's Day Part II

With blue and pink eyeshadow and one of her favorite dress-up gowns, Faith greeted us at her "restaurant." Her special supper for Daddy had its own printed menu, tablecloth and fresh-cut flowers on the breakfast table. She was so cute the way she had chosen a tablecloth and gathered up flowers from the backyard. She had long been planning the event, but was a little short on disclosing details. On my husband's birthday, Faith decided I would prepare the meal, but she had to serve it. Of course, I had to first change into a full length gown after sweating at the stove cooking pasta. I grabbed candles at the last minute as I talked her out of a white chiffon body suit that I usually wear with the long satin skirt. I couldn't bear the thought of tomato sauce on that blouse. Daddy was able to convince her he didn't need a tuxedo. He wore a sport coat, T-shirt and tie with nice slacks and shoes. She made us go outside - where it was about 100 degrees, get in the car and then get out and come to the door. She put on a really pretentious accent as she greeted us. I was leery of letting her dish up the pasta, which had cemented into one big glob by the time we were ready for our fancy restaurant date. She agreed I could dish up the plates. While I excused myself from the table, she made Matt ask where I was. I had to reply that I was in the restroom, but would be back at the table in just a minute. She refused to eat with us. She wanted to eat at the counter like a true server. She did dish up her own pasta and salad which I had also already prepared with dressing and parmesan cheese. At the end of the meal, I discovered her salad and pasta were swimming in a pool of balsamic maple dressing. "I got carried away," she said, "And now it doesn't taste good." I'm so glad I made our plates! As she grabbed Matt's birthday cake I had baked the night before, I envisioned her smashing the whole thing on the floor. She made it to the table without tripping. Daddy blew out the candles and Faith kept turning around and bumping into the coffee buttercream icing. Her sleeve got a good bit of icing and Daddy noticed a gooey glob on his dry clean only jacket. Let's hope the memories last even longer than the grease stains.
- Liz Fabian