Allergies

What do you think?

We have always tried to limit certain items from our diets, or rather our children's diets. Artificial colorings, artificial flavors, artificial sweetners, preservatives and on and on. It just makes sense not to introduce these man-made, often byproducts into their little bodies.

Whole foods, whole grains - that's what we strive to eat. We limit medications and use alternative solutions wherever possible. I'm well on my way to being a crunchy mama. But the road is long.

So I read a great book that deals with a certain condition and so many people made great strides by eliminating "environmental allergies". I never did really figure out what "environmental allergies" were, but based on the name, I'm going with cleaning products, outgassing from furniture, carpeting and paints and such. To include outdoor sources like grass, pollen, pollution.

We decided to have Pete tested for allergies because it seemed the next logical step. BN has allergies as do I. Today, I gooped up his arms with Lydocaine and took him in. 66 "tests" later and he's allergic to all the grass tests and some dog allergies. Glad he wasn't allergic to cats. I'd hate to have to get rid of Kubi girl because I'm not sold on long-term allergy shots. Next week we go back for another 20-some "tests".

So I asked this allergist about food testing. Did he do these? He knows my concerns about Pete from our consultation. He said he doesn't do food testing unless the patient presents with hives or similar physical reactions. I think if I fork over $550, he should test for whatever I want. However, HE doesn't believe behavior problems or other such conditions are caused by foods.

Well, allrighty then. Guess we are on our own for this portion of our journey.

~R

Dear Tom's of Maine

Tom, oh, Tom, oh Tom's of Maine. Let me count the ways I love you.

• I love your Fennel toothpaste. I could eat it straight from the tube.


• I love that you provide non-fluoridated products for those of us in the know.


• I love that you provide children's paste that is yummy and that doesn't contain tons of artificial junk.

I do have a teeny tiny request. Silly Strawberry is our children's toothpaste choice. The packaging is not. Now, BN and I have the restraint involved to gently squeeze our tubes from the bottom. Our children do not. The urge to grab that tube and man(kid)-handle it from the middle is primordial or hard-wired into their little brains.

Exhibit A:



Do you see the problem? No, let's get closer.

Exhibit B:



Oopsie! The right side is a little blurry. Bad lighting. But look on the left. See that bulbous protrusion coming from the middle of the left side of the tube. I call it Tom Jr.

This happens to every single tube of Silly Strawberry Natural Fluoride-Free toothpaste we've ever purchased. And we've purchased a lot. Because when the tube gets to this point, albeit half full, we toss it in the recycle bin.

Your gel and fluoridated toothpastes come in great squeezable bottles. Won't you please extend that same courtesy to the Silly Strawberries.

Sincerely,

~Robinella

Plogging or Blurking

That's how I waste spend my time these days. I figure it's better than time in front of the television - not that I ever watched that much anyway.

I decided I needed a blog just for family and home education. I don't know why, except at that moment in time, I was overcome with the need to have that special space. So that is now located here.

While starting that little distraction, an email from Kaytabug popped up asking me to join Plurk. The "ahh crap" feeling came over me but was immediately erased by the "ooo, what's that" short attention span I have. So I clicked the link and was immediately absorbed into a world of chatting and karma and my own special race.

What race? You ask. Well, apparently nobody else is amused by this, but on Plurk, the way the comments are situated, it appears they are in a race. Against what? I have no idea. There's no special prize and besides, I am only winning in my "special" world. (deep thinking going on here) In your world, one of your other friends that are not privy to my race may actually be winning.

It's all really confusing. (and yes, I realize I created that confusion for myself) Almost as confusing as that Karma thing. Mine went up overnight, but it doesn't go very much. I have a decent amount of friends, and like on that now extinct Twitter, I only want to hear from a few. I didn't understand the idea of getting as many friends as possible on Twitter, but on Plurk? Well, that could give you some karma, I think. Although, I doubt I'll expend that energy.

The problem with Plurk is that everyone is so busy plurking and talking about sex with bananas that the blog posts are lagging. Although, that could be a good thing, since we all complain about not having the drive or time to read blogs here lately. But drive and time with bananas? All night long.

So check us out on Plurk. Just remember to leave behind a turkey potpie and a note for your loved ones - they might not see you for a while.

~R

How to K1ll your k1ds: Part II

Sunday was a nice day and we hadn't made plans, so I talked BN into gathering the troops and going Letterboxing. We decided to finish the job that Pogo and I almost died from gave up.

If you've never heard of Letterboxing and you like to hike, follow clues and use a stamp pad (woohoo), then make sure and click on it to find out more. It's the thrill of the hunt, usually with really bad directions and compass readings. At least that's my story. I don't know how to read a compass and BN said he did but we couldn't find the last box so we headed back to our van and called it day. Hey, 3 out of 4 ain't bad.

It wasn't quite as hot as that last fateful trip and BN took charge of the water. My oldest has a habit of watering the flora when we hike. Not only is it annoying but it makes us all cranky when we run out. We no longer have the stroller so BN ended up carrying RePete the last mile. He's a good daddy.



~R

Puzzle Update

It's Friday morning and I haven't had much time for this mf-er. So let's see... Sa, Su, Mo, Tu...Uncle C due at sister's on Wednesday morning. Oh dear - the rest of the pieces are GREEN, varying shades of green. Crap!



I can do this.
~R

Family Reunions

My dad's side of the family gets together yearly for the family reunion. It's always held at my Aunt Pat's home, not only because she has acres and acres and the setting is perfect, but because she's the Matriarch of the bunch. She's not the oldest of the six siblings but she's lived in the same home for, well, as long as I can remember. Her husband's family were tobacco farmers and they've owned this land since the original members of their family were sent here to survey this land a couple a hundred years ago.

If any of us need grounding, we only need to think of Aunt Pat's and we're in a happy place. That red mud is in our veins. And it doesn't matter who we are in life. Or how much money we have. At Aunt Pat's, family is all that matters and it felt good to be "home" again.

My dad left us and began his new family when I was nine years old. Because we moved away and of course because they were divorced, my mother never really took us to visit with any of dad's family over those following years. I was always saddened by that and being a kid, of course, I didn't understand everything that transpired during those times and why it was the way it was. I kept in touch sporadically with a couple of my cousins but nothing lasting.

After graduating, my dad came back into our lives and with him came the rest of the family. That first year I went with him to our family reunion, I was filled with excitement and trepidation. I stepped out of the car to be met with the hardest and most heartfelt hug from Aunt Pat. She couldn't stop looking at me and telling how good it was to see me. Those missing years melted away.

With everyone else, it felt a little different but still good. All the "stories" were told again and again. There are lots of stories and inside jokes that my sister and I didn't get. We met cousins we didn't get to meet before or that we were too young to remember. Pictures, food, swimming, games, fireworks. A typical family reunion.

Each year we've returned and listened to the stories again and again. My sister and I, though we feel a part of the family, still feel a little outside of it. Just enough to wonder if we'll make the trip each year and just enough to pack up the car and go.

It'll never be like it could have been but the draw of Aunt Pat's home is too strong to resist.
~R

More isn't better

Apparently this saying is true. Some fool came looking for something, used every word they knew related to that subject, and somehow ended up with me.

Search: tit milker boob pump machine nipple lact

Somehow, I don't think they found what they were looking for. Although, I may need to rethink my content.

~R

Bring it on Biotch!

We had our family reunion this weekend. I'll talk more about that later but for now, just know that my sister and I picked up our half-brother, or Brother From Another Mother (BFAM) as I like to call him, and brought him back to Virginia with us. He'll be here for two weeks. He's 11.

My Dad retired recently and moved from the hustle and bustle of Washington, DC to the country of North Carolina near his family. It's an understatement to say things are different for him now. He now puts together puzzles. Yep, his life is full.

So while visiting, I asked if he had any puzzles to give me. For whatever reason, I felt the need to put one together and lucky me, he had just the one. He explained how difficult it was and how long it took and how it was best to put together in full sunlight. (he all scientifical like that)

I brought it home and decided to open the box and start on it while the kids were playing in the backyard. My BFAM, or Uncle C as my kids could call him, said I'd never get it together because it was hard. But not too hard for Dad. I let him know I wasn't so bad at puzzles either and thought I had a good chance at it. He rolled his eyes and said Dad was better. So I told him that I bet I could put it together before Dad came to pick his scrawny butt up in two weeks. He still didn't think so but I told him to bring it on biotch. (neener neener boo boo)

Okay, I didn't say that last line out loud. I am a mother and don't even allow my own boys to say the word "stupid" so I certainly wasn't going to allow my little brother to be influenced by my potty mouth.

But I meant it. And the timer started Sunday evening.

~R

Boyly Moments

That is a play on Boy and Girly.

I think little girls are great. If I had little girls, I would have been happy. But I didn't. I had little boys. Oh, okay and truthfully, I like little boys better than little girls. They whine less, for one.

I know people who have boys and keep trying for girls. (And the reverse of that too. Gotta have a boy to carry on the proud family name.) I've never understood that. I'm so happy to have two healthy, intelligent kids, that I could care less how they go pee-pee.

So for those of you with boys that are longing for girls, I'd like to share a few Boyly Moments with you. Boys will tickle your back and brush your hair - if you bribe them.

And if your little mudslingers are into pain and torment, go buy a jar of wax. I used to go to the salon to get waxed but making time for appointments often left me with hairy legs and an invite to the pool. So I decided to start waxing myself.

You've never truly bonded with your sons until they've lovingly ripped the hair off your leg. And mine really get into it. I certainly didn't ask for their help but the thought of ripping something, possibly causing pain really appeals to my two.

So don't think that if you are blessed with boys, your mothering isn't complete. Those Boyly Moments are just as wondrous and painful. See? Their laughing, my crying - just like mothers and daughters.

~R

Our Future Proctologist

My husband is the King of Too Much Information when it comes to our kids. I like to keep our kids informed also, but know when to stop.

So one day we are on the subject of getting physicals and BN somehow blurts out that at 40 years old, men get a rectal exam.

Pete: A rectal exam?

BN: Yes, they stick a finger up your butt.

Pete: OMG, that will hurt. No way am I getting that done.

and round and round they went.

Two days ago, Pete comes out of the bathroom, face all concerned and asks,

Pete: Mom, is a doctor really going to stick their finger all the way up my butt?

Me: (I'm gonna kill BN) Yes, a doctor, with a glove on his hand, will insert his finger in your anus as part of your exam.

Pete: Well, that will hurt too much. Not gonna get it done.

Me: That'll be up to you. But it's part of a regular checkup at that age and most think it is necessary. It won't hurt too much if at all anyway.

Pete: Well, I just tried it and I couldn't get my finger in there.

Me: You did scrub your hands when you were done, right?

(word of caution: DO NOT TOUCH THE NAIL BRUSH IN OUR GUEST BATH)

~R

Her Carseat

The boys love watching Flushed Away and they especially love the song played during the credits, "What's New Pu$$yCat?"

Pete, my ever inquisitive one asked what a pussycat is? We told him a cat. Then he shortens the song and leaves off the cat. Gah!! We wait. Hoping he'll just finish the song and move on. Nope. He wants to know what pu$$y is. We tell him it means cat. He thinks and then asks how it could also mean cat and we tell him that lots of words mean the same thing. He continues to say it over and over and over.

So I finally break down and tell him that pu$$y is usually not a word that is said by itself and not a word we want him to say. WHY??? (ofcourse) BECAUSE! I say.

moving on...

My Kubi-girl is a strange little kitty. She walks around like she owns the house and is tres particular and then she up and uses RePete's old carseat for a bed. It really doesn't suit her queenly demeanor at all and yet I love her more for it.



I really get a kick out of saying to BN, "Kubi is in her carseat." It sounds hysterical to me. I need to get out more.

~R

On Pedicures

On a lighter and not so PC note. Is it wrong for me to be upset that my pedicure guy, who speaks three words of English, closed his shop for the ENTIRE 4th weekend? Is Independence Day really THAT important to him and his entire family, who all work in his sweat shop?

I knew I couldn't get into one of the posh places without an appointment and I was on a mission to de-scale my feet. So I tried a little shop I hadn't been to before and they were extremely busy, being near the first of the month and all. Hmmm. Desperate as I was, I put my name down anyway. They had 6 little chairs, like you'd find in the rec room of an old folks home, all squunched (is too a word) up together so that in order to fit comfortably, one had to cross her legs.

The longer I sat there and stared at the foot baths, the more I started to wonder if I wanted to take a chance of getting foot fungus - no matter how clean they looked. At the place I go to, when I walk in, I am immediately led to a foot bath and serviced. Doesn't matter who is waiting. I don't know why, they just like me there. "Lobin", he shouts. So I don't have to sit and look at the tub and wonder about fungus and whether or not I'll get it. I just don't get the chance to let my mind wander.

Fortunately, I didn't have to stare at the tub for long because the leg crossing thing made the right side of my girlie parts fall asleep and I just had to leave.

~R

Independence Day 2008

....was such a weird thing to me. First, we declined invites to BBQs because RePete wasn't feeling so well and had had a fever for the last two days. Mystery Fever! So we ate at Kelly's Tavern. Good food by the way, but so not a Fourth of July cookout.

Then we decided to drive into town and watch the fireworks. The last two years, they've said it would be "here" and it was "there". So we took a chance and went "there" this year and what do you know? It was "here". We could still see them but no close-ups.

"There" was a city park behind the Farm Fresh. There were only three other cars parked back there and we, along with those families played at the park until the show. Everyone else who thought it would be "there" parked in the Farm Fresh parking lot.

A storm was rolling in and we kept watch on it. To get a better view, we climbed to the top of one of the playsets. I setup my camera on the tripod, set my aperture at F11, 30 seconds like the good little student of photography I am. I also made sure it was on manual focus and used my wide lens.

Between the unwieldiness of the camera atop a fully extended tripod and trying to carry it up a ladder AND having the kids squishing in all around the legs of the tripod, I forgot to focus. Doh!

Then, the race was on.

Lightening and thunder in the distance,

us atop a metal playset, and the pyromaniacs setting off the fireworks.

It lasted all of what seems like five minutes and BN said, "let's get the H out of here." Just as we got in our van, the raindrops started to fall. By the time we got home, it was an all out thunderstorm.

I realized later what really made this a weird 4th for me. The quiet. Our dinner was quiet. The park was quiet. There were no "oohs" or "ahhs" since we were basically alone back there in the park. The quiet disturbed me.

~R

Dear Leo and Werthers

Dear Leo,

Thank you so much for your personal letter regarding saving the polar bears. Ice caps melting, polar bears extinct by 2050 - I totally get why you asked me personally to sign your petition. And why your sponsors asked me for money. I love that they not only gave me options for how many dollars to spend but also that they gave me the option to receive a free "save the polar bears" tote or have all the money go directly to the polar bears. Of course we all know they can use the cash, so if I signed this petition by pledging money, I would totally ask that all proceeds be sent directly to the bears.

Unfortunately, I have a little dilemma of my own going on. I cannot put these down.

I bought them yesterday and obviously I bought the big bag because they don't sell little one- portion boxes of these. I figured I would eat one or two and satisfy my sweet tooth and just put the rest away for when I needed them again. I was wrong. I think I ate half the bag. I can't be sure because I didn't actually count or weigh them prior to the scarfing episode, but I think it is a reasonable guess.

So I tell you what, Leo. You come over with a petition that is signed with ink that will bleed, not that laser printed crap I got in the mail and take the other half of this bag of luscious off my hands and I'll sign that petition and throw in some fish for the bears. I seriously doubt they need cash. It's much too soggy in their world for cash.

Sincerely,

~Robinella

PSST. Dear Werthers: I was just joking about giving up the other half. I plan to eat those in a few minutes. Please send more. Love, ~R

Baby product review

I'm not currently having one of those days, but I want to talk about two baby products that have been on my mind lately.

First is this chair? The Bumbo Chair.



Where was this when mine were trying so hard to sit up? Or when I was trying so hard to confine them to a small area? Better yet, why don't they make these for big people. Wouldn't it be nice to NOT have to hold yourself up sometimes. You know. Those - when all you can do is flop on the chair, one leg over the arm - kind of days.

I just want to buy one for everyone I know with a baby just so I can prop them up in it and stare. Yeah, I know, but they look so darn cute.

And my baby sling. I didn't have it when I had my first child. Why would I? He would be the perfect baby and never cry, walking from the day he came out. Why would I need to carry him about day in day out. Of course those wonderful-first-time-mother-glorious-days never happened and I carried him about day in day out. I hunched over a boppy pillow (which I also love, btw) every two hours to feed him the boob nectar. Why didn't anyone tell me about slings? Why wasn't it mentioned in my Baby Bible?

Luckily, my crunchy next door neighbor had one when we moved into our new home and when RePete was born, I had one ready for him. We luuuved us some sling. I looked on with pity when I saw another mother trying desperately to carry the baby in one arm and corral the toddler with the other. And then I would show her my precious sling. I felt like it was my duty to save all the baby-juggling mothers of the world.

Now, four and a half years later, I still have my sling. My sister was telling me about her neighbor who just had a new baby and also has a four and two year old. The baby is a slow eater which is made slower by the mom having to stop and redirect the other two. My first impulse was to say, "hey, I've still got my sling, I should give it...um, nevermind. Suggest that she buy herself a sling. It'll work wonders for her."

Why can't I give up my sling?

~R

Two Days into Camp

Pete was very apprehensive about going to day camp. He's never been. Even though the camp is through his gymnastics gym, he was still worried.

So Monday I went in to pick him up at 3pm sharp as promised and guess what? He begged me to let him stay longer. I told him I'd be back at 4pm and at four he was ready to go home. Not because he didn't like the extra hour, but because he was plum worn out! He had a blast. I knew he would.

Tuesday he asked if he could stay until 4pm again. I'm cool with that. Why?

Psst. Come closer. I have to whisper this.


I feel like a heel for saying this, but I am glad he wants to stay until 4pm. I know, I know. MOTY and all that, right. BUT, I didn't have to yell one time yesterday. Obviously, I don't have to yell any day, but I do. I didn't have to have all of my answers, suggestions, questions nitpicked. I didn't have to thwart whining. There was none of the constant sibling squabbling.


RePete and I had a very relaxing day together. And when Pete came home? I was better equipped to handle it. I did have to raise my voice once last night, and bit my tongue a few times, but all in all I felt more calm.

I think this week-a-month camp thing is going to work out just fine. But let's keep this between you and me, kay?

~R