Hippity-hoppity, hippity-hoppity, Easter’s on its way!
Paging through my most recent issue of VegNews magazine recently, I happened upon an advertisement for Eggnots, a dyeable, ceramic egg that looks just like the real thing. It was the answer to a question I had posed only days before to my husband: how can we give our children the traditional experience of dying Easter eggs without betraying our philosophy of doing as little harm as possible to non-human animals?
The fiery red and glowing sienna of an autumn oak made me appreciate today the simple beauty of fall. It is a season that calls out to children to frolic in abandoned piles of crunchy leaves and stay outside until dusk.
Two kids and one darling husband down with their first colds of the season. As the last woman standing in the house that sick built, what’s a girl to do? If you are anything like me, you’re alarmed by the constant recalls and changes in dosage and age guidelines on children’s cough and cold medicines. I found myself standing in the aisle of Rite Aid yesterday pawing through boxes of cough suppressants in a desperate search for a “natural” option. Nothing I found satisfied me, so I came home empty-handed. My go-to solution for coughing is honey. A spoonful or two of honey before bedtime. My kids are jubilant, of course, and I see results. The thing is, I don’t want to suppress the cough because I know it serves a purpose; I just want to help my children get a good night’s sleep.
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted, but as you’ll surmise, I am experiencing many new beginnings and some happy returns.
Welcome autumn! Enjoy these brilliant, colorful days!
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N.B. – I have changed details/names in the piece below, but the tale it relates is true.
We stood together, my son and I, his little hand encased in mine, at the threshold of the familiar red building.
As my fifteen month old chomps and drools continuously on just about any object her tiny fist can jam into her mouth, I ponder ways to soothe her sore gums as the teething process goes on …
and on …
and on …
Just this morning, I searched in the recesses of my mind to recall when my son finally stopped awakening at midnight from teething pain, but long term memory is the first thing to go once you have a second child. I did, however, remember seeing something … somewhere … some time ago … about amber teething necklaces and bracelets. My brilliant MacBook Pro readily directed me to various sites that herald the mysterious healing powers of amber.
Having a daughter altered my world in ways I never could have imagined, but perhaps the one thing that has surprised me most is my reaction to the “girly” things I despised when I was child. I know my mother scratched her head not infrequently as I climbed trees, kicked soccer balls, insisted on wearing the same pair of burgundy cords and blue swish Nike sneakers nearly every day and vociferously rejected every bow, dress or hairbrush she pleaded with me to try. I was, without apology, a tomboy. I wore my tough girl badge proudly and defied anyone to change me into a “little miss priss” (as I was apt to call my much more feminine younger sister). Dolls? Better to keep them out of my sight lest they become fodder for one of my games. I recall that while on vacation in Florida my friend and I hung my sister’s Norfin doll to the ceiling fan just for kicks. My sister’s persistent wailing did nothing to soften my heart. Don’t misunderstand. I loved (and still adore) my sister, but I truly detested the endless stream of dolls that inhabited our shared bedroom.