All posts tagged: kid bliss

Quest for Milk o’ the Breast

During our pregnancy with Big E, I researched breast milk sources. Doctor friends told us it would be the greatest gift we could give our newborn. We were lucky that a friend had twenty pounds of frozen milk in Denver just after Big E was born in Colorado Springs. We packed it on dry ice and overnight’d it to New York for $100. There had to be another way. I’d already learned that milk banks weren’t the way. For starters, I figured there was a milk bank in every major city in the country. There are fifteen. For us, a place in Massachusetts would have shipped 4 oz of milk at $7/ounce plus shipping. Worse, milk banks pasteurize. They kill all bacteria (which is good for the baby’s immune system). Plus, they refuse donations from moms with colds or any benign sickness. But sick mom milk is the best kind for growing babies…full of antibodies. There had to be another way. Another Google search led me to “Human Milk for Human Bodies” (HM4HB), a global …

Don’t take away the iPad

Recently, a Facebook friend posted a HuffPost article prohibiting screentime for kids until age 12. Alongside, the friend wrote, “While I’m not a father, it breaks my heart to see children in restaurants staring mindlessly at screens. I was raised to paint and draw and entertain myself with puppet shows. If I’m ever a dad, I’ll never let my kid play with an iPad.” Thank goodness several other parents lashed out before I needed to. I snarkily/charmingly wrote,

STAY IN THE BLISS

STAY INNOCENT “Take my shirt off! Take my shirt off!” Big E jumped while pleading with me. He wanted to be like the older boys running across the grass as shirtless savages of summer. Normally, he does not let it all hang out. So I took off his shirt, cursing myself for having left the sunscreen at home. It was already 4:30. Post-PTH, hopefully. (*peak tanning hours.) I knew one of the boy’s parents and we’d all met at the park for an early summer picnic. I needed adult contact since my one-year-old was near the peak of his incessant whininess. Upon arrival, the parents offered me a beer. I almost downed it in one sip. Seconds later, I noticed Big E and the older kiddos were missing. I said as much. “Oh, they’re over behind that brick wall playing in the fountain,” the mom said as she handed me a second beer. “They’re fine. Don’t worry.” I’m sorry. What part of that statement should not have made me feel apprehensive? Our kids were out …