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Health
Category

  • YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!

    Have you ever been around someone and their child and thought to yourself “Man, that kid is kind of a dick?” You then wonder how the parents tolerate such lame behavior and why they aren’t stricter with their little demon child. I would fantasize about lecturing them on the importance of discipline like the dog whisperer Caesar Milan, and explain how you need to be the pack leader and assert your dominance. Of course this was in my pre-baby days when I was pretty convinced that raising a dog and a baby was basically the same thing. I still kind of think that except a baby isn’t smart enough to poop outside.

    What I didn’t understand and couldn’t relate to, was how much you love your kid even if they are being a total asshole. You may have the awareness to know they are behaving like a jerk, but acting on it can be difficult because you are hard wired to be empathetic to their needs. But is what The Munch wants in life the same as what she needs? And who am I to judge that?

    For instance, I got really sick recently and could not seem to get better. I went to the hippy holistic doctor who told me my adrenal glands were severely taxed from waking up so much at night with The Munch. Her suggestion was that I wasn’t going to get better until I changed my sleeping habits.

    “Hmmmm well she seems to like sucking my soul out of my boobs throughout the night. I don’t want to traumatize her and make her suffer. What if it changes our relationship? What if she feels abandoned by me? What if for the rest of her life she feels like she can’t trust anyone because of this?”

    (Okay, fine maybe I was being a little intense and a tad dramatic, but that was honestly how I felt).

    “Well Toni, it is going to be a transition, and she might be angry at first. But you are the parent and sometimes you have to make the hard decisions because they are the right ones. She may not be happy about it, but she will get used to it, and maybe you both will get more rest at night. She is probably pretty tired too.”

    I know this sounds dumb, but that was a revolutionary concept for me. Making a decision she may not like because it is “best.”

    Here is a problem about being a parent. How do I know what is best for The Munch? Doesn’t she know what is best for her, and I should be a guide to help her see her own truth? Or am I being too idealistic and she is just a baby who needs to be told what to do? I am having a hard time being the boss of The Munch because I tend to take my cues from her. Probably why I spend a lot of my time giving airplane rides and pretending to fall down. Maybe she is the boss of me…

    She does know how to rock a pair of plaid pants that is for damn sure!

    October 12, 2011 • 1 year old, Behavior, Disciplining, Health, Musings, Parenting, Sleeping • Views: 732

  • Snot-Nosed Kids

    I am stupid sick. My immune system sucks, and I probably have passed on my crappy DNA to The Munch.

    Of course the first thing I want to do is blame someone so I can direct my anger and resentment.

    The only place I feel like I could have caught something was at my mommy group, which makes me mad and sad. Mad because some snot nosed little kid put there snotty hands on me, mad because I must have touched the snot streak and then put my hands in my mouth or eyes or where ever to penetrate my being and get me sick, and sad because I love my mommy group and now next week I am going to think everyone is a suspect, and then mad and sad because now that I am sick I write crazy run-on sentences that seem like they are never going to end.

    Why is that? Why do kids always have snot coming out of their nose? I actually know why… because they can’t figure out how to blow their stupid noses… but still.. grow up already.

    I feel sorry for myself, but then I think how selfish that is because there is so much real suffering in the world and I just have a sore throat and a cold, and then I think about how I am hungry but am too tired to make myself something which makes me then think of all the starving children who don’t have food. Maybe I should have just watched TV and be sick like a normal person…

    What did I do all day? I had someone watch The Munch then spent 3 hours cooking for her and thinking about the Mayan Apocalypse

    September 30, 2011 • 1 year old, Health • Views: 1607

  • Running From Life

    Isn’t it strange that in modern times we have to make time for exorcising? Back in the day, life was exercise enough. I don’t think people were coming back from plowing the fields to do some crunches.

    Animals don’t exercise… You will never see a cheetah doing pushups, or a dog lifting weights. So why do we humans decontextualize exercise? We have to put aside an hour to do repetitive movements rather than just living a life full of movement. Maybe why it is hard for people to get into exercising is because so much of it is boring as shit and makes you feel like a lab rat.

    I can’t really blame anyone who doesn’t want to go to spin classes between working all day and going home to deal with life. Modern technology has afforded us a lot more leisure because we don’t have to walk 10 miles to get water or chop wood for 26 hours to heat our house for 1, but in a way it has also enslaved us to our chairs. Unless you are a gym teacher or a stripper chances are there isn’t a lot of opportunity to move your body in your everyday existence.

    Some of us however, are addicted to movement and need it to survive. Call it ADD, being descendants of hunters, or vanity, but there are people that will make time no matter what, and I am one of them. A day where I don’t move my body around is a day where I feel incomplete.

    So the other day I decided to go for a run. I haven’t been on one for few years, but the idea was calling to me. I had a friend watch The Munch and off I went listening to Missy Eliot on Pandora.

    I realized during this run that this was the longest I had ever moved my body without the Munch for 2 years (if you count my being preggers). She was either inside of me, attached to me, crawling all over me, being carried by me…

    I never ran so fast in my entire life. I felt so free. So light. So appreciative of that moment of just being me flying through the wind looking at the trees. I even sprinted up the last hill I was so excited to get home and tell The Munch all about it.

    I know what you are thinking… and yes I always wear really sexy running outfits like this…

    September 28, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, Health, Mommy Mind • Views: 847

  • Stupid Priorities

    How well do you treat yourself? If your underwear is dirty do you change it immediately, or figure it can wait until tomorrow morning’s shower. Do you make sure everyone washes their hands before they shake yours, or hold you? Do you eat the moment you feel hungry, or feel like if starvation is a good enough diet for Hollywood, it is good enough for you?

    I used to take really good care of myself. I would get massages and acupuncture, sleep 8 hours a night, see energy workers be really intentional about the food I ate. You could call me picky… healthy…anorexic… but now I don’t give a care what I put in my mouth because I am so busy worrying about what to feed The Munch. The more I care about her, the less room I have in my brain to care about me. I over-prioritize her while I under-prioritize myself. I stress about if she is going to like what I am making her, if she is served enough vegetables, what her protein to carb ratio is, all while I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich over the sink.

    So I got this idea in my head to make The Munch quinoa cakes. Simple enough right? Just follow a stupid recipe…

    Why quinoa you may ask? Well, because the box said it was this super ancient grain the Aztecs ate while reading minds and predicting the future.

    So I literally spent 4 hours chopping and grating vegetables, making the stupid quinoa, going out to the chickens and plucking eggs from under their butts, all to make these pancakes. But of course by the time everything was made, the pancakes didn’t stick together for shit. I would have had an easier time constructing a pancake out of a limp penis then this stupid batter I just slaved away making.

    So at this point I am furious. Furious at the world. Furious at the guy who posted this stupid recipe. Furious at the Aztecs for being so prolific.

    I decided that what was needed was flour, which actually worked, and I made the stupid patties.

    “You better like these goddamn quinoa pancakes Munch so help me God….”

    Of course she didn’t… so I gave her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead.

    September 22, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, Eating, Health • Views: 1132

  • Maybe You Don’t Know What You Are Doing

    I operate under the fundamental belief that The Munch wants to stay alive and her human instinct will protect her from doing dumb things. I don’t know why I keep convincing myself of this considering I have seen some pretty idiotic actions from eating a penny to touching the tire of my car and then licking her hand. But still my natural inclination is still to trust her.

    The other day I took her to the beach to play around and watch the sunset. Seems pretty harmless right? But this is where things get complicated.

    So all summer The Munch hated the lake and acted really scared of it. Okay fine, maybe she was actually scared, or maybe she just wanted to steal my thunder and be the center of attention. Every time I would go underwater she would cry like I was diving into the 5th dimension. It kind of broke my heart because I LOVE swimming and had all these fantasies of us swimming together wearing bathing caps and drinking champagne, but she was just never into it. She is such a square!

    Needless to say, this fateful evening I didn’t anticipate her going right to the water and walking in with all her clothes on.

    I am not going to lie… I live in a high elevation and it is cooler here, but it was still a sunny evening and I figured she knew what she was doing. Plus, I was so happy that she was curious and interested in the water that I just let it happen.

    As she got further and further into the water, I thought maybe I should take her clothes off because after all she was wearing a cashmere sweater. I mean is there anything cuter than a naked baby on the beach? Okay, fine, maybe a sea lion kissing a kitten in front of a naked baby on the beach is, but it was still pretty cute.

    Just as the sun set I bundled her in my sweater and cranked the heat in the car, but you know what is weird about this story…today she has the sniffles. I wonder how that happened?

    But at least I got some pretty sweet pictures right?

    September 20, 2011 • 1 year old, Adventures, Baby Body, Health • Views: 889

  • Why Do You Want To Give My Baby Cancer?

    I know this might sound overbearing, but I really want to keep my baby alive. I don’t know, call it mammalian maternal instinct or the fact that I think eating her would be too many empty calories, but my plan is for The Munch to keep living.

    So when my friend sent me this article about toxic car seats that cause neurodevelopmental toxicity, learning disabilities, liver damage and cancer, I thought to myself… WTF????!!!!! Why are they putting arsenic, lead, cadmium, and mercury in car seats for babies??? Babies sit in those things???!! Babies that we are trying to protect from car accidents!! Who thought it would be a good idea to coat a car seat in cancer causing chemicals???? It makes me feel like I should be like Brittany Spears and just drive with The Munch on my lap!

    What is wrong with the world?

    Part of me is totally resigned at times and thinks “Well, everything causes cancer Munch, here, play with my cell phone if it means you will shut your pie hole for a minute…” but the other part of me says that this is totally wack! Why do we put known poisonous chemicals in products and then expose them to our children?

    Do we really need crayons that say “non toxic” on them? What is that supposed to mean? That there are toxic crayons I could buy instead? Sign me up! Think of all the BPA free plastics for kids now too. If BPA causes deathly diseases keep it in that bottle for sure! My baby is only going to be sucking on it. In fact, why don’t you give her a skin transplant of pure parabens and then scrub her till she bleeds with sodium laurel phosphate. Yes!!!!!!!

    This is like a baby Thelma and Louise in car seats!

    August 25, 2011 • 1 year old, Baby Gear, Environmental Impact, Health • Views: 1098

  • Swagger

    I am insanely sick and I want to cry… like a big baby… a big mommy baby…

    But The Munch has some serious swagger to her walk…. and this video brings me so much joy in this time of feeling super sorry for myself…
    munch swagger

    August 12, 2011 • 1 year old, Health, Mommy Mind • Views: 1851

  • The Olden Days

    Are you still a hypocrite if you know what you are saying is hypocritical? If I acknowledge the irony of complaining about the over technological materialism of modern times while blogging on my Mac Book Pro because I can’t reach my Ipad, is it still ironic? Or am I just a douche?

    I tend to romanticize the olden days, and what I think it might have been like to live in an era when we were more connected to nature. For some reason, everything shrouded in history seems somewhat magical. Of course there were fairies, elves, and dragons in the middle ages… I mean there were public beheadings and burning people at the stake. Anything was possible.

    Whether I fantasize about Western culture, the Eastern Empire or indigenous communities, something about the past has always seemed superior to me. They weren’t watching crap television on the E channel, but making potions with alchemy or flying on the backs of ravens with shamans. People were wild. They lived off the land and knew how to bake bread, kill beasts, and ride horses through the woods. How did they know where they were going? Everything looks the same and there were no paths. People were raw, independent, and connected to their homeland. They went to war and killed each other face to face. Not with bombs and chemical warfare, but with swords, knives, arrows, and their hands, while the women made fires and soup and prayed there wouldn’t be any pillaging… because you know what usually comes along with that.

    But after dealing with The Munch and her fever, I am so grateful to be living amongst Star Magazine and 4,000,000 types of hair conditioner. Could you imagine your baby getting sick and the best option was to stick some leaches on them? Or just assuming that at least two of your kids were going to die, if you didn’t die first in childbirth, so you had six to make sure there were four left to plow the fields?

    “Wait… I don’t get it. Why do I have to churn better when there is some right behind me in this machine that runs on electricity?”

    July 28, 2011 • 9-12 months, Health, Musings • Views: 1877

  • The White Man’s Medicine

    I am one of those people who hasn’t taken an Advil for 15 years. I have a personal dedication to holistic and alternative healing… to the point where I had a yeast infection for 2 months using twigs and berries as a remedy because I refused the white man’s medicine Monistat. That, and I had already committed to healing holistically from this pesky brain tumor so I felt I had to stay consistent. I couldn’t expect to heal my brain if I couldn’t heal my vagina, and as any one knows the vagina is just as important as the silly brain.

    The reason I am thinking of all this is because The Munch got so sick I felt truly terrified. She had been miserable since last Wednesday, but I just figured she was teething. Looking back, I feel pretty dumb because her body felt super warm, but it was also super hot outside. You know… one of those weeks where you kept hearing unique statements like “hot enough for ya’?” and “staying cool?” What are people thinking when they say stuff like that? Why not just call it like it is. “Damn, it is as hot and moist as a turned on vagina right now!”

    I digress

    Luckily my friend Forrest came over to help me get my head out of my ass. What is that you say?? Oh, I do a lot of yoga so I am pretty flexible… that is how.

    “Umm Toni, The Munch is really is hot… I think you should take her temp.”

    “I tried to get the thermometer under her armpit earlier but she kept moving around so I gave up.” (Note to reader… I fully admit that is lame).

    “Ummmm, yeah, you got to go up the ass.” Lucky for me, Forrest knew what she was doing and when she stuck that metal stick up my daughters butt I knew she was a real friend.

    “102…”

    “Crap Forrest, what should we do?”

    “This is where I go to Google… Google will know.”

    So the magical world of the internet told us to give her some baby Advil/Tylenol to bring the fever down. Despite my dogmatic approach to myself, I just couldn’t fuck around with The Munch. Part of me wanted to say “Hey girl… mind over matter. Just will your temperature down like a Tibetan Buddhist monk…” but I was scared. I felt so vulnerable, and I just wanted her to feel better.

    An hour later, the Tylenol brought her fever down, so we went to bed. I thought we were okay, until she woke up at 3:00am vomiting, and shaking. Despite my normal aversion to hospitals and doctors, I was in the ER faster than… faster than…. a car… driving really fast.

    Her temp had risen to 105. They did blood work, shoved Tylenol up her butt, and tried twice to give her a catheter but couldn’t find her tiny baby pee hole. I had to stop them and say that is enough trying because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I personally didn’t even know you could put something up your pee hole, and they kept fumbling. So the nurse gave her a shot of antibiotics and sent us home. It was horrible. I know they were doing the best they could, but they didn’t really know what was wrong. I didn’t want to give her antibiotics because of how it effects your body’s natural immune system, but I felt so desperate. I wanted my breast milk to have the healing power of crystals in it and make everything okay, but I also want to have purple eyes and I guess we can’t control everything.

    The next day she was miserable. I couldn’t put her down, she cried the entire time she was awake, and would just say “mama mama mama mama” over and over and over again. We went back to the doctor where they put her on antibiotics for 10 days.
    Of course, everything has a consequence, so the antibiotics hurt her tummy and not only give her diarrhea, but painful gas and nice juicy wet farts. Now that is something to look forward to! So I am giving her probiotics to help her stomach handle the antibiotics, and I am sitting here wondering what the hell a biotic is?

    But today she is feeling better…. Is it the white mans’ medicine? Or would she have felt better anyway?? It is so hard to know for sure.

    So this is what I think about all this, because I am highly conflicted.

    I believe in the power of positive thinking. I believe that there are many natural remedies and cures out there. I believe that as a conscious person, you have a choice about your health and how best to heal. For my own health, I will always choose the dandelion powder and quail egg extract over anything I could get at CVS.

    But a baby is different. I don’t really know what is wrong with her. She can’t tell me what hurts, and I don’t think she gets it when I tell her “Think about what is going on in your life… what is the universe trying to tell you by this illness? Is there something in your life that you cannot stomach? That you need to purge? Is someone making you angry and that is why you are hot and have a fever? Is it repressed rage? Sickness is the true-self trying to communicate to the ego through the language of the body… what is your true-self saying?” Yeah… she just kind of gives me a blank stare.

    I think the homeopathic path is the best when you don’t feel totally frantic. But when you feel like you are dealing with an emergency, it is nice that we have the white man’s medicine even if it does make you shard* your pants.

    *Shard: When you shit your pants when you fart

    When she was sleeping all I could do was stare at the video monitor to make sure she was okay and still breathing ☹

    July 27, 2011 • 9-12 months, Adventures, Baby Body, Health, Parenting • Views: 1115