A Nosey Tale

Well, it's official. I can go ahead and mark another item off the long list of parenting.

You know, when you're pregnant you hear lots of things. People are ready and willing to give you advice (whether or not you want it or asked for it) and they are prepared to regale you with all the stories they had raising their children. When we found out that Client Two was going to be a boy, people, predictably, chimed in with their "raising a boy" stories. None of these stories shocked me much since I have brother and witnessed him play out many of these types of tales. One of the things people told me was to be prepared to visit the Emergency Room. Well, it's happened. Last night, we went to the ER.

It started off as a pretty typical afternoon. Client Two was gleefully playing with a red ball. He would throw it and chase it around. Since he was content, I sat down at the computer in the same room to print off a few items. The next thing I know, he's coming up to me, fussing away. It took me a minute to realize that something about his nose was bothering him. A quick peek up his nostril made it appear that he just had a big booger, so I grabbed a tissue to get it out. When he screamed and thrashed trying to get away, I realized that something was amiss. It was no booger. It was as little, plastic bead.

I knew there was no way I was getting that sucker out on my own, so I called in reinforcement. Luckily, my mother-in-law lives right across the street. She came on over with a pair of tweezers and helped me fight the struggling toddler in an attempt to dislodge the bead, but our attempts proved futile. In fact, the combination of our efforts and his exuberant sniffing caused the bead to travel a little farther up into his nose. The next step was the doctor.

A quick call to a nearby Urgent Care facility let us know that they could help us out. So, Hubby and I loaded the fussy toddler into the car and headed up the road while Client One stayed behind to get some quality time with her "Frandma." We easily checked in and filled out all the information forms we need to before heading back to see a doctor. By this time, Client Two's poor little eyes was all watery and his face was a little red. A friendly nurse came in and weighed the poor little guy and checked his temperature, informing us that stuff like this was not at all unusual. While we waited for the doctor, Client Two played happily at a colorful little table in the corner and "read" a couple of the little books they provided.

When the doctor was ready, we set Client Two up on a table. He held his blankie pretty securely. The doctor looked up Client Two's nose and felt pretty optimistic since he could still see the bead. A nurse held Client Two's hands while I held his feet and the doctor went to work. He pulled out a little hook tool and tried to remove the bead, but it didn't seem to help. Next we tried to blow the bead out. That didn't work either. Then we went back to the hook thing, still to no avail. Then the doctor whipped out a handy, dandy sucker machine to suck the bead out, Nope. By this time, Client Two's nose had started to bleed just a smidgen and he was in hysterics. The doctor then referred us to the Emergency Room.

 My mom was nearby the hospital so she met us outside the ER. We went on in and gave our reason for being there and they directed us to the Pediatric ER where we were put on a waiting list to check in.

That tiny waiting room was packed full of snotty nosed kids from babies to teens. After about 45 minutes to an hour of waiting, we were finally checked in and put on the official list to wait for a room to see an ER doctor. The check-in nurse got all our important information put into the computer and then glumly informed us that there were 16 people in line in front of us. The longest part of our wait began. By the time we checked in, it was almost 7:00 pm- Client Two's bed time. And he hadn't had dinner yet. We pacified him with fruit bites and water for a bit while trying to keep him from getting too unruly. A nice dad in the waiting room was happy to let Client Two play with his keys for a bit. While I waited, I played a game in my head which I named "Guess Why the Kid is in the ER." Some of the kids were obviously ill or hurt, like the toddler coughing his guts out and the kid with gauze taped over his eye. Others seemed perfectly fine. (And those kids who seemed fine actually ended up leaving an hour or so into their wait, so I guess they couldn't have been too badly off.) One other mom who was there with her 16 year old son was clearly playing this game in her head as she watched Client Two race around. "What's he here for?" she asked, striking up a little conversation. "I'm assuming he probably stuck something up his nose?" She had all the look of a "Been there, done that" mom. For five long hours we waited, passing the time with conversation, a movie playing that had no volume, some games on iPads hooked to the wall, chips and coffee from vending machines and chasing around an exhausted, grumpy toddler.

Finally, a little after 11:00 pm they called us back. They took us to a small room about the size of a closet that had a small bed, tv and some medical equipment. A nurse gave Client Two a cute little gown to put on and put a hospital bracelet on his ankle. While we waited for the actual ER doctor, we flipped on the TV and it seemed to entertain Client Two for awhile. At least this TV had volume that we could hear.

When the doctor came in, he checked Client Two's nose and quickly found the bead. Using a little metal hook tool (a lot like the one at the other doctor's but a little smaller) he pulled the bead out in about 30 seconds while the nurse and I held Client Two down. It was a snotty, yellow bead. We scooped up Client Two and comforted him while the nurse went to process the discharge papers. Client Two got VERY upset when we made him take off the gown. I think he thought it was pajamas and, seeing how it was past 11:30 by this time, he was ready for bed. The nurse made it all better when she returned with not the discharge papers but a big, stuffed Pluto dog.

It was a long night. It's a story that I now get to tell to other parents so we can commiserate together the difficulties of parenting. It's a "I never had this happen until I had a boy" story. And it's something I'll cool with never happening again. Been there, done that.

Boys and Girls and Neutrality! Oh My!

The craziest thing happened the other day when I was browsing the kids' clothes at Target. This employee came up to me, and held a gun to my head and demanded to know if the boy's clothes I was looking at were really for a boy. The employee showed up again when I was in the girls section and demanded to know if I was really shopping for a little girl. I thought this was a little odd, but after confirming each time that I was indeed purchasing clothes from the appropriate section for the appropriate gender, I was allowed to continue my shopping. I decided to take a trip down the toy aisles next and see if there were any good deals on toys that maybe I could set aside for Christmas. I must admit I was a bit surprised to once again be questioned by an employee every time I picked up a toy. "Is that for a girl?" he asked. "Because My Little Ponies and Barbies are for girls only." I nodded and moved to the next aisle. "That truck better be for a boy!" he declared once again. Foregoing the toys I wandered through the rest of the store grabbing the other items I needed and then headed to the registers. When I started checking out, the lady behind the register asked for visual proof that I was purchasing the clothes for children of the appropriate gender. I had to pull out my phone and show her pictures of my children to prove that I had one boy and one girl at home and that I had purchased the correct type of clothing.

Did you believe that? Probably not. I hope not, because it obviously isn't true. No one would care if the clothes or toys that I went to buy for girls or boys. No one would deny me a purchase if I dained to buy my son a doll or my daughter a t-shirt from the boys section. But yet, there is a war on genders. People react with hostility at the idea that there are boy sections and girl sections. Right now, everyone seems to be up in arms over a stupid police costume that was made for little girls.

This police costume is a simple blue dress with leggings and boots. It's definitely not a traditional uniform, but neither is it sexualizing the little girls. It's not too short, or low cut and it's not formfitting. It's just a dress. The boy version, on the other hand, looks like a real uniform. I see no problem with this. Do you know why? If you don't want to buy the girly, dress version, you can buy the other version. Who cares if it is marketed for boys? No one is forcing you to buy the girly version. BUT some little girls, my very own included, would prefer the dress version. My daughter loves to twirl and curtsy. She would find the realistic version very boring and probably wouldn't even consider wearing it. In fact, she would wear a sparkly tutu just about every day if she could. This is what we call having options. I can't claim to know the situation of every single family out there, but I highly doubt any of the children wanting these costumes are actually planning on fighting crime. They probably aren't even planning on giving out a single parking ticket or catching jaywalkers. It's a costume for playing pretend so it does not need to look like or function like a real uniform in order for a child to enjoy wearing it.

These days, everybody is ready to pull out their soapboxes and try to destroy gender stereotypes. They want everything to be gender neutral. They want all the blocks to be primary colors and nothing to be labeled separately for girls and boys. And that works great for some families. Some families have kids that don't fit into those stereotypes. They have girls that want to dress up like knights and boys that want to be princesses. And you know what, that's great for them, but they have to realize that not every child is like their child. I have a daughter who loves princesses, and sparkles, and ponies. She is all sugar and spice and everything nice.  I have a son who loves machines and cars and dinosaurs. He is 100% dirt, snails and puppydog tails. That doesn't mean that my son doesn't sometimes slip on his sister's bracelet and play with a doll or that my daughter doesn't like playing with a train set or dressing up like a superhero. It simply means that 75% of the time, I have children that fall into the typical stereotypes for girls and boys, so when you try to erase everything that makes things girly or boyish and try to make it all neutral, you are taking away their options. Everyone wants to fight for the kids who want gender neutral stuff but no one wants to fight for the kids that want to fit into a specific group. By erasing everything that is gender specific, you are erasing options.

 Let's face it, what works for my family may not work for yours and what works for your family may not work for mine. Let's stop pretending that it does. Let's stop trying to change everything to fit one agenda. Instead of taking away options, and colors and deigns, add more. Add a third costume that is a happy compromise. Add an aisle that is green for toys, like blocks, that aren't specifically for boys or girls. But do not try to take away and destroy something just because it doesn't work for you. If you don't like something, don't buy it. If you want to buy your daughter an outfit from the boys section, do it. If you want to buy your son a doll, go for it. BUT forcing children to play with or wear something that they really don't want to is just as bad as not allowing children to play with or wear something they want. In fact, it may even be worse because you are taking away their freedom to choose. And if the kids start choosing less and less stereotypical stuff because it's not what they want, it will fade out all on its own. Companies won't make products that don't sell for very long because they want to turn a profit, which means that if a product is out there, someone, like my kids, want it.

So, let me be clear. If your son wants to dress up like Elsa for Halloween, that's your money and your choice. I don't have to like it or support it. And if my daughter wants to dress up like a girly cop instead of the realistic version, that's my money and my choice. You don't have to like or support it. You don't judge me and I don't judge you. Variety is the spice of life and when we take variety, choices and options out of everything, life is bland, boring and not very satisfying. Calm down and chill. You keep making your purchases and I'll keep making mine and the toy companies and the the clothing companies will keep making products to make us both happy.  I won't give a rat's ass about your purchases and you keep your nose out of mine. Sound good?

Fourteen Years Ago Today

Fourteen years ago today, our nation was attacked. I can hardly believe that it has been fourteen years because so many details of that day are seared into my brain. There was so much devastation. I was only in ninth grade at the time, but I felt the effects. I remember the silence in the skies that followed. I remember every station on tv playing footage. I remember and I will never forget.

It started out as a normal day. Men and women woke up and gathered their bags, preparing for a normal flight. Men and women grabbed their Starbucks and bagels and headed on into work. Pilots and flight attendants prepared for a routine flight. Husbands and wives woke up and went about their day, not realizing that their loved ones would never walk back through the door. Children went off to school, never to see one of their parents again. No one knew. No one was prepared. But it happened anyways.

The first plane hit and people gathered around, marveling in horror at the "accident" that had occurred. Then, as people watched, a second plane crashed. It was not accident. Not anymore. We had been attacked and we knew it. Firefighters rushed in, risking their own lives for the lives of people they had never met and Police Officers rushed in to save lives. The United States banded together. We pulled out our American flags and flew them high. Red, White and Blue splashed across every surface all around our nation. We cursed those who had attacked us and prayed for those who were most affected by the act of terrorism. They had meant to make us weak, but instead they made us strong.

But that was Fourteen years ago,

Now, police, even the good ones, are sought out and attacked. Their lives are threatened even more and people shoot them in the back and cheer. They are mocked and hated. They aren't seen as heroes as they were on that terrible day fourteen years ago. Now they are the targets. The flag that once flew high, uniting a nation, now gets stomped on beneath the feet of protesters and ruffians and thugs. You can't even say, "God bless America" without being told to be quiet lest you offend someone. Children are allowed to sit down and refuse to pledge the flag in school every morning.

What has happened? Have we really forgotten that day? Has too much time passed? Have we lost all respect?

My children were born years after that horrible day, but I will tell them about it. I will raise them to respect their flag, their country and their God.My daughter may be only four but she already knows the Pledge of Allegiance by heart. She even says "under God." They will both recognize and respect the flag and what she stands for. They will be taught about the lives that were lost fighting for our freedom. They will know our history. I teach my children that police are HEROES, because they are. Just because they aren't running into burning buildings and pulling people from rubble on national TV like they were fourteen years ago does not mean that they do not risk their lives for us every day. They deserve our respect.

I remember that day and the chills I felt all those years ago return. I remember the fear I felt. I remember the pride I felt. I remember the anger. I remember, and I will never forget.

Will you?