All fired up an no one to complain to... oh wait! I write a blog!

Poor reader.

This whole Happy Meal business has just got me all up in arms today. I think really what got me up in arms was running in the humidity this morning and not being able to breathe, but the Happy Meal thing cinched it.

What's that? How's who? Oh Kate. Yeah, she's fine. Went and did bloodwork yesterday to rule out things like tropical infections and bacteria from Mars. She was a trooper, Elmo in one hand, Horsey in the other. I, on the other hand, was able to restrain her and soothe her until it was over at which time everything starts slowly going black. Didn't quite pass out but had to hang out at the lab for a while. So fun! But it was all negative (the bloodwork) and her rash is finally fading today. She's grumpy, but not infectious, so we're going to go out of the house today.

Happy Meals... you know what I'm talking about, right? This whole thing about trying to get rid of toy-based food marketing aimed at kids. The argument I heard went something like, "because they can't evaluate the information properly." Made me laugh. Has anyone noticed that ADULTS go to McDonalds all the time and theoretically they would fall into the "CAN evaluate information properly" camp and they don't even get a toy?

Right, so anyway, the thing to do when you're pissed at a situation is to find someone to blame. And I really think blaming McDonalds and parents is overdone. I've figured out who's fault it is.

Pediatricians!

(Sorry, Jenn.)

No, I'm dead serious. Pediatricians suck. Everyone complains all the time that parents take their kids to McDonalds and feed them crap and don't care, and that poor people eat crap because it's what cheap, and parents don't teach their kids how to eat well. I'll give you that people are lazy. But aren't we kinda assuming that there's a basis of knowledge here?

No one ever taught me what a normal kid's portion size is. I mean, no one taught me what a normal ADULT portion size is. No one told me how much protein she needs in a meal, or in a day, or how many calories. It's as though I'm supposed to just know, or read a book or something. But who is the one person I see every three months from birth who is second in command of my child's health? Her pediatrician.

And what has my pediatrician told me about nutrition and eating?

(Note, these words were only conveyed when asked direct questions of the doctor...)

"Don't fight about food. She won't starve."
"She knows how much she needs."

Whew, I feel all at once relieved and so so educated now! Thank you, Doc!

I know, we've established our doc sucks. We're switching. For real, we are, but still, I have trouble thinking this is that abnormal. Yeah, McDonald's is a corporate bloodsucker that is killing the world. Yeah, the food lobby is destroying the way we think about and eat food.

For now, I'm just going to blame the pediatrician.

Internet isn't working...

Monkey Girl

This, for your reference, is our bathroom. It's a normal bathroom. Toilet, sink, cupboard. Nothing fancy. The importance of this picture lies in the tale to come.

Kate's had a nasty rash. If she has a temperature, then the rash means one thing. If she doesn't, then it means some other thing. The rash is hot to the touch as though she has a bad sunburn everywhere so we are constantly fooled into taking her temperature. Well, the last time we took her temperature she and Daddy P were lying on our bed and I went to retrieve the thermometer from the cupboard above the toilet. She wants us to each have our temperatures taken (glad this is an ear thermometer) so we take turns all around. Everyone is normal, by the way.

Kate then grabs the thermometer and shoots out of the room. The adults, temporarily thrown off by having a moment alone together, get distracted by kissing for no more than 10 seconds when we hear the toilet seat shut. Daddy P gets up and sprints down the hallway only to find Kate standing in the bathroom, no thermometer in sight. I think the worst: a toilet water soaked ear thermometer. But no, not in the toilet. Daddy P searches everywhere, and finally finds the thermometer: right where it belongs, in the cupboard above the toilet. Directly next to Kate's medicines.

Needless to say, we are re-thinking "child proofing" for a 20 month old.

Happy Father's Day everyone (well, fathers...)!

To my husband:

I think back to the man I married and wonder what he would have thought about the snapshot of our life. Would you recognize yourself?

You get excited when potties have pee pee in them...
You say the word "pee pee"...
You, on your own initiative and accord, bring home "Okra chips" because they "have only three ingredients: okra, oil and salt."
You take a break from work because on that particular day, you are the only one allowed to change a poopy diaper.
You know how to wash cloth diapers and don't complain about it.
Your idea of a "good Saturday" means having time to clean the garage.
Sleeping in means getting out of bed at 8am.
You go work-out at 6am.
You show your daughter so much love that one of her first recognizable words is "cuddle" which she does with abandon when you are around.
You are the most important person in my life. I love you more every day and more than I could have imagined (and I have a really good imagination).
You are an amazing father to our daughter. You teach her how to love, how to be compassionate, how to love learning, how to work hard, how to play, and in exchange, she teaches you to clean. (hehe)

I love you. Happy Father's Day!

highlights from a parent-free weekend

Making auntie sit on the infant swing.

Our fridge we came home to since ours died as soon as we left town.

"Camping" at REI with her aunt and uncle.