The Mamahood

A Swine Flu Survival Guide

My oldest spent Halloween on the couch, suffering from the first onslaught of what became a lost week for the Mamahood household, as each of us was felled in turn by what the pediatrician called "one of many viruses going around, possibly H1N1." (Not that he'd do the test to figure it out.)

But since we've suffered through a week of some sort of swine-like virus, I can give you a few pointers to help you through the flu.

1. Don't expect to get through unscathed. The whole thing about quarantining the sick person to one room away from everyone else seems a little far fetched to me. If your child (and let's face it, it always starts with the child) is one to willingly be separated out from the crowd to a sick room, you're a lucky person. But mine just want to crawl in my lap and cough right into my face. And I can't exactly blame them.

2. Have your takeout menus at the ready. No one was really up to cooking for the duration of the flu, so we ended up calling in several cultures' versions of comfort food to keep us going. For me, the two quarts of wonton soup I downed this week was like a big shot in the arm of Tamiflu.

3. Remember: What happens during flu season, stays during flu season. Your house will look like a disaster (as will you). Your feverish mate will likely do something to tick you off—and you will do the same to him. And you may just decide to let your kids eat lollipops for lunch, because they're sick anyway and you can't get up off the couch. But none of it should ever be brought up once the quarantine is lifted. You get a free pass. You have the flu.

4. Hope your stars align and it happens when there isn't a whole lot going on. I was lucky, in some respects, as this came when my daughter's school was closed for the bulk of the week (darned teacher's conference). She didn't miss much. But it did occur during a key week for several of my clients, which meant I got a lot of, "That sucks that you and your family have swine flu. So when are you getting that to me?" e-mails.

5. Remember that there's no rest for the wicked—or for moms, apparently. You will still be expected to keep the family in some semblance of civilization. Even if you do wear the same pajamas three days in a row.

Good luck to you.

Life with the Food Allergic

True confession: I used to sometimes roll my eyes when I had to make my daughter abstain from peanuts to preserve an allergen-free environment for a very allergic kid in her class. But now I'm the one provoking the eye rolling, as my youngest daughter's recent testing has shown that she's allergic to milk, eggs and wheat, making birthday cupcakes and cookies (unless they're made vegan and gluten-free) out of the question.

It's been an exhausting few weeks as we adjust to our new reality—where we're voraciously reading food labels, searching for that elusive halfway-decent recipe for everything-free bread, and forced to BYO to every single event we're going to, to avoid making our hosts hunt down vegan cheese and rice pasta.

Living without all of these things is more expensive (a $5 loaf of bread with nothing but rice, yeast and water, for instance), and not quite as tasty (the "mac and chreese," which my daughters gobble up, tastes evil). So we've taken to serving up two different versions of some meals, and trying to teach our daughter that some foods, like her beloved Goldfish crackers, are simply not allowed. 

It's tough to make your little one give up her precious trick-or-treat booty, or to try to socialize when most socializing these days revolves around food, and most of the kid-friendly options simply aren't friendly to my daughter. And it's even tougher to realize that the options available—disappoint your child, or make life difficult for everyone else around you—are no fun either. I only hope that her doctor is right, and that my daughter will grow out of it within the next few years.

It's a Scream

There's no hitting allowed in our house—including spanking. But as my neighbors can attest, the volume tends to go up around here—especially when the kids are being their most out-of-control selves. Now the experts in a new New York Times article are saying that yelling can be nearly as detrimental to a child's psyche as spanking. 

Which is great, because we're not all carrying around enough guilt because we bottlefed with BPA-ridden bottles, work and have to leave our kids with someone else, let them watch TV before they turned two and generally did the kinds of stuff our parents let us do back in the day (and we turned out okay). We definitely need to be made to feel even more terrible about raising our voices when our kids are snarling, screaming and fighting for dear life for the same pair of fairy wings.

Honestly, when the timeouts, the 1, 2, 3s, and the rah-rah sticker charts aren't working, I kind of run out of other options—and the patience to try them, too. I'd love to see the experts try their best "dears, that's a bad choice" on my daughters when they're worked up to a frenzy. I bet I wouldn't have to get to three before the experts started their screaming.

A Very Important Date (Or 10)

Egads! It's only a couple of weeks into school, and I already feel bombarded trying to keep track of our new schedules. My oldest daughter has some sort of class or another every single day of the week—and is thinking of signing up for the Daisy troop the mom of one of her classmates is planning to start up. In addition, she's been invited to three birthday parties within the next few weeks—and then it's Halloween, with several events related to that.

Our youngest's schedule includes three days a week of preschool, with a very slow progression each week toward finally hitting a 2 1/2 hour day, gymnastics on Saturdays and speech therapy every Thursday. And we do need to fit in a few follow-up appointments at her ENT (we need to start talking about whether she's a candidate for atresia repair, AKA opening her ear canal), and a visit to the allergist to see what's causing her eczema, which is better but still not under control.

And then there are all the back-to-school nights, family socials, potential playdates...and I'd like to squeeze in an apple-picking day sometime before the orchards are picked bare.

This doesn't even factor in my own very important dates—deadlines (I have a ton of them coming up, thankfully), and perhaps an actual, honest-to-goodness date with my husband once in a while.

And so, I've downloaded some heavy-duty scheduling software to my iPhone to keep track of my overscheduled life, and I'm constantly syncing it up with my computer and setting alarms to keep me reminded of all of these very important dates. I know it's only a matter of time before something slips through the cracks.

"I'm Not Shy"

I just realized I failed (completely!) to mention another big (HUGE) milestone we had—my youngest daughter started her first week of preschool. And did amazingly, thrillingly well there.

Note for newbie readers: This is nothing short of a miracle in my eyes. My youngest daughter came to us with some really, really severe separation anxiety (not exactly unexpected, given the fact that she'd spent 18 months cared for in an orphanage, likely cared for by different workers over the space of her time there). Her separation anxiety was so bad, in fact, that I ended up having to drag my laptop over to my daughter's day care and try to work there for several months, because she was so bad about letting me leave her. She wouldn't let other adults go near her, and cringed if they tried to touch her.

We've been trying to work with her on this—showing her that she can trust others, letting her take baby steps toward trusting other adults. And it has paid off, tenfold.

After months of begging to be able to go to school like her big sister, it was finally my youngest's day to shine. I carried her into the classroom, but it took less than a minute for her to slide down to play with the play dough, then check out the classroom's fish, then whip up a little something in the kitchen. I lingered for a few minutes, but my daughter never looked back. 

We used to feel like we had to tell any new person who came into her life, "Oh, she just has a hard time with new people" as my daughter tried to burrow into my body to cringe away from the new person. Now, my daughter proudly proclaims, "I'm not shy." And she's completely right.

Language Lessons

My oldest daughter started Chinese School this past Sunday. And so, I joined the ranks of several hundred other parents of Chinese children who brought their children, all polished and eager, to the local Buddhist Temple to start the year's worth of lessons in Mandarin, Chinese culture and dance.

Of course, the fact that I was one of the only Caucasian parents there made me stand out a bit. And I made it worse by misreading the notices the school sent home. They said that we should attend class with our daughter, since the bulk of the Mandarin we know we picked up from Ni Hao, Kai Lan, and they said that everyone attending classes needed to have the uniform. And so, I dutifully ordered shirts for my daughter and myself, picked them up at the school. Only after I donned the school's pristine white shirts did I discover that I was the only parent there wearing the gear.

My daughter's sweet teacher got a huge kick out of the fact that I was wearing the uniform (she felt it showed my commitment to my daughter's education), and even gave me a folder to carry home for my "homework." And since my daughter did as well, I may be forced to keep wearing it every week.

I don't really mind. My daughter and I both found so much to love in our first day of Chinese school—and we can't wait to go back for more.

Young Love

At the tender age of five, my daughter has committed to spend her life with one of her best friends, the son of one of my best friends. "I'm going to marry H," she tells me. "I'm not joking. I'm totally serious."

H is equally committed to my daughter. He has a ring picked out (it lights up), and has discussed his intentions with his mother.

The wedding theme, according to my daughter, is "rainbows and sparkles," and she would like all guests in attendance to wear something that fits the theme. They'll be registered at Toys R Us.

The couple has been spending every day together over the past few months at summer camp, but now time will tear them apart, as each is attending a different kindergarten. (Consider this the 5-year-old version of a long-distance relationship.) This will be the true test of their budding romance.

The mothers of the bride and groom have both struggled to maintain straight faces, but assure their children that they support their choices of mates—though they'll understand if sometime during their projected 20-plus-year-long engagement, the pair decides they want to see other people. Though I certainly wouldn't mind these in-laws.

Ladies Who Lunch

School hasn't even started yet, and I'm already dreading the nightly chore of putting together lunches that my daughters will actually eat. Even when I let them pick, they apparently change their minds at some point between the packing and lunchtime.

I'm hoping to get a little more inspired this school year. I'm planning to pick up some cool bento items that'll let me accommodate my little grazers, and I'm hoping to be inspired by Cookie magazine's "30 Days, 30 Lunches" ideas—though some of the ideas, like the Hello! Kitty shaped sandwich, seem a little too ambitious for a standard Tuesday night. But I'd love to hear from you guys—any cool (and healthy) ideas for little lunches for my new kindergartener and preschooler?

Eczema = The Bane of My Existence

My poor youngest daughter scratches and itches her way through every single day—she has it bad, on her face, the crooks of her elbows and knees, and on her tummy. We've been to the doc, who recommended some prescription cortisone and slathering her up with Eucerin and Aquaphor multiple times per day. And getting rid of the fragranced laundry detergent. But still, my daughter itches like mad.

I've tried looking up information online, but the info's pretty spotty. It might be a food allergy—or it might not. It could be an allergy to pets—or it might not. It could be caused by heat—or by cold. I don't even know where to begin with trying to eliminate items from her diet or surroundings to try to get this under control.

Some moms have been recommending wrapping the spots in plastic wrap after applying the creams, but I'm worried about the suffocation factor. Some suggest some hippie type creams that seem a little out there. And there's always the new prescriptions, like Elidel, though there's evidence they cause cancer. Personally, I'd rather she has the itch.

I just feel so terrible for her when I see her going nuts with the itching. We'll be calling the doc tomorrow to see if he has any other bright ideas. Because I don't think she—or we—can take too much more of this.

I'm a bad mommy because...

I secretly thrill that my daughter loves to play the "who can be quiet the longest" game.

I'm a strict adherent to the five-second rule.

I refuse to let my kids sign up for more than one activity at a time.

I only set up playdates with the kids of my friends. 

I have been known to raise my voice at my kids.

My kids don't get to enjoy Happy Meals or watch Barney.

I have let my kids get away without cleaning up their own toys for far too long.

I don't play kids' music for my kids. They get (clean) grownup music instead.

Though I love my kids fiercely, fondly and forever, I am sometimes very happy when they head off to camp/school/daycare.