The Spanking July 28, 2009

“Spare the rod, spoil the child”

Kate Gosselin spanking daughter via Google images

Recently, I was able to voice my opinion on this subject. Spanking the children. The conversation wasn’t really about whether or not it is right or wrong. A person I know made a statement of disgust over a couple of women who were bragging about the types of physical disciplines they used on their children. They tried to back it up with Scripture. Man, I hate it when that happens. I almost didn’t join the discussion, but I get really ticked off when less than educated people try to use Scripture to back up their stupidity and poor judgment.

Solomon does write about disciplining children in Proverbs. There may be other places in the OT which talk about child-rearing too. I don’t recall where though.

However, using a “rod” to beat your children with because it’s in the Bible is disgusting to me. Following that logic, then I suppose it’s ok to make 700 virgins your concubines too, right? I mean, it’s in the Bible stupid. Duh! And, when we fast we should wear sackcloth and cover ourselves with ashes.

I’m just getting started. But, before I continue, let me say this. If you hit your kids with your fists or an object, I believe you need help. That, my dear reader, is abuse. If you twist their arms, jerk them, shake them, slap them, poke them so hard a bruise appears… you are being abusive. I do not condone that and I never will.

Now, having said all of that, I do not believe there is anything wrong with spanking a child when done correctly. Am I perfect? Unfortunately, no. I have made some mistakes in disciplining my lovelies. Fortunately, they have been very few and my conviction was immediate and my confession as immediate as possible. My apologies have been accepted because my kids were kinder and more loving than they should have been… because I was wrong.

I am not an expert. But, I have strong beliefs that a loving, nurturing, and joyful home is important for everyone in the family. We all have bad days. Some days kids behave very well. Some days I need a couple glasses of wine before bed. The same goes for them. Not the wine. But, the mood swings. We’re imperfect humans. I try to remain aware of this and give them the benefit of the doubt. However, I absolutely will not tolerate defiance or blatant disrespect.

When I spank my kids I swat once on the buttocks with an open hand. Before I spank, I give plenty of warning and opportunities for them to make the right choices. Spanking is a last resort. I might threaten to spank and count to three, however, I rarely have to follow through with it. When I do have to spank, I do not enjoy it. I feel it is a necessity for proper discipline and control in the home. It sends my message in a hurry and I can count on one hand when one of my children has continued their improper behavior beyond the spanking. In those rare cases, I have repeated the steps to another spanking — warn, give opportunity to make the right choice, count to three, spank. It is their choice. Behave and submit to my authority, or be punished.

I also do not threaten to do anything to my kids that I don’t FULLY intend to follow through on. I don’t tell them I’ll break their arm or rip out their hair or any of that verbal crap (which is abusive language, IMO, but that’s another subject altogether). I warn. I follow through with my threat. End of story.

My kids know that I am not messing around.

It works for us.

My daughter has had less spankings than my son. She responds better to time-outs in her room and I allow her to scream to the tops of her lungs in there as long as her door is shut. She blows off her steam and then comes out and we have a calm conversation about her behavior followed by lots of hugs and kisses and compliments. I can’t remember the last time I spanked her.

My son is not the same. He’s about half and half. Nothing jolts him into obedience like being spanked. Thankfully, he has learned self-control enough that I don’t spank him daily. In fact, if I kept track I’ll bet I don’t even spank him every other day. He is really learning, and being sent to his room is starting to work.

Do we draw lines? I don’t think so. I believe it’s pretty matter of fact. You are either constructively demanding obedience in your home or you are being too lenient or too abusive. Kids need discipline. Without it they will become spoiled and will have very little respect or trust for authority. You cannot negotiate with a 3 year old. You cannot.

You are the parent. You need to act like it.

What say you?

Gifted? June 25, 2009

I am seriously considering having my son, Jeremy, tested for giftedness.

Ever considered this for your child?
Ever actually have the child tested?
Thoughts?
Anyone?

I just don’t know yet.

Happy Mommy Day May 8, 2009

Need Breastfeeding Support? April 22, 2009

Go here: Custom-Made Milk

And don’t delay!
I would not have made it this far breastfeeding my little Jaxon if not for her help and the help of those like her.
Run. Don’t walk. Go now!

For Them to Carry On December 8, 2008

Dear Future In-Laws to My Child,

My husband and I have raised our kids to the best of our ability. We have brought them up in a loving environment which promotes self-expression and acceptance. We have encouraged them to become whoever they desire to become as long as they work hard and honor God. We have enabled them to receive the best education we could afford. We have taught them through our own actions to be generous people. We promise that your child is safe in our family and in a relationship with our child.

Our kids were taught not to judge a person based on their appearance. In fact, appearance received as much merit in our family as the length of someone’s eyelashes. It has been irrelevant. We have taught them to determine if a person is of proper character based on their actions alone. We have encouraged them to align themselves with people who have integrity.

Our kids were taught that hard work and hard practice are the ingredients for success.

Our kids were taught to love others regardless of how those people treated them. We have told them that it is ok not to like someone, but that they are still to be kind to that person.

Our kids grew up in an environment filled with outward affection and howling laughter. We hug, we kiss, we snuggle. We laugh, we crack up, we giggle. They are happy and content people. They have always been surrounded by love and acceptance.

Our kids were taught that getting an education is important to career success. We have told them throughout their lives, starting when they were toddlers, that they can be whatever they want to be as long as they do well in school and respect their teachers.

Our kids were taught that hospitality is part of friendship. Our home has always been a place to celebrate life whether through birthdays, holidays, or just because we can days. We open our doors and welcome groups of people to share meals and good times with us. They have many friends and our home has served as a safe place for them their whole lives.

Our kids were taught to have compassion for the needy people of this world. They know how fortunate they are and desire to share their good fortune with others. They are not selfish or self-centered. They are generous and caring.

Our kids were taught from birth to present time about Jesus Christ. They have received Christian educations. They have been involved in many youth activities geered towards shepherding their hearts so that they would long to serve God all of their lives. They started memorizing Bible verses at a very young age and have cultivated personal relationships with Christ their Savior. Of all the things we have taught our kids, this is the most important to us.

Our kids are not perfect. But they are good enough.

Rest assured that your child has chosen a more than suitable spouse and we will do everything we can to be there for them whenever they need us.

Welcome to the family.

Respectfully,
Heidi Reed

What would
you add?

Many Years Later December 5, 2008

A certain person I know has, for years, said negative and demeaning things about people who have large families. Things like “they’re crazy”, “they must be nuts”, “how can they give their kids enough attention”, “it’s ridiculous (or irresponsible) to have that many kids”. And so on.

Believe it or not, I have kept my mouth shut — taking it with a grain of salt each time.
That is, until today.

I have had it up to my hairline and beyond with these kinds of remarks. It doesn’t help that this person and I had a heated discussion yesterday regarding the dumbest advice I think I’ve ever been given by a person who has no right even breathing a word on the subject considering this person’s lack of responsible behavior in a certain area. That is vague on purpose.

My parents raised 7 children. My paternal grandparents raised 13 while my maternal grandparents raised 8. To say I come from a big family is the understatement of the year. I believe I have somewhere around 75 first cousins with both families combined. I have no idea how many of those cousins have produced children of their own. I’m sure the numbers now are well over 100 with first and second cousins combined. And we’re still having children. Some of my first cousins are still under the age of 10. I think a couple may even be under age 5. Huge family! Absolutely humongous!

In my family segment, my precious parents (who have been married for over 36 years) have their ninth grandchild on the way (our wee one). One of my sisters is trying to get pregnant with her 2nd. One of my sisters has three girls. My brother has 2 girls. My youngest sister just got married last weekend. Two of my siblings are in serious relationships, but not married yet. That leaves a whole bunch of room for more nieces and nephews for me and many more grandchildren for my parents of awesomeness. I think Christmas, one day, will be unbelievably expensive for all of us. Yikes!!

So for anyone to condemn large families to me is like calling my entire family a bunch of idiots.

Not a good idea.
It’s an even worse idea while I’m all chock full of hormones and 8 months pregnant.
Yeah. Dumb move.

So I did what any upstanding young woman with her third child on the way would do. I shot the person dead and now I’m going to jail.

Nah. In my mind I wanted to rip out hair and poke out eyeballs though.

First of all, both of my lovely heathens were fighting and yelling in the seat right behind me. The person on the phone heard the commotion and said “what would you do if you had 10 of them”. I said “I’d throw every last one out the window”. We chuckled. Then the person said “well what do you think about people who do have 10 kids then — they are nuts, aren’t they”? I stopped the chuckle right then. “You know what” I said. “You’ve been saying derogatory things about people who have a lot of kids for many years now and I’ve put up with it. I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. But you must understand that when you say things like that you are putting down my entire family and that hurts my feelings. I don’t like it even a little bit and it doesn’t amuse me.” The person sounded taken aback and said “what well I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just mean that I couldn’t handle it”. I received and accepted an apology and then quickly got off the phone.

Right after that the girls at Subway started in on me having a girl and a boy already and what made me decide to have another child since I have one of each. I must be crazy they say and all three laugh it up. I played along. Deep inside I was painfully aware of the way I am viewed by society. I have too many kids. I am crazy to want more. How do I do what I do? Why? How? Ha ha ha this is so funny and entertaining.

No.

It’s not funny. It’s not entertaining.
It’s disgusting.

I am proud of my family. I am proud of my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and cousins who have decided to grow their families despite what anyone else thinks or says. I had a wonderful childhood. I would change nothing about it. I love my family deeply.

I’m sick of being the butt of jokes. I am sick of being the circus who just arrived because it’s oh such a novelty to ask Heidi to tell the whole room full of people how many cousins/aunts/uncles or whatnot she has. I can hear the circus music play as the laughter fills the room along with the wide-eyed expressions on the faces of unbelieving or astonished people.

My family is not a circus.
My family is not crazy.
My family is awesome.

If it were up to me, I’d have more children. Not the natural way, however. But if Rich would open his heart to it I’d certainly adopt — at least one, maybe more.

I love kids.
I grew up surrounded by love.
My family may not have lots of money, but they sure do have lots of love.
An overabundance of it, in fact.

And. It. Makes. Me. Proud.

I am So Glad it Worked November 18, 2008

I told you about meeting Summer at the playground. Well let me tell you what happened after she left.

I got tired very quickly of pushing my kids on the swings. It takes a lot out of me to do anything physical right now. I say this as my back throbs and I can barely walk after babysitting all day and a super long drive home. Anyway, I told the kids I needed to sit down on the bench and to please play on the other stuff there. They did fine for the first 20 minutes. Then I decided it was inching ever too close to naptime and we needed to leave.

I gave the usual 5 minute warning. “Kids, we are leaving in 5 minutes.”
“You have 3 minutes left.”
“One more minute.”
“Alright, turkeys, it’s time to go now.”

The response at that point is usually “one more minute, mom, pleassssse?”

I give in. Always. I give in. What’s another 60 seconds?

Brianna has been telling me on a daily basis “you’re not my mom, I’m not your daughter anymore” when she isn’t getting her way. I’ve tried many different ways of handling this. I’ve even laughed it off and told her she’s being ridiculous. I’ve never made a big deal of it because I don’t want her to think for a second that she’s getting to me. Well, that tactic wasn’t working. And even though she wasn’t hurting my feelings I needed to get her to stop saying that and be more respectful. But how?

Yesterday after they asked for “one more minute, mom” I said “alright, guys, let’s go” and started walking towards the gate. They, of course, threw into hysterics like I was asking them to walk across burning coals on bare feet. For crying out loud! I get no respect [in my best Rodney Dangerfield voice].

Brianna plants her feet, puts her hands on her hips, and screams “you are NOT my mom and I don’t love you anymore”.

Four heads turned to see my reaction — all of them parents.

I laughed and said “is that right”. She said “yes and I’m not your daughter”.
“Are you sure, Brianna, because that means I won’t be responsible for feeding you lunch.”
“I’m sure” she tells me.
“Ok let’s go” I say and open the gate.

She stomps out of the play area and down the stairs into the van. Once inside and safely out of range of parents that might hear me I say “when we get home I will make a phone call and get you a new mommy”.

She. Freaked. Out.

I mean she went ballistic. She wanted daddy.

“No, honey, if I’m not your mommy then daddy is not your daddy. I’ll get you a new daddy too and while I’m at it this also means Jeremy is not your brother and the new baby is not your sibling so you’ll have to hope that your new parents have kids so you can have siblings.”

She cried and kicked and screamed and begged me to be her mommy again.

I said “no and call me Heidi — don’t call me mommy because I am no longer your mommy. Call daddy Rich because he is not your daddy either.”

I think she swallowed her tongue right then. Silence. Well, silence all except for the funny noises she was making as her breathing had been interrupted by the massive earth quake she was causing herself.

I tried not to laugh. Is that evil? I seriously had to stifle it in a big, big way. But somehow I knew this was working. I knew it. I just knew it.

We got about a mile from home when she started apologizing. I told her “thank you for doing that and remember your manners when you meet your new mommy and daddy later today”.

She. Freaked. Out. All. Over. Again.
Balllllllisssssticccc!!

I shoved away the twinge of guilt and the desire to hug her and kiss her and reassure her. I fought the urge to comfort her — and it was there this time.

We got home and daddy came out to help me unload everyone and everything. She looked like she was going to pass out from anger, frustration, fear… all sorts of emotions and her eyes told me she was in agony. I felt bad. I did, but I didn’t stop. I fought it again.

Daddy was not liking what I was doing and asked me twice to stop. I didn’t stop. I told him “she will learn not to ever say those hateful things to me again and this is how I intend to make her stop”. He rolled his eyes at me and I could tell he was very much less than pleased. He hugged her and told her everything would be ok and that she just needed a nap.

Finally, after putting Jeremy down for his nap, I took her by the hand and led her to her room and put her in her bed. I didn’t do my normal lovie routine though. I warned her that if she ever said “you’re not my mommy” to me again that I would pull down her pants and spank her rear end right there in the middle of wherever we are “and I’m not kidding so don’t you dare try it”.

When she woke up from her nap we cuddled, I explained that there is no way I’d give her to another mommy or daddy ever, that she is a very important part of our family, we love her very much, and that she can live with us her whole life if she wants to. BUT!!!! “Do not ever say hateful things to me again because those words hurt mommy and I love you with all my heart.”

She hasn’t said it since.

Twice she almost did, but she caught herself and just walked away with her hands on her hips.

She learned.

It was harsh.

It was hard.

But it worked.

Ever had to pull
out the tough love
card to get through
to your kid?

Summer Gets It November 17, 2008

I took the kids to the playground today. We have a favorite one in a really cool neighborhood that we frequent. I waddled over to the swings and began my exercises of the day pushing both kids on two different swings. Don’t think that’s exercise? Try it. Now try it with a bowling ball strapped to your stomach. I dare ya!

Anyway. There was a darling young woman pushing her daughter next to us. She asked me the typical “when are you due” question. I told her “in 8 more weeks… January”. Not one ounce of shock or judgment on her pretty face. I instantly liked her. She replied “awww, I just love pregnant women — I loved being pregnant — well, that is, until the end”. I was all shocked and dramatic making faces and laughing because pregnancy is not something I enjoy except for the fetal movement. I said “well this is the end pretty much — third trimester and all”. She grinned. Lovely gal. Just lovely.

{Pause for a note to my friend LB: she reminded me of you — she had your personality to a “T”}

The kids did their normal round-the-playground routine. I followed as closely as my short little legs could manage. Rock wall, rings, slide, bridge, stairs, “watch this mom”, “see what I can do mom”, hang from bars, try to climb palm tree, throw mulch, find shells, back to the swings, etc. Fun for them and exhausting for me. Huff Puff Huff Puff.

Mrs. Personality came back over to the swings when we were there for our 2nd go. She talked about wanting a 3rd child too and how ready she is to start trying. I guess her husband is resisting. I told her mine did too (someday I’ll tell the whole story — still not ready yet). She said she wasn’t sure how hard to fight for it. I told her “some things are worth fighting for”. She smiled sweetly.

Jeremy called from across the playground wanting my help. She offered to go get him off the ladder and I scooted over to push her little girl on the swing. Brianna was going pretty high so she didn’t protest. We thanked one another and kept chit-chatting. Turns out we had a few things in common regarding our opinions of our city and a snooty neighborhood we both used to live in. We had a couple laughs.

After a bit she decided to go home to get lunch for her two girls. She was there with a friend who was also pregnant and looking very tired of chasing her little one. I understood. So we said goodbye and “nice chatting with you” and she wished me luck with the yet unborn wee one. I thanked her and she left.

Have you ever met someone completely out of nowhere and wanted to be friends?

Two things that left a happy feeling in my heart.
1. She mentioned she goes to church and works in the nursery — this makes me happy because it could very well mean she’s a born-again Christian which means even if I don’t see her again in this life, I’ll surely look her up in the next.
2. She put the word community into action — this is what we are missing in our society. She’s the link.

Her name is Summer. And Summer, by golly, you get it. You are the “it” chick. Not because you’re pretty. Not because you live in a nice neighborhood. Not because you have a cool hairstyle and cool sunglasses. No. It’s because you are friendly — genuinely friendly — and you love to laugh and you ooze joy. I can imagine when your husband kisses you good night he pinches himself he’s so lucky. I’ll bet he knows the blessing you are in his life. I hope your daughters grow up to be just like you.

And I would love to be your friend. Just not sure we’ll ever meet again. But if we do…
Well, I’ll see what God has in mind.

You’re the real deal, Summer. So many people could take a lesson from you. Too many.

And — I cannot believe you liked being pregnant. I happen to believe you have forgotten a lot.

The Year of Salmonella November 14, 2008

Salmonella
Image courtesy of Google

Last year Jeremy contracted Salmonella poisoning. It happened shortly after we returned from our trip to Arizona to say goodbye to my ailing Grandmother. He got dreadfully ill one weekend — fevers pushing 104+ and Motrin would only bring it down to 100 for a few hours and then right back up it went. I remember in one day alone he had 16 diarrhea diapers. The next day he had 14 of them. He wouldn’t eat. Thank God he would drink water and lots of it. I called his doctor’s office several times and as I waited for them to return my calls I would start to get ready to head to the ER telling my husband “be ready because I might have to run out the door at any minute”. Weekend on-call doctors can only ask a bunch of questions. They can’t do a proper diagnosis on the phone. But the one that called me back on Sunday came close. She mentioned Salmonella a couple of times, but I quickly ignored it since Jeremy was the only one sick.

The following Monday, early, we took him to his regular pediatrician along with a sample of poop. Yuck. It sure was Salmonella. It sure was. We had to continue monitoring and testing his doo-doo for weeks. Finally it came back negative almost a month later.

A nurse friend of mine called me to ask a million few questions. We came to the conclusion he got it from touching egg shells at the grocery store. I had taken him shopping with me and when he asked if he could touch the eggs I thought nothing of it. I let him and even counted them with him one by one. Less than 36 hours later the boy was extremely ill — more so than when he had jaundice as an infant.

The health department called me sometime in December to ask me a thousand few more questions. It was then that I learned that Jeremy would be contagious for a year. So for a year I wouldn’t let anyone change his diapers unless they were well aware of his infection and once he was potty trained it became very important that he, as well as anyone helping him wipe, washed their hands thoroughly. Reinfection of Salmonella is common since kids aren’t the cleanest things in the universe.

Well it’s been a year. He suffered no reinfection. Nobody in our household or circle of family and friends contracted the virus from him. We are in the clear!!

What a battle.

Don’t let your kids play with eggs, egg cartons, or touch raw meat or raw meat packaging. Be very very cautious as you cook or prepare food in the kitchen being sure to clean and sanitize all surfaces (including you) that come in conact with anything of that sort. It’s not worth an entire year of careful analysis of every bowel movement your child has or being inches from rushing him/her to the ER.

Another friend told me that organic eggs are the biggest culprit for Salmonella. And wouldn’t you know it — those are the kind of eggs I used to buy when Jeremy fell ill. Not anymore. Now we buy the safe eggs. The ones that say they’re free of Salmonella.

Hypo vs. Hyper November 13, 2008

Gestational Diabetes is nothing to mess around with. I’m sure any form of Diabetes is dangerous when the Diabetic ignores his or her diagnosis and diet. Right now, as I type this, I have gone hypoglycemic. It is a terrible feeling. Since I have started diabetic meds it is important that I eat regularly, including snacks, throughout the day.

I got home from picking up Brianna and within minutes I was shaking and dizzy. Uh oh. I took out the glucose meter to check my blood glucose levels. Before I left to go get her it was 99. That’s a check 2 hours after breakfast and it’s a good number. Just an hour later it was all the way down to 68. Not good. Hypoglycemia starts at 70 for a diabetic. I knew something wasn’t right.

Immediately I popped open the jar of mixed nuts and started munching. Then I got the strawberry yogurt out of the fridge and slurped it down as fast as I could. I’ll recheck my sugar levels in 5 minutes. If they’re still too low I’ll eat an apple or maybe a peanut butter cookie. I don’t want to spike it, but I also need to get a bit above 70.

It happens fast. If hypoglycemia is left unchecked a diabetic person can lose consciousness. That’s not in the mix for me. Who would help? It is important that I am aware of the signs at all times.

Hyperglycemia is a bit more dangerous as I understand it. This is what fits me in the category of Gestational Diabetic. When I don’t eat right and take meds my blood sugars are elevated. Two hours after each meal my magic number needs to be below 120. If I have 2 slices of pepperoni pizza, for example, my number is usually around 175 as a diabetic. That’s a major no-no. Pasta, potato, rice, anything high in carbs or white flour or sugar will all make my numbers escalate.

The problem with this, besides the dangers to my health, is that it could affect the unborn baby in one way or another. The most obvious is high birth weight. The other problems that are much more serious are low blood sugar in newborn infant, trouble breathing, and still birth.

So it’s a bit complicated and takes some getting used to. I don’t like checking my blood levels 4+ times a day. It hurts and it’s inconvenient. I’d rather eat a baked potato with my steak rather than a side of broccoli. I want the occasional sweet treat.

It’s not just my good health that is a concern. When the health of another person depends on you and what you eat and how you monitor “things” then a new determination surfaces and you gain a self-control you may not have realized you have.

Strangely, I’m sort of thankful I’ve had this disease 3 times now. I have learned so much about how the body uses food for fuel that the transition from being a pregnant diabetic to a non-pregnant woman who needs to lose 50+ pounds is smooth. This is why I love the South Beach diet. Its menu is centered around the glycemic index — a very important tool for a diabetic.

My number after all of that drama is 91. The nuts and yogurt worked like a charm and I feel back to normal now. Off to eat lunch — a healthy one of course.