Infant

The Art of Sleep Training

Philmundo — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 18:41:36 -0700

By Phil Stott

"What are we going to do when she gets too big for the crib?"

So said my wife last night as we closed the door on a daughter who was already a half-hour past her bedtime, clearly too tired to stay up any longer, but practically inconsolable about the fact that it was time to end the fun for another day. As a result, when we shut the door she was standing gripping the sides of the crib, peering out over the top of it, yelling "Mama" at the top of her voice while sobbing. A pretty heart-rending scene, if you're not going through it several times a week.

The prediction behind my wife's question, obviously, was that as soon as Maeve is too big to contain in a crib, we're going to have to put her in a real bed-one with no sides to contain her-and we're both pretty certain that the first thing she'll do will be to get out.

That's one of the main reasons we've been doing our best to get her on a regular schedule. As much as possible, we've been trying to make sure her bedtime falls at around the same time, and we've been working hard on establishing a routine based on the following points:

Get a routine going

There are all kinds of things you can do to signal to your child that their day is coming to an end. Bath time right before bed. The appearance of the toothbrush. A couple of storybooks or songs to calm down. Then, tell them it's time for bed, lay them down, and get out of the room. While it might be nice for both you and your child if you stick around until they get to sleep, you're risking setting up a situation where they can't get to sleep unless you're there. Sure, there will be nights where you need to do a little extra calming once your child is in bed, but provided they're not hysterical, it pays to get out as soon as possible. A child that learns to go to sleep alone young is one that you'll spend less time chasing back into bed as they get older. Not to mention the amount of time you'll free up for yourself.

Turn down the monitor...

...or turn it off altogether. Nothing's going to pull you back to your child's room faster than the sound of crying coming out of a monitor. All you'll achieve by going back in, though, is to legitimize the behavior in your child's mind, and create a scenario where they know that a screaming fit will get them a little more time with you before they have to go to sleep. To avoid making that a routine, try turning down the monitor so the cries aren't as intrusive. Ever wondered why some of them come with a light meter on the front that goes up and down with the volume of your child's cries? Now you know: some models actually allow you to mute the sound but still keep an eye on them. Once they're asleep, though, you'll probably want to turn it back up again.

Of course, I'm not suggesting that you completely ignore a crying child once you've put them to bed-just that you give them an opportunity to fall asleep by themselves. For that reason, I'd also recommend that you:

Set a timer and stick to it

If your child is new to the concept of you leaving them to fall asleep alone, and responds by crying, you may want to start by building in set periods of time before you go back to them. Start out with something you're comfortable with-5 to 10 minutes-and, as the days wear on, gradually increase the waiting period. Remember: the longer you can wait before going back in, the more opportunity your child has to fall asleep by themselves. Of course, if they genuinely sound like they're in distress or particularly upset, or if the crying goes on for a long time, you'll want to go in and find out what's wrong.

We've seen some pretty good results so far, although we still get the odd occasion-mostly for afternoon naps-where Maeve just won't go to sleep without one of us there until she passes out. I'm figuring that the longer we persist, the more likely it is that she'll come to accept bedtime without a struggle. As soon as she starts that, I'll feel a whole lot better about putting her in a real bed.

As always, I'm open to further suggestions from those who have been there and done this before me, or who are trying different things right now. Post any recommendations in the comments field below.

Vaccinations: when fear meets science

Philmundo — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 08:47:26 -0700

by Phil Stott

The issue of vaccinations is one that my wife and I have been facing up to ever since Maeve was born. At just 19 months of age, she's had no less than 22 separate jabs-a series that began within a week of her birth. The sheer containing her vaccination record, meanwhile, has spaces for at least 16 more-a figure that doesn't take into account vaccines that require multiple injections. Over the short time since Maeve's birth, that seems like a lot to have put her through, and I've questioned more than once whether all the injections are strictly necessary. To date, though, we've always gone ahead with whatever Maeve's pediatrician has recommended.

Ever since Maeve's 15-month checkup, however, one vaccine has figured in our thoughts more than any other, our willingness to have Maeve receive it clouded by second-hand stories from acquaintances, half-remembered news reports from years back, and, specifically, concerns about links between it and autism. I'm talking, of course, about the MMR vaccine.

Having talked around the issue for quite some time, and put the vaccination off at a couple of Maeve's doctor visits out of fear, I realized that I didn't have much more than hearsay to go on, and that my fears were grounded in ignorance, rather than fact. The long and short of it: I hadn't actually got around to doing any research, which meant that every time my wife and I had the discussion about what we should do, we ended up chasing the only possibilities-get it, delay it, or go live somewhere that proof of it isn't required before your child can be admitted to school.

When I did start looking into the vaccination, it wasn't difficult to find "evidence" of a link between MMR and autism. Sites abounded with personal stories of parents who witnessed their children's mental acuity declining after receiving the vaccination. Hearsay evidence is everywhere. What is conspicuous by its absence, however, is any kind of hard science to back the hearsay up. As far as I can tell, not one site or reputable study exists that provides conclusive proof of a link between the MMR vaccine and autism.

What I did find in the course of my research (which I'm compelled to point out is far from exhaustive) was the history of how rumors of a link-and a public health scare-came about. Basically, back in 1998, a British scientist by the name of Andrew Wakefield published an article in the medical journal The Lancet, claiming he had discovered existence of a link. Cue widespread panic, lawsuits, and more than a decade of arguing over the results of his research.

Since Wakefield made his claims, however, no other scientist has been able to reproduce his results. Additionally, British newspaper The Sunday Times (one of the respectable ones) has gone to considerable lengths to investigate his claims, and has repeatedly found problems with his research. Indeed, the paper has been covering the story for over a decade, and as recently as February of this year published an article alleging that some of the medical records Wakefield relied on had been altered or hidden. (The direct link to the article was broken when I tried it, but you can read a copy of it here.)

The article also points out the major advantage of getting Maeve vaccinated: being able to live without the fear my child getting three serious diseases. For, as full as the internet is of stories of people who have seen their child develop autism and blame it on the MMR vaccine, it's also pretty well-stocked with documentary evidence of the effects of measles, mumps, and rubella. Having read about each of them, I came to the conclusion that their potential effects-and the chances of Maeve contracting any of them without a vaccine-were much worse than an unproven link between the vaccine and autism.

So that's about it. More than a decade of fear over a link where the evidence may or may not have been manipulated. In light of that, I was finally able to make a decision over the MMR, swallow my fear, and allow Maeve to get it. Whether it was the right decision or not, I'll probably never know. But at least it was the best-informed one I could have made.

Surviving the flu (with kids)

silly_sad_machine — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 07:11:17 -0700

by silly_sad_machine

Being sick was never work before I had a child. For as long as I can remember, in fact, being sick was the only excuse for not working. My father could drive slaves with the best of them, but even he would concede a little down time for someone with the crouping cough or the muddy scours (both colloquial terms of my father's, for pneumonia and diarrhea, respectively). If your ailment fell under the categorical heading "flesh wound," however, a-working you would go.

These days I'm the dad around the house, though, and categorizing illnesses and injuries has become unnecessary. I don't work the way my father did - mainly because I don't have a farm, a couple of herds of cattle and 20-some-odd miles of fence to mend. My workload consists of a blank Word document, and I think it's safe to say I'll never breed simply for the purposes of creating free labor.

Shrugging off my father's blue collar mantle does nothing to make being sick any easier, however. In fact, as the stay-at-home father of a 2-year-old, catching a bug has become twice as debilitating as it was when I was younger. Back then my mother waited on me, I got a free pass to lounge on the couch watching TV all day, and everyone in the house was just a little bit nicer to me.

Now there's no one to wait on me. Just the opposite, actually - I'm forced to wait on someone else. It's like being called into work even though you're on death's doorstep. Cough, cough, change a diaper. Cough, sneeze, make lunch. Hack, hack, hack, read a book to your girl. Break fever, take medicine. Repeat.

As if it wasn't bad enough in the first place, nature comes along and spreads the misery around. Me sick = unhappy. Me sick and taking care of my daughter = miserable. Me sick and taking care of my newly sick daughter = unimaginable agony. If ever there was an advertisement for birth control, this is it.

Another hand around the house would be a blessing, right? Two sick adults versus one sick kid is a shoe-in for the grownups, right? Well, that depends on what house you live in. In this house, the second hand is a hypochondriac. Two sick adults versus one sick kid is actually written like this: "one sick adult versus one sick kid and one languid, dying wife."

(I will give her credit, however. I came down sick first, and for that initial day she treated me like a king. It was as close to being a sick child and being tended to by a concerned parent as I've been in many, many years. When she's on her game, no one beats my wife at being tender.)

So, what used to be a two-day, back-on-my-feet illness has ballooned far beyond anything I had imagined. The effects are staggered ... first I get it, and two days later when I'm feeling somewhat better, my daughter gets it. Two more days and my wife gets it. What would've been simple becomes a week-and-a-half long disaster of coughing, fever, triage, cartoon-watching, dirty diapers, Vics, deathbed languishing, uncomfortable pooping and disturbingly dizzy headaches.

Thanks, circle of life.

A break from the kids, please

Philmundo — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 08:28:56 -0800

by Phil Stott

It's funny, the range of emotions you can cycle through in a short time as a parent. This morning alone (and I'm writing this on my commute, meaning I've been awake a maximum of two hours at this point), I've gone from placid to frustrated to feeling overwhelmed with love, to being close to snapping point while trying to change a diaper, only to arrive back at placid again via my 16 month old's rendition of "Baa Baa Black Sheep." Such is life with a toddler.

Strange, too, are some of the things you never imagined you'd find yourself doing. Like having a battle of wills with an infant over a diaper change. Or spending time at work (at work! In a recession! If my boss is reading-it was a lunch break!) trawling the internet for tips on how to distract or placate your child when they're on the changing table (you might have picked up that that's an ongoing issue right now). Or talking endlessly about nothing but your kids-usually (in my case) only with my wife, but still not exactly something I'd have pictured myself doing.

It's this last point that's been concerning me most recently. There are times in my day-to-day life where it seems like the only things that my wife and I manage to do is go to work (something we're ever more thankful to be able to do as this year gets older), look after Maeve, and maybe cram in a little sleep here and there. There are, of course, other things that we find time for-Meghan's in grad school, for one thing-but lately it seems like there's less and less time for the two of us to just be together when we're not both worn out. And increasingly, it seems like when we are together, we spend the majority of our time talking about Maeve-not that there's anything wrong with that (especially if it saves us from talking about the economy), but it does feel at times like we're losing that sense of who we were.

Having met while teaching English overseas, Meghan and I traveled and taught together for a couple of years in Asia before making the decision to settle in the States and get married. Because of our background together, we were never short of a decent story or two in social situations about our travels, but as that period of our lives fades into the past, I'm finding that on the rare social occasion where I could reach for an anecdote, when I do I usually find myself holding back. The reason: I remember being at parties, childless, and listening to people telling stories about their kids and wishing they wouldn't. Now that I'm the guy with a kid, I'm conscious of wanting to not be that guy with the endless stories about kids. When I'm alone with my wife though-or even just calling from work (again, on a break, I swear!)-I find that we have a tendency to focus mainly on Maeve and what she's been up to. Which is great, but only up to a point. The pre-parent part of me that really enjoyed being able to sit down, have a meal and a bottle of wine and talk about anything and everything still exists, and there are times when I find it just bursting to get out.

The bottom line is that we've come up with what we hope is something of a solution: getting out more. To that end, for the first time ever-and apart from two hours with her grandparents last summer, I mean ever-we're leaving Maeve with a babysitter this weekend. I know, there's a recession on, and that we'd probably be better served putting the money away, but frankly there are some things that seem like they're worth splurging on. Strengthening my relationship with my wife (and therefore strengthening my family) seems like one of them. Not to mention feeling like we're stepping back in time, just a little: true to our latter-day form, we haven't decided where we're going yet, or even really what we're going to do, and have fallen immediately back into our old policy of just letting the night take us where it will. Well, with one exception; I know for sure that kid-talk is off the table!

Tiger Woods' new motivation: his son

tony — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 07:44:39 -0800

Have you ever watched Tiger Woods play golf? I don't like golf at all, and I despise playing it, but watching Tiger play is something else. He seems to win even on his really bad days. On his good days, forget about it. This writer thinks he's going to get even better... because of motivation that comes from his son.

Latest Study on Vaccine Safety for Kids

tony — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 12:32:02 -0800

A new study was published in Pediatrics that "adds to a mountain of evidence that a mercury-based preservative once used in many vaccines doesn't hurt children." While I have grown wary of "scientific" studies (have to follow the money), the data here seems to be pretty solid.

Not So Savvy

Philmundo — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 11:55:56 -0800

by Phil Stott

I don't know if this is the best time to be writing a Savvy Daddy post or not. It's 7:30 in the morning, and I've just started the daily commute from my house in the boonies. With any luck, it should, hopefully, get me to work by 9:00. Having woken up at 5:45, I somehow still had a fully-stressed, headless chicken kind of affair to get out of the house on time to catch my train-a situation not helped by an extremely mobile almost-toddler intent on pulling the contents from every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen even as my wife and I were bagging lunches and trying to get breakfast on the go. Then, to top it all off, just as I'm preparing to go into de-stress mode (i.e. pull my computer out to do 10 minutes of work before falling asleep on the train), I drop my travel mug and spill coffee all over everything-the train, my clothes, the computer, even the bag of leftover holiday treats I'm taking to work to foist on my colleagues. Already it's been a hell of a day. Oh, and did I mention I turned 30 two days ago?

Whatever else I pictured at this point in my life (which seemed impossibly old a few years ago, but kinda young now that I've arrived at it), the mental image I had was of someone slightly classier and more put together. The kind of guy who goes to work in an impeccably pressed suit (I'm in jeans and a sweater), who never forgets anything, doesn't ever leave work feeling vaguely guilty that he could have done more, doesn't fall asleep on the way to and from work every single day and who never, ever, ever spills his coffee on himself or the (thankfully) empty seat next to him before realizing he doesn't have anything to wipe it up with except his glove-something he kinda needs, given the 20 degree temperatures in New York today and which, given the fact that it's leather, makes a lousy wiping rag anyway. In short, I pictured myself more like a character from Mad Men-only, y'know, without the implicit alcoholism or constant philandering-than, say, the sort of bumbling oaf that's present in almost every sitcom that features a husband/dad.

All of that's set me to wondering, though. I'm writing for Savvy Daddy at a time when I've rarely felt less savvy in my life. Despite knowing better, my parenting skills this morning amounted to repeatedly saying "no, no, no, no, no" every time Maeve went near one of the drawers or cupboards. And I'll confess that, now I think about it, there was kind of an exasperated tone in my voice at times-something I'm not sure she picked up on (she went on playing happily anyway and kept coming back for more), but that I feel guilty about now nonetheless.

So here's the thing: is there a difference between being a savvy man and a savvy daddy? Obviously there are different skills involved in living your workaday life and being a parent, but where's the crossover? Does being a successful, put-together kind of a guy in the personal and professional sphere have any correlation with being a good parent? Or does being too put-together prevent you from being a good parent? (It's hard to go with the child-rearing flow if you're worried about the state of your hardwood floors, or about getting fingerprints on your plasma screen.) And, perhaps most importantly, all these questions remind me of a Carrie Bradshaw-style opening monologue in Sex and the City. What does knowing that reference say about me and my savviness? Definitely plenty to ponder for my commute this evening, if I can stay awake long enough. Who knows, maybe I'll go all Mad Men tonight and grab a G&T on the platform in Penn Station to take on the train...at least if I spill that it'll get the coffee smell out of my jeans!

Any work at home "Savvies" out there?

asimpson — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 21:46:27 -0800

ubmitted by asimpson on December 14, 2008 - 11:46pm.

I'm a daddy of 2 - currently both at daycare. That is about to end for one of the kids. I'm trying to make a go of freelancing/ consulting from home, as opposed to finding a new full time job (In this economy - hahahahahaha)

Anyway, just wondered if any of the other parents out there had any tips on how to get work done, with a 1 yr old around the house all day. I guess it boils down to naptime and evenings? But my problem is - i offer marketing consulting and web development - generally clients like to talk during office hours. Thats a problem.

Ideally we'd keep jnr in daycare while i built up clients, then the $ wouldnt be an issue - but unfortunately in the short term we just cant afford that option.

I know i'd have a great time with the little guy and all that, but making a living and talking with clients at the same time - it just doesn't seem do-able?

Thanks for any help!

Alex

Traditional Thanksgiving

silly_sad_machine — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 07:11:21 -0800

by silly_sad_machine

It's Thanksgiving in our part of the world, and for me it marks the first time in my life I've ever felt like an official adult - a man.

I'm 29, and for the last nine years I couldn't call myself a real adult. It just didn't make sense. I felt too much like I was still that kid in high school or that guy in college. In no way did I conform to any of the traits that I observed in the "adult" men in my life; I didn't own land or cattle, I didn't have any kids, I never balanced a checkbook or paid any taxes, and I didn't fall asleep in front of the warm glow of the Weather Channel. Hell, I still played video games and listened to groovecore. I was still in a band. I still played D&D with my friends.

Some things have certainly changed in the last few years, though. I graduated college, for one, and tossed myself into the workforce. Got a taste of Corporate America, got paid an embarrassingly low wage, became a statistic - you know the story. I started dating my little sister's best friend, as well (at my sister's behest), and found out my soul mate was not some stranger I had yet to meet but a girl from my past who had grown to become a woman. We got married in a fairly large ceremony that the two of us planned, and we moved to a new city to begin our life together.

But there are three things that have changed in my life that make me feel like a real man this Thanksgiving. And while you gnaw on your turkey leg or sit bloated and beached in your easy chair, I offer you these things that I am thankful for.

I am a father - Last July my wife gave me the greatest gift I've ever received, aside from our marriage: my daughter. Everyone says having a child changes your life, but becoming a father is no overnight transition. It's taken the better part of my daughter's 16 months for me to discover what it means to be a father (I think I've boiled it down to abject devotion, unexplainable worry and beaming pride) but I know I'll spend the rest of her life refining that understanding. Regardless, I am thankful for this: last Thanksgiving I was a husband with a baby, and this Thanksgiving I am a father.

I am a homeowner - About four years ago my grandmother made me the sole heir of my family's ancestral homestead. A plot of land and a smattering of houses in the rolling hills of the Midwest, the inheritance is the product of 50 years of work by my grandparents, great-grandparents and a collection of grand and great-grand aunts and uncles. My grandmother passed away a few years ago, and after an extended occupancy by some extended family, "the Hill" finally came under my control. In August my wife, daughter and I moved in, and I am this Thanksgiving thankful for my warm fireplace, the foresight and hard work of my elders, and for the fact that my daughter is growing up in the same house that I did.

I am a part of the majority - This is by far one of the most prominent reasons that I now feel like a man. During my teens and early 20s, I wasn't involved in politics or national affairs primarily because I didn't feel like anyone cared about me. The government was a place where old people made sure that America catered to other old people. Even in 2004, after decades of presidential administrations run by aging white men, the DNC offered John Kerry ... another aging white man. But this election, however, has proven to me that we are not a nation of scared Baby Boomers or angry fire-and-brimstone senior citizens. We are a country of Blackberry users, a country of first-person-shooters, MySpace friends and Starbucks Wi-Fi users. Generation X has taken the reins of our culture, and for that I am most certainly thankful.

Potty Training Adventures

tony — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 13:31:07 -0800

by Tony Chen

I was getting ready to leave work this past Monday when I got a 5-word text message from my wife:

"poo poo in the potty"

After months of trying, then dropping it (no pun intended), and then bringing it up again with our little one, little Meme finally poo poo-ed in the potty this week at day care! I can't tell you how much my heart was filled with pride. It almost rivaled the day he started walking. My co-workers must of thought I had lost it (again) as I just had to run out of my office and tell someone. "POO POO IN THE POTTY!"

The logical next thought, obviously: did the day care teacher take a picture of it?

It's been an interesting journey to get to this point. Potty training seems to be the topic that keeps going and going and going. On our facebook page, folks talk about it incessantly. Some Children's hospitals now offer "potty training school" for parents at their wits end. Guess how many times "potty training" was googled last month? 368,000. 368,000! I mean, that's almost as many searches that Brooke Burke gets.

My wife and I read all the tips - getting the right equipment, using rewards, scheduling potty breaks, etc. My parents told me stories about how I was potty-trained in one day by my grandmother -- she was floored to see your truly at 18 months, still in diapers. Come on, the kids in China are trained by 6-12 months of age, right? Apparently, all she did was strip my diaper off all day and lay some newspaper on the ground. I went. I saw it. And I was potty trained.

When all is said and done, potty training is basically this: when they're ready, they're ready. Yes, we could have done a lot of things (maybe even earlier than we thought) to get them ready. And yes, it's hard to maintain consistency in our 2-days-per-week-in-day-care, 2-days-per-week-with-grandparents life, but potty training is not something to force, either. We had seen more and more interest from him especially these last few weeks. He'd pretend to go. He'd look forward to the scheduled potty time. He really wanted that reward lollipop. The last straw was probably him seeing the kids at day care do it.

Anyway, what a relief. Now, let's see if we can get him to do it 2 days in a row. Then 3. Then a whole hectic week. Then, it's onto bedwetting.