sanity

How to Support Your Daughter When She Has Her First Period

tony — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 18:13:55 -0800

Ahh, springtime. Your daughter is growing up, climbing in height, softening around the edges and quickly discarding the child and baby you once knew. She is becoming a woman, and there's nothing you can do about it. She can't be your little girl forever.

As a father, it is understandably difficult, if not downright impossible, to understand what she's going through. Let's face it -- we're men. Puberty for us meant a deeper voice, a growth spurt and some hair. All pluses. Girls started to look a little cuter to us during puberty, as well. Another plus.

For girls, though, puberty is a universally different milestone. Society has placed the impetus on women to be beautiful -- not men -- and it is ironically during this time in their lives that girls begin to understand this more and more. As puberty progresses, young girls grow into the women they will become, and they learn to reconcile their body image with our cultural expectations of the "perfect woman." It is a tremendously fragile and self-conscious journey, and men are not equipped to understand or deal with it.

Your daughter will probably start to show signs of puberty at around 10 years old, although it can happen anywhere between the ages of 8 and 12, generally. The beginning of female puberty is known as thelarche, and it is characterized by the development of breasts. Around 18 months later she will begin to grow underarm and pubic hair, and then in another six months or so she'll begin menarche -- her first period.

Of course, as her father you won't know when she gets her first period unless she tells you. It's not necessarily apparent, although there may be some warning signs. All girls experience menstruation differently, and some girls take it harder than others. You daughter may experience flu-like symptoms, such as headache, backache, sore legs and nausea. The most common symptoms, of course, are cramping and discharge.

This is not something your daughter will want to discuss with her dad. Likewise, it's probably a decent bet that you're not really all that interested in discussing it with her, either. In situations like these, it's best to call in the wife. As a father you can certainly take a role in her development, but only if you're asked to. Otherwise, you can really only be supportive of her -- by understanding that she's changing, and by being sensitive to her moods and her needs. It's a strange job, and you may find yourself in over your head, but it's the easiest way for all involved.

For the single father, however, ducking out isn't always an option. With no wife to turn to, you may start to feel a little bit like a deer in the headlights. You haven't the slightest idea what you're going to do -- how can you even approach your daughter with something like this?

Find a woman -- Your best bet, in all honesty, is to find a woman who can help. Your mother is an easy first choice, as are any female relatives. In the absence of family, choose a close female friend to help. Even an ex-girlfriend who you are on good terms with would work. You can learn as much as you want about menstruation and cramping and pubic hair growth, but none of that is going to help you when your daughter needs to apply her first Tampax. You need a woman.
Brush up -- Where experience isn't possible, we can only rely on knowledge. That is to say, it's time for Menstruation 101. In all likelihood you won't even need this stuff, because your daughter will have already learned it in school or on the Internet. Even if you do need to tell her what it is, you'll probably be so nervous you can't finish. Still, it doesn't hurt to get to know your enemy. These two articles (here and here) will give you everything you need to know.
Point her in the right direction -- If your daughter inexplicably doesn't know the first thing about menstruation, it's going to fall on you to teach her. Rather than put yourself through the embarrassment of discussing it with her, you can help her find some information. Web sites like DotGirlProducts.com and Tampax.com have lots of information on puberty and menstruation, and some even have testimonials from other girls about their first times.
Don't make her feel weird -- Some websites discuss throwing menarche parties for your daughter's first period, with jewelry and dancing and female friends and other girl stuff. DO NOT DO THIS. This is the territory of the girl's mother or your chosen symbolic menstruation instructor -- not her father. In other departments, don't embarrass her in front of her friends, try to avoid making references to her being a child or otherwise underdeveloped, and don't make her feel ugly ... ever.
Take her out sometime -- Sometimes it's best to just go out and have fun and not worry about it. Let her know that you want to take her out and do something with her, whatever she likes. Make a daddy-daughter date out of it, with dinner and a movie, if you like. Talk about innocuous things and just generally enjoy your daughter's presence. She'll enjoy it, as well, and she'll appreciate the gesture.

You're in enemy territory here, and it's okay to be scared. If you've got a good wife on your side, however, you've got nothing to worry about. If you're stuck out here on your own, this may be more of a problem. Stick it out, however, and just keep one thing in mind: your daughter is becoming a woman. That means she's still part little girl, and you better enjoy it while it lasts.

Daddy I Want

stublandford — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 13:15:43 -0700

Again our cast of characters -

Me (The Daddy)
The Bean: Age 7
The Butterfly: Age 5
The Loving Understanding Wife

About an hour after I'd finished Daddy I Want to go to the Beach, I was supposed to take the Bean and the Butterfly to eat at our favorite (read closest) Mexican restaurant, La Parilla. This usually involves the girls eating cheese dip for dinner; however, recently The Bean has started eating refried beans. Go figure.

In the book, the main character (Lily) won't go to the beach until her sandals, her Mermaid Barbi, her swim goggles, etc are found. By the Daddy. Lily waits and paints her toes while the Daddy looks high and low for Lily's belongings (she doesn't feel the need to help).

Lily is based loosely on The Bean. However, in this instance, it is The Butterfly's turn at bat.

Get this: I announce that it's time to get in the minivan (the convertible is in the shop, I swear.) The Bean is all excited. She dashes to the garage and proceeds to strap herself into her car seat (yeah, they grow up so fast, but it can be very convenient).

But The Butterfly throws a fit. She doesn't like the dress she's wearing. She wants the one that Grammy got her. She shrugs when I ask what it looks like.

So we go through her closet and the laundry room. I don't have a clue what I'm looking for, but somehow we find it.

Get your Crocs, I say. Let's go, I say.

No!

Crocs are stupid. I want my sandals. SANDALS!!!

Stop me if this sounds familiar.

The Butterfly proceeds to sit on the floor and not help. So The Bean (she's come back inside wondering WTF) and I do a room-by-room search for sandals.

We finally find them and go off for a wonderful meal of beans, cheese dip and Margaritas.

Savvy Daddies Worldwide

The Health Care Bill

Toby — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 05:56:28 -0700

Greetings Dads,
What is the deal with the healthcare bill? There is so much from both sides, I cannot digest it. http://tiny.cc/prAbe Any Dr., Nurse, Hospital admin, medical salesperson, etc that would like to share an opinion? Is it true those in Washington are rebuffing this plan for themselves to stay on their current plan? If it is so good for the people, why not for them? I do not want sides, I want information please.
This is one of the biggest votes in history and I want to make sure that we (and our politicians) have all the data. Again, please do not use this topic to post your political opinions, forget about Red and Blue states - we need to be UNITED! I, and other Dads, need to hear from those inside the Healthcare system so we can make the best decision for out families.
Thank you for your posts.
Cheers,
Toby

Do words matter?

Toby — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:34:38 -0700

Greetings dads,
There is a local case here in MA that received National press - the arrest of Harvard professor Gates.
Here is a link to it that includes the police report: http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/07/23/police-officer-obama-butt-arr...
I do not want to open a can of worms of who is correct; I would like to discuss the President's words. He said that the Cambridge police acted "stupidly."
Each day, my wife and I work to teach our children how to communicate, and we cannot stand them calling anyone stupid. Again, not taking sides for or against the President, the Professor, or the Police, should the President of the United States done a better job of choosing his words?
I look forward to your comments.
Cheers,
Toby

Get them to the breakfast table (but Mom might be PO'ed)

Toby — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 05:27:43 -0700

Greetings dads,
Last night we were set to do some SMORES, but the wheels came off the wagon. Since I make mine with Reese's, there were many in the kitchen this morning. As a serious pancake chef, I always need to perfect and improve my chops. I thought, why not melt some Reese's on top of the cakes?
I set the oven at 170, prepped the pancakes as usual, and as I took them off the griddle, set them on a platter and placed a third of a cup on top of each one to melt. YUM!
Enjoy and Cheers Dads.
Toby

Chef Dads

Can I get a do-over for Father's Day?

Philmundo — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 18:52:03 -0700

by Phil Stott

Am I ever glad that Father's Day is over. Maybe it's because I live on Long Island, where the weather ruined just about every plan I could've made for the day (not to mention most of the month of June): not only did it prevent me from road-testing the new barbecue tools that showed up gift-wrapped in the morning, it also ruined the tradition I had going of watching the final round of the US Open. And, on top of all that, we had to make a trip to the mall. On a Sunday afternoon. To return stuff. Not the most fun that can be had on a day held in your honor, let me tell you.

Still, it's not like it was all bad. The lie-in was most appreciated, as were the gifts, the special breakfast (calories on top of calories, dusted with sugar, and some apple thrown in for the pretence of health), and the entire concept of the day, which my wife did her best to ensure was all about me (hence the tradition of watching golf all day-no way that'd fly any other day of the year!). My biggest problem was that no-one told Maeve. Far from treating the day as one where Dad gets to relax and put in some solid time molding his shape into the couch cushions, she took it as an opportunity to put her little personality into overdrive.

Sure, parts of it were cute: like the 30 minute journey to the mall, where she serenaded my wife and I with a song about how the muffins were all gone. (It went something like "muuufffffiiiiinnnn, muuuuffffffiiiiiinnnnn, mmmmuuufffffffiiiiiiinnnn, all gone"-not exactly Lennon and McCartney, but not bad for a 19-month old that hasn't so much as seen a muffin in over a week.) Parts of it, though, were downright awful. Like the high-pitched-and high-volume-screaming that seemed to start the second we got into the mall, and didn't end until we were home. And we're not talking a typical meltdown here either-it was more like a campaign of sustained psychological warfare; like she knew that what she was doing was pushing our buttons, and wanted to see how far she could take it. You could see it in her eyes, not to mention the way she'd stop just long enough for you to conjure up the possibility of a thought that wasn't solely about her screaming, and then let out another ear-piercer.

I don't rank Maeve as a particularly high-maintenance child, but there are days where, like most kids, she can be a little tougher than usual. Then there are days where it seems like there's nothing you can do to make her happy. Then there are days like Father's Day, where you wonder how anyone ever coined the old rhyme about girls being made of "sugar and spice and all things nice." Unless the spice is grade A chili, and "all things nice" includes some seriously sour vinegar, of course!

Because of all of that-and because I suspect I wasn't alone in actually having to be more of a proper hands-on Dad on Father's Day than on just about any other day this year-I'm declaring a whole new holiday aimed at a pretty specific sub-group. It's called the "Father's Day Do-Over," and can be taken in the event of the original holiday being a washout. Recommended activities include scheduling it around a can't-miss sporting event (I'm thinking the Wimbledon final, but that'll depend if my countryman Andy Murray makes it or not), and getting someone else to look after the kids for the day. Who knows, if it's a success, maybe I'll roll it out to include other holidays. While it typically wouldn't extend as far as second sets of gifts, it could definitely be invoked if you make the mistake of giving your wife a new iron or kitchen implement for Christmas or a birthday. And it would definitely be on the cards for Thanksgiving; who doesn't want the opportunity to add another food coma onto their calendar?

Super Sunday

Toby — Sun, 31 May 2009 06:02:24 -0700

Greetings dads,
My wife is away for the weekend so I decided to throw in a bonus for the kids. "Who want chocolate sauce on their pancakes?"
I have not heard such a quick response in years. Although we have pancakes every other weekend, with Flax added, the choc sauce is not a regular guest.
Sometimes a little treat is neat when Mom is away...
Cheers,
Toby

Chef Dads

The "Toddler Effect"

Philmundo — Thu, 28 May 2009 06:47:06 -0700

by Phil Stott

Just last weekend I noticed-not for the first time-one of the major benefits to having a child of toddling age: getting away with stuff. For some reason, having a bundle of cuteness with me wherever I go seems to make people more amenable on those occasions that I get caught acting like a complete jerk-something that never quite seems to be as rare as I think it is, as my wife will surely attest.

The most recent example of the toddler effect happened, of all places, in my local library. Having finally returned a book that had been in my possession for almost two months, I was appalled to get a phone call a couple of weeks ago from said library alleging that the condition of the book had deteriorated so much in my care that I would have to pay them for it.

Being busy with work plus the fact that I really wasn't looking forward to the encounter, it took me a couple of weeks to get down there to sort the problem out. Being the kind of guy who likes to run through a million different scenarios of how a scene is likely to play out, the two weeks between the call and me presenting myself at the lending desk were filled with all manner of variations on the theme. Ideal scenario: I'd get some teenager who couldn't care less, and would just take the money. Worst case scenario: I'd get a stern lecture from some withered spinster (in my imagination only bored teenagers and sharp-eyed spinsters work in libraries) while other library-goers paused from browsing the stacks to look up and tut their disapproval. Even worse was the prospect that I'd hand over the money and have to argue over the fate of the book; in my estimation, paying for it meant that I should get to keep it, especially if its condition was such that they would rather call me in than lend it to someone else.

Having spent most of Saturday manfully trying to find ways to put off the encounter yet again (grocery shopping, getting a new tire, feigning an interest in college lacrosse on TV), I was eventually propelled towards my fate by my wife's insistence that she needed some peace and quiet to get on with her grad school work. Running through a mental checklist of Maeve-friendly errands that needed running (as opposed to Maeve-unfriendly ones like, uh, going to the driving range), I realized that there was no way I could put off the library encounter any longer. Packing her into the car, then, I headed off towards my fate, mentally rerunning both the best and worst case scenarios as I drove.

As it turned out, the encounter fell somewhere between the two extremes. In fact, thanks to Maeve, it ended up a lot closer to "best" on the scale than I had any right to expect. When I went in and announced myself, I was met with a frosty "Ah. Yes" by a distinctly matronly character, before she flounced off to grab the book as if I'd done her a personal injury. Returning with it, it wasn't difficult to see why-or how I'd thought the book was okay to return. It was a nightmare. A giant coffee stain, with grounds in it, adorned a significant cross section of the pages, and the cover was bent in half, the unbound edge pointing skywards at around the same angle as the screen currently sticking up from my laptop.

Fortunately, just at the point she brought it out, Maeve started fidgeting on the floor beside me, and I picked her up. The change in the woman when I set Maeve on the counter next to the offending book was a sight to behold. From stern and matronly, she morphed into a kindly grandmother right before my eyes. Not only did she forget what she was doing, when I reminded her she seemed distinctly sorry to have to be taking the money, and I left the place carrying not only the book (which was surrendered without question), but a much lighter load of guilt and shame than I'd expected.

Since then, a colleague told me she'd read something about how people with kids have been less likely to lose their jobs in the recession than childless people. I don't know how true that is, having seen couple of parents canned at my own office of late, but if it is, it's another example of the toddler effect in action. Regardless, it's something I'll be trying to harness in future-I could use all the help I can get at the office, whether it's in asking for a raise or (more likely) avoiding yet another round of layoffs.

My Kid Bites

Philmundo — Fri, 01 May 2009 08:16:19 -0700

by Phil Stott

Lately, my wife and I have been encountering some problems at daycare. Which is the same as saying that Maeve's been causing problems. The difference: she doesn't realize it, but we do, and are starting to dread the report from her carers at the end of the day. The problem? Her teeth.

Any parent with a child that's gone through any part of the teething process will undoubtedly recall some of the experiences with a shudder. The crying jags. The incessant drooling. The red cheeks. The lack of sleep. But when I refer to teeth in Maeve's case, it's not so much the cutting of them that's the problem, but rather what she's choosing to do with them now she's got a few-a specific use that's making her the bane of every other parent's life at daycare at the moment: biting other kids.

When the problem first surfaced a couple of months ago, I put it down to the fact that she had discovered a defense mechanism for protecting her toys from bigger kids. One kid in particular seemed to delight in removing her milk or favorite doll, almost as if he was trying to upset her. And, if I'm being honest, when my wife would come home with yet another rueful report that Maeve had bitten that kid yet again, a small part of me was happy that the instinct to protect herself was coming out. Nobody wants their kid to be a pushover, after all.

It got a little harder to justify when the reports began coming in recently that Maeve had begun biting with no provocation-and biting smaller kids to boot. Now, granted, we have noticed a correlation with the incidents and a new tooth appearing a couple of days later, but that doesn't do much for the toddler that's going home with Maeve's teeth marks imprinted on various parts of their body. Something, therefore, has to change and like any good parent, I started researching different options, only to discover a surprising variety of advice. I've taken the time to compile and rate some of it below.

Bite them back

Note to my parents: it may have been permissible in society when you were children. It may even have been permissible when I was a child (not that you'd ever have had reason to find out having raised an angelic child like me!), but in this day and age, biting your child to prevent them from biting just won't fly. So thanks but no thanks for that advice.

A bitter pill

Go ahead and do a few Google searches on the biting subject. I guarantee it won't be long before you come across someone who recommends forcing something unpleasant-tasting into your child's mouth in order to reinforce the concept that when they bite, something unpleasant will happen. The two ends of the scale, as far as I've seen so far, are cider vinegar and Tabasco sauce. First off: Tabasco? Need I point out that the reason lots of people can't handle spicy food is because the reaction it causes in your mouth is actually pain? And that causing your child to experience pain-no matter how well-intended-is, um, a form of abuse? As for the vinegar: while it might sound less severe, it does kinda remind me of some advice I've heard for stopping dogs from barking. What's next? Rubbing Maeve's nose in her diaper?

Puppet master

OK, so I'm going to admit to being a teeny bit proud of this one. One morning, my wife is changing Maeve, and I pick up a hand puppet and for some reason start doing a role play where the puppet bites me and I teach it all about the virtues of "No biting." Cue rapt attention from Maeve followed by a bite-free day (which may be completely coincidental, but I'm claiming not!). Not only that, but I later read a similar recommendation in Harvey Karp's The Happiest Toddler on the Block. Score one for Dad!

Karp's book, by the way, also contains advice like lecturing your child's favorite doll/bear while your child watches, lavishing attention on your child's victim if you happen to be there when they bite, and allowing your child to overhear you talking about them (e.g. "I like it when Maeve says 'No.' I don't like it when Maeve bites"). In addition, my wife and I also found this article, Dracula at the Daycare, to be particularly helpful in finding out why kids bite. Neither of those provide the sort of short, sharp shock that biting back or scorching your child's tongue with hot sauce is likely to, but as far as I can tell, none of the suggestions in either comes with a side order of guilt either. Here's hoping they work-I kinda like keeping the Tabasco confined to my eggs!

"Village" Life Disappearing?

Philmundo — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 07:08:14 -0700

by Phil Stott

So the Stott family are just back from exactly the kind of vacation I needed: lots of time spent on the couch; my parents, brother and sisters more or less fighting over who'd get to look after Maeve (freeing me up for more couch-time); and plenty of soccer on TV (well, it was Scotland, after all, although I'd get lynched for calling it anything but fitba' there). In light of all that, I'd expected to come back to work feeling refreshed, relaxed, re-just-about-everythinged, in fact. So why do I feel so bummed out?

Apart from the obvious answers of jetlag (exacerbated by Maeve's refusal to sleep en route), and the inevitable post-vacation comedown, there's another factor that's weighing heavily. Loosely summed up, it's to do with missing my family. Not in the pining for home kind of way-I've been away for long enough that that's not really a factor anymore-but rather for the idea of raising Maeve within a community, surrounded by an extended family.

It takes a village ...

If being in Scotland recently has taught me anything, it's that the concept of it taking a village to raise a child is greatly underestimated-especially in this day and age. Living around a thousand miles from our nearest relatives, my wife and I haven't necessarily missed having anyone around to help out with Maeve-but only in the sense that you can't really miss what you've never had. Having just spent a week at home with one half of her extended family, I've come to realize just how important it is for Maeve to know her relatives as she grows up.

Just to clarify (in case my parents are reading!), I'm not just talking about having people around to dump Maeve on when we feel like a break (as if we would!). No, what I'm trying to get at is that whole concept of having a community of people to look out for her, and who can give her attention and teach her things even when we don't have the time or energy. In just one week with her relatives, Maeve's vocabulary absolutely exploded, along with her willingness to actually use it. It also highlighted that Meghan and I had kind of fallen into a system where Maeve pointed and grunted at things while we did our best to interpret, continually coming up with suggestions until we guessed the right answer. My parents (veterans of five kids) refused to partake in the game, and exposed something we hadn't realized about Maeve-she knows the words but is often too lazy to use them!

That's exactly the kind of thing I'm realizing we're missing (and that isn't available even in places like daycare, where there are always other kids for the carers to worry about)-the opportunity for someone else to bring something out of your kid that might not otherwise have emerged just because of the routine you're used to.

... but not a global one

All told, it's little wonder that I'm feeling more than a little bummed after this vacation, what with the return to reality being made that much harder by the increased realization that we're kind of on our own out here in New York. And yet, we're not alone, if you get my drift. With people relocating all over the globe for work, it seems like the concept of traditional communities is breaking down all over the place. While there are positive sides to being a global citizen, I worry about Maeve not having the kind of roots that my wife and I both take for granted, or the opportunity to really get to know her family or where they come from. While I'm sure we'll all adapt to it-just as we've been adapting, as a society, for generations-I can't quite help but wonder what else we're losing as that concept of the village disappears. The global village might be a great place to find fulfillment on one level, but it sure can't raise a child like a local one can.