Recalls, recalls, recalls.

Either this has been a record year for baby product recalls, or I simply never paid attention to these recalls before Jack was born. Since December, we have been through stroller recalls (amputation risk), crib recalls (entrapment/injury risk), OTC baby cold and cough medicine recalls (quality control issues), toy and high chair recalls (general injury issues), baby sling recalls (suffocation risks), formula recalls (bug parts - gah!)  and now teething tablet recalls (quality control issues).

Before Jack was born, I knew that having a baby was going to be a lot of work.  Parents are more than happy to tell an aching, exhausted, swollen and sore pregnant woman that she should enjoy her rest and relaxation now before the baby comes because once he's born, the eighteen-year rollercoaster of horror really begins.  (Note to parents:  don't do this to pregnant women.  It's just mean.  We all know that when you have a watermelon-sized baby kickboxing your bladder, you really aren't resting, relaxing, or doing anything other than trying to make it through the day without falling down or peeing yourself. Let the poor mom-to-be have her delusions).   Parents were happy to tell me all about the crazy, sleepless nights of the newborn stage.  They shared stories of teething nightmares (as an aside, Jack is working on two more teeth on the top.  For those keeping score at home, that will be six top teeth and two bottom teeth - he's going to be one funny looking Jack O'Lantern if the bottom teeth don't catch up soon).  They told tales of inopportune diaper blowouts and public toddler meltdowns.  New parents, seasoned veterans, and everyone in between were all lining up to regale pregnant me with all of these things which make you realize that whether you believe in God or evolution or something in between, there's a reason that babies so darn cute.

But nobody warned me that I'd have to second-guess every single purchase I made.  No one suggested that the stroller that I spent hours agonizing over - researching, reading the Amazon.com reviews, taking test-drives around Babies-R-Us - could be the next finger deathtrap.  It never occurred to me that what I was giving to my feverish little baby to relieve the aches and pains of his first real sickness would be subject to a vague recall that would make me wonder whether I had done more harm than good in medicating him.  I would never have guessed that I'd listen to the daily news with a fervor I normally reserve for the weeks preceding an election to find out whether I have a potentially unsafe toy/drug/chair/carseat in my house.

As parents, we put our trust in a lot of other people:  our pediatricians, our daycare professionals, the experts who write the parenting books that we spend hours reading and learning from.  With this full year of recalls across the spectrum, it is hard to know who to trust when it comes to the items we buy for our babies.  On the one hand, I want to say that I grew up with lead painted toys, undoubtedly dangerous cribs, and I think I probably had my own set of Jarts by the time I was four, and I think I turned out okay.  But on the other hand, I'm Jack's mom.  I want to give him the whole world and keep him from all harm.

I'd write more, but I have to go hug my baby and wrap him in bubble wrap.  Thanks for reading!

The diagnosis is in.

We've been noticing some changes in Jack lately. When we change his diaper or his clothes, he screams like he is being beaten with a chain. He has started to become discontent with his safe, child-friendly toys, preferring to reach for more dangerous objects like electrical cords and heavy glassware. He's become a total daredevil, and if left unsupervised I'm convinced he will begin BASE jumping off of any surface he can climb onto.  And, rather disturbingly, he has begun to use his toys to stand on to reach high places where (we thought) we had safely stashed our breakables.

What has gotten into our child?

I conferred with the experts, the highest authorities on the matter: I asked other moms. And they all agreed that it could only be one thing, but it was a diagnosis I was unprepared for.

Impending Toddlerhood.

I'll give you a moment to take that in.  It took us by surprise too. Wasn't he just a small, tiny newborn? Wasn't he just this snuggly little thing that fit perfectly in the crook of my arm?

Your toys are lame.  I will dismantle your television now.

I've done some research on Impending Toddlerhood (or, "IT" as we call it) and IT is not a permanent condition.  In all cases, it subsides with the passage of time.  IT too shall pass, as they say.  But in the meantime, we struggle to keep our house in order, to keep Jack safe from himself, and to keep our sanity between all of the "No, Jack!" and "Oh dear GOD, NO JACK!"s. 

It gets easier though, right?  Once he's a toddler I'm sure everything will be just fine.

Music is important.

I have a wonderful friend who is a music teacher in a local public high school. She eats, breathes and sleeps her job, and you can tell that her students adore her. She is a whirlwind of energy, and she truly inspires. Nearly every year her school faces drastic budget cuts that threaten her program, and I hear her making a plea to the voters in her community to let their voices be heard about the importance of music education.

I'm sad that there is any question about the importance of music education. I can't imagine what my high school experience would have been without band.

In early high school, I wasn't a band geek by any means. I was second-to-last chair, mostly because playing the trumpet just didn't interest me. I never practiced, and even during band class I Just went through the motions. And then something changed (I, um, had a crush on a boy in band) and I decided I wanted to make an effort to be a better trumpet player. I practiced. I worked hard. I dedicated my study halls and even after school time to trumpet playing, and I saw the results. I began to enjoy playing, and before long I was signing up for the pit band, for the show choir band, for jazz ensemble, for all kinds of solo and ensemble performances, and even bands outside of school. I picked up a secondary instrument, the French horn. I taught myself piano. I even joined a drum and bugle corps for one season.

These experiences changed my life. They taught me things that history class, English class, math class - all important in their own rights - never could.

I learned that I could accomplish a lot if I worked hard at it. That lesson got me through four years of college and three years of law school.

I learned how to plan. Between my band obligations, Academic Decathlon, and the general requirements of school, I had a lot on my plate and a lot of scheduling conflicts to manage.

I learned that I can work very, very hard. To this day, nothing I have experienced compares to the hard work of the drum & bugle corps. No matter what challenge I face in life, I can compare it to my drum & bugle corps days and my new challenge seems like a walk in the park.

I learned that high school isn't all bad. Like many teenagers, I had a really, really hard time in high school. It wasn't the "best days of my life" as my mom had promised; it was quite the opposite. Being in band gave me a place. It gave me an identity, something that I so desperately needed.

I don't play my trumpet or my French horn anymore. I occasionally play the piano, when given the opportunity. But even though the actual music didn't endure, the lessons I learned certainly did.

Maybe it is because of all of this that Jack has a lot of musical toys. Xylophones, maracas, a tambourine, countless music boxes. Cymbals. It is no secret that I delight in the joy that he takes with exploring these toys, and I certainly plan on giving him the opportunity to pursue music education early on. And while I hope he picks up the piano, guitar, trumpet, violin, drums, whatever instrument he chooses like the next Mozart, even more than that I hope he learns all of the really important lessons that music education provides. I think he will.