Miguelina

A Modest Proposal - For The Makers of Infant Clothing

To the moms and dads out there:  Raise your hand if your 12 month-old fits into size 12 month-old clothes.

I didn't think so.

Why on earth are baby/toddler clothes sized by months?  My 17 month-old is perfectly average in size and weight yet barely fits into 24 month-old clothing.  Is this the equivalent of women's sizing (you know, where designers cut clothes bigger than the true size, so you fit in a 4 when you're really an 8)?  How is this of any use to anybody?  At first, you get a little rush when you think that your child is bigger and taller than they're supposed to be, but after a few months you're on to their scam.  Yeah, it's a psychological boost when I fit into a size small skirt (even if it's a lie and I know it) but I get nothing but irritated when I can't figure out my son's size.  I've got better things to do than trying to remember if my son's an 18 month or 24 month size at Old Navy.  Like going shoe shopping.   

Aside:  Gymboree/Janie and Jack run big (he can still wear size some size 12-month clothes from them).  Old Navy/Gap?  Their stuff is tiny - buy twice the age.  How clever!

My proposal is this - why not size toddler-infant clothing by weight?  Then you will know that this shirt will fit your child when he is between 20-30 pounds, for example.   And if there is one thing a parent knows, it is the weight of their child.  It's one of the least bothersome questions you get asked by total strangers.  The pediatrician tells you the weight at each visit.  Wouldn't that be easier?

Also feel free to discontinue "newborn" sizes.  Shower gift recipients everywhere will thank you.  It doesn't matter how many times a day you change a newborn, it is statistically impossible to get all the adorable newborn gift outfits on them before they outgrow them 3 days after getting home from the hospital.  The onesies they gave me at the hospital were size 6 months, that should tell you something.

Thank you.

Fluffernutter

If you don't know what the deal is with the Fluffernutter it's a dead giveaway that you a) don't live in Massachusetts or b) that you, quite possibly, have a life.   

The short story:  A local politician was outraged that 3rd graders were getting served Fluffernutters as a school lunch so he proposed that, just maybe, schools should instead be serving foodstuffs that occur in nature or at the very least pretend to be nutritious.  I personally think that this is a rational position (you can still eat the stuff at home) but the locals went crazy.  "Save the Fluff!" read the banners, "Keep the Fluffernutter legal!"  Newspaper columnists wrote 1000 word essays on the topic. 

I became interested - how could a simple "sandwich" inspire so much passion from a people as jaded and cynical as the people of the Commonwealth?  It's the kind of thing you have to experience for yourself, so I did.

NOTE:  I've thoughtfully provided a video in case you feel you must learn how to make a Fluffernutter.  Watch at your own risk - I will not be held responsible if you can't get the irritating jingle out of your head:

I made one (with Teddie Peanut Butter, even)  The sandwich, while not technically "food", was delicious.  It brought back memories of a childhood spent sneaking into Fenway Park and drinking hot chocolate in front of the fire after shoveling February snow.  Which makes the sandwich even more impressive because I grew up in the Caribbean and didn't see snow until I was in graduate school.  That's some powerful Fluff.

The stuff is good, but I'll do my best not to become addicted.  I don't trust the Fluff.  Do you know why?  The key ingredient in a Fluffernutter, a substance called Marshmallow Fluff, is an unapologetically artificial and retro food product.  (Hello 1920!)  The label looks like it hasn't changed in, oh, 86 years or so, and it comes in a glass jar (like mayonnaise used to!).  The most alarming part is the ingredient list:

Corn Syrup
Sugar
Dried Egg White
Vanillin

Ugh.  I can't believe I ate this stuff.  And liked it.

I'll probably need to eat organic vegetables for a year to make up for the damage.  I don't think this is what the health nuts mean when they say "Eat Locally". 

There Once Was A Girl From Nantucket...

My article on Nantucket is here.  I promise, no limericks. 

Live as Well as You Dare

My newest reading obsession is this website called The Happiness Project.  The author is trying out every tip or theory on happiness out there and reporting the results on her blog.  It's a clever idea, and she's working on a book of the same title so I'm curious to see how the blog and book compare when its all done.

She has posted 20 tips for cheering yourself up (from 1820) - something that I've been needing lately.  Who hasn't?  Anyways, here are the ones that got me right here (thumps chest):

1st.  Live as well as you dare. 

3rd.  Amusing books. 

5th.  Be as busy as you can. 

6th.  See as much as you can of those friends who respect and like you. 

7th.  And of those acquaintances who amuse you.

8th.  Make no secret of low spirits to you friends, but talk of them freely—they are always worse for dignified concealment.

11th.  Don’t expect too much from human life—a sorry business at the best. 

14th  Be as much as you can in the open air without fatigue. 

15th.  Make the room where you commonly sit gay and pleasant. 

16th.  Struggle by little and little against idleness. 

17th.  Don’t be too severe upon yourself, or underrate yourself, but do yourself justice. 

Read the rest here.

I loooooove #1.  I will add it to "go for pleasure, not perfection" as my personal mantras.  But in order to do that, I also have to work on #14, #5 and #16.  In other words, I'm in a funk, and my fingers freeze up whenever I sit down to write.  My brain is mush.  I guess that takes care of #8!

BRAT Sucks

Sebastian has been sick with an evil stomach virus that also claimed his father and me over the weekend.  He's had it all - vomiting, body aches, listlessness.  But most of all, he's had diarrhea.  And we all know what that means - the BRAT diet.  I now hate the stupid BRAT diet. 

I remember the last time we had to do the BRAT diet - he was on baby food, and while I was a little concerned that he couldn't have milk during the duration of the diet he drank his Pedialyte like a champ.  I think he was on the diet for over a week with no major effects.

This time, at the willful age of 17 months, he did not take to it well.  Not well at all.  The child whose eyes lit up at the sight of a banana (na-na, buh-na-naaaa!) turned up his nose at them in disgust.  Bread?  Made him scream.  Pedialyte was an insult, and water barely torelable.  It's like he knew that he was forced to eat these previously favored foods, and he was NOT GOING TO DO IT.  NO WAY WOMAN.  GET THAT STINKY BANANA AWAY FROM MY FACE - WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!  Everytime I opened the refrigerator he pointed to the  treats we were denying him and screamed.  The screaming got louder when he saw the milk bottle - the one thing that the nurse at the Pediatrician's office insisted I not feed him lest his diarrhea get worse.  It was torture, both for me and for him.

He barely ate for four long days.  Worse of all, he barely drank anything.  I was convinced that he was on strike because we were denying him his milk.  It got so bad that yesterday he went all day without wetting his diaper - and the nurse had warned us that 6 hours without a wet diaper meant a trip to the emergency room.  We wanted to avoid this like the plague.  We had been to the ER already earlier in the illness (for the same reason) and we were sent back with instructions to give the kid a drink already, but what can you do?  We couldn't force feed him Pedialyte for four days, and now he had gone all day without a diaper and he was groggy and had dark circles under his eyes and we did not like the looks of him at all.

I called the nurse to  see if I could give him milk.

"Absolutely not.  Not until the diarrhea stops.  You need to take him to the ER."

After waiting all day, trying to get him to drink something - anything - and failing miserably, off we went.

The ER is nothing like it is on TV (duh).  We felt like idiots for being there for something as simple as the lack of a wet diaper, but then again, this is our baby and he could be dehydrated ANDOHMYGOD his Pediatrician made us.  I'll spare you the long story, but we were there for six hours.  He was hooked up to an IV, about the most traumatic experience of his young life, and he passed out from the exhaustion of screaming in terror for 15 straight minutes while his parents held him down as he was prodded and weird things were hooked up to him and he started bleeding and it all sucked.

The worst part?  The ER doctor sitting us down and telling us that "there have been studies that prove that the BRAT diet is useless.  If a kid is on the verge of dehydration give him whatever he wants to drink.  Even milk.  We could have avoided all this."

Shit.  Do you think these doctors could come to a consensus on this?

Anyways, we went home, went to bed, and - Hallelujah! - his diaper was wet in the morning.  And he was hungry.  And he drank water.  And we gave him milk.  You saw that right - MILK.  And you know what?  No more diarrhea.   And he's happy, so I don't care what the nurse says.  We will never do the BRAT diet for more than 48 hours.

He wins.  I win.  Whatever.

Under Construction

Yeah, things look a little different around here.  Bear with me as I work on the new design.