Add This One to the Worry File

A fresh addition to the list of things parents have to worry about is (drumroll, please) ... sunscreen.  

(Just when I had finished congratulating myself for keeping K. sunburn-free so far this summer!)  

Check out this Washington Post article, which reports that "some studies have linked specific chemical UV filters with the transsexualization of male fish and coral reef degradation ... [and] hormone-disrupting activity in lab tests ... and low birth weight in infant girls."

The article goes on to say that other experts (namely the sunscreen industry) say there's nothing to worry about. Riiiight.  

But the takeaway seems to be that if you are worried about the possibility of chemical exposure, use sunscreen containing titanium dioxide and zinc oxide, which are less likely to be absorbed into the skin.

And be sure to bookmark this great database of cosmetic products that the Environmental Working Group (EWG) has rated in terms of their toxicity: www.cosmeticdatabase.org.

Allergies, Revisited

So I took Kibi to the allergist for a follow up this week.  He's been doing only slightly better on the regimen the doctor recommended (1/2 tsp. Children's Zyrtec and an OTC nasal spray called Nasal Chrom at bedtime).  The problem is, he still has this persistent cough.  It followed us down to Florida and followed us right back.  DH and I have done everything we can think of to keep (what we thought were) the allergies at bay: giving him a bath or shower every night, changing his sheets regularly, vacuuming our house regularly, running not 1 but TWO humidifiers in his room each night, etc.  

Well, now I know why all of the above wasn't working.  He has a sinus infection!

Who knows how long he's had it.  Poor little guy.  Just like his dad, he doesn't complain when he is sick.  I had no idea.  The only symptom he showed was the cough, plus he started hitting his head with both hands (like "I coulda had a V8!" but hitting both temples at the same time). The allergist noticed a rattle in his chest (which I noticed too, but only just that day) that he said was not a wheeze (ie, don't need to worry about asthma just yet) but a mucous-y rattle. 

He's put him on antibiotics for two weeks, plus we are to use our nebulizer (which we purchased when Kibi came down with RSV at 7 months of age - poor thing!) to administer Xoponex via breathing treatments twice a day for the next week, "as a booster," the allergist said.

Well, I hope this works.  Hopefully we can knock out this infection and get the poor little guy cleared up once and for all.

(By the way, the allergist confirmed that pollen season is over in the DC area!  Halleluiah!)

Ode to the Potato Chip Bag

Oh, Potato Chip Bag, why do you taunt me?  

As I wait, starving, heating up my baked chicken and rice leftovers (marred by the presence of a half a wilted sweet potato), you mock me.

You call to me from atop the fridge, "Here I am!  Salty, fried, decadent goodness!  You've had a long day.  Spouse is away on a business trip.  Child is in bed.  No one will know.  You deserve me.  You only have to eat one, then you can stop."

But oh, I know I cannot stop at one.  The commercial speaketh the truth.

I try to resist you, but resistance is futile.  

The crummy leftovers take forever to warm in the microwave.  I think I can hold out for the 34 seconds remaining.  

But no, I cannot.

I open you, tentatively, telling myself, "Yes, I will just eat one."  But I know, the voice inside me knows, and my id, superego and ego have all joined together to taunt me.  "WE KNOW YOU WILL NOT STOP AT ONE."

"Foo," I say.  "I will stop.  Yes, I will!"

But it is true.  I have no self control.

I tear open the bag, eat 2 chips, and proceed to eat approximately 58 more.

I feel ill.  But now the microwave, and my lukewarm leftovers, summons me.  

I eat my meal in silent shame.  (You thought I wouldn't have room, didn't you?)

Oh Potato Chip Bag, how I hate you.  I blew all my Weight Watcher points.  

I disgust myself. 

Another Soul-Sucking Reality Show

Reality shows sort of depress me.  Well, in the interest of full disclosure I like to brag that I never watch them, when truthfully I have precisely two real favorites:  Project Runway and America's Next Top Model.  While the former is cleverly constructed and makes you feel confident that you are learning something with each episode (How to make a dress out of licorice sticks! What material works best for a bathing suit?  Is it better as a designer to be edgy and unpredictable, or classy but boring? Etc.) the latter is nothing but a show about beautiful but whiny post-adolescents.  So, I guess we all need our guilty pleasures.  Anyway, I digress .... 

Have you seen this show advertised? It takes teenaged couples and foists children of varying ages (baby, toddler, preteen, teenager and finally an old person (!)) upon them to see if they have what it takes to raise them properly.  In other words, it's a disaster waiting to happen.  

The Post reviewed the show today, and this just about sums it up:

"Right off, the series shows two structural weaknesses: First, we don't get to know enough about the kinds of couples who would lend their infants to a piece of exploitainment like this; and second, the most hazardous of the six 'Baby Borrower' episodes (and the one that most lives up to the title) is the first, thus rendering the next five installments somewhat anticlimactic."

I guess there's an argument to be made somewhere that the show may have a positive effect on hormone-driven teenagers who might otherwise find themselves in trouble, whether by accident or by pact (horrors!).  

But really, when this show goes up against the lovely array of television options competing for viewers' attention at 8 pm tonight (such as Wild Kingdom, SpongeBob or "Britain's Worst Teeth"), I think it'll be no contest.