IKEA is for kids

I have a confession to make: Instead of going to church this past Sunday, I DVR’ed the Southland Hour and went on a pilgrimage to worship the Norse god of retail at its temple in Cincinnati.

That is to say, I went to IKEA and shopped my little heart out.

In my defense, the trip was my friend Raviya’s suggestion, and I hadn’t seen her since she got back from a six-week stint in Iraq. And I want to kind of sort of brag about how, when I picked her up in the Herald-Leader parking lot, I managed not to throw my arms around her and cry like a homesick camper. Barely.

Anyway, we had a great time. The crowds weren’t nearly so thick as they were opening weekend, so I noticed quite a few things I didn’t see the first time around. The biggest thing I saw was how unbelievably family-friendly the whole place was. It was hands-down the most kid-hospitable big box store I’ve ever been to. Very smart decision on their part, too: women control 85% of household spending, so a store that offers inexpensive, stylish goods and makes shopping with kids tolerable is going to do very, very well. Just how kid-friendly is IKEA? Let me count the ways:

–The best parking in the lot is for families with small children and expectant mothers, and thoughtfully located so that you and the kids don’t have to cross any roadways to get to the store.

–They have a free daycare called Småland so you can drop off your kids and go shop for a while. It’s open to potty-trained children between 37″ - 54″ tall, and there’s a time limit–I think it’s 45 minutes on the weekend and 90 minutes on the weekdays, but I’m not 100% sure. An employee told me that parents can use Småland once per day and that the daycare workers all know CPR and first aid, and must undergo heavy background checks. The child-teacher ratio is 10:1, which is pretty standard for 3-year-olds.

–The women’s bathrooms have changing tables, Diaper Champs, and free Huggies. I’m not sure what size, though. Looked like 3’s, maybe? There’s also a very low sink there for little kids to wash their hands. There isn’t a low potty (like the kind you see in daycares), but some of the bathrooms have stepping stools. One or two of the stalls have those wall-mounted high-chairs so you can strap a baby in and go to the toilet without worrying about your kidlet wallowing around on the bathroom floor.

–There are also family restrooms available for parents with opposite sex kids, and a baby care room with a toilet, low sink, and a big comfy arm chair with pillows for nursing.

–Sprinkled throughout the store are these things called “play towers”: waist-high triangular kiosks with little spinny, touchy, whirligig games and stuff on them. That way, the kids will hopefully leave the merchandise alone and not bug their parents about being bored. I cannot remember, but I think some of them might have had little TVs on them with cartoons.

–Right at the store entrance there is a bank of free wall lockers so you can stash your diaper bag and/or purse while you shop.

–The cafeteria has children’s meals for 99¢ or $1.99. The portions are generous and the meal includes a drink. You can also buy jarred Nature’s Goodness baby food in the cafeteria line for 79¢.

–There’s a children’s area in the cafeteria with tiny, brightly-colored tables and chairs, soft flooring, a huge flat-screen TV showing PBS-type cartoons, and more of the aforementioned whirligig toys set into the walls for when the kids are done.

–Right next to the children’s area, there’s an island where you can pick up chunky neon plastic plates and cutlery, booster seats, and napkins. And for the babies, there are high chairs, disposable bibs, a microwave, and two bottle warmers.

–One more thing about the cafeteria: It was Father’s Day when Raviya and I went, so they had opened up a separate section of the cafeteria with paper and art supplies on all the tables so kids could make a card for their dads. I just thought that was a nice touch–the cherry on the thoughtful, convenient sundae that is IKEA.

Their commitment to children goes farther than the shopper’s comfort, though: IKEA is committed to using materials that are responsibly harvested and free from hazardous materials, and they require that IKEA suppliers in other countries do not use child labor and provide humane working conditions for their employees. Furthermore, IKEA actively works with UNICEF and the WHO in different programs aimed at preventing child labor.

Now, put all that together: the convenience of shopping there, plus the outstanding corporate philosophy, and it’s easy to see why IKEA gets my shopping dollars every time I get half a chance to drive up there.

All dogs go to heaven

Brothers and sisters I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
~Rudyard Kipling

There are so many things I wanted to blog about today, but I’m pretty sure my dog is dying, and I just don’t have the heart for anything else right now. PJ has been acting weird all week, and it became apparent Friday night that something was wrong. By Sunday, we realized that he was in a lot of pain; hopefully we’ll know more after my husband takes him to the vet this morning (it was the soonest we could get an appointment). It’s probably age-related, since PJ just turned 12.

On Saturday when I let him out to use the bathroom, he looked at the stairs, looked at me, hung his head in shame, and then peed on the deck. I hate seeing him losing his dignity almost as much as I hate seeing him hurt. He has always been such a brave, manly little dog.

We got him from a breeder who wanted to get out of the business, so her solution was to euthanize the stock so nobody else would breed them and benefit from her hard work. Yeah, I know: really charming. I’m no huge fan of Jack Russells, but I couldn’t stand to let the little guy die. So that’s how we came to be the proud owners of a stout little stud who thinks of my husband as The Other Man.

He’s very protective of me, though. With both of my children, PJ would park himself at the foot of the rocking chair while they nursed/drank formula and would let loose with the most bone-chilling growls if anyone, even my husband, came near me. He wasn’t about to let anyone hurt his mama.

When I took the Sprog with me to D.C. two years ago for my brother’s wedding, my husband was obliged to stay home for a funeral. He said that PJ snubbed him the entire week in every way a dog possibly could. When my husband walked into a room, PJ turned tail and stalked out. He would not sleep on his doggie bed in the bedroom, instead preferring to sleep in the living room. And every time my husband opened the door to let him out, PJ would glare at him as he passed, as if to say, “I know you buried them in a shallow grave in the woods, so don’t even try to deny it. You’d just better pray I never find the bodies, pal.” Then a haughty sniff, and off he went.

So yeah, my dog’s kind of a snot. But I love that about him. And the Sprog loves PJ too—his first word was “dog”, after all. Which made it really hard when I found myself sitting down with the Sprog yesterday to explain to him what was going on.

How do you tell a 3-year-old about death? I hoped I’d be able to find the right words this time, and not perform another spectacular punt like I did on the way to school last month when he started grilling me about where babies came from. I answered him honestly right up until the point where he insisted, “Yes, Mommy, but how does the daddy put the little seed in the mommy?” And then I panicked and said, “Hey LOOK, another Prius!” And that was the end of that. *facepalm* I know. I know. I will remedy this soon. But anyway:

The talk last night went a lot better. I sat down with him and asked him if he had noticed that PJ was feeling sick lately. He nodded. I said that PJ was so sick that he might not get better. If he didn’t get better, I said, then PJ would die. I told him that when PJ died, he would go to sleep, but never wake up again.

The Sprog said, “Then we will take him to the hospital!” So I told him that doctors can’t make PJ better if he’s dead, but that it would be okay because PJ wouldn’t hurt so much anymore after he died. He sighed and picked at the dry skin on his lip.

“When PJ dies, I want to go outside and play so I don’t have to see,” he said.

I promised that he would not have to see that, but also said that it wouldn’t be scary—PJ would just look like he was going to sleep. He nodded, and I asked him if he had any questions.

“Yes, Mom. Can I have a graham cracker?” he said.

*snort* It’s hard to be profound around a preschooler. But we talked for a few more minutes about the prospect of PJ’s death, and the Sprog petted PJ and loved on him gently for a few minutes, just in case he didn’t live through the night.

PJ did live through the night, but he’s not doing any better. He’s currently curled up in his doggie bed next to me, his chin on my foot. He hasn’t eaten much today and has only used the bathroom once.

What’s that old saying? “I wouldn’t take a million bucks for my dog, but I wouldn’t give a plugged nickel for another one just like him.” PJ is clingy, smelly, not terribly smart, obedient only when it’s convenient, compulsively licks people, barks at everything, and he’s not even that cute. But he’s a patient, loyal, lion-hearted little dog if ever one lived, and my heart is just breaking right now. This just plain stinks.

UPDATE: The vet just examined PJ and said he has a massive infection and some kind of back injury. He said that if we make sure he takes all of his meds and keep him very comfortable, he might stick around for a while. I hope you won’t think I’m a total fool if I’m shedding a few happy tears for the little ankle biter.

 

 

Real men bake quiche

This morning I was served a sumptuous breakfast of apple-broccoli-jelly doughnut cake, with a side of corn. I ate it all, of course, and with many compliments to the chef. Then the chef grabbed the spoon out of my hand and declared that it was a catapult for his Transformers.

So, yeah, we bought a play kitchen for the Sprog for Christmas. He loves it, but I was surprised when an acquaintance gave me grief about it yesterday. She said it just wasn’t an appropriate present for a little boy, and asked me why I didn’t buy him some Hot Wheels or something. Um…what? First of all, the Sprog is half-buried in all the rocket ships, action figures, sports equipment, and other assorted macho stuff he got for Christmas (some of it from us). Second of all, how is a play kitchen going to make him less masculine? I didn’t wrap up a skirt and heels to go with the kitchen, did I? So I’m afraid I don’t understand what the big hairy deal is.

A lot of the men in my family cook, and the Sprog sees that and wants to imitate it. Which is great, because the ability to prepare a decent meal is a skill everyone should have. And I guess any single guys who refuse to learn how to cook can take comfort in their unassailed manliness as they subsist on Smack Ramen and Big Macs until they succeed in dragging a female back to the cave.

Or—I know! Maybe it’s only okay to get the Sprog a kitchen if we make him pretend that he’s a five star chef bringing down a big paycheck, not a husband and father preparing dinner for his family.

*sigh* Forgive me for being a little annoyed here. It’s just…I wasn’t trying to be aggressively P.C. by buying the play kitchen, I swear. I knew my son would enjoy it, and it was on sale, so I bought it. He’s actually playing with it right now, frying an orange in a skillet for Baby Girl’s breakfast. What on earth is so horrible and feminizing about that?

And since I might as well confess all, the Sprog also has a baby doll. He requested it when I was pregnant because he wanted to have a little baby, too, and he loves it very much. He feeds it and changes it like any good father would. And he named it Luke Skywalker and is (from what I can tell) training him to be a Jedi knight. I found the Sprog camping out under a pillow fort last week with Luke, and he told me to be quiet because they were getting ready to attack Stormtroopers, just him and his little Padawan apprentice. I suspect this is also something many fathers like to do with their sons, if my husband is any evidence.

So I’m okay with the doll, and I’m okay with the kitchen. They’re helping him roleplay valuable life skills (like how to properly ambush Imperial troops?), and I suspect that one day down the road, his future wife will be very glad I got him these toys.

Discuss: Is a play kitchen a good present for a little boy, as long as he’s interested? What about dolls and other traditionally “feminine” toys?

Fisher-Price goes Mr. Hyde over doctor kit

Not cool, Fisher-Price. Not cool at all.

You know, my kid loves their stuff: He has enough Little People play sets to populate a Little Manhattan, and a Hot Wheels fleet to match. In fact, when the Sprog’s great-grandmother was asking for gift ideas, I recommended that she buy the Fisher-Price medical kit, since he loves to pretend that he’s a nurse who helps sick people like Daddy. Could there be a more perfect present?

Unfortunately, I had to call her back a few days ago and ask her to return it to the store. See, I just came across this blog entry on Consumer Reports. Turns out, the arm band on the blood pressure cuff is chock full o’ lead. Which raises the question: how come I had to call my grandma and ask her to take the toy back? Wasn’t it recalled?

Nope! It just so happens that federal laws only address the amount of lead in paint and surface coatings. They do not regulate the amount of lead in plastics, though, so Fisher-Price is home free.

Almost. Illinois has a new law that plugs up all loopholes in the federal law, so that all materials in toys are covered. State officials in Illinois heard about what Consumer Reports found, did their own testing, and confirmed that the kits with red arm cuffs were lead-laden. Fisher-Price promptly pulled all such kits from stores—but only in Illinois. They can still be legally sold anywhere else in the country, and you’re just out of luck if you haven’t heard about it. Especially since the Fisher-Price website says precisely squat about it.

According to Consumer Reports, when a Fisher-Price spokeswoman was asked about it, she said, “If consumers in states other than Illinois have concerns about the red blood pressure cuff, they may contact Fisher-Price at 800-298-0638.”

That’s real classy, Fisher-Price. Way to put people before profits, there.

Fortunately, many major stores (including Amazon.com) have voluntarily stopped stocking the toy. None of the major retailers in Lexington carry it in their brick-and-mortar stores or feature it on their websites: Toys R Us and Wal Mart yanked it from their shelves nationwide when they heard about the Illinois recall; Target, Sears, and JC Penney don’t have it, but the customer service reps I talked to didn’t know if that was related to the recall.

I think it has to be, though. I bought the Fisher-Price medical kit for my nephew last Christmas, and Shopzilla turned up pages and pages of hits. When I checked last night, there were only two hits. So at least the threat to kids is somewhat minimized.

Still, I find it infuriating that the toy can be purchased at all. How are we as consumers supposed to protect our children when the CPSC with its one tester is hopelessly overwhelmed, and home lead testing kits are unreliable at best?

Well, for one thing, you can contact your Congressman and urge him/her to support tougher federal laws governing lead content.

You can also subscribe or donate to Consumer Reports so they can continue to do the excellent work they do.

You can sign up to receive an email from CPSC whenever there’s a new recall.

You can buy toys that are made in America from companies that make toy safety their top priority.

And finally, you can call Fisher-Price and let them know what you think about their outrageous behavior. You have a voice and a wallet, and you know how to use them.

So you think you might want to adopt

Here’s another great piece from guest blogger Skila Brown on the nuts and bolts of the adoption process:

HOW TO ADOPT
So you think you might want to adopt? Well, you aren’t alone. A 2002 study showed that nearly 41% of American adults—over 81 million people—have considered adoption. Most of those people won’t go beyond considering it. But for those who are ready to find out more, adoption can be an overwhelming thing.

WHERE TO BEGIN
One of the first steps is deciding what kind of adoption you may want to pursue. Private domestic adoptions are usually done through attorneys. A searchable database of adoption attorneys in your state can be a good place to start. Or you can call a homestudy agency, which can help you get started with your profile. Since first mothers usually choose prospective parents based upon their profiles and letters, the wait time can be varied and unpredictable.

International adoption continues to grow in popularity. Each country has different eligibility requirements and adoption procedures. Deciding your flexibility level and desired age of child will help to determine which country is a good fit for your family. By calling an adoption agency or looking over this chart, you can narrow down which countries might be a good fit. Once you think you’ve found a country, then you are ready to find an agency with solid experience and a good track record in that country. Be careful when choosing an agency! There is no strong federal regulation on international adoptions, and some agencies are much better than others. Follow this checklist and get good references.

Adopting through the foster care system can sometimes seem complicated and confusing, although it is usually the option with the smallest impact on your bank account. To begin, call your state’s department of social services. They can walk you through the required paperwork and classes and give you a better idea of what kind of children they have available.

THE HOMESTUDY
If you’re a filling-out-forms-geek like me, now comes the fun part. You’ll be required to get birth certificates, marriage certificates, background checks and more. And then there’s the homestudy. (Cue scary music.)

Having a social worker visit your house can seem intimidating. But most families find that no one is inspecting corners for dust with a white glove. The homestudy visit can be a great chance for families to have a conversation with an adoption professional to determine what kind of child would be a good fit for their family. Special needs, race, age, and amount of contact with the first families are all factors influencing what kind of adoption is best for you. Think of it less as an inspection and more as a chance for everyone to get to know each other better, ensuring for a smoother process.

THE WAIT
Naturally this is the worst part. And it can stretch for days, weeks, months, and years - all depending on what kind of adoption you pursue. Use this time to read about adoption, tidy up your nest, and sleep. Any parent can tell you that once children enter your life, you will never sleep the same again.

If you’d like to start getting in touch with other like-minded parents, Southland Christian Church has an adoption support group. You can reach them at (859) 224-1619, ext. 315.

THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Many people are hesitant to pursue adoptions because of the fear of the unknown. Can I love someone who is not biologically related to me? (Umm….well, is your spouse biologically related to you?) Will this child come with a host of issues? (Heck yeah! Every child does, whether they arrive through birth or adoption.) Adoptive families all over the globe report that their families love and argue like any other.

Still, to prepare for some of the issues you may face once your child is home, read up on any conditions your child may have been diagnosed with. Consult an International Adoption medical specialist for a thorough check-up once your child is home. And then give yourself time to adjust to your new family. Instant attachment happens about as often as love at first sight. For some people, families are formed that way. And for others, time and memories build that bond that makes us a family.

As National Adoption Awareness month comes to a close this November, take the time to explore adoption a little bit more. You may find yourself blessed in ways you cannot begin to imagine!

Getting the lead out

You know, there’s nothing in the world that brings out my inner curmudgeon like the sight of Christmas decorations the day after Halloween. Or the warm glow in my son’s eyes that can only be described as rampant, unfettered greed.

I really, really don’t want to talk about Christmas yet. It’s just too soon, but the rest of the world seems to be ignoring me, so I guess I’d better get a move on. And realistically, those of us with tight budgets have to spread out the shopping, so it’s probably time to start thinking about that sort of thing anyway.

The big topic among parents this year is, of course, toy safety. Chinese toy factories are spitting out lead faster than an AK-47, and the acting head of the Consumer Product Safety Commission opposed the bill that would give her agency some real muscle. Instead, she favored voluntary self-regulation by the toy manufacturers, even in the face of evidence that such self-policing is wildly ineffective. Why, it’s almost as though she were somehow biased in favor of the toy manufacturers. Oh, wait.

So we can’t trust the toy manufacturers to effectively police their foreign factories, and the CPSC currently has only one toy tester, so we can’t trust them to keep the dangerous stuff off the shelves, either.

But…what to do? You can be the nerdy aunt (like me) who buys books for all the kids, or you can get them all gift cards or cash. Or—my favorite idea—you can give your business to manufacturers that pledge to produce quality toys (which are preferably made in America).

After doing some digging around online, I’ve found plenty of sites that sell such toys, and some of them have pretty cool stuff. I won’t lie, some of them are a little more expensive…but you get what you pay for, don’t you? I bet Aqua Dots are going pretty cheap right at the moment. And honestly, I’d rather spend my Christmas shopping money on one quality toy than on four cheapo toys that will poison my kids or break, and that’s only if they don’t lose interest by February.

Beyond that, our kids do not need all the trendy cheapo toys. Every kid I know has cartloads of loot, most of which they barely play with. The Sprog alone has four Rubbermaid tubs full of toys, plus a few Fisher-Price play sets and a train table. And do you know what he really loves to play with? Toilet paper tubes and my cookware. Dress-up clothes. And his Fisher-Price castle—he got that for Christmas last year, and he still plays with it every day. Let’s just hope it’s not chock full of lead paint, yes?

Anyhow, there are a few places in Lexington where you can buy toys that are a bit more reputable and won’t break the bank. Children’s Orchard on Richmond Road has a limited selection of non-toxic, Made in America toys, including paints, wooden puzzles, and other classic toys. Mother Nurture sells hand-made baby toys made with organic cotton (I keep meaning to buy the froggie for Baby Girl). And there are several big name toy manufacturers that are committed to making high-quality products, which you can find at most any large toy store (see below).

So here’s a handy list of links to help you in your quest for safer toys. Most of this stuff is made in America or Europe, and all the sites linked have pledged to conform to stringent safety standards. And please note that I’m not personally guaranteeing their safety; this is going off of the manufacturers’ claims about their toys and independent certifications. You should always, always follow up on this stuff. Also, I only included sites that have toys that are actually attractive, fun to play with and won’t break the bank. Now get clicking!

Of general interest:

The US Consumer Product Safety Commission toy recall list

Sign up for automatic e-mail notification from the CPSC whenever there’s a recall

Consumer Reports

The Consumerist: Shoppers Bite Back

Websites for toys:

Hyena Cart

Turner Toys

Hearthsong

Etsy (millions of cool, hand-made items)

Corolle

Oliebollen

IKEA

Moolka

Roy Toy (aka Lincoln Logs)

K’NEX

Step 2

Zome

Back to Basics Toys

Playmobil

Oompa

Maukilo

Melissa and Doug toys (at Toys R Us)

Kidkraft

Bright October

Made by Yankees

I wanna rock and roll all night

If I ever meet the cheerful moron who first said, “Oh, just sleep when the baby sleeps!”, I will bludgeon that person with my Boppy pillow. Because when it’s your second baby, there is no sleep. There is only pain.

By day, my newborn daughter is a somnolent lump who has to be awakened with malice aforethought if we want her to sleep at all during the night. We call this Operation Aggravation, and it entails a lot of tickling, patting cheeks, taking her outfit off so she’ll get cold, and talking loudly to her. After about half an hour of this, we can sometimes, sometimes, convince her to join the land of the living.

And even when we do manage to wake her up, she looks like a frat boy after a three day bender, drooling all over her onesie and blearily regarding us from the corner of one bloodshot eye. Then a trumpet blast from her diaper area as her eyes roll back into her head and she’s asleep again. My preschool-aged son thinks this is hilarious, but it’s all rather inconvenient. So there is no sleep for me during the day, since in a perverse twist, one of her most wakeful daytime periods tends to be right in the middle of my son’s naptime.

Of course, she’s saving it all up for nighttime. Somewhere around 11 p.m. she morphs from a dimpled ball of dough into an attention-starved howler monkey, and heaven help you if you put her down while she’s awake.

We turn out the light to go to sleep, but it’s never long before we hear ominous rumblings from the bassinet—chortles, moans, garbled babbling—I swear, it sounds like something from The Exorcist. And after the little noises turn into full-fledged screaming, she obligingly sucks down her milk, and then stares at me. Wide awake. Silently taunting me.

If she doesn’t get her days and nights flipped back soon, I’m pretty sure I’m going to flip. On the other hand, maybe I can get some sleep in my nice padded room.