What I Found Out About Sexy


Last week, I wrote about an encounter I had at a rest stop (related previous post) where another parent called my baby “sexy.” Now I know she didn’t mean sexy as we know the word but as perhaps ‘handsome.’

However, I was confused about the entire encounter until a friend of mine, Anderson, messaged me (after reading my post). Anderson has been working with children for many years. Anderson gets to hear what parents, co-workers, and other childcare advocates say about children. It was absolutely no surprise that I eventually ran into someone that would use the adjective “sexy” towards my son. It has become a more common word to be used to describe little boys and Anderson agrees, it’s not okay.

Now that Anderson clued me into how much the word is used, I decided to hit the online forums.

I went to my favorite App, Kidfolio, and went to the Pregnancy Rants and Raves Forum. This forum is infamous for it’s drama, outrageous stories, and hotheaded debates. It’s also the hangout of many good women who are extremely caring, strong and ready to help out anyone who posts a serious problem that needs addressing. That is why I hang out there so much. It gets heated but, everyone just wants to help.

So I posted my story for the ladies if R&R and asked them, is it okay to call a little boy, regardless of if you know the person or not, sexy?

Fabtab852 had this to say:

Personally, I feel that it is an adult word. It shouldn’t describe anything but an adult.

I obviously agreed with that, as my previous post said. There were other opinions on the subject and I discovered an interesting cultural tidbit as well, from meredithanne:

From what I’ve gathered, in the UK, calling a baby sexy isn’t the same meaning it would have here.

Which was very interesting. Now perhaps this woman at the stop was originally from the UK, American accent aside. However I didn’t feel that was the case. It was very interesting to know it is a common adjective to describe babies in the UK and there it’s accepted and common place.

Not all UKers think it’s appropriate though, mumaoftwo says:

I’m in the UK and I think it’s inappropriate. I personally, cannot fathom a child as being referred to as “Sexy.”

So even though it seems to be more common than I originally thought, many people are not coming to the idea that children are “sexy.”

Anderson also told me, it’s not just the boys. The little girls are coming into the center at age 2 wearing spaghetti strap tanks, mini skirts, short shorts and other outfits that many of us never wore until high school. Anderson says:

I don’t know, I didn’t wear that stuff as a child and it drives me crazy now when I see them looking like mini adults.

Though Anderson says that little white boys, like my son, usually don’t have to worry about that term referring to him, girls of all races have a huge problem with being sexualized that young and sees this type of behavior everyday.

But don’t we see this every day? Stop and think about it. The models seem to be getting younger and wearing more adult things. In my middle school, many of my boys and girls are trying to be sexier before their time.

I’m not liking where we are going with this one people, not at all! What do you think? Is this going to be one a cultural thing like in the UK? Why do you think it’s so common now? As always, thanks for reading!

Someone Called my Baby “Sexy”


It started innocently enough, a mom with her 8 month old daughter (I asked) approached me. She asked some normal mom questions: “How old is he? How big was he when he was born? Do you Breast feed?” But when this mom tried to get my son to look at her I wasn’t expecting her to say this: “Aren’t you cute? Look at me sexy!”
Seriously?

My privacy measures aside, my husband prefers I do this, (if you were wondering) my son is cute, adorable, handsome, gorgeous, precious, feisty, bubbly (literally a bubble making machine), happy, innocent, and so many other adjectives besides sexy.

Is it because he’s male? In our society are we so obsessive about looks and sex that we have to transfer those words to children?!

God, I hope not.

I’ve seen the videos of children twerking, of toddlers dressing maturely. There has to be a line somewhere. My kid is going to be a kid for as long as I can keep him that way. I’ve drawn the line, babies in onesies are not sexy.

My son is beautiful and wonderful but, he is not sexy, and not just because I am his mom. He isn’t sexy because he is 3 months old!

(I am sure the mom wasn’t thinking of him sexually either it’s just, why was that the second word to pop into her head?)

The Brain Game

As I have alluded to, and down right mentioned in a post or three on here, I have medical issues. I give you, the mystical pituitary adenoma:

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So it’s a tumor that is generally non-cancerous, located in or on the pituitary gland. They can vary in size, from 1mm up to a golf ball size or beyond. It can either be inside the glad or outside the gland. Pituitary tumor removal is tricky, but much easier with our current medical technology. Brain surgery of course would be required, and depending, the loss of the gland itself may be necessary and a strict pill regimen taken up, for life. (Cause you kinda need that gland to live, you know). This is however, is only necessary in extremely large tumor cases.

The list of evils I can befall if it grows golf ball sized are vision loss of varying types and degrees. There is possibility of complete blindness too. Sometimes it can cause excessive growth throughout the body, it can cause weight gain, it can cause over abundance of hormones, infertility, or death. In children, it does a slew of other things as well.

So I have a thing in my head. I started to have hormone issues, though I didn’t know why, when I was 23 or so. I went to a great many doctors who had no clue as to why my period stopped. At the age of 25 I went to a general practitioner at a clinic who listened to my symptoms and ordered an MRI. I have had 6 since. He was correct in his assumption, that I did indeed have a pituitary tumor of some sort.

So my “Symptoms” (I guess is the best word…) are: excessive cortisol production, excessive prolactin production, weight gain, thyroid inflammation, fertility issues, headaches, raised blood pressure and general suckiness. So think of being pregnant for 3 plus years without the baby… all the mood swings, hunger, exhaustion minus a baby.

I take a pill called Cabergoline that combats the prolactin and cortisol production. I almost feel normal on this pill. The rest of the side effects ended up being a delightful bonus. Cabergoline has been known to cause increased fertility. Which is why I have a bouncing baby boy.

My tumor otherwise is 9mm (the size of your pinky nail) and pretty okay overall. I get massive headaches, but so do people who suffer from migraines.

The blessing in all of this is, I was infertile and because of the pill and God, I had my beautiful boy. There were risks all to do with the tumor growing during pregnancy (pregnancy hormones make babies and tumors grow… Who knew?) and possible death. However my tumor is small and I was responding to treatment so, I got the go ahead from my endocrinologist. The doubling and tripling in size were not as statistically grim for me.

As long as I take my pills and I keep being monitored by an endocrinologist, I am fine. During my pregnancy I was off my medications (because you want to be fat and producing prolactin when pregnant) and because I came through my pregnancy so well, I get to stay off my medications and put off my next MRI (so that I may breastfeed my son longer). Most women with my tumor chose not to risk it and do not breastfeed.

So that’s basically my biggest issue, health wise. If you had to had a tumor in your brain, no getting out of it, you would probably pick to have one like mine. It’s slow-growing and non cancerous. Also as far as they know it’s not hereditary.

I also know I sound so… Blasé about it, and that drives people crazy. It’s just… For me, if I think too hard about it, dwell too long… It’s too much. My life, I had an unfortunate childhood filled with different types of abuse, bullying, and depression, then I go find happiness for the first time in my life and… This. It could make you very sad indeed. It’s best not to dwell.

I choose to suck it up buttercup! Go out there and live my life and kick booty. So I choose cheerfulness, I choose to be positive. Most of the time. I am Human and sometimes I get down but, I like to think I do a good job of keeping all of that at bay.

Anyway, that’s health issue #2 for me, I write about my other issue soon. It’s a very rare condition (oooooooo!! Lol) and you probably have never heard if it. That’s for another day, however!

Thank You!

I just want to thank all of my visitors and subscribers for this:

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For a small blogger, to me, this is huge. I’ve only been writing for a month or so, and only to help me pass time time and keep writing fit. I am on maternity leave and I am so used to writing lesson plans every week. I needed an outlet while my baby napped on me.

So the idea that, something born out of the need to do, barely advertised and it reaching (to me), such a large number of views. Even in accident; it’s marvelous.

Thank you for viewing and thank you for subscribing!!!

Birth Story

  
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I know, I know, I’m supposed to wait until he’s a year old and sigh over how fast he’s growing up. I don’t want to, I feel nostalgic now, at 2 months 29 days!

I guess first you should know my pregnancy wasn’t easy. I have preexisting conditions that are serious; and constantly making sure any problems I had weren’t from those issues, but from my pregnancy, were hard at times. Mostly it was hard to know because I had never been pregnant before.

I was told when I was 15 I couldn’t have children very easily and I believed those doctors. Never once had a “scare” with my husband in 9 years. So it was a pleasant surprise to know I was carrying. After all the wait, I got my maternity leave set up with the school system, so I was out 3 or 4 days before I was to give birth.

Three or four days before I was feeling very energetic and very “things need to be perfect.” I was just a busy bee. My doctor had said I could “carry forever,” which a 38+4 (38 weeks 4 days) doesn’t want to hear. So I cleaned.

Then a day or two later at 1AM I felt light pains. I said “oh this must be the beginnings of labor, let me get my cute little app out with it’s pink prettiness and time myself.” So I did. My “contractions” were very far apart. Oh foolish self, how I wish I could warn you now! I thought “oh this isn’t bad.”

In fact, I was doing so well, I posted a status:

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This got everyone excited but, to no avail. The ER didn’t want me, and told me to wait a bit, go home and we brought home a large exercise ball as per Julie and Janice’s (best friend and her sister) suggestion.

Exercise balls rock.

Which is what I did, and I bounced and my cats were scared of the giant ball. I made phone calls and texted talking about the pain, how it was tolerable. How the ball helped which it did. Oh ho ho, such innocence I had!

The pain was steadily climbing and I got out, once again, my cute little pink app and timed contractions. I was 15 minutes, then 10 minutes, and then 7 minutes. I remember 7 because that’s when it really started to hurt. It was 1:30AM on his due date.

I called the ER and L&D and they said 7 was good but we wanted 5. So I was told to wait a hour. Call back then. So I did. The contractions hurt a bit more now, I was starting to not be able to doze and that little app became my fixation. I clutched that phone tightly, all the while Ryan snored in peace next to me.

I called again, hour was up, my contractions were a little more hectic but between 5 and 7 minutes. They told me to wait another hour, then call again. So I did.

Next hour, my contractions were at 5! Hurray! I called and told them the news. They told me to wait, yet another hour. So I did.

I called again. They listened to what I had to say but, I feel like, I didn’t sound like I was in labor. I wasn’t giving off the right tone of voice or vibe I guess. They told me to wait until my contractions were 3 minutes apart.

Now in every book and online post I read, they all say “go into the hospital when your contractions are 5 minutes apart.” So I was mighty confused as to why I was told to wait.

That hour…. I couldn’t hold it together. Finally, I remember saying “I can’t take it anymore,” and bursting into tears.

That woke up my husband. Finally.

So he got me out of bed and helped me to the…. Bathtub.

He ran me a hot bath and made me sit in it while I moaned in pain every 3 minutes. He called his mother for advice. My husband’s mother is a Physician’s Assistant and has a doctorate so, she’s a pretty smart lady (understatement). She told my husband to get a move on and pack his bag.

So I am in the tub, moaning, feeling waves of pain subsiding, then building up into a painful crescendo and then ebbing away like a decrescendo (seriously, later I described it to the nurse like that, she thought I was nuts). My husband is asking me what I have packed in my hospital bag, which I packed like, 2 weeks prior. I had no freakin’ clue at that point. I didn’t care! Find me some clothes and take me to the flippin’ hospital!!

Off we go, to the hospital, I’m clutching the sides of the car and my husband is driving speedily (but not breaking any laws) to the hospital.

He drives up to the ER and asks if I can walk. At that point, nope, not going to happen. He gets me a wheelchair and off I go. It hurts, I am ready. They better keep me this time!

So I do the general hospital gown, cup, monitor bit, staying 3 min apart for another 3 hours. Finally they tell me I get to stay and I am moved to a birthing suite. I have my contractions until after lunch to which I convince my husband that I was lying.

I was convinced I wanted a natural birth. No drugs, no Pitocin, no nothing. Oh the lies we tell ourselves when we don’t know (natural births are lovely I am all for them, just not all for me having them).

So after I had convinced him I didn’t need an advocate, that I wanted the pain killers, a very nice young man comes up and proceeds, in front of 3 or 4 scared student nurses to try, I mean try, to get my epidural in, 5 times.

5. Freaking. Times.

Finally frustrated, he admits he’s not as experienced as another man and goes and gets that guy.

I was in such pain, I couldn’t speak. They wanted me to hold still and I was just so exhausted and it hurt. There was this lovely nurse named Pat who helped me and held me while I was having issues with my 5. Freaking. Epidurals.

My 6th epidural was magical. It was amazing. I had been up for 30 hours at this point, stabbed 5 times, had scared nurses huddling together in a corner for protection, my husband who hates needles looking at anything but me… I was done. That other guy came in… He said “oh I know the problem.” And bam! My epidural was in and I felt great!

It was fantastic. They even turned up the dose for me because I am tall. Hurray!

So I am feeling so lovely that I start to doze. People come in, my poor nursing students are 100% there for me and are willing to get me Ice, juice, blankets… They just cannot believe the whole mess.

However I was feeling amazing and didn’t care!

Then things got a little dicy and Pat and the other nurses keep coming in because my oxygen is low and so is the baby’s. I’m starting to have trouble breathing and the baby is also having issues.

Pat, oh the amazing Pat tells me I just need to use my little oxygen mask and prop up on pillows (which are put underneath me in various places) and everything would be fine. As she said, it was, and I was breathing easier. Nurses came in, checked on me and one nurse in particular, besides Pat kept visiting me.

A shift change must of happened because I didn’t recognize her but, she just stood at the foot of my bed, and looked at how I was doing.

So did many other nurses, checking my vitals and waking me up.

Around 3PM Pat told me, after I told her I felt like I needed to push, that we could go ahead and give it a go. My doctor had been seeing patients all day at his practice, he called and checked on me a lot throughout. He was going to finish up his last appointment before he came over (I was actually scheduled as his last appointment that day).

Pat and my husband are helping me by holding my legs because, I can’t feel them. At some point my MIL calls and is on speaker phone encouraging me to push and I am pushing as I am told.

I really did not feel the need to scream, thank you epidural.

I’m really close, you can see my baby’s head and his hair and my doctor breezes in.

He’s all, how are we? And starts talking about the vacation he’s taking the next day. I am still pushing when Pat tells me to and he’s talking away about teeshirts and keychains.

He gets into catching position, as it were, and notices I am possibly further along than he thought. The nurses tease that they really don’t need his help, and finally he gets down to business!

My little Connor was born 2 minutes before my scheduled doctor’s appointment that day and he came out squalling! The doctor asked my husband if he wished to cut the cord, which he did. They rushed Connor to an area in the room and cleaned him up. The doctor tells me I did an excellent job and cannot believe how well it went.

While this is happening Pat tells me what a great job I did and goes and checks on the baby. The doctor is showing my husband the particulars of the afterbirth (which I would have totally liked to see but, Ryan saw instead) and stitched me up. Just two stitches!

They bring my lovely boy back and I cannot remember who held him first but here’s Ryan:

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I get all cleaned up and I thank Pat. She was truly wonderful and stayed past her shift to be there for me. Just an amazing woman. I asked her about the other nurse, the older lady that kept checking on me while I was on oxygen. I described her to Pat, the best I could, because I couldn’t see her clearly, my glasses weren’t on for the entire time I was in the suite.

Pat looks at me strangely and says “There isn’t a nurse here that looks like that.” I insist though, she checked on me many times!

But there was no nurse that worked in L&D or recovery that matched that description. *cue creeptastic music* *Xfiles theme*

Seriously though, I am still trying to figure out if I hallucinated, or saw a ghost (please noooo), or as I like to think, it was an angel. That idea, of her being an angel makes me happy, so long as I don’t see her again any time soon. Cause it’s still a bit freaky to me still. Too many paranormal shows.

They fed me the most delicious hamburger ever, 35 hours of labor will do that to you (because I hadn’t eaten red meat or beef in at least 3 months because it made me ill. Liking beef again was not something I was expecting so soon.), and we settled down to answer a billion texts from the past hours.

Connor weighed 8.3 lbs, and was 20 1/2 inches long. He was born with a head of brown hair and big gray eyes. He kinda looked like Patrick Stewart.

We moved into our new recovery room and attacked Facebook:

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And Facebook attacked back:

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(My bestest friend Julie wrote the most lovely thing and so did Connor’s Godfather Matt!)

The next day, we took him home and learned a lot. Like how to introduce a newborn to a cat:

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Ah but the things I have learned! We are so very lucky!

Dragon Scales

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They look like the thickest, driest scales ever on a human body, and they smell very unpleasant.

No I am not talking about your uncle Jims feet, I am talking about cradle cap. Many mothers don’t have to deal with it, their baby pops out as bald as an egg. They can moisturize their baby’s whole head if they need too, and their babies never see a scale (typically).

I didn’t think I would have to deal with cradle cap but CDubs was born with a thick head of hair. Even after that initial hair fallout after birth, this baby still had the puffiest, fluffiest hair!

I started to notice in his 8th or 9th week that CDubs smelled odd. I washed him every night, put nice smelling baby lotion on his skin, and changed his diapers and clothing often. What could it be? Much to CDub’s delight, I started to sniff around him, I am sure I looked quite funny, and I kept coming back to his hair.

“He must have spit up on himself in the crib, and dried before I woke up. I’ll just make sure to wash that area very well tonight.”

I then paid extra attention to his hair. It seemed to get worse though, his head got funkier and little flakes appeared.

My husband was confused and hit the world of Google. He found a site that told him to wash CDub’s hair everyday. We had been washing it every other day. So we did.

The scales grew in size and covered a good 85% of his head. CDubs started to scratch his scalp while he was nursing.

What in the world?! The internet said mayonnaise, or a cold rinse, or expensive salves (which smelled very good so, I guess at least the smell would go away…).

Finally, CDubs had his 2 month appointment. This Doctor that saw CDubs, she was something else! She was fast talking, high pitched, and action packed! She talked a mile a minute, but I learned something very valuable.

  1.  Cradle Cap happens especially to babies with a head full of hair.
  2. Cradle Cap happens to clean, well taken cared of babies. A baby having Cradle Cap isn’t an indicator you are doing something wrong.
  3. Yes, it really does smell even if you wash it a lot.

Then she told me a very simple cure. No salves, no extra washings.

olive oil

Yes, regular olive oil, or Coconut oil, grape seed oil… Oil is your friend!!!

All you do is, a couple minutes before bath time brush out your baby’s hair and scalp gently but thoroughly. Make sure you use a soft bristle brush, that’s what’s best for loosening the scales.(and it won’t hurt baby either!)

Once brushed, lather on that olive oil!
Get it really worked into his scalp. Let the olive oil rest on his head for a bit, and then wash it out in the bath. It may take a wash rinse repeat to get the oil out if his or her hair.

You do this a couple times a week, making sure to loosen the scales each time, apply oil and work it in. Once you have removed all the scales, wash your baby’s hair with moisture in mind. Wash enough to keep them clean, but no so much the scalp dries out. This of course will differ per child. The scales may return until you get it right.

But you will get it right!