June 2008
I am not a doctor, and this is not to be construed as medical advice. But parents are too worried about their
Children and Food Allergies
by Jessica Kearney Heidgerken
As parents today, we have something new to be afraid of every time we open a newspaper or a parenting magazine. Toys contain lead, baby bottles contain bisphenol-A, and our children should be in car seats until they leave for college. Even our food is not safe. Many parents have been told to delay the introduction of potential allergens – such as dairy, peanut butter and wheat – to avoid allergies to those foods in their children.
But when did it become status quo to let our children’s diets be governed by the exception rather than the rule? Why do we assume our children are going to be allergic? Lucky for us parents, the medical establishment is changing its tune. A January 7, 2008, article from the Associated Press notes the American Academy of Pediatrics found “there is no convincing evidence that delaying the introduction of foods such as eggs, fish or peanut butter to children prevents allergies.”
My husband and I have operated under that assumption with Baby Girl. She had wheat by 6 months and every other potential allergen by 15 months. We enjoy cooking and sharing new foods with Baby Girl. She likes fried calamari but dislikes shrimp. She loves her milk and cheeses — even, to our surprise, goat cheese. Topping the list of her favorite foods are chocolate, pancakes, blueberries and popcorn. We have taken back the pleasures of cooking for and eating with our toddler.
Now if you have a history of food allergies in your family, of course you need to be cautious. I am not a doctor, and this is not to be construed as medical advice. But wouldn’t it be nice to shrug off one of the myriad worries that consume our parental brains? To let our children revel in the simple joys of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before they go to preschool?
Naturally, that’s just our take on things. Remember, we’re new at this.
March 2008
We didn’t know about air flight when we were growing up, but our Baby Girl has become quite the
Frequent Flyer
by Daren Kearney Heidgerken
When I was a child, vacations amounted to camping trips in
I was 22 when I boarded my first commercial airline flight. I was traveling to
Baby Girl, on the other hand, is not yet 20 months old and has already made seven round trips via airplane, visiting six states. Most of these trips have been to the Heartland to visit her grandparents, but she also has seen the lights of
Her vacation experiences are markedly different from those of my childhood. She stayed in a hotel for the first time at three months of age and has never been camping. But Baby Girl is a frequent flyer for an important reason: We want her to grow up knowing her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins – just like we did. Living some 2,000 miles from our former stomping grounds, she does not get to spend summers catching fireflies with her cousins or canning tomatoes with her grandmas. But these trips have allowed her to play in the snow with our nephews, test out the slide in Grandma and Papa’s backyard, and get some tips from Grandpa and Grandma on pounding, er, playing the piano.
Beyond a mere vacation, these trips home create a sense of belonging for Baby Girl and a chance to learn where we came from.
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December 12, 2007
We have become such avid multi-taskers that we can not match the
Attention Span of a One-Year-Old
By Daren Kearney Heidgerken
When she turned one, my daughter received a set of colorful stacking rings. I have always heard how short the attention span of children is. What does it say about me when Baby Girl, on her first birthday, could focus on stacking her rings on top of each other longer than I could?
I find that there is always a constant stream of thoughts running through my mind competing with my paying complete attention to her: to-do lists for work, honey-do lists for home, or that article that I wanted to look up on the Web. Each task tries to pull my attention away from the proud little girl focused solely on showing her daddy how well she can sort the rings.
It seems that the rat race we live in and the constant stream of information that surrounds us is severely limiting our ability to concentrate on one thing at a time. The news carries stories about how television affects children, but what about us adults who are supposed to be setting an example for our kids? Have we become so into multi-tasking that we cannot match a one-year-old child’s attention span? It’s possible. Heck, I’ve already checked my email and the news while writing this column. While that probably doesn’t do any harm, my Baby Girl does deserve better. It will continue to be a struggle, but I will make every effort to sit on the floor and focus only on watching her pull the rings off the post and try putting them back on one more time.
November 21, 2007
There was a time, before the baby, when I was a
Macho Man
By Daren Kearney Heidgerken
There was a time when I thought I was a pretty stoic guy. All macho and tough. Isn’t that the way guys are supposed to be? Never let them see you cry, unless you really did a number on your finger with that hammer. Even then, you just grunt and turn away so no one can see your eyes tear up. I think that my wife saw me cry once in the eight years prior to Baby Girl being born. Eight years of funerals, weddings, stubbed toes and sappy movies without a single tear shed. I never thought of myself as coldhearted; I just like to keep my emotions to myself.
Things have changed over the past fifteen months.
It started, of course, at Baby Girl’s birth. Seeing her come into this world was such an amazing thing, the tears welled up and just kept on coming. But that was okay, right? I was in the privacy of a hospital room, participating in a momentous occasion. Besides, I was sleep deprived. Nothing to worry about. Then country songs about children growing older started to tug at my heart, but no tears, so I figured I was doing okay.
Things changed when the Jessica and I were sitting on the couch watching TV and holding Baby Girl as she slept. We were watching the Disney movie The Rookie and, just as Dennis Quaid was telling his wife that he made it into the Majors, a couple of tears trickled down my face.
Jessica and I got a good laugh out of it, but it helped to drive home that my perspective on life has changed. Happy times and sad occasions tug a little stronger on my heart strings. I guess it won’t be bad for Baby Girl to see her daddy a little emotional now and then.
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September 26, 2007
The Kindness of Strangers
By Jessica Kearney Heidgerken
When we first brought Baby Girl home from the hospital, we felt outnumbered. One very small, very new person totally
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August 15, 2007
Dog Days
by Jessica Kearney Heidgerken
After we were married, friends and relatives routinely asked when we were going to crank out a kidlet. Many of our friends have been beset by the same well-intentioned prying and respond by adopting a “starter baby” – a dog, a cat, the occasional ferret. We didn’t go this route, being unable to keep even the hardiest of plants alive for more than a few months and assuming pets would not serve to prepare us for parenthood. But now that we have a darling baby, we have realized that she is remarkably similar to, say, a dog.
Ways Our Baby Is Like a Puppy:
(1) She drools … a lot. Think Turner & Hooch.
(2) She needs to be walked every day.
(3) She eats food off of the floor.
(4) She gives slobbery kisses (see No. 1).
(5) She chews on socks and, when we aren’t looking, shoes.
(6) She chews on the furniture. Wood is her favorite. Really.
(7) When she was younger, she lapped up water with her tongue.
(8) She likes squeaky toys.
Of course, we wouldn’t trade Baby Girl for a million Schnoodles. A dog can’t giggle or say “Dada” or wrap his chubby arms around you for a hug. But at least now we know we could handle raising a puppy.
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August 8, 2007
Spreading the Joy
By Daren Kearney Heidgerken
Our little girl recently celebrated her first birthday. As part of her birthday celebrations — she had three — she got to eat birthday cupcakes and cookies. “Eat” is a bit of a relative term because she wore twice as much on the outside as she put in her little tummy. She seemed to enjoy destroying her cupcake and tasting the little bits that remained, although she wasn’t so sure about the frosting. Ice cream, on the other hand, she can’t get enough of. About this, I rejoice. I’m looking forward to introducing her to Mssrs. Ben and Jerry.
Birthday cake and ice cream are only a few of the new foods she has been trying. It is fun to finally get to share food with her. She lets us know pretty quickly what she thinks of an item. If she doesn’t like the taste or texture or it wasn’t what she expected, the offending item quickly comes back out on her tongue accompanied by the most exaggerated grimace. Sometimes a second attempt will get her past the initial shock, but often she will turn her head or push the food away. It is extremely cute … and frustrating. So far strawberries, cheese, bananas, cheese, bread, Cheerios – and did I mention cheese? – are in. Potatoes and corn are out.
I was surprised by how much she wants to share her food with us and likes to help us eat and drink like we help her. She will offer up bits of strawberries and cereal to me while I am feeding her. Usually she wants to put them directly in my mouth. Sharing a glass of water with her is a fun game to play but is not without its hazards. Earlier today, one of the Cheerios seemed a little mushier than normal. I can’t say whether it was dragged through a bit of water on her tray or had already been tasted. All I know is my girl was smiling and happy to be sharing breakfast with me. And I am smiling and happy that she wants to share her food, and her life, with me.
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June 20, 2007
My Day
by Daren Heidgerken
Last Sunday, all across the country, kids called their dads and granddads to thank them, many of them collect. I, too, called my dad and grandpa to wish them a happy Father's Day. There is so much that they have taught me and continue to teach me as our relationships grow and change.
My little one is a bit too young, still under a year old, to understand that the third Sunday in June is now more special for me than any other day. I don't know if she understands that we have taught her anything, except maybe that the cookbooks aren't meant to be eaten no matter how tasty the pictures look. I imagine she just thinks that the games we play are fun. That doesn't matter. I don't know of a better way she could thank me than the way she says "Dada" when I come home from work. So this year I will thank her for the things that she has taught me over the past eleven months.
I now know that it is possible to change diapers with your eyes closed. I can function on less sleep than I ever could imagine. It is impossible to go to grandmother's house without getting dirty. Changing diapers, even stinky ones, aren't so bad if it means we get to spend a little time together before I head to the office. Little kids can always reach a little higher and move a little faster than you think they can. Songs don't have to make sense or be sung in tune to be soothing or fun.
I have learned that a year can seem to fly by so fast and, at the same time, seem like such an eternity that I have trouble remembering what life was like before she arrived.
I look forward to spending future Father's Days with my little girl accompanied by hand-drawn cards and scribbled signatures. Most of all I look forward to growing with her. I am sure she will continue to teach me as much as I will teach her.
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June 6, 2007
The Minivan Cult
by Daren Heidgerken
What makes this vehicle a requirement for every family? They didn’t exist when I grew up, and I turned out OK (Jessica may disagree). My family had a series of station wagons. Not glorified hatchbacks or “5-door” cars. This was the ’80s, and I am talking large station wagons, with large engines. This was the era of the Ford LTD and Chevy Caprice wagons with the original fold-flat seats. The second row could fold down, and the “third” row came in two configurations, facing either forward or toward the back. The engines were big block V8. If you look around on YouTube, you can see some of these classics at the drag strip beating out Mustangs and Camaros. Today, the closest thing that comes to these old-style station wagons are the crossover vehicles that are currently in vogue.
Now I don’t have a problem with other people owning minivans. I simply think it is neither necessary nor am I destined to have one for my family. You can raise children just as well owning a Civic, an Explorer or even a Maybach 57S (Jessica wishes).
At this point in my argument, most people comment that I eventually will give into Jessica’s demands for one. Doubtful, since I had to drag her kicking and screaming into the world of four-door sedans. But then, she hasn’t started driving the carpool to dance class yet.
May 30, 2007
It Takes a Village
by Daren Heidgerken
The woman along Fisherman’s Wharf in
Being a parent, even just expecting a baby, seems to signal to everyone else that they have license to tell you how to raise your child. The free advice comes from family, friends, neighbors, co-workers and, of course, the complete stranger that you run into in the supermarket. The constant flow of helpful tips and instructions can become overwhelming rather quickly.
For the sake of your relationships and your sanity, it is important to realize a couple of things. First, people mean well. They really think they are being helpful and know the best way to raise a child. Second, there is little you can do to stop them anyway.
Because everyone already is giving you advice, here is my three-step process for dealing with it:
(1) Accept it gracefully. This, of course, is the hardest step, especially if the words of wisdom are flowing from people who have never even held a baby or who obtained all of their information from one early childhood development class they took five years ago.
(2) Briefly consider and throw away anything and everything that does not make sense to you.
(3) Go on raising your little bundle of joy the best that you can.
