I’m a pretty avid reader of Oh Baby! and yesterday Sandy posted a blog about the tooth fairy. I got to talking with a few friends and, to be honest, I think it’s hilarious.

The tradition of rewarding children for their teeth started in Europe. In some northern European countries children were rewarded for their first cut tooth. In other countries, like Ireland and England, they would reward their child for their sixth tooth lost with money left under their pillow with their tooth for encouragement of a child’s growth.

Why are we lying to our kids? The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, Easter bunny – its no wonder that by the time they’re teens they don’t trust us!

That’s not even the hilarious part – we’re rewarding them for something that is completely natural. A few years later, when they get their first pubic hair, will you give them a $50? Will you be rewarding your kid for their first zit? Should we continue the masquerade and create the puberty fairy?

Yes, losing your teeth, especially your first tooth, is a right of passage. But lets be honest, it’s not something unique to your child. Why should there be a fictional character who visits to give them money for something that they can’t control and would happen regardless?

Why don’t we, instead, reward our kids for doing well in school? For reading a book by themselves? For understanding a new concept? We should reward our children for doing things they can be proud of, that they accomplished, not just something that happened to them.

Can someone explain why we do this? Personally, I think its ridiculous. And you can bet that when my children reach tooth-losing age there will be no teeth or money exchanged by some magical fairy.

The period fairy, on the other hand, she visits all the time.

– Maria S.

The beginning of Cailena’s bedtime routine is so sweet; I really, really cherish it. Maybe too much… maybe she knows…

It usually starts with a bath; although, if it’s been a rainy or cold day and we’ve been stuck inside, neat and clean, a bath is sometimes skipped.

Oh, How Sweet It Was!

Then Caily dresses in fluffy, clean pajamas. I turn on her bedroom lamp, read her a nighttime story, followed by lullabies. She picks the story, and the order of the songs we sing. But every song must be sung, and usually this is the order she wants them in:

Oh Danny Boy

The More We Get Together

My God Loves Me

You are My Sunshine

The I Love You song.

Usually, she wants to say prayers in between You are My Sunshine and The I Love You Song, saving her favorite for very last. Sometimes she wants to do the praying, like tonight,

“Dear God. Thank you for safe Daddy. For Friends. ummm….Mommy, ummmm….Tweak… and safe Me! Be Safe. I LOVE YOU GOD!”

And sometimes she wants to listen to me pray a simple prayer on her behalf. If she says the prayers, there better not be any interruptions!

Sounds pretty idyllic so far, doesn’t it?

Then Caily wants a kiss, a hug, a head pat, and a nose rub. In that order. Oh, and her hand has been down my shirt the whole time, did I mention that?

Next, I am asked to send Daddy in so she can give him a goodnight kiss and hug. This is quick and painless; how does he do it?

If Daddy happens to be working night shift, like tonight, there will be 5 minutes of  “I love you Daddy! Nigh-Night Daddy! You hearing me Daddy?” Shouted at her bedroom window, followed by a quiet, “Aww, can’t hearing me.”

When Caily is done with all her goodnight rituals, she will take inventory of who is in bed with her. There must be 3 babies, a turtle, a family of ducks who kiss each other before going to sleep, and stuffed dog named Echo, a book or two, a plastic fire truck, and whichever teddy bear is the flavour of the week. If something is missing, there will be tears.

Once everything is safely in bed, it is imperative that her bedroom door stay open, and the hallway light be on. Should the door be mistakenly closed, there will be a great deal of crying. And each night after, the door closer will be reminded, “No close door, otay? Don’ do it again Mom. Make me cry.”

Usually, this is the end to the bedtime saga, but on nights like tonight, she will have to pee.

Now, Caught out of Bed!

Caily is three quarters potty-trained now; wanting a diaper only when she needs to poop, and needing one for nighttime sleep. Otherwise, she will not wear a diaper, and to get her into one at bedtime is challenging to say the least. Her getting up to use the potty will result in the stripping of the nighttime diaper, and the fight to get it back on. Not to mention the fact that she probably won’t even pee on the potty; she just wanted to get up. Still, I can’t say no to a potty break, can I?…

After her bum is wiped, toilet flushed and diaper forced back on after impressive Indian Leg Wrestling moves, there will be banshee-like shrieks for about 20 minutes. These shrieks are designed to turn usually sane and responsible mothers into bribing, threatening fools.

A woman, upon hearing these shrieks, might, as happened to me tonight, offer the banshee a ridiculous prize, like a spoon of chocolate sauce to suck on, if she will only please be quiet and go to sleep. My cheeks burn with shame.

After the spoon of chocolate sauce is consumed, the shrieking might, in fact, begin yet again. This might startle the exhausted, sleep-deprived mother in to threatening life-long ice cream bans; she may even consider telling her daughter to quiet down soon, before she wakes up any monsters. Thankfully, this mother still had some wits about her, and that terrible thought was never put into words, other than to write this sentence.

At such a point, recked with guilt, I will lay beside her bed, and scratch her back for 20 minutes. I leave when her chatter makes it obvious that she will not shut her eyes, so long as I am here to keep her company.

Again, our home is subject to 10 minutes of loud sobbing.. and then… quiet.

I creep into her room to check on her, frightened to wake her, but more frightened that the emotional trauma of having to go bed has rendered my daughter unconscious. While fixing her blankets so she receives optimum comfort and warmth, I smell a sickeningly familiar smell.

Caily has pooped.

I wake her up, to change her.

Submitted by: Katie Bickell. Read her blog, Young Mum, here.

Recently I was on a date at a restaurant with my hubby. It was a fairly nice place and we arrived for dinner around 8 o’clock. We were seated and instantly regretted where we were sitting – at the table next to us were two mothers with their four children who looked as though they were under six. I have no problem with parents wanting to enjoy an evening out with their children but this was just inappropriate. The children were jumping all over the booth, knocking things down, running around the aisles. One of the kids nearly ran into a server with their hands full of hot food! Where were their mothers?  Sitting at the booth enjoying their third martini (seeing as the other four empty glasses were still sitting on the table) seemingly ignorant to the ruckus their children were causing.

I understand people need to go out and have a good time with their friends. And I also understand that sometimes its hard to get a babysitter but pick a more appropriate time and place if you’re choosing to bring your children. Go to dinner at 5:30 or 6, instead of 8 when they should be in bed. Go to an age and food appropriate restaurant. Chances are if there isn’t a kids menu, kids shouldn’t be eating there. Its not fair to your kids and it sure as hell is not fair to the other patrons.

Oh, and another thing. Don’t bring your child into an inappropriately rated movie. Never mind that the movie is rated that way for a reason but most children cannot sit through a movie. I once sat through Avatar with a child (who was under one years old) screaming nearly the entire time. The parents? Sitting there, letting him cry it out. Yea, look, I’m paying to be here just as much as you are but I’m not choosing to have your child ruin my movie watching experience.

People need to understand that their lifestyles change after they have kids. You can do things like go out for dinner or go to the movies, you can even bring your children along, but make sure they’re behaving themselves. If you know they can’t, or if you aren’t sure, leave them at home. Want to take them to a movie? Bring them to Tangled where the target age is appropriate.

So, parents, remember there is a time and place for everything – including where to eat and what to watch with your children. If you didn’t expect your life to change after you had children you were mistaken. Act accordingly.

– Anonymous

– Anonymous

Okay…so picture this:  I got caught in a huge rain storm on my way to Women’s College Hospital for work so I was soaked from head to toe, literally.

Now, I know that the morning trains are packed with people that have not had a good night sleep or are in the midst of a sleep on their way to work…but seriously people…what’s the matter with you!

So, the TTC conductor had just advised that we were going to be delayed because of some track problems (of course!).  It begins to become warmer in the train car while we wait so I unzip my jacket to display my four month baby bump.  I realize that some women don’t show until about 7 months but because this is my fourth pregnancy in about 5 years, I was showing!

It’s funny to see how people react to a baby bump when there are no vacant seats.  Women just look around you as if to concentrate on the advertisements and men just close their eyes as if the baby bump had some trance over them that automatically put them to sleep…I wish it had that power on my children!

So I spent the next 20 to 30 minutes watching the passenger’s reactions without once being offered a seat!   This can only lead me to believe that these passengers thought that I was fat.  Anatomy lesson for you morons:  When a woman has a large bulge solely in the uterus area, they are pregnant!!

Even before I was pregnant, I always gave up my seat to the elderly and any pregnant woman, what’s wrong with people today?  Why are people not considerate of others?  Are we breeding people that are so selfish and inhumane that they can’t even give up a seat for about 20 minutes…trust me a majority of those people could have used the exercise you would obtain from standing!

All I’m saying is that if you see a pregnant woman that looks pregnant, at the very least, offer up your seat to her.  Remember this could have been your mom, your sister, your aunt or your daughter…treat others as you would want to be treated and let’s start being nice for the sake of showing our children that chivalry is not dead.

— Claire Moscone-Biafore