Illness: An Illustrated Primer for New Parents

Ah, germs! Back-to-school time is overrun with the little bastards, finding their way into our bodies and taking a baseball bat to the ol' immune system. And even worse, if your very young child is in any sort of activity that involves other young children, you get the best of the best of the best of the germs, sir.

The question on every new, overprotective parent's mind is, how do I know if my child is sick? Well, let me show you!

(And if that's not on your mind, pretend it is so that I know I didn't go through the trouble of writing this primer for nothing, ok? I slaved over this artwork, people. And sure, it looks a lot like the work from my tantrum post, but that's because I saved the egghead shape from that last series of child drawings I made. The rest is custom designed for this post, baby. Don't say I never do anything for you.)

FIGURE 1: THE HEALTHY CHILD

Look! I made a girl child this time. Are you happy? I fully understand that not everyone only makes boy babies like Geekster and I. I'm not bitter, and to prove it I made Little Sally. In this picture, she's quite healthy. Look at that glow! Isn't she adorable? She looks kind of like I did when I was little. Come to think of it, she probably looks a lot like what my girl children would have looked like if my husband hadn't locked the X chromosome sperm up in his Tower of London for all of eternity.

But, uh, anyway. Not bitter, like, at all. Incidentally, Sally has one of those obnoxious bow things on her head that screams "Look at me! I may seem gender-neutral right now, but my mommy gets to dress me in lots and lots of pink! My clothing department is twice the size as the one you get to shop in for your stinky boy babies. Neener!"

FIGURE 2: WARNING SIGNS

Incidentally, the name of this section is also the name of my favourite Coldplay song. Not that you care.

Little Sally isn't looking so hot right now. She's still rocking the bow, but her eyes are a little fatigued.  She's not smiling as much as she usually does, either. Displaying signs of poor behaviour is another symptom of illness. So, if Barbie's head finds its way into your coffee cup while Sally grins evilly from behind the couch, do NOT panic: she may be possessed by a virus (it's like a demon, but smaller). This is the time to keep an eye on things and see how she is in the morning.

FIGURE 3: IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN

If Sally wakes up looking like she just stuffed Jabba the Hutt up into her sinuses, you could be dealing with the common cold. This isn't dangerous for most people, but it is gross. The younger the child is, the more disgusting a cold becomes. Boogers are eaten, sleeves are smeared, spittle shall be gratuitously coughed everywhere and anywhere but mostly into your open mouth.

If you're at home with your kids anyway, giving them a day or two to rest would be nice at this point. But if you need to cling tightly to those work-allotted sick days, now is probably not the time to use them.

FIGURE 4: IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE

If your child was a planet, then National Geographic would be having a field day right now with all the global warming going on. Little Sally is hot -- and not in that creepy wrong way that lands people in jail. She's actually hot to the touch with fever.  Look: her obnoxious little headband thingy is sizzling away on her head. Tragic!

Sally's immune system is being attacked hardcore and is doing its best to fight it off. This could be nothing but a viral infection making its way through, or it could be a sign of something bacterial in nature. But until you have symptoms, it's wait and see. Keep her at home, throw on some Dora to make her happy. Then, go into the other room and pop some codeine so you can deal with Dora's loud, annoying voice.  It's okay, we'll understand.

FIGURE 5: I SEE SPOTS

Uh oh! Sally's fever is gone, but now she's covered in -- is that your brand new $35 lipstick? -- no, but you shouldn't spend that much money on makeup anyway. It's wasteful. Shame on you. Go sponsor a hungry child or something.

Sally has a rash on her sweet little face. Is it something mild, like roseola? Does it pack more of a punch, like chicken pox? There's no way of knowing right now. There is a very easy way of identifying chicken pox that we'll cover in section 7.

At this point, you couldn't even bring Sally out of the house if you wanted to because she's too easily identifiable as a carrier monkey. Heck, whether or not she's contagious is irrelevant at this point; she looks contagious, and that's all it takes. If you bring her into a grocery store pandemonium will ensue. People will drop their produce and take off at a dead run. Some will smash their way through windows if they have to. Women will fall to their knees in prayer to whatever saint will grant them immunity from the pestilence which has now surely tainted the supermarket.

For your peace of mind and Sally's future therapy bills, I would recommend staying home.

FIGURE 6: SPEWING FORTH THE SIGNS

Puke. Barf. Spew. Vomit. Upchucks. Blowing chunks. Whatever it is, keep it to yourself, Little Sally. Stomach bugs are really contagious and really unpleasant. If you have one, please stay far, far away from everybody else. We don't want it, we don't need it, and it will not help us build immunity toward the next bug.

Did you know that having a stomach virus only gives you partial immunity for about six months until the virus mutates? Did you know that adults are contagious for up to 1 week after they stop showing symptoms, but that kids are contagious for up to 2 weeks after? That knowledge is my gift to you. That being said, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone quarantining their gremlins for 2 weeks after a stomach bug. Heck, I know all about this stuff I don't do it. Do you want me to go absolutely insane? Because it would happen much sooner than 2 weeks in, let me tell you. That's why mommy hand sanitizer in her purse. It's my societal compromise.

FIGURE 7: AND NOW YOU KNOW

Break out the calamine lotion. And maybe some shake n' bake.

I hope this primer was helpful in some way. Please let me know if you have any questions. As I'm sure you can tell, I'm very well-researched and extremely fact-based.

Thank you.

The Tantrum: an illustrated primer for new parents

Got tantrums?

We do. As Gutsy screeched his everlovin' lungs out on the kitchen floor yesterday afternoon over my insistence that he say "please" when demanding asking for something, I tried to think about how many times I've witnessed a tantrum in my thirteen years of parenting.

The answer: hundreds.

I have seen hundreds of them from my gremlins alone. I've encountered hundreds more from other children at playgroup, the store, the park, and anywhere else kids have lungs. I would say that makes me an expert. And what do experts do? Well, other than feel incredibly self-important in our superior knowledge, we try to teach the masses what we know. So, if I'm going to fancy myself a leading authority on the study of childhood explosions, I should probably be teaching you poor peons all about them.

Who can benefit this lesson? New parents, for one. You have absolutely no idea what you just got yourself into, do you? Suckers.

Then there are the parents who's children never throw tantrums, either because they're too darn perfect or always stoned on tranquilizers. You might want to know what other people deal with. And whether it's your perfect genetics or complete lack of conscience that makes your kids so well behaved, I hate you. So there.

Finally, every prospective parent should study this primer. There's still time to change your mind, folks.

The Maven introduces: How to Spot a Tantrum

Now, my research has shown that there are 5 very distinct levels leading up to a full-scale tantrum. To make these easier to spot, I've taken the time to draw some handy dandy illustrations. Yes, The Maven is not only an incredible writer, but an incredible artist, too.  My talent has no boundaries.

STAGE 1: THE TYPICAL MOOD

We can't say "normal" anymore, can we? A friend and I were talking about that the other day. It's just not a PC enough term in this diagnosis-happy world. Therefore, this is a typical child in a typical mood. I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, but let's be honest: it looks like a little dude. And, while I tried to use a neutral skin tone, there really isn't one, is there? We're fantastically multicultural in this day and age. I made this one look like my kids, I guess. Let's call him something like Little Billy. That's pretty generic.

STAGE 2: THE WARNING

Oops. You said or did something un-okay. You know how a rattlesnake shakes its tail before striking? This is what your child is doing, but in the form of an unimpressed look. It's a lot like the look you give the jerk who just stole your parking spot. This is a warning to cease and desist any and all activity that is not pleasing, lest Little Billy get all up in your grill. There is still time to turn this thing around if you just let him do whatever he wants and bow to his every whim and desire.

Oh, wait. You can't, because that's shitty parenting. Sorry about your luck.

STAGE 3: THE TIPPING POINT

We've come to this. The point of no return. You didn't back down, did you? You crossed that line and you're about to pay for it, big time. Look at the shock in Little Billy's eyes. He's so surprised and put off by you. How could you put your foot down like that? Why couldn't you have given him that fifth cookie before dinner? What's so wrong with throwing butter knives at his sister's head? And doesn't the couch look better with knitting needles sticking out of it?  Why, you're worst parent, ever! He's disgusted with you! He can't believe you just did that! And now you have it coming.

STAGE 4: THE TRANSFORMATION

This is where things are about to get ugly. You may want to move any sensitive viewers out of the room.

Little Billy is pissed. He's out for blood. At this point, you might as well find a door frame or table to brace yourself under, because the scream will be so strong it will shake the foundations of your very soul. If you pray, now is the time to do it.

This lifelike representation of a tantrum, stage 4, shows the subtle details often overlooked in its identification: budding horns, flaming hair, red eyes and excessive tooth growth are sometimes only seen if the explosion is recorded and played back in slow motion. But they're there. Oh yes, they're there.

STAGE 5: THE EPIC CLIMAX

Sometimes, hair loss occurs at this stage because all blood vessels in the scalp have rerouted to feed the needs of the devil horns.

This is a good time to grab those knitting needles out of the couch and start making something, because it's going to be a while. Tantrums can last a very long time. If the fit is happening in chillier months, maybe you could crochet a little hat for Billy's demonic tongue. Just don't stare too long into the hypno-eyes. You may find yourself giving into this monster, thus making it stronger next time.

Tantrums. They suck, I know. Thank you for your time.

THE END

Oh... Were you looking for advice to stop tantrums? I'm still trying to figure that out, too. What do you think I am? Some kind of expert?

Running is for the Sadistic. And also me.

I've gone running - or jogging, if you'd prefer, as I'm certainly not taking this ample body down the road at full tilt - three times in the past week. There was a time in my pre-Spawnling life where I ran 4km every day, so I'm not exactly new at this sport. The difference today, however, is that I'm more aware of exactly what running entails both physically and psychologically. And, let me tell you, it's not pretty. Runners need to be equipped with a number of negative attributes in order to get hooked on the idea.

Allow me to explain in this handy dandy primer:

Step 1: Suit up!

The first thing to know about runners is that health is only secondary to their ultimate goal of looking hot. They may not even realize it themselves, but they are screaming to be noticed. If we didn't care what you thought of us, we wouldn't be wearing designer running gear, right? Right. And please don't give me the excuse that it's 'more comfortable' or 'has better support'. I'm also an attention whore runner, remember? I've played this game before; and while I can't squeeze my pudge into the cute Lululemon outfits just yet, I make up for wearing discount store brands by sporting my hot pink iPod, Roots carrying case and shoes that are so beautiful they've been known to make onlookers weep. Looking hot: it's just what we do.

Major character flaw involved: Vanity.

Step 2: The Stretch

Stretching is an important part of the before and after running rituals. And, in true jogger fashion, should never be done privately. The best place to stretch is where you'll get the most attention. Sometimes, like me, it's on your front step. For others, it's at the beginning of a trail. For true attention seekers, in front of a Wal-Mart might get you the fix you need. A movie theater also works if you time your stretch to the letting out of a blockbuster film. Why do we flaunt our stretches in public? Because we want you to know that we run. We want you to see that we're healthy and know enough about the sport to do it properly. Then, not only will you say 'Hey, look at that runner in the cute pants!' but you might also throw in 'and she's stretching, which is what healthy people do. Wow... Now I feel badly about myself. I shall have a great deal of chocolate now.'

Major character flaw involved: Grandiosity.

Step 3: The Warm up

Ever watch a horse race? All those eager animals have to be penned to keep them contained. When the gates are finally opened, they take off at breakneck speeds. Runners are a lot like horses, except we have two feet and wear clothes. Filled with motivation from all the attention and guilt-inducing we've done in steps 1 and 2, we feel ready to take on just about anything. But if we want the run to last a long time we need the stamina to do it, so warm up we must. It's not something we're proud of others seeing, but it's a necessary evil nonetheless. If another egomaniac runs by us he or she might think 'Hmph. Lazy power walker!' not realizing that we're cut from the same cloth. Thus, it's important to make your warm up as painless as possible. Do it right after stretching and in the area where all the other runners do theirs so it's assumed you're in the cool cats club. Or, if on a regular road and not a runner's trail (they're a lot like dog parks, but for joggers) then follow the same route daily, or at least until you start running. Then, either people will know you well enough to see you're warming up, or only a few neighbours and passers by will think you're a wannabe.

Major character flaw involved: Insecurity

Step 4: Full throttle

This is where runners begin their actual running, and, if done properly, can last a good while. Those like me, however, will jump back and forth between this and step 5, which is a little hard on the ego but must be done to preserve the run in the name of hotness. Full throttle running is when things are going very well. The hot pink iPod is on at a ridiculously high level playing 90's dance cheese, the legs are functioning as smoothly as a well-oiled machine, the feet are hitting the ground in perfect rhythm, and there's just enough sweat beading on the forehead. More importantly, everyone is looking, and you're almost sure it's not because these yoga pants make your bum jiggle. You could carry on like this forever. Forever! It's perfect.

Character flaw involved: Denial.

Step 5: Sort of full throttle

Ah, step 5. It sounds horrible to need to slow down and take a bit of a walking or light jogging break in between the more impressive running jags, but it's not all that bad. For one, it allows one to wipe the now excessive amounts of sweat from every inch of skin, to let the heart slow down before it implodes in the chest (good idea) and to stop the ridiculous gasping and wheezing sounds you just realized are coming from you and are not noise on the MP3 track. Oh, sure, you might look like a wimp for a minute or so as you gather yourself and wonder if you'd look as attractive passed out on the sidewalk, but that's just part of the game until you get much better. I've accepted it as just the way things are right now. It's the difference between exhausting myself after ten minutes or going for forty. I can do simple math, and I know there are sacrifices needed to achieve the larger number.

Character flaw involved: Egomania

Step 5: The brag

I'm going to skip the cool-down stuff because it's essentially the same as steps 1, 2 and 3 but in reverse, and you look awesome anyway because you're covered in sweat and are obviously exhausted; proof that you are, indeed, a runner, or perhaps a ridiculously bad walker. But all that stretching and showering and water drinking has an ultimate goal: bragging. It's time to tally up what you ran, make it look at as good as possible, and, while still high on those amazing endorphins, let everyone know what you accomplished today. I recommend social networking site status updates as they reach the most people. My updates on Facebook are usually 'ran another great 3k today! Better than last time, too!' and other such subtle remarks. But don't blame me: it's the endorphins. That amazing rush is what keeps me coming back to the torturous run. I hate it and love it all at the same time. I pant and whimper for what seems like an eternity so I can float blissfully alongside The Beatles' Yellow Submarine for an hour or two.

Character flaw involved: Addiction.

And there you have it. My primer on running. I hope it helps explain a few things.

Now I must be off. I have an appointment for the gremlins and must get ready for tonight's festivities at my AA meeting. 18 years clean and sober? And now I'm running again, too? Damn, I'm good.

Character flaw involved: pretty much all of them.