Better Living Through Chemistry

I’ve blogged before about the advantages of technology in raising a baby these days. But my generation also has the advantages of huge chemical and medical knowledge. The list of health and hygiene products that never existed when my parents were children – and even during my own childhood – is immense. And I don’t mean just the biggies like immunizations and antibiotics that save babies’ lives. I mean all those “minor” products that save parents’ sanity.

When my mother was a baby, the accepted remedy for teething pain was to rub whiskey on her gums. I very much doubt that my staunch Baptist grandmother ever did this. But there have been rumors of homemade elderberry wine that may have been put to medicinal use! When I was a baby, my mother kept a tiny vial of oil of cloves in the medicine cabinet to rub on my gums. I’ve smelled that stuff, and I admit that it may or may not have dulled the pain, but it certainly would have created a sensory distraction. But when Ryan seemed to be in pain from teething yesterday (I know, I know, I’ve been claiming he’s teething for two months now – but I’ll keep saying it and eventually I’ll be right), I had my own magic vial of infant Tylenol that numbed his pain and allowed him to finally get some much-needed (as much by me as by him) rest.

Another problem that I, fortunately, have not had to deal with is gas and colic. I have no idea how my grandmother dealt with it, but my mom’s best resource for me was to plop me in the car and drive around the neighborhood for hours, usually at 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning.

For my generation of moms, however, not only do we have the option of the late-night drive (with much safer and simpler car seats, to boot), but we have a cabinet full of products like Mylicon drops and infant Tagamet, Prilosec, Prevacid and Zantac to calm and soothe those tender tummies.

Cough or cold? Forget about sitting on the side of the tub with the shower running full blast to create a steam room. We have warm mist, cool mist, high mist, low mist, with medication, without medication humidifiers. We have twenty-seven brands of cough drops and cold liquids. We have products to loosen a cough, dry a cough, prevent a cough, prevent a cold, unstuff a nose, and stop a runny nose.

And even on the non-medicinal side of things, we have shampoos, skin creams, diaper rash creams, powders, body wash, and bubble bath. Hypoallergenic, organic, aromatherapy, vegan, non-animal-tested – whatever you want, you can find it out there.

Gone are the days of a single bottle of Johnson & Johnson No More Tears shampoo that served to wash everything. These days you can find a specialized product for every conceivable body part with every conceivable twist – moisturizing, drying, anti-itch, softening, and on and on.

So although it may be a little overwhelming to look at those store shelves full of thousands of products, I’m glad to have all those options. Because somewhere amidst those bottle and vials and jars and tubs is one item that will make my baby happy and contented. And when baby is happy, everybody is happy!

Mr. Whipple Had It Right

I'm probably showing my age by referencing this, but hopefully at least some of you remember those wonderful Charmin toilet paper commercials with Mr. Whipple begging his customers, "Please, don't squeeze the Charmin!", all the while hugging a package himself.

Mr. Whipple couldn't resist the squeezable softness - who could? The package even has a cute baby on the label, since babies are always associated with soft squeezableness.

Well, pretty much everything about Ryan is soft and squeezeable. We had friends over for dinner last weekend who happen to be anticipating the arrival of their first grandchild in a few months, and when the grandma-to-be met Ryan, she immediately called to her husband, "Oooh, come feel how soft his skin is!" His arms and legs and face are so perfectly smooth. I often laugh that he doesn't have a single pore anywhere on his body - his skin is just a perfect, soft, supple sheet. Whenever I change his diaper, I kiss his belly because it's so soft and warm and, well, kissable. I rub his nose with mine all the time because it's so perfectly soft and smooth. And when he's getting ready for his bath, his naked, dimply little bottom perched on my arm feels like silky satin, it's so soft.

And then there's his hair - it's softer than a puppy's fur, softer than a baby chick, softer than the down on a duckling. I can't even think of anything soft enough to compare it to. It feels as soft as a muppet's fluffy ostrich hair looks.

(the resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?)

Even aside from Ryan himself, all of his stuff is soft. His stuffed animals are the softest plush, just begging to be cuddled and squeezed. His blankets are fleece or fur, and his clothes are all soft, nappy, touchable fabric. Everything around him is an invitation to pat and caress and snuggle.

(for those of you who have seen the "Sandy at the Dentist" video, this is NOT Ryan in the infamous "unicorn reindeer" outfit - but it's the closest approximation I could find)

So I'm with Mr. Whipple - I won't be saying not to squeeze anything, but I'll certainly be walking around giving the soft bundle in my arms all the squeezes and snuggles I can.