!Diaper Yeast Attack!

You know how they say be careful what you post online as one day your child might see it?…. yah, I’ll spare you pictures of my sons diaper yeast. I don’t want to be the reason he becomes ridiculed in school, but this thing was bad. It looked like moss, lil booty eating moss. I’m not sure if it hurt as he didn’t scratch too much. Incidentally, I learned the hard way that Magnesium was the worst thing to put on it. I mixed colloidal silver with magnesium and rubbed it on and he jumped and started scratching and kicking up his legs. Thank God his nails were cut or he’d tear a cheek off. It was a battle to get him to stop moving long enough for me to wipe the shit off, but eventually it passed. Poor child! The doctor had diagnosed it as diaper yeast and gave me a cream. It worked for a little bit, but then the diaper yeast was back. It was here bigger and spreading wider. I read online about Boudreaux butt paste and used it on him and holy! He got a rash on his poor pecker. I finally said ok, back to the doctor. Hubs told them it was getting worse and somehow the doctor convinced him it was getting better. Even though he lives with us, and we are the ones cleaning that butt every damn day! She prescribed Polysporin and I was pissed! That was used for healing cuts sooner than time would and this wasn’t a regular ‘ol diaper rash. We also couldn’t use it everyday and to me a day missed not working on this is a day it gets to either get better or worse. I needed it to get better only. I used it and it worked a little bit, the Canesten cream worked way better than it did.

After taking a step back and tracking a timeline from when this first became an issue, I realized it was going on for far too long. I wanted it gone and off my kids bum. The ever nurturing Google was my refuge. This time I looked up natural methods of getting rid of this thing. I would wash his butt with warm water with 2 drops of tea tree oil added, then smear yogurt on. This was so messy! This was working and even our daycare lady did it every now and then. We changed him often and gave him lots of breaks (lots of clean-ups) to help offer some relief. He unfortunately got an eczema outbreak from the Greek Yogurt we were adding to his bottle at nights and when we pulled it from his diet, we were left with a tub of the stuff to finish. *facepalm*. Our previous solution worked on the eczema, it’s just now we couldn’t tell which was which easily in order to contain the diaper yeast.  Nevertheless, I was on the charge and started applying the Greek Yogurt to his butt. I want to say within a week, I could actually see the yeast drying up. I read somewhere that when it started drying up I should not apply the yogurt anymore, as it was on the mend. Every now and then though I’d do this routine at nights, when he’s sleeping. Especially if he pooped in his sleep. Hubs mentioned that it might be something he eats that triggered it, but for the life of us we can’t put out finger on this one. He would poo and then bam! His entire butt is in rashes. Sigh! Kudos to the natural mommy goddesses that share their magic. I am eternally grateful to the wave of naturopathic educators on the internet….my baby’s butt thanks you! ….xoxo

 

-Nic

Night time Babba woes…

*Sigh* …Our food drama continues…

Since lately baby (2 yr. old) has been waking up multiple times throughout the night screaming for a bottle. We were trying to wean him off bottles, formulas and bedtime ‘babbas’ but the child was legitimately starving.

We tried giving him water, rocking him back to sleep, letting him wake up, turning on his favorite videos on his tablets, singing songs etc. None of it works as fast as a warm bottle does.  Truth be told, most times we needed to go back to bed as well. When our efforts failed we tried to find ways to full his stomach. We only use almond and coconut milk and so we figured they weren’t holding him as long as we needed. Plus, frequently waking up meant he wasn’t hitting deep a sleep to me. one night he woke up 6 times and he polished off his bottle each time. We knew we needed to make a change. We needed to make baby fuller, longer. We figured he was tired of the Pediasure, so I looked at other things.  I perused the supermarket aisle and was considering a baby cereal but there wasn’t any that went up to his age.  A quick Google search suggested that greek yogurt is one food that keeps you fuller longer. I figured that it couldn’t hurt to try even though he was technically limited when it came to dairy.

I bought a small tub of organic plain to try and it worked like a charm! One tablespoon in his night time bottle and he only woke up 1 time for the night looking for his fill. He even seemed more well rested. I especially loved that this wasn’t a filler like the cereal would be but a great healthy addition with lots of Calcium benefits!

Score!

Mama Hotline Bling

Perhaps you will pause for a minute or scroll on by.

This Mother’s Day make sure you call your mother, at least to say ‘hi’.

Don’t send her a text, email or just a delivery.

Let her hear your voice or see your angel face physically.

Where she can touch and look upon you directly.

 

A mother can look into your eyes and know your lies.

It’s also the place that tells her you’re weak or how much you’ve tried.

She will always make your favorite meal on the fly.

Be the one that answers, Every. Single. Time.

 

Make sure you tell her you love and appreciate her

Hug up, squeeze up and draw nearer, nearer

Tell her you’re acknowledging her worth.

That you know you changed her life at your birth

Your words are heavy, make sure you don’t stutter

Joke about how you know you’re the best thing in her life

That you live happily, that will make her smile; her heart flutter.

 

Call your mother this Mother’s Day

Let the conversation linger on, let her say all she has to say

Somewhere in all the pleasantries your fears will be exposed

But do not feel guilt when she says ‘a mother always knows’.

Tell her you’re grateful she’s recognized you as an adult.

That you don’t intentionally mean to be difficult.

Before you run off the phone, say ‘I love YOU mama’.

You’re all I worry and think about

Remind her that for all 365 days, she’s all you care about.

Estranged….

I recently had an ordeal that left me a bit confused at the nerve of some people. My mother accidentally met my son for the first time in his entire life last week. My son is about to be 2yrs old. While it was brief (thank God), she managed to get my husband to agree to meeting up so that he could collect gifts her side of the family had for our son. The meeting went down and I carefully donated all gifts to the Make-A-Wish donation. I could have just thrown them away. What struck a chord with me is the fact that she labelled the gift bag as being from ‘Nana’ and put ‘Grandpa’ before her husband’s name. My uncle had let me know that he had left things there for my son but they didn’t even have the common decency to add his name.  I was grateful for the fact that my son is young and couldn’t attach himself to the thought of who these people he met randomly at a clinic is to him. I was so annoyed, because I grew up attached to someone with a title that refused to have a hand in raising me. As neither my husband or I have a relationship with the gift givers, their audacity boggled my mind. It reminded me very much about people who boosts about relationships that don’t exist, ie. delinquent fathers and their estranged children. Where do people get the nerve to cast themselves in positions that clearly was never bestowed on them? Positions that they clearly have contributed zero effort towards. Further calling themselves monikers that are used so affectionately by people worldwide. I felt a bit of embarrassment for them, because we all know they are anything but. I was even more annoyed knowing this was something which would be bragged about from their end. I wish people would be more honest with themselves and not be so hung up on an image. As basic as it sounds, you are by no means grandparents to my child; you’re merely related. I strongly believe in titles and how we represent ourselves to a child. This is generally how trust develops and primarily why I was most annoyed. We all teach our children about strangers and counter that family and friends are people we can trust, who are ‘safe’. There was no way I could attach these titles to people that aren’t in my sons life. Furthermore, you don’t get to call yourself such names and treat him any old way. Further confusing him and leaving him open to so many questions. Children have a very odd way of feeling emptiness and asking about people that should be around that aren’t. Especially when they see these relationships around them. Their love is very pure, and based on your relation to them, they will either love you or not. I’m definitely not ready to introduce my child to what a broken relationship is. I’ve seen the effects and will kindly bow out of that mountain. As a stretch, as his parent, our permission to associate with my child a certain way should be given prior. Especially when it comes to people who have problem filling children with fallacies about all manner of things. Trust that there is a special kind of hell for people who try to control and turn a child’s mind. I don’t believe assuming a role that isn’t yours is healthy, for anyone involved. When my son met his paternal grandfather he was introduced to him as his name and said who he is. He was called by his name because in his life there hasn’t been that relationship. I believe in calling a spade a spade when it comes to letting people in. I refuse to teach my child it is ok to hold on to mediocre relationships. I simply refuse to teach him to be a doormat for someone just because of their title. Most importantly, that not everyone related to you deserves to be loved by you. *deep sigh*

It’s a disservice to think your children aren’t already living and building relationships with people. Trust that only the best people should be allowed to grace their presence; they don’t need early encounters with the cold world…

Shoo flu!!

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Us…

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The elixir

My hubby said he read somewhere that our baby will get 6-8 colds this year. I immediately felt defeated, as he’s currently on no. 2. I decided that it won’t beat us and the moment we got home today, I got to work. I minced some garlic added two teaspoons of honey and squeezed some lemon in the mix. I stir it up and together we administered the potion! I feel like this is the wickedest think I’ve ever done to my son. The taste of the garlic did sting! I don’t believe eating raw garlic is yummy but I wanted something natural and guaranteed. We hugged it out and he proceeded to wipe his nose in my shirt, and with that we can call it even!

Let’s hope your babies are having better luck than mine and my household!

An ode to the Beygency et al….

I wasn’t a ‘stan’ for Beyonce growing up. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her music, my favorite kind of music was oldies. screenshot_20170201-153930The hits from the 60s, 70s and 80s is what I loved. I would always jam to her tunes but I didn’t understand her magnitude. I loved getting lost in these eras and still do. The songs from those times had the ultimate life lessons for which I was very grateful. As I became an adult I realized many things, one of which was the way people ‘work’. I saw people in two categories, those who grind and those who does and would not. Every time I was left alone pushing through a group project in college, I got a taste of people in the world. Every time I had to step up and shoulder major tasks in my role at work, I got a taste of people in the real world. Every time I have had to yell ‘I’ll do it!’; the taste lingered. The more I pushed through grand tasks, being deadbeat tired and still moving, the more I grew bewildered. There was a point in my life when I was working a full-time job, a part-time job, taking request for a paying hobby all while going to school as a full-time student. Friends and family hadn’t see me for months. One friend saw me because we worked together. The more these days turned into months, the more I was confused about how others were living. There are people in this world that cannot hold down 1 steady job. Adults, who are incapable of working steadily, earning a living and covering their bills and basic expenses. I’m talking about men and women alike, not SAHMs or SAHDs, I’m talking drifters. Significant others that just want to lay around and be carried.   We all know them and wonder how they survive. Even more so how they excel in relationships and why they are being enabled. I could never respect a capable being holding their own. I could never trust them for they don’t even love themselves. screenshot_20170201-144710It boggles my mind how comfortable people get just floating day in and day out. Stationary, still with no desire for much more than the next meal. I shuddered at that scene in Chewing Gum when Cynthia said she wanted nothing out of life but to play LUDO with Tracey all day. I know people like this exists! I wondered if my partner and I were the only ones who lived like this and why. Doesn’t everybody want a million?  Don’t they want more for their children and own life?

You might be wondering how Bey ties in to this. Where does Slayonce lie here? She ties in because no matter what is said about her, she does the work. All of the work, all the time. I have to respect the work ethic, I have to lift up the drive and ambition. As hard as she goes, she doesn’t always win, which is also a part of life but the works goes on. She’s on to the next project or step. She does it consistently, focused and moving on, all without an ego! As I shouldered many things alone I drew to women who were the same. I also separated from those who cannot hold their own, they felt like anchors and their relationships with others around them turned me off. It was all too transactional. I looked deeper at women who do and who get jokes cracked on them because they do. Also saw the other side of women who get criticized for the most irrelevant things. Lisa Price, Michaela Coel, Shonda Rhimes, my aunts and other women in my family, friends, Michelle Obama, Oprah, my sis-in-law. There’s a reason why they stand high, some alone. I’ve learned to channel the strength of the greats and I can’t wait to pass that aptitude on to my daughter. My son is already a work in progress. If not for yourself, do the work, all of it, all the time for those that want to respect you. Things has to be done because the world doesn’t stop for any one. Ever.

Men who molest…

My country has waged a war against women. I feel sick to my bones with all that is happening. The sad part is, none of this is new. A couple weeks ago I sat listening to a friend as she spoke about how she forgave the man who molested her as a little girl. I sat quietly and didn’t particularly share as I didn’t want to hijack her moment. These things are very hard to discuss. I thought back to my main instance (s) of being molested. My mother had secured a ride for me to go to school with a gentleman who lived up the street. I was happy! I was off the bus, out of the hassle and most importantly, I’d be chauffeured to school. The morning commutes was brutal. It took two hours by transit to get to school and back. We lived in the country and I attended school in the city. The commuting struggle went on for years and is something I promised I’d never do to myself when I got older; not for me or my kids. I was constantly drained and tired, travelling was taxing. So, the new drive was welcomed. I enjoy sitting in the back quietly all the way to school. I remained polite every time I was spoken to. I was about 10 years old and dreaded being beaten. West Indian parents didn’t care to hear your side of the story, once they got a report of misbehaving, your ass would feelimg_20170124_002421539 the effects of their embarrassment.

Eventually, I started getting comfortable; naturally. It began with me nodding off periodically, to me fully laying face down on the back seat. I was tired! I figured it did no harm. This man would have to wake me up when I got to school but that wasn’t a crime either; I thought. I didn’t quite understand what happened the first time, but a few more times and I realized this was habitual. To wake me up, he would push his hand under my chest and squeeze my breasts. I felt ashamed. I was very ‘busty’ as a young girl and it was the source of many conversations; much to my disdain. One day when we were on a bus, my mother told me I could tell her anything. Looking back now, I wondered if my attitude had changed to prompt this and I told my mother and she ended that convenient ride immediately. This man’s second attempt came one night, there was a light out in the neighborhood and I was home alone with my candles lit. I had to take the bus home in the afternoons and stay inside until my mother came. She strictly instructed that I not let anyone in and I listened. Unaware of the morbid characters of the world and unwilling to find out I followed her lead.

On this night, he came to our house and said he had something for my mother. I cracked the door to collect it and he pulled the door open and came inside. I was petrified but I didn’t show it. I tried to handle things so that he would leave, he wouldn’t budge. He reached for me and squeezed my stomach and I pulled away. I pushed myself between the fridge and the table and told him he had to leave and that my mother would be home soon. He got up and said he’d see me later and just as he was walking out with his flashlight, my mother was home. I was relieved and scared in the same breath.  She was in a tizzy. I told her what happened and that he brought her a roll of hand towel!  Oh she was mad! I was relieved and sad. When she cried it broke me and when she called her friends and told them I was embarrassed and felt like a failure.  I didn’t know what to think of myself and have always had to hold men off. My worst fear in life is being raped and so I may be overly cautious and very direct to men that approach me.

My husband joked about how I completely stop when things get very aggressive during our intimate moments and I am not afraid to say it is because of my experiences why I am this way. I’ve had two uncles proudly approach me with offers that are along the lines of incest. One of which has been blessed with a daughter. I remember sitting on the bus beside a church brother and he kept his hand within firm reach of my breasts the entire ride. I was such a coward and did not say anything. All I did was ensure to never make the mistake of travelling with him again. I’ve had the hugs that lasted way too long and the release from these hugs that involved ones hands running across my chest. I cannot stress enough how much I will never trust the male species. The more I think about having a daughter, the more these memories and thoughts linger at the forefront of my mind. The more I get scared at how I won’t be there to save her should anything happen or that I would be too late. A friend talked about how his child mother entertained the same man that held her daughter down and I thought about how deprived and lonely you had to be keeping a man like this around. How sad your life is and how neglected and empty your child must feel. I know women aren’t the only ones being sexually assaulted and all around it’s sad.

I hope for great change in the world and that the innocence of children especially will be respected. To the world, I hope for peace. Please do the same…