Tales from the Crib

I've jumped out of planes numerous times, climbed rocks, slithered through small caves, walked (and danced) on a tightrope and done more tricks on my bicycle than I can count. In my head, I've been planning a scuba diving trip for my next adventure. There are not many things that strike a chord of fear through me.

Until my last experience at the dentist. I've always been diligent about going to the dentist, brushing and flossing. But the last time I went to the dentist (the first time at that dentist), I coud tell something wasn't right. Blood was gushing from my mouth. For three subsequent months after a general cleaning, my teeth constantly ached and I could only eat soft food.

I had been to the dentist twice a year for my entire life and I couldn't believe it, but one bad experience left me fearful. (What will my mother say if she reads this?)

Six months after the ordeal, we discovered I was pregnant and I stopped the new dentist search in favor of searches in baby registries and baby name books.

As with many pregnant women, my teeth and gums became sensitive. I just couldn't muster up the time and courage to make another dental appointment. With everything else going on in my body, I thought more tooth pain might just send me over the edge. I planned to go right after the baby was born.

My daughter is now 10 months old and, after being on my to-do list for a year, I finally made an appointment. I tried to be rational. I asked myself how I could expect my children to not fear the dentist when I couldn't go myself. I had to be the adult example. I reminded myself if I could birth a child with minimal medication, I can get my teeth cleaned. Now that I think about it, I was less nervous for childbirth.

As the hygenist cleaned my teeth, there were a few squirmy moments and a little blood, but all in all it wasn't that bad. I'm also glad to say I've finally conquered my embarrassing, irrational fear!

I am not usually shocked by people's behavior, but every once in a while, I still find myself speechless. This was the case at our recent excursion to the July 4th fireworks.

We had a nice lakefront spot with chairs and blankets for me, 10-month-old Anika, my sister and her kids (ages 7 and 4). Our grassy spot was situated near an abrupt edge with Lake Michigan beneath it. We all sat close together and ate popcorn while we waited for the main event. Overall, it was a safe area or we never would have sat there.

As children do, my 4-year-old nephew started jumping around and was getting naturally closer to the edge. My sister and I were sitting right there and she held his arm, told him not to roughhouse by the edge and to, instead, play by our blanketed area.

Instantly, an older man sitting next to us leaned forward and sternly said: "He's playing a foot from the water. You need to be a better parent to that boy."

His tone was extremely snotty, like that of a child's. It amazes me what people will say to one another, especially about a subject as sensitive as parenting skills. I can't help but wonder, what's the point of saying something with such judgement? To argue with a stranger? To make a scene at a family event? It certainly wasn't to make friendly conversation or lend a helping hand. Had no one ever told him "if you can't say anything nice ...."? Or how about putting the Golden Rule into play?

There was no imminent danger. My nephew was never in harm's way and any potential danger was squashed by my sister before it ever became an issue. She reacted like a good parent.

I like to imagine that people think a little before they speak. For being so concerned about children, this man certainly wasn't concerned about the example he was setting for three children listening to his every word: That's it's okay to talk rudely to other people.

I guess it's up to the good parents to teach children to treat people better than that.

As with every July 3rd, there will be fireworks tonight.

And as with many summer activities this year, I felt I had to pass. It just seemed to risky with a 9-month-old.

Even though Nate works on the lakefront and offered to reserve a space for me and our daughter Anika, I still think it's a lot of effort that might not work in our favor. True, it would be nice for us to spend some family time together, even though he will be busy working. But since we work opposite shifts, there is a comfort when the family is together in a close physical proximity to one another.

But it's late and it will be crowded at the lakefront. It will take effort to beat the crowd, park, find a place to sit ... and if all that trouble leads to an overtired cranky baby who finds the fireworks too loud, I'll be the cranky one.

This morning I told Nate my concerns that our daughter Anika would not enjoy the fireworks and I won't be upset to miss them this year. We'll do it next year. Case closed, so I thought.

While I was at work, Nate bypassed my good judgement and called my sister, invited them to his lakefront spot. My sister and her two children, ages 4 and 7, each responded with an enthusiastic "woop, woop!"

Nate clearly knows my weak spots - and it's for my nephews' woop woops. My sister and I have changed many a plan, stayed later at a festival, stayed extra days on a vacation due to the woop, woop. I'm sure Anika will someday learn the secret of the woop woop from her cousins.

Sure, call us suckers. It would be true, but it always ends with more fun, so you can't blame us. We're suckers for family fun. So now I am faced with two woop woops and everyone is excited. How can I say no to enthusiasm?

When I get home, I'm going to encourage Anika to take a very long nap, pack her up for her first Independence Day celebration and cross my fingers. May the woop woops be with us -- all night!

With the incentive of free tickets, Nate and I decided to be brave and take the family to Summerfest.

We take our 9-month-old baby, Anika, just about everywhere. Our family toted her along at a mere 3 weeks old to our favorite Japanese restaurant. She celebrated her two month "birthday" at a Brewers game.

But now that she's crawling, she is rarely content to stay still on my lap or tuck into a Baby Bjorn for a snooze.

On Friday, minutes after deciding to take Anika and her big sister Mia to Summerfest, it started raining. I was sure that solidified our plans of staying in the house, but Nate had different plans. Never one to pass up a festival, he figured the rain would pass and the fairgrounds would clear out -- leaving a perfect spacious area for our family.

I was skeptical, but with free tickets and a free parking pass, we had nothing to lose. Even though my gut was telling me that there was no way we could pull this off, I packed an overstuffed diaper bag and shoved the stroller in the trunk.

We arrived and went through the bag/stroller check with none of the problems I had anticipated. To my surprise, things were looking positive.

Our first stop is always Mia's fest favorite, the corn stand. Immediately, Anika was fussy. I thought she must have been over-stimulated and suggested we sit alone at the lakefront. Nate shrugged and said, "Try this." He took Mia's corn on the cob and gave it to Anika. A few licks and a bite of corn and she was calm. Leave it to relaxed father intuition.

We danced, played games and shared food until an impressive 9:45 p.m. It was the perfect time to leave, because as the sun went down, the air chilled and fair-goers became magically drunker.

Sometimes our plans actually work out, sometimes they go dreadfully wrong. But days like this remind me why we keep trying.