So, as usual, I was listening to NPR on the way to take the kids to school and I was reminded of their "Three Things" series they are currently airing. The premise of the series is asking people all around the state of Michigan what three things they can do, as individuals, to make our state better. I don't need to spell out the economic woes we are still feeling, but I do believe we are on our way back up. I was really quite struck by simplifying something I can do. Three "somethings" actually, and truly what a difference we could make if we all just did three "somethings."
My Three Somethings
1. Buy local (really? this one seems obvious to me), made in Michigan when possible. My favorite treat at the moment is Hanover's Michigan Mints with Dark chocolate, made in St. Johns, MI. This also includes Farmer's Markets and roadside produce stands--no preservatives!.
2. Donate stuff. Yup, I have a house full of "stuff" that I'm not using and right now, let me tell you, there are plenty of people who need your stuff ! I bet many of us have one shelf (or more) in the linen closet of bedding or blankets that we haven't touched in five years. Well, there's a shelter somewhere, not far from your linen closet, that would really appreciate that blanket. Or, clothes, toys, even food to the food bank. Clear the clutter out of your life people--and do some good with it.
3. Volunteer. Especially in schools. The budget for education in our state stinks, to be polite, --a perfect place for you to help. Help in the lunchroom. Volunteer to help with literacy (if you can read, you can help), donate the scrapbooking stuff piled up in the basement for two years to a local art class or afterschool program. Michigan school kids need our help.
So those are my three "somethings". I hope you'll take a second to ponder what your three "somethings" are. All of us would sure make a lot of "somethings" and wouldn't that just be great for Michigan!
Monday, January 4, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Sports For Chicks. This Chicks Passion For Football
Today wraps up the last day of the regular season for NFL Football. If you've never taken a moment to appreciate football--I suggest you do. It's got drama, excitement, suspense, speed and leading men, baby! Once you're with a team (for me it's the LIONS) a bond is formed between team and fan and there's no looking back, you'll be hooked.
Nothing is like the final play for the win, with 11 seconds on the clock, the ball snaps, the QB's got it, the offensive line does everything they can to keep the defense from clobbering your guy, 8 seconds, 7, the receiver in a mad sprint down field, chased down by two beefy villains panting behind him! Finally, 4 seconds, the ball is in the air, the receiver is at the 5 yard line, the 4, the ball drops into his hands, it topples, he almost drops it! The villain tips it, they both are reaching for it, still bobbling, their huge bodies (big beefy guy bodies) collide and their massive legs trip each other up. They fall together hard into the end zone, no ball in sight. Two huge men bounce off the turf, the whistle blows, no more clock. Who will come up with the ball? Can it get more exciting?
Yes, it can! You see the ball--your guy has it! Complete pass. TOUCHDOWN! He stands, he growls, he slams the ball to the ground in victory. The crowd is deafening and on their feet--and you are too--off the couch, a high five to your kids, a victory kiss with your husband. You're exhilarated, there are tears in your eyes. Yes! The underdog proves triumphant, pride abounds both on the field and in the suburbs in your living room.
It's true, the LIONS had a rough season, but it was better than the last, and for that I am grateful. For now my LIONS blue nail polish will retire until next season, but until then, my roar will be loud enough to be heard from the burbs, through to next August, when my big beefy guys take to the practice field in Allen Park.
And just because my team is out, doesn't mean I've lost interest. Now it's the NFL Playoffs baby! Right now I'm behind the Vikings---Go Brett! (Brett Favre for those of you who don't follow) Prove to everyone that your fountain of youth does exist and their is still athletic greatness at 40!
Nothing is like the final play for the win, with 11 seconds on the clock, the ball snaps, the QB's got it, the offensive line does everything they can to keep the defense from clobbering your guy, 8 seconds, 7, the receiver in a mad sprint down field, chased down by two beefy villains panting behind him! Finally, 4 seconds, the ball is in the air, the receiver is at the 5 yard line, the 4, the ball drops into his hands, it topples, he almost drops it! The villain tips it, they both are reaching for it, still bobbling, their huge bodies (big beefy guy bodies) collide and their massive legs trip each other up. They fall together hard into the end zone, no ball in sight. Two huge men bounce off the turf, the whistle blows, no more clock. Who will come up with the ball? Can it get more exciting?
Yes, it can! You see the ball--your guy has it! Complete pass. TOUCHDOWN! He stands, he growls, he slams the ball to the ground in victory. The crowd is deafening and on their feet--and you are too--off the couch, a high five to your kids, a victory kiss with your husband. You're exhilarated, there are tears in your eyes. Yes! The underdog proves triumphant, pride abounds both on the field and in the suburbs in your living room.
It's true, the LIONS had a rough season, but it was better than the last, and for that I am grateful. For now my LIONS blue nail polish will retire until next season, but until then, my roar will be loud enough to be heard from the burbs, through to next August, when my big beefy guys take to the practice field in Allen Park.
And just because my team is out, doesn't mean I've lost interest. Now it's the NFL Playoffs baby! Right now I'm behind the Vikings---Go Brett! (Brett Favre for those of you who don't follow) Prove to everyone that your fountain of youth does exist and their is still athletic greatness at 40!
Saturday, January 2, 2010
What Got To Me Today? China
Every now and then I'll probably mention my Aunt Pat to you...she sends me the most awesome mail...clips from newspapers, articles from magazines and comics, and hand-written letters instead of emails---love it!. Today I received an envelope full of goodies which did not disappoint. One of the comics she sent was a Dennis The Menace one by Hank Ketcham. In the illustration Dennis is sitting in his jammies, and it looks like Dad is about to read him a story. Dennis says to his dad "If God made everything, He must live in China."
Well, first reaction, pretty funny. It's true, "Made in China" stickers are on just about everything. PAUSE. Say again.."Made in China" stickers are on just about EVERYTHING! Not too funny, when you think about it. So this is what got to me today and what has gotten to me for many days.
When are we going to insist, as consumers, that enough is enough? We've already had our children endangered by lead poisoning on toys coming from China (if that doesn't do it, not sure what will!), we've lost millions of American jobs outsourced to China, and we continue to borrow from China, because they are wealthy, and why are they wealthy? Because we are buying American products from Chinese factories. What?? Is this ludicrous to anyone else? ( I won't even go into why it's cheaper to make products there, how employees are mistreated and paid dollars per week, and have no human rights, let alone Codes of Business conduct.)
When are we going to resist buying cheap and buy local instead? Now I know, there are some things you just can't get locally---your kid's favorite toy, your husbands game system...I get it. And then there is the argument that local is more expensive. Well, it's only more expensive because enough people aren't buying locally. Increase the demand and prices will go down. I'm not saying I don't have things in my house made in China. Guilty as charged. But I am trying to make some different choices these days. And if half the country can get their head around buying Freedom fries instead of French fries...I'd like to think we can get our heads around buying American.
Many towns and cities are implementing campaigns to help consumers keep their dollars local, if not in your city, then your state, your country. Check your local City websites, Chambers of Commerce and Merchant's Associations. Go to your state websites and look under their business tabs. Put "buy local campaigns" into your search engine and you'll be amazed at all the tips and resources. When you can, support your local businesses before heading to the "We've- got -everything -you -need -under-one -roof -and -we- have- it -for- cheap -because -we -are-harming -American- business- Mart". If you love love love department stores, many of them have "Made In the USA" sections now. Lastly, vote in leaders who support local commerce.
We the people have A LOT of power, baby. Let's use it to put our country back to work, make China think about regulations and how to treat their own people, and get the "Made in China" stickers off of our kid's toys.
Well, first reaction, pretty funny. It's true, "Made in China" stickers are on just about everything. PAUSE. Say again.."Made in China" stickers are on just about EVERYTHING! Not too funny, when you think about it. So this is what got to me today and what has gotten to me for many days.
When are we going to insist, as consumers, that enough is enough? We've already had our children endangered by lead poisoning on toys coming from China (if that doesn't do it, not sure what will!), we've lost millions of American jobs outsourced to China, and we continue to borrow from China, because they are wealthy, and why are they wealthy? Because we are buying American products from Chinese factories. What?? Is this ludicrous to anyone else? ( I won't even go into why it's cheaper to make products there, how employees are mistreated and paid dollars per week, and have no human rights, let alone Codes of Business conduct.)
When are we going to resist buying cheap and buy local instead? Now I know, there are some things you just can't get locally---your kid's favorite toy, your husbands game system...I get it. And then there is the argument that local is more expensive. Well, it's only more expensive because enough people aren't buying locally. Increase the demand and prices will go down. I'm not saying I don't have things in my house made in China. Guilty as charged. But I am trying to make some different choices these days. And if half the country can get their head around buying Freedom fries instead of French fries...I'd like to think we can get our heads around buying American.
Many towns and cities are implementing campaigns to help consumers keep their dollars local, if not in your city, then your state, your country. Check your local City websites, Chambers of Commerce and Merchant's Associations. Go to your state websites and look under their business tabs. Put "buy local campaigns" into your search engine and you'll be amazed at all the tips and resources. When you can, support your local businesses before heading to the "We've- got -everything -you -need -under-one -roof -and -we- have- it -for- cheap -because -we -are-harming -American- business- Mart". If you love love love department stores, many of them have "Made In the USA" sections now. Lastly, vote in leaders who support local commerce.
We the people have A LOT of power, baby. Let's use it to put our country back to work, make China think about regulations and how to treat their own people, and get the "Made in China" stickers off of our kid's toys.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
No condescension. please.
This is an essay I wrote a few years ago while I was still working as a cable splicer. During that time, I often wrote about "things that got to me today" whether they made me angry, happy, moved, whatever. I'll be posting them every so often, to get some old essays out of the drawer and up on the screen. Enjoy, and may us all try and remember we are in this world together.
WOMAN ON A SIDEWALK
I work for a utility company. I drive a big, white, dirty truck and get dirty every day. I don’t like my job, but appreciate that I have one. I attend college so I can someday, leave my job to do something I enjoy. For now though, it is a job that pays half of the bills my husband and I have to provide for our family.
Today, while working out of my big, white, dirty truck, getting my jeans and work boots equally dirty, I encountered a woman on the sidewalk. She, this woman, got to me enough that I am writing this essay about her.
I was working at a location at the entrance of a very nice, elite if you will, single family home community. In order to perform my job most efficiently and out of the way, I had to temporarily park my truck in a way that blocked the sidewalk. The city will not allow me to take up a lane on the main road. If I park in the narrow, one-way entry to the fancy subdivision, I would block large vehicles, delivery trucks and school buses. I don’t want to park on the subdivision’s landscape at it’s entrance, for it’s maintenance manager would surely run me off. So, block the sidewalk it is, only temporarily. I’d be sure to hurry.
There was quite a bit of foot traffic, all very friendly. Some smiling, saying “hello.” I would apologize for blocking the walk. “No problem, you’re just fine” they would say, and then quickly walk around my big, white, work truck.
If they stepped to the right around the truck, they would walk on dry grass. To the left were wood chips framing the entrance sign to the neighborhood. There was no mud, not a ditch, not a rock cliff or a bowl of quick sand, just grass and wood chips.
So this brings me to the woman who inspired me to write down the events of the day. She was blonde, casually but expensively dressed, kind of the $300 version of a sweat suit, with white tennis shoes. She wore her hair in a conservative bob and was about my age, mid thirties. I don’t know another thing about her other than she had walked out of this high end housing community where I was working.
She quickly looked me over in my dirty jeans and boots, and as snootily as anyone I have ever heard, she loudly whined “Do you have to block the sidewalk?”
She was visibly irritated. I quickly, and in my very professional utility voice, apologized and started to briefly explain my parking options when she interrupted–really fuming- “well, it makes it so difficult! I shouldn’t have to walk around you!”
It was as if to say, you are just a dirty utility company worker and I am a stay -at- home- whatever on my nine o’clock power walk and because of you, my $200 tennies are going to have to step off of the pavement. (Dry grass or wood chips, not certain death).
I am not sure why she was so unfriendly, so condescending. Maybe her well- to -do life on the inside of her upper scale home isn’t as pretty as it is on the outside. Maybe her dog died, or she’s got a cold, or her marriage sucks, or maybe her Lexus is in the shop. Truthfully though, I’ll feel better not to judge her, make assumptions.
It is true, I am a blue collar utility worker with a big truck and dirty work clothes. But I am a stay at home mom and wife too, it’s just that that part of the day doesn’t start for me until 3:30 pm. I too, pick up my kids from school, spend quality time with them, help with homework, give baths, cook dinner, clean house, do laundry, play in the sand box, trek the kids to wrestling, football, family reading night, music concerts and book fairs.
Speaking of my kids, my boys are well adjusted, well rounded, affectionate, funny and in the tops of their classes. They have many friends, all of which I know.
Oh, and after the kids are in bed, I do MY homework so I can complete my degree, because unbeknown to the lady on the sidewalk, I have a brain. And of course, I am extremely fortunate to have a helpful, understanding husband who wants me to succeed, who wants to relieve any stress I have in any way that he can. And that, my elite friend, is just Monday through Friday.
So I guess my point is this: What really got to me today? A woman who judged me solely on my appearance, my occupation and the fact that my truck was going to move her twelve inches off of her daily power walk route. She was rude and inconsiderate to my situation. In her world, she was the only one that mattered and screw anyone else and what they might need.
It comes down to this. I don’t like or respect rude, mean people. The world would be a lot better if people were nice and considerate to one another, no matter their differences, whether it be race, gender, or like today, social class. I do believe I am a happier woman than the one I met on the sidewalk I am thankful to have such a good life, and hope one day she can find a good life too. Maybe then she, too, will be happy, and not feel obligated to look down, let alone speak down, on others.
WOMAN ON A SIDEWALK
I work for a utility company. I drive a big, white, dirty truck and get dirty every day. I don’t like my job, but appreciate that I have one. I attend college so I can someday, leave my job to do something I enjoy. For now though, it is a job that pays half of the bills my husband and I have to provide for our family.
Today, while working out of my big, white, dirty truck, getting my jeans and work boots equally dirty, I encountered a woman on the sidewalk. She, this woman, got to me enough that I am writing this essay about her.
I was working at a location at the entrance of a very nice, elite if you will, single family home community. In order to perform my job most efficiently and out of the way, I had to temporarily park my truck in a way that blocked the sidewalk. The city will not allow me to take up a lane on the main road. If I park in the narrow, one-way entry to the fancy subdivision, I would block large vehicles, delivery trucks and school buses. I don’t want to park on the subdivision’s landscape at it’s entrance, for it’s maintenance manager would surely run me off. So, block the sidewalk it is, only temporarily. I’d be sure to hurry.
There was quite a bit of foot traffic, all very friendly. Some smiling, saying “hello.” I would apologize for blocking the walk. “No problem, you’re just fine” they would say, and then quickly walk around my big, white, work truck.
If they stepped to the right around the truck, they would walk on dry grass. To the left were wood chips framing the entrance sign to the neighborhood. There was no mud, not a ditch, not a rock cliff or a bowl of quick sand, just grass and wood chips.
So this brings me to the woman who inspired me to write down the events of the day. She was blonde, casually but expensively dressed, kind of the $300 version of a sweat suit, with white tennis shoes. She wore her hair in a conservative bob and was about my age, mid thirties. I don’t know another thing about her other than she had walked out of this high end housing community where I was working.
She quickly looked me over in my dirty jeans and boots, and as snootily as anyone I have ever heard, she loudly whined “Do you have to block the sidewalk?”
She was visibly irritated. I quickly, and in my very professional utility voice, apologized and started to briefly explain my parking options when she interrupted–really fuming- “well, it makes it so difficult! I shouldn’t have to walk around you!”
It was as if to say, you are just a dirty utility company worker and I am a stay -at- home- whatever on my nine o’clock power walk and because of you, my $200 tennies are going to have to step off of the pavement. (Dry grass or wood chips, not certain death).
I am not sure why she was so unfriendly, so condescending. Maybe her well- to -do life on the inside of her upper scale home isn’t as pretty as it is on the outside. Maybe her dog died, or she’s got a cold, or her marriage sucks, or maybe her Lexus is in the shop. Truthfully though, I’ll feel better not to judge her, make assumptions.
It is true, I am a blue collar utility worker with a big truck and dirty work clothes. But I am a stay at home mom and wife too, it’s just that that part of the day doesn’t start for me until 3:30 pm. I too, pick up my kids from school, spend quality time with them, help with homework, give baths, cook dinner, clean house, do laundry, play in the sand box, trek the kids to wrestling, football, family reading night, music concerts and book fairs.
Speaking of my kids, my boys are well adjusted, well rounded, affectionate, funny and in the tops of their classes. They have many friends, all of which I know.
Oh, and after the kids are in bed, I do MY homework so I can complete my degree, because unbeknown to the lady on the sidewalk, I have a brain. And of course, I am extremely fortunate to have a helpful, understanding husband who wants me to succeed, who wants to relieve any stress I have in any way that he can. And that, my elite friend, is just Monday through Friday.
So I guess my point is this: What really got to me today? A woman who judged me solely on my appearance, my occupation and the fact that my truck was going to move her twelve inches off of her daily power walk route. She was rude and inconsiderate to my situation. In her world, she was the only one that mattered and screw anyone else and what they might need.
It comes down to this. I don’t like or respect rude, mean people. The world would be a lot better if people were nice and considerate to one another, no matter their differences, whether it be race, gender, or like today, social class. I do believe I am a happier woman than the one I met on the sidewalk I am thankful to have such a good life, and hope one day she can find a good life too. Maybe then she, too, will be happy, and not feel obligated to look down, let alone speak down, on others.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Leave Cookie Monster Alone
I thought I had heard the end of this argument, but apparently not the case. I'll warn you, I feel pretty strongly about this one.
You see, Cookie Monster was a pal of mine growing up. Absolutely loved him! (Elmo wasn't around yet). I loved everything about him. He was furry and lovable and hugable to all the kids on Sesame Street. He kind of talked like I did at that young age, not quite completing full, grammatical sentences. Mostly, he cracked me up.
I remember absolutely squealing when he would attack the tray of chocolate chip cookies with such gusto that the tray would go flying and cookies and their crumbs would topple in, then out of his mouth and all over the place, and he would continue this action until all cookies were demolished and the narrator came in to tell me about the letter "C". "Ynyum...ynyum...ynyummm..." he would growl, "ME LOVE COOKIES!".
Sometimes he would just sing a song with a friend, sitting on a porch. "C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me." Well, let me tell ya, Cookie Monster was good enough for me, and now some people are messin' with my pal.
This is where, in defense of my furry friend, the Breakfast Club in me wants to say "hey, don't mess with the bull, you'll get the horns." Then I pause and think, wait a minute...Cookie Monster doesn't have horns. He's got fur, he's got big white balls for eyes and the fuzziest, floppiest fingers around. He doesn't have laser guns or the video version of bloody skateboard injuries, he doesn't wear midriff- showing doll clothes or sweat pants that say "juicy" across his rear end. He's a big blue fuzz ball that digs his cookies.
And here lies the problem. Apparently there are those who think Cookie Monster is one of many culprits to the rising of obesity in children. I have a problem too. My problem is that Cookie Monster is being forced to eat carrots and celery! He's not a frickin' bunny people, he's Cookie Monster.
Of course, there are children who may prefer Cookie's menu of choice, or choose to emulate his not-so-desirable table manners. Well, guess what? That's what parents are for. It's up to parents to actually teach their children better manners by explaining that Cookie is a funny monster and is supposed to act like the silly guy he is, and that little boys and girls act differently.
This is exactly what makes Cookie so funny, because he is so silly, he can do things we know we shouldn't. And oh boy, what a treat when a child gets to have a cookie just like his furry blue buddy. The key word here is "treat" and again, that is up to the parents to control how many cookies their child consumes. Not far enough for you?
If you loathe the idea of giving your child a cookie (and their are many that are full of transfats and other awful, yet tasty ingredients), there are brands available that are a healthier option for a treat. Kashi is one that makes an awesome variety of cookies that are practically good for you.
With all of the crap--yes I said a four letter word, forgive me---that is out there exposed to our children, can we please leave the harmless classics, the fuzzy, friendly, innocent and delightful loves of our childhood alone?
You see, Cookie Monster was a pal of mine growing up. Absolutely loved him! (Elmo wasn't around yet). I loved everything about him. He was furry and lovable and hugable to all the kids on Sesame Street. He kind of talked like I did at that young age, not quite completing full, grammatical sentences. Mostly, he cracked me up.
I remember absolutely squealing when he would attack the tray of chocolate chip cookies with such gusto that the tray would go flying and cookies and their crumbs would topple in, then out of his mouth and all over the place, and he would continue this action until all cookies were demolished and the narrator came in to tell me about the letter "C". "Ynyum...ynyum...ynyummm..." he would growl, "ME LOVE COOKIES!".
Sometimes he would just sing a song with a friend, sitting on a porch. "C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me." Well, let me tell ya, Cookie Monster was good enough for me, and now some people are messin' with my pal.
This is where, in defense of my furry friend, the Breakfast Club in me wants to say "hey, don't mess with the bull, you'll get the horns." Then I pause and think, wait a minute...Cookie Monster doesn't have horns. He's got fur, he's got big white balls for eyes and the fuzziest, floppiest fingers around. He doesn't have laser guns or the video version of bloody skateboard injuries, he doesn't wear midriff- showing doll clothes or sweat pants that say "juicy" across his rear end. He's a big blue fuzz ball that digs his cookies.
And here lies the problem. Apparently there are those who think Cookie Monster is one of many culprits to the rising of obesity in children. I have a problem too. My problem is that Cookie Monster is being forced to eat carrots and celery! He's not a frickin' bunny people, he's Cookie Monster.
Of course, there are children who may prefer Cookie's menu of choice, or choose to emulate his not-so-desirable table manners. Well, guess what? That's what parents are for. It's up to parents to actually teach their children better manners by explaining that Cookie is a funny monster and is supposed to act like the silly guy he is, and that little boys and girls act differently.
This is exactly what makes Cookie so funny, because he is so silly, he can do things we know we shouldn't. And oh boy, what a treat when a child gets to have a cookie just like his furry blue buddy. The key word here is "treat" and again, that is up to the parents to control how many cookies their child consumes. Not far enough for you?
If you loathe the idea of giving your child a cookie (and their are many that are full of transfats and other awful, yet tasty ingredients), there are brands available that are a healthier option for a treat. Kashi is one that makes an awesome variety of cookies that are practically good for you.
With all of the crap--yes I said a four letter word, forgive me---that is out there exposed to our children, can we please leave the harmless classics, the fuzzy, friendly, innocent and delightful loves of our childhood alone?
Volunteering...really?
People who sign up to be part of an organization, a voluntary organization, should be sure and actually do some of the volunteering. Before volunteering, ask yourself:
1. Why am I volunteering? Is this an organization I am really excited about and care about, or will it just look good on my resume to be listed as a member?
2. Do I have the time to actually commit? For most, the initial answer will be "no way." Fret not, there is always a way. Sharpen up on your time management skills and realize if you commit to an organization than you need to put in some of the work. If you really can't find the time, then gracefully bow out. You'll be more respected for stepping down than for being unreliable.
3. The more the merrier. Are there others who can join you in your venture? Whether it be family (some volunteering is a great way for families to spend more time together) or professional colleagues (can help with team building at work), having someone with you keeps you accountable.
There are so many great organizations that need good volunteers, and the personal gratification you get from helping out does really feel as great as they say it does. If this kind of reward is what you are after, then volunteer away. If there is an ulterior motive in your enthusiasm, perhaps you should rethink it.
1. Why am I volunteering? Is this an organization I am really excited about and care about, or will it just look good on my resume to be listed as a member?
2. Do I have the time to actually commit? For most, the initial answer will be "no way." Fret not, there is always a way. Sharpen up on your time management skills and realize if you commit to an organization than you need to put in some of the work. If you really can't find the time, then gracefully bow out. You'll be more respected for stepping down than for being unreliable.
3. The more the merrier. Are there others who can join you in your venture? Whether it be family (some volunteering is a great way for families to spend more time together) or professional colleagues (can help with team building at work), having someone with you keeps you accountable.
There are so many great organizations that need good volunteers, and the personal gratification you get from helping out does really feel as great as they say it does. If this kind of reward is what you are after, then volunteer away. If there is an ulterior motive in your enthusiasm, perhaps you should rethink it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Stop Overmedicating Now
I can't believe there are parents who still think it's okay to give a multi-symptom cold medication to their kids when they only have one symptom. If they need a pain reliever and just a pain reliever, why would you give them OTC medication that also contains an antihistimine, a decongestant, and sometimes more?
--Decongestants for kids under age six were pulled off the shelves for a reason.
--Two weeks ago the warning for long term or over dose of acetiminophen was all over the news.
-- We're currently watching the third celebrity prescription medication fatality investigation on every channel of our televisions.
What is it going to take? Why don't parents read labels? When are some people going to realize we aren't supposed to use allergy meds to promote a good night sleep?
As a parent of a child who has finally grown out of a chronic illness, I know the importance of medication, especially when it works. All I'm saying is if they don't need it, don't give it to them.
--Decongestants for kids under age six were pulled off the shelves for a reason.
--Two weeks ago the warning for long term or over dose of acetiminophen was all over the news.
-- We're currently watching the third celebrity prescription medication fatality investigation on every channel of our televisions.
What is it going to take? Why don't parents read labels? When are some people going to realize we aren't supposed to use allergy meds to promote a good night sleep?
As a parent of a child who has finally grown out of a chronic illness, I know the importance of medication, especially when it works. All I'm saying is if they don't need it, don't give it to them.
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