Give them a place to vent. Julian Canha, of Montclair, NJ, has a younger brother, Justin, with autism. Their mother, Maria Teresa, enrolled Julian in a sibling group at Justin's school. The Sibling Support Project (siblingsupport.org) has almost 400 sibling support groups, called Sibshops, in almost every state.
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Remember Uncle Joey on Full House? Who was he anyway? He did Popeye impersonations and helped with homework. The kids loved him as much as their blood relative Uncle Jesse. And it appears a lot of people relate to the Tanner family. When we asked our Facebook fans “Do your kids call anyone who isn't a biological relative an aunt, uncle, or cousin?” we got a whopping 800-plus likes and 306 comments in one day. “Our handpicked family is more dependable than the ‘real deal,’” commented Jennifer O.
You're in the produce section, weighing the cost of organic apples vs. the cheaper, traditionally grown Granny Smiths. If only your pediatrician could come along on a grocery run and help you figure out if it's worth the extra money. Now he or she can—sort of—thanks to a new policy statement on organic foods from the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP).
- What Should I Look For? Area of reddened skin with honey-colored discharge on top.
- How Contagious Is It? Impetigo spreads only through direct contact with the infected area.
- What Prevents It? Frequent handwashing; keeping any cuts or sores covered.
- What Should I Look For? Fever and sore throat—but no cough or congestion.
Last Sunday, as my kids, my husband and I were sitting down to dinner, we watched Washington Redskins quarterback Robert Griffin III collapse on the football field toward the end of their wild-card play-off loss against the Seattle Seahawks. Yes, we had the TV on during dinner (bad parents!) but hey, it’s the play-offs, and we had it on mute. We needed no sound to tell us the significance of what had just happened, however.
Chris Crowell, a kindergarten teacher in Flemington, NJ, is summoned to the classroom kitchen area by Ava, 6, who has something to show him.
“Mr. Crowell, we have a spider in the sink,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“Why don't we check out the spider under the microscope?” he replies, perking up the rest of the students, who are enjoying free play at various stations around the room.
My daughter Katie was only a second-grader when she used a phrase I didn't think I'd hear for years. “I'm not popular,” she announced matter-of-factly at dinner one night. “Me and Izzy think Zoe is the most popular girl in our class.”
Instantly, I found myself defensive on her behalf, eager for my daughter to be every bit as popular as Zoe. “But you have lots of friends!” She looked back at me, seeming a bit confused. “I know,” she said. “But Zoe is popular.”
I am a wife, mother, nurse, sister, daughter and friend. I have an enviable life, a comfortable middle-class existence, and a career that I love. I pride myself today on my inner strength, my sense of humor and resilience.
Yet, 22 years ago, when I was around the same age as Adam Lanza, I wanted to blow my brains out.
It's a long-buried memory, and a shameful one. I've never spoken about until now, not even to my husband.