The Blog

Carla Lohr: Isolating a Child With Disabilities Can Do Life-Long Damage

2012-02-23T03:50:30Z

Shielding a child with disabilities from life experiences is a sensitive subject. Unfortunately, it is one all too often ignored by many well-meaning parents of children with disabilities. While most of them only want what is best for their children and will go to great lengths to do what they must to protect them, they often do not realize that being over-protective can cause just as many problems as it appears to solve.

Naturally, parents want to protect their children. Many parents of special needs children feel that their children may need more protection than if they didn't have such a diagnosis. To many people, this makes sense and in some circumstances it may be true -- but not always.

In an effort to protect their children, some parents will only seek out other disabled children for potential friendships. This is something that was dramatized in a recent episode of NBC's Parenthood. A character in the series Max Braverman (Max Burkholder), is a young man with Asperger's. Max is unable to make friends and is paired with a boy named Micah, who was born with spina bifida and uses a wheelchair. The episode gives viewers the impression that people with disabilities can or should only befriend other people who are disabled. I know this may make sense to a lot of people; however, restricting a disabled child's relationships can have devastating effects on his or her personal development and ability to function in the adult world.

In an effort to make life as comfortable as possible, some parents will seek out special schools, groups, or activities catered to their children, so that they will only have to deal with children who share their disability Obviously, no parents want their children to have to deal with feeling different, being left out or being hurt by questions and curious looks. They don't want their children to deal with the frustration of trying to fit in and not always succeeding. They don't want them to get discouraged, and they don't want life to be any more difficult for them than it already is. In theory, this practice seems like the ideal solution. In reality, it can have devastating effects.

Part of being a human being is learning how to navigate one's way through this world, from the cradle to grave. Everyone has to interact with other people - people who may be different -- and the better one knows how to do this, the easier it is to steer one's course Without those skills, one has a very difficult time getting through school, having and maintaining meaningful relationships later in life, and gaining and maintaining employment. These are all things that the majority of human beings want out of life. It is our job as parents to give our children the tools necessary to accomplish these goals, regardless of whether the children will be successful in the endeavor.

Everyone has the basic human right to pursue happiness. To do this, children with disabilities need to be exposed to the same life experiences any other kid has. They need to be exposed to a variety of people and situations. The children must learn to deal with anger, disappointment and frustration, just as any other person would. They must also learn how to deal with people who ask questions, including people who may not be comfortable around them or those who act like complete jerks. The child should be given the opportunity to learn how to gauge the appropriate responses to all these things. To deny this is to deny them their basic human rights.

I often ask parents with a disabled child what their plans are when they are no longer alive or able to care for their children. I am mostly met with a blank stare. It is a real concern, because many of these children will end up living in group homes or nursing homes. It is a real shame when you consider how different things would be if the children had been given proper tools to live on their own or with the help of some assistance. This is a much better option, but for them to do this, they have to know how to function as adults.

I started school in the very early 1980s, well before the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) ever existed. As much as the ADA has done for so many people, and it is a wonderful thing, I am thankful that it did not exist until my high school years.

I was the only kid in my school with any kind of disability, and although teachers helped me with some things while I still had my full body braces, they didn't have to. My family always taught me how to do for myself. It was the only option there was -- a sink or swim situation. I had to make friends with the "normal" kids because they were the only kids around. I had to learn how to keep up, and when I couldn't, I had to do something else or learn to be a spectator. I did what I could with what I had and moved on.

This was the experience of many that are my age or older than me. It was a different time, and things were done in a different way. I never knew anyone with an aide. I am not saying aides are bad for children and adults who absolutely cannot function without them. In those cases, they are necessary. But, for those who can, even if they have to struggle more than the other kids, it is best to let the children figure out how to do things for themselves.

My son can walk and does not need an aide. Nonetheless, he qualified for one. His diagnosis made it possible for a person to assist him every day at school and do everything for him. I refused to accept the assistance. Even if he could not walk, I would never have allowed him to have an aide. I feel it would have done more harm than good. It would have taught him to rely on others for things he can do himself, even if it takes longer or is more difficult.

When I was in school, I walked with crutches and I carried my own books in a crocheted bag my mother made for me. I was expected to be in class by the time the bell rang, and if I wasn't, I got a tardy slip. Just as I did it then, my son does it now. By the time I got to college, I was ready to face the world, without hesitation and without fear.

The school experiences I have described do not happen as often in the younger generations. There is too much sheltering and too much pity. Pity is a monster that will do nothing but destroy any hope for the development of a healthy state of mind. Pity will cripple people's ability to see children with a disability for the persons they are and not the circumstances they are in. Doubt will destroy those children's dreams, and they will never be given a chance to discover all that they are capable of becoming. Separation only breeds more separation and a lifetime of loneliness.

We as a society need to step back and rethink the view we have of disabled children. People with disabilities are not weak, mentally or physically. If they were, they would not be here in the first place. The parents who are raising these children have to get serious about bringing these children up with the understanding that they can live their lives to the fullest. We all deserve to be what we want, and they deserve the same opportunities that everyone else has.

Everyone needs to understand that although children with disabilities may appear different, there is nothing wrong with them.

Instead of isolating them and projecting our perceived limitations onto them, we should give them the tools they need and let them show us just how strong and capable they really are.

As for those of us who have lived life with a disability or those who are now facing the reality of learning to live with one, it is time to shine. Let's make sure the way is paved for those who come after us. We have to show the parents, the children and the world who we really are. Only then will the public perception change. The public, the media and the government cannot and should not do it for us.

William Lucas Walker: Spilled Milk: Photoshopping My Neck

2012-02-23T00:42:17Z

It's 8:30. Baths are done, the kids' teeth have been brushed for the mandated seven seconds, and it's time for bed. Which for my 6-year-old, still means a story.

Only my son is tired of the old standbys. We've exhausted Hans Christian Anderson and I'm avoiding Pinocchio because James is at that stage where he's keeps drawing raucous comparisons between Pinocchio's telescoping nose and his own . . . let's just say for now we're skipping stories about wooden boys.

So tonight James is bored, like my agent, and demanding new material, like my agent.

"Daddy, make up a story!"

As anyone can tell you who has read Bruno Bettelheim's classic, The Uses of Enchantment (I haven't), the most timeless and enduring fairy tales evolve from deep inner human conflicts. Universal problems which, according to Bettelheim, ". . . seem incomprehensible and hence unsolvable." That's why they resonate.

This holds true as well for my made-up fairy tales. Which means that on this night, in honoring my son's request for a new story, I go with my most recent obsession.

"Once upon a time," I begin, "Daddy had a jawline."

James stares at me blankly.

"A jawline, James, so chiseled that it could slice through a thicket of thorny brambles. A jawline, my son, that in the 80s turned the heads of some of the most desirable princes on the island of Manhattan. A jawline, baby boy -- and I pause for effect -- Audrey Hepburn would have killed for."

"Audrey who?" drones James, his clueless eyes confirming what researchers have stated for years, that a child's sexual orientation is firmly set by the age of four.

I attempt launching into Audrey's extensive filmography, but James is having none of it.

"I don't like this story."

"Trust me, it's really, really good. The bad guy . . . is Time."

"I want this," he says, handing me a book. And for the fifth time this February, we begin Tow Mater Saves Christmas.

James doesn't give a damn about his dad's deep inner conflict, and why should he? He couldn't care less about the incomprehensible and hence unsolvable problem of my sagging flesh. But tonight he's the loser. James loves scary stories, and there is nothing more terrifying than a jawline being swallowed by a neck.

All this began about four years ago. Bodies and minds begin the ugly joke of betraying their owners sometime after 40. I'm a good bit past that. I began to suspect something more serious -- premature senility, to be exact -- the day it became clear that my neck had lost every memory of how it's supposed to look. Turtlenecks that once gave me a sleek, faux-hottie appearance at holiday parties have now become sad knit retaining walls struggling to hold back a mudslide of skin.

Technology used to make me feel young. Smartphones, iPads, I was always the first on my block. I felt so zippy and hip with my texting and apps. I was especially thrilled with the advent of Skype, which makes possible a magical feat: being able to see the people you need to call but would do just about anything to avoid being in the same room with. I was enjoying this delightful innovation one afternoon a few months ago with David, a college friend I've not seen in over a decade, when he casually remarked, "Hey, what is it they call that thing under your chin? Is that a wattle?" I no longer Skype.

Recently my 10-year-old daughter began playing with it. The wattle. Playing with it. Swinging Daddy's swooping neck back and forth like some hideous hammock of flesh. Elizabeth soon grew tired of this game and stated flatly, "Daddy, you need to get this thing grilled off." Grilled off? I have no idea what that means, but I agree completely.

My husband says no way. He's adamant on this subject; plastic surgery is a deal-breaker. Kelly belongs to that rare species you occasionally read about in obscure medical journals: the gay man without vanity. He says he has no problem with my thickening neck. Or waistline, he adds unnecessarily. Circle of life, he calls it. Easy to say when you're 12 years younger and your circle hasn't started to sag.

"You can't turn back time. Embrace the future," says the man who still uses the clock radio he got in junior high. I point out the irony.

"There's nothing wrong with my clock radio," he says. "It works great and so does your neck. You're not changing either one."

I point out that his clock radio still looks exactly the same as it did in 1982. If that were true of my neck, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

So I Photoshop it.

It's free, it's fast and I've become really good at it. In minutes I can adjust any unflattering photo, restoring my failing jawline to what it what it still looks like in my mind, one so chiseled it really could slice through a thicket of thorny brambles.

I recommend that you learn to do this. You'll feel a million times better the next time you see that photo of yourself that only last week you mistook for a stranger smuggling a blowfish under his chin.

Then you too can make up bedtime stories for your bored, straight child that end like this:

"And so, Time was vanquished, the handsome prince was restored his rightful jawline, and he and his neck lived happily ever after." In photos.

* * * * *

This post is the third in a series of Spilled Milk columns by William Lucas Walker that chronicle his journey through parenthood.

More Spilled Milk:

Prop 8 -- The Color of Pee-Pee

Crossing the Big Black Line

Dr. Harold Koplewicz: Extremely Loud and the Incredible Courage of Parents

2012-02-22T21:23:52Z

"Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" isn't exactly a favorite to win the Academy Award for Best Picture, but it's my personal favorite for a film that shows not only the courage of children but the courage of parents.

In the movie, based on the Jonathan Safran Foer novel, an 11-year-old boy struggles to come to terms with his father's death on 9/11 by constructing an elaborate quest to find the lock that matches an unmarked key found in his father's closet. It's a childish, magical fantasy -- that there will be a message from father to son in whatever safe deposit or lock box it fits. But he pursues it with the ingenious, literal-minded persistence of a very bright child with Asperger's, which the boy, Oskar, appears to have. Like any good quest, it involves traveling far and wide (all over the five boroughs of New York), meeting many characters, and learning from them. But Oskar also has overwhelming fears not unusual in kids on the spectrum; he's terrified of subways and bridges. The sight of him shaking his tambourine to quiet his fears as marches in what he calls "heavy boots" across the Manhattan Bridge will be moving to anyone who knows kids who are afflicted with intense anxiety.

But the thing in "Extremely Loud" that moved me even more than Oskar's nervous pluck was the portrayal of his parents -- their patient and equally ingenious efforts to understand Oskar's complexities and nurture his talents.

Oskar is not an easy child. In a scene that will be familiar to many parents -- whether your kids are on or off the spectrum -- we see Oskar's father, played by a Tom Hanks, trying unsuccessfully to coax Oskar onto the swings at a playground in Central Park by invoking his own boyhood pleasure in it. In that moment he's every parent who's felt the frustration of having a child who just can't do an ordinary thing all the other kids do, or just doesn't share his parents talents or passions.

But Hanks, and the filmmaker, play the scene marvelously: only a tug at the swing as he takes the boy home betrays the father's disappointment. And we are grateful, because Oskar is nearly as afraid of disappointing his father as he is of getting on that swing.

Hanks, who seems wonderfully tuned in to Oskar's strengths and wonderfully non-judgmental about his weaknesses, devises elaborate scavenger hunts to help his son navigate the city and get better at speaking to strangers. For his mother, getting on Oskar's wavelength seems tougher, and her parallel journey is a good deal of what the movie becomes about. She surprises Oskar, and herself, when she says, "You thought only your father could think like you."

But before we see them coming together there's an exchange that's both painful and wonderful in its honesty. In anger and frustration and loneliness, Oskar blurts out, "I wish it was you." That is, that she had been in the World Trade Center that day and not his father. She says simply, "Me, too." Later, feeling badly about hurting her feelings, he says, "I don't mean that." She says, in an awesomely comforting voice, giving him permission to have his feelings, "Yes, you do. "

A lot of critics disliked this film, called Oskar "obnoxious" or other words to that effect, and complained that they were being manipulated into "feeling sorry" for him. I think this is a misreading of the film: we're not being asked to feel sorry for Oskar or his mother and father. We're seeing the world, and the process of figuring out how to live after terrible loss, through their eyes. What I saw was love and courage and great creativity in the face of adversity -- something to admire, not something to feel sorry about.

Harold S. Koplewicz, M.D., is a leading child and adolescent psychiatrist and the president of the Child Mind Institute. For more about parenting kids with special needs and the courage of children, go to childmind.org, which also offers a wealth of information on childhood psychiatric and learning disorders.

Dr. Gary Ginsberg: A Bitter Sweetener in Baby Formula

2012-02-22T20:52:43Z

New data from Dartmouth College has found elevated levels of arsenic in foods and infant formula that are sweetened with rice syrup. The data demonstrate the gaping holes in the regulation of our food supply, which is not a new story. But there is a new twist here. Rather than the problem being imports from other countries (e.g. see my recent blogs on arsenic in apple juice from China; fungicide in orange juice from Brazil) in this case, it's the domestic product that is more contaminated. Why should rice raised in the U.S. be the problem? Well cotton on to this one.

Major portions of the U.S. cotton belt have been converted over to rice production, so much so that the U.S. south produces 12 percent of all rice on the planet. The majority of rice consumed in the U.S. is domestic. Cotton fields historically received high doses of arsenic-based pesticide and this arsenic is still sitting in the topsoil. When you flood fields, creating rice paddies, the arsenic is mobilized and goes right into the crop. The good news is that it's toxic to rice, causing a syndrome called straighthead disease. That should have been enough to kill the concept, especially since who would want to produce rice with high levels of arsenic, a well known nerve poison and carcinogen. Well, apparently our own U.S. Dept of Agriculture would want to. Their research into rice cultivars that are resistant to arsenic has been a huge commercial success in the southern heartland. They are still doing research to improve rice production in high arsenic soils. To be fair, USDA is also doing research to try to find cultivars that don't become so highly contaminated by arsenic. But this research is not protecting the American public from the bad idea of growing rice on old cotton fields. This is tinkering with the U.S. food supply to maximize profit with minimal thought given to food safety. Its sister agency, FDA, does not even have safety standards for arsenic in rice.

Fortunately, the Dartmouth research points out the dangers of growing arsenic-resistant rice. In this case, they tested products containing organic brown rice syrup, a processed sweetener derived from rice. There is obviously something wrong with the organic label if you can call something grown on high arsenic soils organic. But aside from that, the compounding of mistakes is mind-numbing. Taking a crop high in arsenic and concentrating it down into a syrup and then putting that into baby formula sounds like a terrorist plot on a TV drama. Unfortunately, it's actually happening. And it's even more outrageous when considering that simple sugars and empty calories are a risk for diabetes. This effect is now combined with arsenic, a chemical that can decrease pancreatic function and is linked to diabetes.

The Dartmouth research found two brands of infant formula that contains the rice-based sweetener. The inorganic arsenic concentration in these brands was double the federal drinking water limit and five times higher when you add in the methyl forms of arsenic that also have some toxicity. And the daily dose per body weight for an infant on this formula would be 10 times higher than what USEPA's reference dose for arsenic dictates is safe.

The take home messages at this point are:

Parents of infants: avoid formulas that contain rice syrup; apparently most don't, but read the label. The two brands Dartmouth studied with high arsenic are Baby's Only Organic Dairy Toddler Formula and Baby's Only Organic Soy Toddler Formula, both made by Nature's One.

Everyone else: 1) Rice syrup -- minimize consumption until we know more; a little is no big deal and its not in that many things, but if its in the things you like (e.g., higher end snack bars) you will want to moderate. Since high fructose corn syrup has its question marks, I'd head in the direction of honey or plain old sugar. If you stay away from refined highly sweetened foods to start with you are way ahead of the game. 2) Rice -- imported rice is lower in arsenic; look for whole grain (brown) basmati or jasmine rice, which come from India and Thailand, respectively.

FDA: do more testing, especially of baby rice cereal; as baby's first solid food, its urgent that we get arsenic data on rice cereal from the U.S.

Liz Kozak: A Mom's Oscar Cheat Sheet

2012-02-22T20:02:10Z

When I was pregnant, the single best, most specific piece of advice I received was this:

"Go to the movies a lot now, because once you have a baby, paying a babysitter when you can rent the same thing at home in a few months isn't worth it."

I wish I'd listened.

I wish I could call up every single person who told me, "Sleep while you can!" and inform them that their advice was terrible.

I wish I had used all that nap time to go to the movies, because I miss it a whole lot.

Now the Oscars are almost here, and if you also have a new baby, then you most likely haven't seen any or most of the nominated films, either. Allow me to do my best to break down the Best Picture contenders for you... to the best of my limited ability.

War Horse:
Steven Spielberg made it, right? It must be epic/heartwarming/tragic/expensive. I am wary of horse movies and of horse folk. I really hope that my daughter isn't one of those horse-riding gals like Lindsay on The Bachelor. Now THAT'S something I DO watch!

Hugo:
What kind of a person would leave their kid at home to go see a kids' movie?

The Artist:
The first movie I tell people I would absolutely go see if I could!!! Actually, that's a lie. I did go to the movies once since the baby was born, and I chose The Muppets. So I guess I answered my own question.

Midnight in Paris:
On-Demanded at the highest recommendation of my father-in-law. So charming! So quirky! Actually, all I remember was that Rachel McAdams rocked a lot of shirtdresses, and then I fell asleep. There are now four shirtdresses in my madewell.com shopping cart that I will never buy.

Moneyball:
We rented this one too, and it lost me in the first 10 minutes. There was way more math than in Angels in the Outfield. It does have Brad Pitt, but something happened between Kalifornia and last week. Have you realized he's almost 50? How old does that make you feel? Old enough to be someone's mother! And the kid from Superbad will now instead be referred to forever as "The Oscar nominated kid from Superbad."

Tree of Life:
I do know it also has Brad Pitt. Perhaps with a crew cut. I do not know what it's about. But I bet it would make me cry.

The Help:
Here we go! We're all familiar with this one! If you're reading this column, there is a 70 percent chance that you're in a book club, and if so, there is an 98 percent chance that The Help was one of the books you read. This one was actually designed in a science lab to punch vulnerable moms in the solar plexus. I'm going to search Etsy for a cross stitch that says, "You is smart. You is kind. You is important." to hang in the nursery.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close:
I don't personally know one single person who's seen this, which makes it my cinematic equivalent of Rizzoli & Isles.

The Descendants:
I heard it's funny, but it's super sad. I guess this movie should be called "The Full Length Mirror in My Hallway," because that's what I feel when I gaze upon myself these days. Who would want to put themselves through that for two sustained hours? Someone who wants to eat Milk Duds in the dark, that's who.

Happy Oscar Weekend!
What films are you rooting for?

Erika Katz: Preventing Teens From Asking "Am I Ugly?"

2012-02-22T19:53:12Z

An alarming new trend among teens and tweens are a slew of YouTube videos they are posting of themselves titled "Am I Ugly?" This video got over 3 million hits. Notice the bevy of comments ranging from insults from kids to come-ons from pedophiles.

These children's naivete and insecurity are out there for the world to see. In this particular video, it is clear the girl is seeking compliments. She believes she is pretty and wants everyone to agree with her. But, how does a parent prevent their tween or teen from exposing themselves like this? We have seen kids harming themselves due to cyberbullying when they do not put themselves out there. Now, they are asking for the ridicule, not to mention exposing themselves to sickos that want to hurt them. As parents, how do we help them to make better choices and control some of this? Here are some of my tips that can help.

1. Parents need to learn social media

So many parents tell me they are clueless about social media, do not have a Facebook page and don't even know what Twitter is. There is no excuse for this. Parents need to educate themselves on how to use Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and any other social media their child uses.

2. Own the passwords

Parents must have all account passwords and should monitor texts, posts, and uploaded photos and videos. Being "friends" on Facebook is not enough because they can block you. You need to be able to get into their accounts.

3. Privacy settings

If your child posts to YouTube, go to the "Info and Settings" tab, scroll down to "Comments" and check off "Allow all comments with approval only." Your email should be attached to the account so you can personally monitor the comments. For Skype, only allow calls from contacts. For Facebook, be sure your kids do not have personal information on there and only allow friends to view their pages.

4. Remove inappropriate videos from Youtube

If your child has posted an "Am I Ugly" video, remove it immediately. Ask them why they felt the need to do this, what they were looking for, and show them the dangers of it.

5. Scare your kids

Educate your kids about the evil people in the world that want to harm children. Show them these videos and point out the comments that could be from pedophiles. Also, explain to your kids, once its posted on the Internet, it is in the cyber world forever. No comment even on your private Facebook page is private. Even deleted YouTube videos can be found.

Claire McCarthy, M.D.: I Really Want to Know: What Can I Do for Parents Who Are Afraid of Vaccines?

2012-02-22T19:39:50Z

News came out recently that someone with measles hung out at the Super Bowl Village in Indianapolis with about 200,000 people. Public health alerts went out here in Massachusetts to be on the lookout for the illness in football fans that went to the game. Now that would be a bummer: spending all that money to watch the Patriots lose and coming back with a case of measles.

There was a flurry of media about it, and then it faded away. This surprised me; I thought that maybe the exposure of so many people would get us talking about how measles cases are increasing here in the U.S. I thought there would be more discussion about the dangers of this incredibly contagious disease, and about immunization and why some people don't want their children to get the vaccine. But within days, the story was gone.

This got me thinking: what's it going to take to really get us talking?

Most parents I see in our practice are fine with immunizations. But here and there, I meet parents who aren't. They are all loving parents, and generally very thoughtful and well educated. We talk for a long time, but the problem usually is that they believe their sources of information more than they do mine. The measles, mumps, and rubella (MMR) vaccine is one that often particularly worries them, even when I point out that we are seeing cases of measles here in Massachusetts.

I don't know everything there is to know about anything, let alone vaccines. I am the first to admit that. But from everything I've read, I really do believe that the MMR vaccine is safe (we are very careful when it comes to treatments we give to children). And I am very certain that it doesn't cause autism. Study after study has failed to show a connection. The only study that reported a connection, the one by Andrew Wakefield (who has since lost his medical license) that was published by the Lancet, was retracted when it was discovered that data in it was falsified.

We give the MMR vaccine at a year, right when kids are supposed to start talking, right when the diagnosis of autism can begin to become apparent. When they don't start talking, or they start talking less when they should be talking more, I totally get how parents could look at the MMR vaccine as a possible cause -- but it's not.

Yet some parents are still more afraid of the vaccine than they are of measles.

According to the Centers for Disease Control, our childhood immunization rate for MMR here in the U.S. is around 90 percent. That sounds good, and it is certainly better than many countries around the world (it's visitors from or to those other countries that cause most of the US measles cases), but it still leaves a lot of children unprotected -- not just the ten percent who don't get immunized, but the babies less than 12 months who are too young for the vaccine. And kids who only have one dose may not be fully protected.

What if the next exposure happens at a daycare in an infant room where nobody is immunized? What if lots of infants get sick, spreading it through the daycare? What if some die? It is totally possible, in fact, with the way cases are increasing in the U.S., I worry that it's not just possible but probable that we are going to have an outbreak like this.

It might be enough to make parents more afraid of measles than the vaccine. But I don't want it to happen. Nobody does.

So what can I do for parents who are afraid of vaccines? This is an honest question, not a rhetorical one. I want kids to be healthy and not end up with complications of vaccine-preventable diseases. Parents want the same thing, no matter what their stance is on immunization. Given that we are on the same side, really, is there a way to have a conversation that doesn't end up as a standoff? This isn't about forcing people; I would never refuse to see a family who doesn't want to vaccinate. I just want to be able to talk about why they believe their sources of information more than mine, and see if we can at least find a middle ground. I'd like to find a way for them to trust me and believe that I would never, ever, do something to hurt a child.

If there's anything we should be able to unite around, it's the health of children. I really want to know: what can we do?

Rachel Lincoln Sarnoff: Is There Arsenic in My Baby Formula?

2012-02-22T18:01:06Z

by Rachel Lincoln Sarnoff
Executive Director/CEO
Healthy Child Healthy World
www.healthychild.org

Last week's findings of arsenic in organic brown rice syrup may be even more frightening to parents than last year's discovery of the cancer-causing substance in apple juice. That's because organic brown rice syrup is ubiquitous in natural products -- it's used as a substitute for high fructose corn syrup.

MNN reported on the Dartmouth study, which found concentrations of arsenic of 23 to 128 parts per billion (ppb) -- 12 times the Environmental Protection Agency's safe drinking water limit of 10 ppb -- in some cereal bars containing rice. (The EPA has not set safety levels for arsenic in food.)

High levels -- as much as 20 times the EPA's water safety level -- were found in two organic infant formulas that contained organic brown rice syrup, leading Dr. Richard Besser, ABC's Chief Health and Medical Editor, to recommend parents avoid formulas that contain the substance.

Where is the arsenic coming from? According to Environmental Health Perspectives, the arsenic is traced to residual pesticides, especially in areas of the southern United States where 1.6% of the world's rice is grown; rice grown in these areas contain 1.76 times more arsenic than rice grown in California, for example.

We checked in with our team for advice on takeaways from the study; our advisors recommended that parents be aware, but not unnecessarily alarmed.

"This new study underlines the need for the FDA to set safety levels for arsenic in food and beverages," said Dr. Alan Greene, author of the "Raising Baby Green" book series, founder of the White-Out movement and a Healthy Child Board Member. "For now, I recommend that rice not be the primary source of calories for babies, and that whatever rice they do get comes primarily from California and/or is tested for arsenic. Avoid conventional rice from countries still using arsenical pesticides. And, of course, I will welcome safety limits for arsenic in food and beverages that take the health of babies and pregnant women into account."

At press time, two organic baby formula manufacturers released statements. Earth's Best wrote that their formulas "do not contain brown rice syrup." Nature's One said that they depend on a "qualified, world renowned, third-party, independent lab to test arsenic levels in their organic brown rice syrup. Their testing results report undetectable amounts of arsenic at laboratory testing limits."

Finally, because arsenic is present in our water supply in varying amounts, especially if you are using powdered formula mixed with water to meet your infant's nutritional needs, you may want to check levels in your area. The Environmental Working Group provides a valuable resource to not only check the levels in your area, but also to find out which water filters can remove arsenic.

Mei-Ling Hopgood: 7 Intriguing Parenting Discoveries From Around The World

2012-02-22T17:24:59Z

This image is burned in my mommy brain: My oldest daughter, at about 22 months old, standing in our living room after I have dressed her in a pair of lime green, wool kaidangku, split-crotch pants, staring down at her bare parts and then looking up at me and grinning. That began our potty training odyssey, inspired by my research into Chinese parenting culture and other "odd" family practices. My girl would go on to pee on the floor countless times, and sit with her bare bottom on precious items. But she would be trained within two (if wet) weeks.

It was one of the eye-opening experiences, inspired by my years living abroad, raising my children and researching parenting beliefs. There were so many "wow" moments, when my middle-class mom instincts clashed with what I was living, hearing, seeing and reading. But I was intrigued, and learned more than I ever dreamed. Those discoveries (to be explored in later blog posts) include:

Julie Tilsner: The Last PB&J

2012-02-22T17:22:00Z

I don't buy Dino Nuggets anymore.

The little trog who sat in the high seat in his Batman cape and pirate hook hand and ate them for lunch and dinner is halfway through sixth grade now. He orders the chicken tenders off the adult menu and cleans his plate.

He's already as tall as I am. Which isn't saying much since I'm only 5 feet 2, but he's not even 12 yet. He already outweighs me. And he's starting to smell like a guy.

He is always hungry. If he liked PB&J's anymore at all, he would eat four of them in a sitting. This is the year I'll become a four-gallons-of-milk-a-week household. I can feel it. He's about to reach for family heights and girth -- the menfolk on my side look down on 6 feet -- and when seventh grade starts next year, I'm certain he'll be looking down at me.

The Drama Teen is now in high school. She looks me in the eye, rolls hers, and gets the hummus and crackers out of the fridge and spirits them up to her room. I have a photo of her, age two, with hummus, the same Trader Joe's brand, smeared all over her face and shirt.

My plan to make her moderate on sweets has backfired. I always allowed them after she ate her meal. They were never banned. I was not going to be one of those "no sugar" households that produce sugar-obsessed teens and young adults who hoard candy. But she's obsessed anyway. She'll find two or three dollars and run down to the store to bring back a giant box of Junior Mints or three boxes of red vines.

Of course I'm horrified. But didn't I do the same? Two dollars in my day bought four Archie comic books or two comics and four candy bars... I won't even eat a candy bar now.

So I think she'll grow out of it. The Drama Teen is also always hungry. And so are all of her friends. They show up at every hour and hang out and of course I try to feed them. Best way ever of working through your leftovers and any juice or milk in the 'fridge. I'm worried I'm not feeding them enough.

I used to worry they wouldn't eat enough. I never engaged in subterfuge when it came to feeding them when they hit the peak of their toddler pickiness. My mom told me to just find two or three things they liked and feed them that and don't worry, they won't starve.

And, as usual, she was right. They would eat carrots and edamame beans and corn on the cob. They'd always eat pasta and string cheese, scrambled eggs and any fruit put in front of them.

Of course they wouldn't eat a salad nicoise, but what self-respecting four-year-old would? Just give them the hard-boiled egg, sliced up in a little red dish, and another dish, blue, with olives, and let them have at it.

Of course I'd always use the favored cup. Little kids are like that. And the magic spoon. And the small plastic dishes with kitty cats or monsters on them.

I've still got the magic spoon, you know. But nobody requires it anymore. Same with all those little colored cups and dishes. The kids eat off of the regular crockery now. The girl will eat my tortilla Espanola or vegetable cous-cous and thank me for it. The boy can make his own scrambled eggs. He wants sea salt and sliced tomato on his bagel. Both can use chopsticks like Samurai.

I can take all those little plastic bowls and cups from Ikea out of my cupboards, I guess.

It's a whole new parenting enchilada, this 'tween/teen thing.

Michael Green: Ending the Toxic Shell Game

2012-02-22T16:56:12Z

My three-year-old daughter Juliette and I have a standing argument. When she wants a sippy cup, I hand her my all-stainless steel, unlined hard-topped mug. But she wants her pink plastic sippy cup, the one with the squishy plastic shell and flexible plastic straw. She often wins, but every time I see her drinking from that cup, I wonder how the chemicals in that plastic might harm her health.

Plastics have revolutionized our lives, but scientists are increasingly finding more about the health costs of our chemical addictions. One chemical used in many plastics, bisphenol A (BPA), has recently been recognized for its potential to cause health problems.

BPA was developed in the 1930's, about the same time that another synthetic hormone called DES began production. DES was promoted to pregnant women for preventing miscarriages, but after its introduction scientists found that use of the drug resulted in dramatically increased risks of cancer, infertility and other health problems for children of mothers who took DES during pregnancy. By the early 1970's the drug was finally banned for use as a pregnancy drug.

Like DES, BPA is a chemical that can mimic and alter the body's natural hormones. Animal studies have linked BPA exposure to impaired sexual development, miscarriages, and other reproductive health hazards. In California we recently won a victory when BPA was banned from baby bottles and sippy cups. Even before the ban, some producers were eliminating BPA from their products. My daughter's pink sippy cup, for example, was labeled "BPA-free."

So why would I still worry? Because a recent study showed that many "BPA-Free" products have the same hormone-mimicking properties that they had when made with BPA. In other words, it appears that industry has simply replaced BPA with other unregulated chemicals that may have the same harmful impacts on our children's health.

This is a toxic shell game that impacts millions of families, a game of chemical sleight-of-hand that puts our children and families at risk from thousands of potentially hazardous and almost completely unregulated substances.

Of course, BPA is just the latest example of this chemical shell game. Health advocates calling for safer standards for flame-retardant chemicals have worked for years to ban the most harmful substances, only to see industry introduce similar, unregulated products as soon as new regulations are enacted. As one health advocate stated, industry simply "moves a few molecules and calls it a new product."

Many Americans assume that if products are on our store shelves, the government must have evaluated and approved them for safety. But most Americans don't know that the primary federal regulation to protect us from harmful chemicals, called the Toxic Substances Control Act (TSCA), is more than thirty years old. Even when it was first enacted, TSCA did not apply to more than 60,000 chemicals (including BPA) that were already in use in millions of products on store shelves -- these untested substances were "grandfathered" in. New chemicals have also been introduced with virtually no oversight: of the more than 80,000 chemicals in use today, the Environmental Protection Agency has required testing for only 200, and has regulated just 5 of them.

There are certainly good reasons to regulate harmful chemicals like BPA. But as long as industry can continue with their toxic shell game, all of us who deserve healthy products for our children and families will have no way to know if the products we buy are really safe.

That's why we need to change the rules of the game when it comes to chemical safety. The Safe Chemicals Act has been introduced in Congress to update TSCA. Rather than continuing to rely on regulations developed only years after people are exposed to harmful chemicals, this legislation would require producers to demonstrate that products are safe before they can be marketed. It also would give consumers the right to know what is in the products we buy, and promote innovation of safer chemicals and products, stimulating the economy while creating healthier products.

Doctors take an oath to "First, do no harm." So it is not surprising that the American Academy of Pediatrics and numerous hospitals, medical schools and leading health care organizations have called for chemical policy reforms like those detailed in the Safe Chemicals Act. It's not right to continue to expose our children, including my daughter Juliette, to untested chemicals as if they were guinea pigs in the chemical industry's test labs.

Linda Novick O'Keefe: The Moment You Missed at the Super Bowl

2012-02-22T15:38:52Z

You probably missed it. It came just before Madonna stepped onto the stage amidst marching, gold-plated body builders and sometime after the first touchdown by the Patriots. In that moment the camera panned briefly to the corner of the field, where a kid, grasping a football and smiling from ear to ear, ran out onto the field to hand the ball to the referee. You may have missed that moment, but I'm sure that he'll never forget the time he got to stand on the field during the Super Bowl.

That elementary schooler got the opportunity to participate in one of the biggest sports events in America through his participation with Fuel Up to Play 60, a program run by National Dairy Council in partnership with the National Football League and the US Department of Agriculture. This program provides schools with the resources to design their own initiatives around physical activity and healthy eating and uses the star-power of NFL players to get kids excited about exercise. Over 70,000 schools across the country have pledged to join the program so far -- that's nearly two out of every three schools in America.

On Wednesday I had the opportunity to speak with Jean Ragalie, R.D., President of National Dairy Council. Jean is a registered dietitian whose interest in food began at a young age when she was put in charge of the salad at her daily family dinner table. She was one of the first dietitians to transition to the communications field, holding positions at brands and agencies before beginning her role at National Dairy Council. She is not only an excellent salad-maker, but she firmly believes in the importance of getting physical activity every day and makes exercise a regular part of her own life (did you know she ran a marathon?).

Here is what Jean had to say about Fuel Up to Play 60, National Dairy Council, and her vision for a healthier America:

To start off, could you describe some of the programs that you're working on?

Sure. The major program that we run is Fuel Up to Play 60, which aims to help schools create healthier environments for students. School is one of the biggest battlegrounds for tackling the childhood obesity epidemic. This program is about helping schools make real change -- helping them to get kids eating better and moving more.

How many schools are participating?

Right now there are more than 70,000 schools that have enrolled in the program. That's 36 million kids that have the potential to be reached. Fuel Up to Play 60 is exciting because since our launch in 2009 we've seen that it can make a real difference; nearly two-thirds of the adults that are enrolled in Fuel Up to Play 60 say the program is helping students make healthier food choices. The program has two core components -- to get kids eating more nutrient-rich foods in their schools, and to encourage more physical activity -- but it is also about getting kids to develop a deeper understanding and desire for healthier foods. In that way I think that it aligns with your mission at Common Threads. It is about getting kids to become participants in the effort to get better foods to schools.

Could you explain how this program is established at a school? What is the basic structure and who implements it?

What the program does is provide tools and resources that allow schools and students to design their own initiatives around healthy living. We begin with an adult advisor within the school. That advisor identifies students that are interested in improving school health and recruits them to help design the program. This group then operates like a club or team. They examine the specific resources and barriers of their school and try to find opportunities to encourage healthier foods and physical activity. Our website, fueluptoplay60.com, provides resources and ideas as well as a place to share comments and stories. We also mail posters and a how-to guide to each school. All of these resources are free and schools have the opportunity to win funds to carry out certain initiatives, like having a cart that serves healthy food between classes. The key is that it's not a prescriptive program. It doesn't have to be done only in the classroom. You can do it before, during, and after school. You can hang posters, have rallies, start walking clubs, and do taste tests in the cafeteria. It gives the advisors and students the power to do the things that are most interesting to them and most feasible in their own school.

That sounds great. I'd love for you to talk more about some of the partnerships that you engage in at National Dairy Council.

Addressing the childhood obesity epidemic can't be done by any one individual or program. It's going to take us all to work together to achieve healthier kids. When we designed Fuel Up to Play 60, we knew that even though National Dairy Council had a long history in the area of nutrition education, especially as it relates to schools, we couldn't do it alone. So we partnered with the National Football League, the USDA, and other health professional organizations. We also chose to work with the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, an organization of registered dietitians, because we knew that it would be critical to align ourselves with individuals who are extremely knowledgeable about nutrition. In the past year, we provided a grant to the Academy to get dietitians involved in our schools. We had more than 50 registered dietitians in over 100 schools, helping to implement Fuel Up to Play 60 and get kids engaged. We think that other health professionals could play a role in our programs as well, and we've already started working to get pediatricians and school food service directors involved.

What does a healthier America look like to you? More specifically, what would you like to see change in the next 20 years?

Getting kids moving more and eating better is clearly first on the agenda. But the second long-term priority is getting kids involved in the experience of food. It is so important to teach children how food fuels their bodies, how good food can make them healthier and smarter, and how healthy habits can improve their quality of life. Success will be reversing the prediction that kids won't live as long as their parents. Right now, diabetes and hypertension are affecting younger and younger kids. Our goal is to get rid of that in a generation.

Are there any personal experiences that you'd like to share that have shaped who you are and your views on healthy living and philanthropy?

I come from a family of eight children -- I'm number six. Every morning growing up, my mom made sure that all of us ate a good breakfast. We also had to drink milk in the morning, whether it was in our cereal or from a glass. You just couldn't leave our house without eating and drinking something nutritious. As a dietitian I now know that kids who eat breakfast perform better in school. My mom didn't know the science, but she knew by experience that breakfast was important.

My mom also made sure that there was dinner for ten on the table every evening. I was the salad girl, so every evening I was in charge of making the salad. I really relished that responsibility, and I would try to make the salads special by adding all sorts of different ingredients. Over the years the salads got better and better. I think that this experience had a lot to do with my desire to understand food and with my choice to study nutrition.

In terms of philanthropy, I am inspired by the people that I encounter every day at my job. I am so honored to work for National Dairy Council because I get to meet the American dairy farmers that support us, and they're incredible. They live with such ethics and integrity, and they believe strongly that dairy foods feed and grow children. They also believe that it's not just important that kids eat dairy foods but that they eat a good, balanced diet. They've always been involved in programs around nutrition education. Our philanthropic work at National Dairy Council is also so much bigger than just dairy products. It's about eating nutrient rich foods, about understanding nutrition, and about engaging kids in that dialogue about their food.

My last question. I know you're a mom of three. Between work and family, how do you find balance?

For me, good nutrition and physical activity are essential. I have to exercise. I know that when the pressure comes on, sometimes working out can be the easiest commitment to drop. But when you eat right and exercise you perform better, whether it's at work, with your family, or in school. I believe that very strongly. I ran a marathon last year. I climb mountains. I love to do different things to keep it exciting and interesting.

It's also important to me that my kids share this belief. I can see that my role-modeling pays off when my kids consider nutrition and physical activity an important aspect of their lives, rather than something extra. Occasionally teachers perceive nutritional education and physical activity as a barrier to learning because it takes up classroom time. But the facts show that kids perform better in school when they eat better and exercise. One of my core beliefs about maintaining balance is that no matter how busy life gets, it is important to eat right and exercise so that you can perform at your best.

Suleika Jaouad: 10 Ways To Help A Friend With Cancer

2012-02-22T13:30:21Z

If it takes a village to raise a child, you might say it also takes one to care for the sick. Cancer is at once personal and communal. Disease lives in the sufferer's body, but the experience of illness is shared, often intimately, by our loved ones. And yet, caring for the sick can feel like writing a travelogue about a country you've never visited. You can't know where you haven't been.

"What can I do to help?"

This is the sincere, often reflexive, response people have when they find out I have cancer. When I was diagnosed with leukemia last May at the age of 22, my boyfriend, Seamus, sprung into action as my CCO: chief caregiving officer, after my parents. As the news of my diagnosis spread, my friends, acquaintances -- and even some strangers -- formed a loving support network. It was a comforting reminder of how selfless people can be.

But while most of my friends and family would help me in a heartbeat, knowing how to help can be a daunting, even paralyzing, challenge. Over the past eight months, through seven hospitalizations and six rounds of chemotherapy, Seamus and I have sustained a running dialogue about what it means to be a caregiver and a care recipient; what it means to be in love with one another while my body's at war with itself.

This guide to helping a friend with cancer is built from parts of our many conversations on the subject of caregiving.

Say "I don't know what to say" -- A cancer diagnosis can paralyze the lines of communication between friends. Some people freeze up and don't say anything at all, while others dwell on finding the "perfect" words. If you're at a loss for words, say so. If you have a lot to say but don't know where to start, say that, too. Honesty rules. I've never felt offended by someone who doesn't know what to say, but I've felt hurt by those who don't call or write at all. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.

Be an equal opportunity listener -- Cancer is a gloomy subject -- there's no pretending otherwise. While your instinct can be to immediately steer the conversation toward the cheerful, it's vital for a cancer patient to feel comfortable venting feelings of fear, sadness, anger, loss, and isolation. One of the most important things you can do as a friend is to make it clear that you are willing to listen to both the good and the bad.

Assess the specifics -- Cancer patients are often too tired or too polite to respond to the broad question of "How can I help?" Take the lead and ask specific questions. Without being pushy, you'll find areas where you can step in: Who is going to look after them during the day? Can they prepare their own meals? What about transportation? Are there other people close to the person with cancer who also need support?

Do what you do best -- Do what comes from the heart and follow through. Please remember that the patient doesn't expect you to compose a song if you don't play an instrument. Lending a hand is easier when you play your strengths. If you love to cook, drop off a homemade dish; if you're an artist, make something to hang on the hospital room wall; and if you're an organizer, offer to gather research or to take notes during medical appointments.

Take care of yourself -- You hear it a lot: Caregivers must take good care of themselves, too. No matter how upset or stressed out you are about your friend's illness, it is critical to be selfish about your own health. Nutrition is important, especially because bad "comfort foods" beckon in times of stress. Regular exercise, even walking, is crucial for the body as well as the mind: Some of the best thinking happens when your body is in motion. Perhaps most important of all is getting enough sleep. Love does, in fact, have boundaries. You must take care of yourself to be the best ally to your friend.

"No need to write me back" -- Since my diagnosis, I've been showered with the warmth of letters, emails and cards of support. These messages, filled with love and positive energy, are my daily reminders that I'm not alone in this struggle. But finding the energy to write back can feel like a herculean task. You may be able to dissolve any potential stress for the patient by reminding him or her that there's no need to respond or write a thank-you note.

Distraction is a godsend -- While you should be careful joking about cancer (everybody's sensitivity differs), some juicy gossip, a funny joke, or a good movie can go a long way in lifting someone's spirits. Humor may feel out of place next to IV bags and bedpans, but it can be an essential counterweight to the gravity and absurdity of cancer. Don't feel like you can't be the bearer of good news. Bring magazines, music, stories and sunshine.

Get involved in the cause -- As someone who will be receiving a bone marrow transplant this spring, I am deeply moved by my friends who have signed up to become bone marrow donors or taken time to learn about my disease. Join the bone marrow registry, give blood, organize a fundraiser, or donate a sum (however small) to cancer research or an organization of your choice. It's a gesture acknowledging that cancer affects communities of strangers as well as the people you know.

"It's time for me to go" -- Long visits don't necessarily mean better ones. Visits needn't be rushed, but please keep in mind that the sick person doesn't have the same energy level as you do. Be attentive to signs that the patient needs to rest.

"I love you" -- If there's ever a time to tell a friend or family member how much you care about them, this is it.

Our dialogue is always continuing. What are your tips for helping loved ones who are ill?

Suleika Jaouad writes a regular blog at Secrets of Cancerhood. This post is a follow-up to her last entry, "10 Things Not to Say to a Cancer Patient." You can follow her on Twitter here.

Seamus McKiernan is an associate blog editor at The Huffington Post.

For more by Suleika Jaouad, click here.

For more on cancer, click here.

Julia Landauer: Life Lessons Learned Early: Fess Up When You Mess Up

2012-02-22T13:30:19Z

Racing go-karts started out as a family hobby. What I didn't realize at first is that it is a training ground for life. I learned critical lessons before I hit puberty. Some lessons were excruciatingly difficult to accept and internalize. Others were extremely liberating. I will share them over my next several blogs.

Lesson #1: Fess Up When You Mess Up

In my rookie season at age 10, I started a race in fifth position. The drivers in front of me were all awe-inspiring champions (and all boys, but that didn't matter to me) who had been racing for years. Second and third place crashed in front of me. I made a few passes. All of the sudden I was in first!

The next two laps were exhilarating and terrifying. When the more experienced drivers caught up to me I tried going faster into turn six than normal. The kart wasn't turning fast enough so I turned more. Next thing I knew I was facing the wrong direction. I blew it and spun! I finished ninth.

I initially maintained composure when I got off the track. Shortly afterward I lost it. I was angry! I blamed my dad for telling me to try that move. His eyes grew infuriated. His mouth was tight.

He pointed at me and assertively jabbed me in the shoulder. Very colorful words left his mouth implying that it was my fault. He elaborated, "You were driving, not me. You made all the decisions on the track and you were the one who got flustered. NEVER, EVER blame anyone else for your mistakes."

I was flabbergasted.

But I also knew he was right. We had a lot of "debriefs" that night regarding my behavior. I went on to receive "Rookie of the Year" honors that season.

I was 11 when I entered the last race of the next season. I started in first place. I told my parents the kart was great and that I didn't want anything changed. It handled exactly the way I wanted during qualifying and I set the pole position. I knew I was going to destroy the competition.

The second place driver edged by me at the start of the race. I immediately saw red. I assumed the kart wasn't the same as before! My anger took over. How could my parents change the kart after I wanted it the same? They made me slower!

When the checkered flag waved I finished fourth in a race I expected to win. I pulled into the pits and turned off my kart. I lifted the front of the kart onto the stand as my dad lifted the rear. I trudged to the trailer, leaving my dad to push the kart back.

"You set it up wrong! I wanted it the same as before and you..." I knew I had made a terrible mistake. Just as with the year before, anger absorbed my dad's eyes.

I had done it again. I made the wrong decision for kart setup (I should have asked them to change it), then blamed others when I was the one with the wailing emotions and lack of composure. I should have admitted my error in judgment. I should have taken a deep breath. I should have focused on hitting perfect marks from there on out.

Worse still, I didn't own up to my responsibility. If I had, everyone would have accepted this race as a learning experience. Instead everyone was furious with me for unfairly blaming them.

That season I was named "Most Improved Driver" of the year. I felt that my biggest improvement, however, occurred the next year.

I took ownership of my performance during the season when I was 12. If the kart wasn't perfect, I made up for it with my driving. In one race I made contact with a kart going into turn one. We both damaged the front-end alignment. During another the air temperature heated up, making the track's surface oilier and therefore less grippy. I slid around the track. Bad things happen.

The team confers with the driver to set up the vehicle. But once the green flag is thrown everything depends on the driver. No matter what the cause of the imperfect vehicle is during a race, it is the driver's job to change his or her driving style to make the vehicle work. A true champion manipulates his or her equipment to win.

I was the track champion that year.

I couldn't have learned Lesson #1 without experiencing it. I had to grow up and acknowledge my mistakes. It was really hard! But it let me advance faster, with less baggage. I had to shelve my emotions when they interfered with my job. I had to assess my situation and improvise in my actions. It felt good to take control. It feels good to still be in control.

My ego didn't like admitting my mistakes. It still doesn't! It's embarrassing. I don't like being wrong. It's always easier to blame other people. In the long run, however, I know I am much better off having learned Lesson #1.

Now I always try to fess up when I mess up.

For more by Julia Landauer, click here.

For more on mindfulness, click here.

Red Room: Zoe FitzGerald Carter: The Not Quite Empty Enough Nest

2012-02-22T13:10:00Z

By Zoe FitzGerald Carter

It took crashing the car while texting for my college freshman daughter to start being nice to me again. It happened three weeks into her five-week Christmas vacation, a period characterized by carelessness and defiance on her part and irritation on mine.

From the start, the vacation was a saga of aggravations. There was the brand new sweater I loaned her on New Year's Eve that was left balled up and stained in a corner, the expensive hair conditioner that disappeared from my bathroom only to be found completely empty in hers, the milk that sat on the kitchen table all night, the doors that were left unlocked, the lights that were left burning.

And then there was the continual stream of off-handed but pointed remarks such as, "You know, it's amazing to me how dysfunctional this family is at Christmas." Or, "Well of course I left the milk out all night, Mom -- I was drunk!"

All this from the daughter who never gave my husband and me a single sleepless night throughout high school -- who worked hard, got good grades and spent the summer after her sophomore year hauling rocks out of a river in Ecuador. The daughter who, much to my surprise, actually liked hanging out with me. Even with a boyfriend and a demanding course load, she'd found time to take walks or go to the beach where we would lie in the sand talking about books and music and how things were never quite what you expected them to be.

I'd grown complacent, even a little smug. While my friends' teenagers were ducking away from them at every turn, my daughter actually complained when I left to go on a book tour for a couple of weeks, welcoming me home like the prodigal mother.

But then, a month before she left home to start her first year of college, the warm feelings came to a screeching halt. Our sense of mutual understanding, our easy rapport, seemed to evaporate. With her departure just a few weeks off, my once-doting daughter turned into a snappish, mean-tempered monster. The only thing that comforted me -- and it was small comfort indeed -- was that the monster was familiar: I had been just such a creature back in my teens. But why, I wondered, had this ugly beast appeared now, just when I most longed to soak up the last tender moments of having my child at home?

"Are you kidding me?" my agent said. "I was never so happy to see the backs of my two sons as when I dropped them off at college! I love them both to death but they were horrible to me. It's how kids leave home."

"Whatever you do, don't show her that you're needy," warned my friend Diana, whose daughter was heading to the same college as mine. "It just makes them meaner."

Taking their advice, I stopped asking my daughter what was wrong or complaining when she was rude. Instead, I did my best to ignore her jibes and stay neutral. Wary and distant, we limped through the final hot days of summer.

On September 1, I dropped her off at her college on the East Coast and flew back to California, frankly relieved to get away. The plane had barely landed when my daughter seemed to magically convert back to her former self, calling me up to chat, sending me funny texts and emailing long and hilarious dispatches from her new life. With three thousand miles between us, we quickly re-established our warm, close-knit bond.

Once again, I grew complacent. Her end-of-summer volatility had been an anomaly, I told myself. An aberrant blip on an otherwise smooth journey. Three months later, I excitedly prepared for her winter break -- five glorious weeks with my daughter! But when she ordered me to go to bed so she could entertain her friends in our living room the second night she was home, I realized that my expectations had been wildly over-confident.

Suddenly, five weeks seemed like an awfully long time. What was her college thinking anyway? Surely two or three weeks were plenty for everyone to have a good catch-up and return to their own lives. We did manage to have some good times together -- snuggling in front of the TV, enjoying a fancy lunch out together in Berkeley's "gourmet ghetto" -- but her need to prove her new-found independence by blithely ignoring basic household protocol continued to roil the waters between us. I knew I'd miss her like crazy when she was gone but will admit I was looking forward to a return to a more peaceable home life with just my husband and youngest daughter in residence.

And yet, as it turned out, I was grateful for those last two weeks. The accident seemed to throw a mysterious switch that returned my daughter to her former considerate and charming self. Unhurt after rear-ending a young woman in a pickup truck, she was clearly remorseful and upset with herself. She helped my husband sort things out with our insurance company and -- more importantly -- stopped pushing us away. Her last days were spent picking her younger sister up at school, helping around the house and, well, being nice.

I'm really looking forward to her spring break. It's only two weeks long.

Zoe FitzGerald Carter is a journalist and author of Imperfect Endings: A Daughter's Story of Life and Death (Simon and Schuster). She lives in Berkeley, California, and is at work on a novel. Visit her on Red Room, where you can read her blog and buy her book.