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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Child</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>I See My Father in My Son</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/i-see-my-father-in-my-son/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/i-see-my-father-in-my-son/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 18 Jun 2015 09:00:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sara Brennan]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ALS]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blue Eyes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Drool]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Father]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Goodnight]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lou Gehrig's Disease]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Parent]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Scribble]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Smile]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Son]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Talk]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Toddler]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=7102</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I see my father in my toddler son when he looks at me – they share those same gorgeous blue eyes that can cut glass or melt your heart. Their eyes are filled with love and challenge; the kind of love that only a parent and child can understand. The kind of love that can endure temper tantrums, heal boo-boos, and teach you significant life lessons. Their blue eyes change colors with their temperament and health, almost like a chameleon. When they’re not feeling well, their pale skin exemplifies the color into a rich, deep blue and when they’re feeling proud, they are just right mix of blue and whatever color confidence might be. Interestingly enough, they share the same I love you, but don’t like your right now look as well – I’ve seen it enough from my father in my teenage years to immediately recognize it in my own child, even though he’s still just a baby. I see my father in my son when he smiles – their eyes squint in the same kind of way. Their personalities are infectious, they’re both social beings, and thrive on attention. They even have a similar forced chuckle when they find something funny. The best thing about their smile is that it’s so genuine – you can actually feel the happiness beaming from their bodies like warm, bright, glowing rays from the sun, which his why people love to be around them. The best thing about their smile is that it’s so genuine – you can actually feel the happiness beaming from their bodies like warm, bright, glowing rays from the sun, which his why people love to be around them. I see my father in my son when he’s happily eating my father’s secret family recipe of homemade spaghetti that I’ve prepared for him for dinner; it’s one of his favorite meals. They both love it greatly and could devour large plates of it – more than any one man or boy should ever eat in one sitting! I thoroughly enjoy watching my son gobble down this meal, not because he’s adorable and completely covered in tomato sauce when he’s done, but because it almost feels like my father is sitting right there at the table too, enjoying this special meal with us. I see my father in my son when he gets frustrated or doesn’t get his way. They’re both wired with the same short fuse that can instantaneously take them from zero to one hundred. They’re passionate, driven, and intense. I see this mostly when my toddler son is trying to tell me what he wants, but can’t quite get the words out. When he is pointing and saying what he needs, as best as he can, but can’t quite articulate, just as my father did. Secretly, I enjoy being one of the only people who can actually understand the slurred, mumbled language they speak. Sometimes it makes me feel privileged or honored that I can help them in that way, however, I wish I never had to have this role with my father. They’re both wired with the same short fuse that can instantaneously take them from zero to one hundred. They’re passionate, driven, and intense. I see my father in my son when I’m wiping the drool from his chin. How I wish I didn’t have this memory. Although my son drools from teething, my father had a very different cause. His weakening throat muscles weren’t working well anymore, causing the saliva to build up in his mouth and sometimes fall out the sides. Oftentimes he would choke, so I would use a suction tube to stop the drainage and make him more comfortable. Just as I do with my son, I would wipe his chin and clean him up without hesitation, all the while, his blue eyes were silently saying thank you. I saw my father in my son when he was learning to walk. He would take a few steps, stumble, and then cling to something to help him stand. For my sweet toddler boy, this was an exciting milestone, however when my father experienced this same stumbling, it meant something very different and grim. See, my father had been suffering for 5 years. Suffering from a terrible disease that took everything from him, including his ability to talk and eat, walk or travel, socialize, function, and eventually breathe. As his body and muscles atrophied, we all prayed he would continue to be able to walk as it was about the only thing he had left going for him, but, towards the end, his disease began to rob him of this as well. For my sweet toddler boy, this was an exciting milestone, however when my father experienced this same stumbling, it meant something very different and grim. I see my father in my son when I hand him a pencil and ask him to draw for me. He clumsily holds it the same way my father did when he would try to write me notes to articulate his words during the last few days and months of his life. He would scribble a few things here and there, mostly happy faces and sad faces, or little hearts that meant I love you; they weren’t words, but it was enough – I knew exactly what he meant. Just as I now do with my son, I saved many of these scribblings, as it was one of our only ways of communicating to each other in this stage of his life; and on this paper, I hold special memories of my father. I see my father in my son as I put him to bed every evening and we go through our nightly bedtime routine. I am always brought back to that hot summer night in July, when for the first time, I went to bed without saying goodnight to my father. It wasn’t on purpose; I actually forgot. Typically, we would have sat together for a while, sometimes a long while, watching TV and I would rub his hands and feet, which were sore and achy from not functioning well anymore. Honestly, sometimes I would try to avoid this nightly routine because, although I loved this time together, he would keep me there for much longer than I ever intended to be, but I didn’t purposefully avoid him on this July 14 night. Somehow, before falling asleep, I realized we had not done our regular nightly TV bonding session and I felt bad. I even said to my husband, Ah, I forgot to say goodnight to my Dad!, but it was late, so my husband and I agreed that I could just wait until tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. I am always brought back to that hot summer night in July, when for the first time, I went to bed without saying goodnight to my father. On July 15, 2007, at about 5:00 a.m., my father, Dominic Andriacchi, died from cardiac arrest caused by Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) or Lou Gehrig’s Disease. I never got to say goodbye or goodnight. I think of this everyday single day, especially when I am putting my son to bed. I think of my father every time I squeeze my son, give him that goodnight kiss, give him one more hug, and tell him I love him. I will never miss this opportunity again; my father taught me the importance of this. I never got to say goodbye or goodnight. I think of this everyday single day&#8230; I see my father in myself when my son wakes up from a bad dream and I comfort him. I assure him, just as my dad did with me in his darkest of days and scariest of times, that everything is going to be alright, even though I have no way of being certain of this. As my parent my father was strong, even when he was dying. As the child, I believed him when he said everything would be OK. I wish I could have done that in return for him; maybe I did? In hindsight, I wish I could have assured him that everything would be alright, especially that one last time – but I didn’t and I often have to ask myself, why? Was this always part of the plan? Would I have known I was going to be saying goodbye instead of goodnight that night? I’ll never know. I see my father in my son every day. His blue eyes are looking at me with love, thanks, and confidence. I know they are both proud of the job I’m doing as a daughter, wife, mother, and woman. But, if I’m being honest, I’m just doing the best I can; thankfully they both saw and see so much more in me. Thankfully, I had the opportunity to know my father, but my son never will – which is why I am so proud to see so much of my father in my son. &#160; &#160; &#160;]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>15</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>I Couldn&#8217;t Do That to My Kids</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/i-couldnt-do-that-to-my-kids/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/i-couldnt-do-that-to-my-kids/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 May 2015 09:00:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Kassidy Everard]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Classes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[High School]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hold Back]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Math]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[passion]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[School]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Science]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sophomore]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[student]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Success]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[teacher]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=6482</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Lately I have been extremely stressed out with school. Believe it or not, being a Sophomore is the hardest year in High-school. There are huge obstacles to overcome, an abundant amount of new material to learn and there is a whole new perspective on school. I have never been an A+ student. School has always come very hard for me. Not school all around, but specifically math and science related courses. I have had more tears than moments of happiness this school year. Math, no matter how hard, has the power to make every bone in my body tremble. The blood in my body boils when I realize I have to do math. I have had more tears than moments of happiness this school year. As finals quickly approach, I started to think about what it is that I have learned that I will genuinely need in life. I am not one of those students that considers everything busy-work or that considers everything insignificant. BUT when there are equations I will actually never need in life, other than to become a math teacher, I start to question why we even learn it to begin with. I look back on my year and see nothing but trial and error. None of my efforts in math have paid off. Then again, what did I expect? They never have. I am constantly faced with the decision of either trying my absolute hardest just to pass one class and walk away with absolutely nothing learned, or giving it a fair amount of effort and expecting amazing results. I am continually stressed out over my head with math. I am easily angered when I cannot figure a math problem out. All in all, math is what is holding me back in life. I considered being a Child Psychologist, but math made me hate school. So, seven years doesn&#8217;t appeal to me. I considered being a Teacher, but math made me hate learning. So, four years didn&#8217;t appeal to me. When did I consider just being human? Have any of us ever considered just being human? I have my strong points in school. Writing being one of them. I would love to be a writer. But what I will accomplish or will not accomplish shouldn&#8217;t have any effect on how I decide to live my life. Is math really the only thing holding me back? Sadly, it is. As I think about everything I just typed, I think about my future. I think about my children. I would never want my child to tell me that they couldn&#8217;t be anything that they wanted to be in life because of one class. I would never want my child to tell me that what he/she is learning in school is &#8220;too hard,&#8221; or &#8220;cannot be understood&#8221;. I wouldn&#8217;t want my child to cry over a simple math problem because deep down it isn&#8217;t the math making him upset. Deep down it&#8217;s the thought of not accomplishing extraordinary things that destroys his/her mind. I wouldn&#8217;t want my child to cry over a simple math problem because deep down it isn&#8217;t the math making him upset. Deep down it&#8217;s the thought of not accomplishing extraordinary things that destroys his/her mind. I see how corrupt our schools are. How much empty knowledge children are forced to learn. How many things that are taught, but never really used. Are we filling gaps? Or is it that we just don&#8217;t know what else to teach? I have yet to see math needed beyond what a calculator can do.  And it will only get harder. My parents stopped helping me with homework in the fifth grade. By the sixth, they were both able to tell me that the math I was learning was taught to them as sophomores or juniors in High school. Isn&#8217;t it funny how my parents don&#8217;t know the math I was taught in sixth grade? They&#8217;ve never used it. When will I? When I have kids, I think I will have to home-school them. Or maybe move to a commune. How could I put that much stress on my child? How could I tell my child that I cannot help them because I have never learned what they are learning? How would I be able to watch my child cry over a simple math problem? When will society realize that dreams are killed through putting pressure on a child to be something more than they possibly can be? I wouldn&#8217;t be able to hear my child tell me that they aren&#8217;t capable enough. I wouldn&#8217;t be able to expose my child to a corrupt educating system. I wouldn&#8217;t be able to tell my child that they needed to try a little harder than their best because their best just wasn&#8217;t enough. I wouldn&#8217;t want to be that parent that was responsible for telling my child that they needed to dream a new dream. No matter what job, passion is what makes success. An unsuccessful education is no education at all. If you are passionate enough about what you do, then you will succeed in your career. One does not need knowledge to know what brings happiness to life. One does not need a math problem to tell them that they cannot accomplish anything. I won&#8217;t be a teacher. Teachers aren&#8217;t even teachers anymore. They hate what they are forced to teach just as much as children hate learning it. And they have the pain of knowing that there are some kids that they just can&#8217;t help. But they must move on. Because just like one child cannot hold the entire class back from learning, one math problem should not hold one child back from succeeding. I couldn&#8217;t let that happen. I couldn&#8217;t do that to my kids.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Children Bodily Fluids 101</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/children-bodily-fluids-101/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/children-bodily-fluids-101/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 24 Apr 2015 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Andrea Curtis]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Baby]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Bodily Fluids]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Boogers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kids]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Motherhood]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poop]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Potty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Potty Training]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Puke]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Runny Nose]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Snot]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Warn]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[What It's Really Like]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wipe]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Wiping]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[WIRL]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=5512</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#160; The other day my 4 year old told our roofer proudly she could wipe her own bottom now when she poops. I was only slightly surprised she said this to him knowing her personality. I laughed it off and began thinking about the ugly process of teaching her and her two older sisters how to properly wipe. No one prepared me for this! I thought of parenting as moments in hallmark movies. Boy was I off. Granted there are moments of pure joy. But on a daily basis. We deal with bodily fluids with young children. There is no dealing with Children&#8217;s Bodily Fluids For Idiots book. So heres my cliff note version of dealing with children&#8217;s bodily fluids 101: Wiping. I can&#8217;t help you with boys, I&#8217;ve got all girls. I literally bent over and demonstrated the process and the importance to wipe away form their vagina. I showed them about how large of piece of toilet paper to use. My first daughter was a disaster, she used tiny pieces of toilet paper, getting poop on her fingers and wiping the wrong direction causing an infection! They don&#8217;t know this stuff, so I have to teach her!  When is comes to diapers and poop, Huggies dealt with poop the best for us. Unless you want to get a whiff of poop next time your tuck your hair behind your ear, don&#8217;t stick your finger anywhere near the edges to check for a bowl movement. Just assume the worst. Puke! Puking is the worst of all bodily fluids. Although it&#8217;s not as common, thank God. It&#8217;s the most disgusting. They don&#8217;t understand they are about to erupt like a volcano, they just stand or lay there as it comes pouring out of them with a confused look on there face as they see us running with a look of disgust and fear all at once. When my girls were little toddlers the fast approaching or hovering buckets scared them and confused them. In turn the buckets didn&#8217;t help much until they understand. Dangling them over a sink or toilet is just not realistic for a bouncy toddler either. Since I am not a fan of scrubbing puke out of carpet, fabric, bed rails, and carseat buckles I have come to this&#8230; we stay at home in a practical designated area; usually the family room. I make a play area of layered towels, only allowing hard and easy to clean toys. If they want to sit on my lap, I drape a towel over both of us as if it were a blanket. When puking begins I pull the sides of the towel vertical to prevent spilling over the sides. When vomit session ends I roll up her vomit contaminated towel and wash it. During sleeping times I made beds of towels layered on the floor and I would sleep near by. It was so much easier to clean up and get them back to sleep. Making a bed over and over on a puking night, is horrible. Keep it practical keep it easy. Snot and Boogers!! It&#8217;s all the time! They are either teething, have a cold, or allergies. Snot is gonna happen. Nose picking is gonna happen. We have all blown our noses and still couldn&#8217;t get that wretched dried nasal mucus, so as civilized adults we quickly retrieve it and dispose it and promptly washing our hands. We have all done it! So how can we expect our little humans to not reach for an aggravating piece of dried nasal mucus in their nose. It&#8217;s what we do with the booger thats important. Yelling and asking them to not pick their nose may just lead them to hiding the evidence by eating it! (retching sound) That is not ok with me! I keep those little packs of tissues everywhere! In my purse, my van, the diaper bag, in each room in the house. Every time I catch them digging for gold, I hand them a tissue. Now they come find me, &#8220;Mom, I have a booger!&#8221;&#8230; Hey I prefer it than scraping boogers off of walls and furniture. Someone should warn us parents about this stuff. There are books that share about what toys are good for fine motor skills. What about this stuff?! This is what its really like.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Toddler Meal Schedule</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/toddler-meal-schedule/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/toddler-meal-schedule/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 25 Feb 2015 14:00:33 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Lauren]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Child]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[First Foods]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[meal ideas]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Meal Planning]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Toddler]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=3358</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Creating a meal schedule for your child can be a difficult task. I often felt I left the doctor’s office with little answers. Like all mothers, I wanted Hadley to enjoy a variety of foods. When she first began solids, I did make her food and supplement with packets when needed. Around 8 months, she started to grow tired of my food and I did rely heavily on the puree pouches and other store bought food. After her nine month appointment, her doctor gave her the green the light on pretty much all foods. From then on, I became more confident in having her expand her palette. Here is a typical food schedule for Hadley. &#160; 7:00 AM – Rise and shine! Hadley has a full sippy cup of milk &#160; 8:00 AM – Breakfast usually includes scrambles eggs with cheese, toast with cream cheese, and some blueberries and strawberries to start her day. She also has water with all her meals. &#160; 10:30 AM – For a mid morning snack, Hadley munches on peanut butter and bananas. &#160; 1:00 PM – Lunch is one of Hadley’s favorite meals. Yogurt, string cheese and some diced mangos always fill her up. &#160; 3:00 PM – Hadley drinks a sippy cup full of milk and some grapes or goldfish. &#160; 5:00 PM – For dinner, I like to include a protein, veggie and carb. One of her favorites for dinner is rotisserie chicken, guacamole (avocado mixed with lime juice) and cheesy quinoa. &#160; 7:00 PM – Hadley ends her day with a sippy cup full of milk and some bedtime stories! When dealing with food, I always felt like I was feeding Hadley the same items. I like to switch things up a bit so she does not grow tired of certain foods. Here are a few options in case you are in a toddler food rut… &#160; Breakfast: Eggs Pancakes Waffles Bagels with cream cheese or peanut butter Oatmeal Cereal &#160; Snacks: Diced strawberries Bluberries Black beans String Cheese Peas Corn Grapes Diced mangos &#160; Lunch Meals: Peanut Butter sandwich Chicken and Cheese quesadilla Grilled Cheese Yogurt Guacamole (We mash up one avocado and squeeze lime juice on it!) &#160; &#160; Dinner Meals: Spinach Lasagna Rolls Rotisserie Chicken Pulled Pork Salmon Chicken pot pies Pasta Salad with fresh veggies Baked rigatoni]]></description>
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