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On How Some Early Childhood Prevention Can Still Make My Butt Hurt!

A mom was sentenced to 5 years in jail for allowing her 18 month old daughter to suck from the mother's...bong:

"Ms. Durham allegedly remarked that smoking improved Michala's appetite and left Michala lethargic and mellow - a manner she found consistent with her own experience smoking marijuana," Judge Louis Pollak of the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of Appeals wrote in summarizing the case.

The report goes onto to say, the court ruled she should have to spend no more than two years in prison and I'm thinking...dayum...sure, it seems a bit harsh...but, where were they when my mother was shoving little soft-gels up my ass?


No, I don't think what "bong mom" did was right, but - although she clearly has a problem with understanding the possible damaging effects of marijuana on her baby, I don't believe "bong mom" should go to prison, either - heck, I've known plenty of parents who have gone to uncertain lengths (including giving their kids cough syrup when they weren't sick) just to get their children some sleep and perhaps a few moments of rest, themselves.



But, I have resorted to strapping a colicky-4-month-old into her car seat and driving her around town in the middle of the night, just so her two-year-old sister could get some sleep, while I cried my eyes out to the lullabyes of Barney and Pooh Bear, all in the privacy of my minivan, too!

About those soft-gel bullets I was referring to, earlier?

My brother and I had suffered from terrible bouts of high fevers, not to mention chronic tonsilitis, up until soon after we started going to school.  And the preferred path of treatment at that time (no, I'm not saying when...so...shuddup!) was to keep the tonsils wet with a lollipop and get a big old shot of Pennicylin in the ass.

Then, if that didn't work, enter...the rectal suppository!


Even the words still make my butt, hurt!

I can still remember her fighting us - yes, my brother suffered the same indignity - and having to call my grandmother to help hold us down, all the while insisting that we, "Stop kicking," or "Don't squeeze it out," and swearing, "Because it's good for you and will make you feel much better!"

As we grew older - and grew out of the fevers like the evil Dr. Froderick von Fronkenstein pediatrician claimed - and our immune system's strength increased, my mother's dependency on suppositories lessened.

Only to rear it's ugly head, again, after Thing One turned 8 months old and ended up in the hospital with a fever of 106, that lasted four days!

"Well, Thing One doesn't have any symptoms and we can't seem to find a reason why she's having a hard time with her fevers breaking.  So, here's a prescription for an antibiotic and some suppositories, just in case."

[eyes go wide]

[a little louder]
"Here's a prescription for an anti..."

[shaking head]
"No...I got that...what's with the...GULP!...suppositories!?!"

The Son of Dr. Fronkenstein pediatrician just smiled as he started to explain, speaking even slower, this time.
"It's a supplement...to help Thing One boost her immune system...you just administer it...rectally...no big deal, really...and she'll be a lot more comfortable...a lot less gassy...and perhaps sleep a whole lot better for you, too."

[feeling queasy]
"Oh sure...no big deal...as long as it's not YOUR ass...or, YOU'RE the one who's doing the administering...nuh-uh!...no way...can't you just give me some cough syrup...or, something!?!"

Mini-Me came down with a cold and - although, I kept her from playing soccer and out of the weather this weekend - she woke up a little stuffy.


"Mbaba...can you gib be a widdle bed-i-cin for by doze?"

I explained to her that it could make her sleepy and, if she was really not feeling good, I suggested that she perhaps should stay home and, if her throat still hurt, we could call the doctor, later today, and maybe she could help her feel better.

[eyes go wide]

"Nuh-uh...DOE WAY, JOSE...you are NOT twicking be, again...not wike da wast time...you said, "NO SHOT!"...and BAM, I got TWO!...by fwoat is feews just find...I ab NOT going to get a shot...not tuh-day...Oooooh no...doe body iz bessing wif MY butt!"  

Suffice it to say, consistent with my own experience, my family and I welcome the healing effects of my mother's chicken soup and a pot of freshly-brewed caraway tea (only!) as the kids and I are learning to appreciate a whole new meaning to "Mama's little pain-in-the-ass!"

Anyone care for a hit?

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