Coughs and Colds

Here comes cough and cold season.

Back in the day—and I mean way, way back—moms would whip up a hot toddy for their sick chickens, like the one my friend Paula’s mom used to give her: whiskey, honey, lemon.

That wisdom slipped away with the arrival of over-the-counter cough and cold remedies.

Then in 2007, we got told that we can’t give our kids over-the-counter medicines if they’re under the age of four. Wed MD explains why (emphasis mine):

For decades, parents have relied on kids’ cold medicines and cough syrups — typically grape, cherry, or bubblegum flavored — to ease their children’s discomfort.

However, the FDA and manufacturers now say that over-the-counter cough and cold medicines should not be given to children under 4.

Evidence indicates that children’s cold medicines don’t really help and may pose a real (although small) risk of side effects, particularly to young children. This has cast serious doubt on a common and trusted group of medicines — and left many parents anxious and confused.

They don’t really help. And there was a dangerous downside. We had certainly seen that with allergy medication prescribed by our doctor for Gabe’s persistent runny nose in the Fall. We had seen it with the teething gel we gave to Kate when she was cutting teeth. And when I thought about it, I realized that I couldn’t honestly say that any of the adult cold and cough medicine worked for me or Shea either.

Except…we woke up with hangovers from “nighttime” cough syrup and walked like stuffed zombies from “daytime” liquigels.

So when I was pregnant with Annie and suffering from a winter cold, I reached for the homeopathics.

And they worked.

Let me clarify what I mean by “worked”.

There is a lot of evidence out there that all over the counter cough and cold medicines are ineffective, evidence which has been squashed by the mass marketing of the companies that make the meds.

See this, this, and this.

The homeopathics did not make me better. But no over the counter medicines can “cure” a cold or cough.

At 2 am, all we’re looking for is an alleviation of symptoms. Homeopathics and commercial cold and cough medicines both claim to help.

But some commercial over the counter medicines contain other things that are not so good for us and cause side effects. Most of the “inactive ingredients” in these syrups and capsules are “generally rated as safe” by the FDA, such as propylene glycol and synthetic food coloring. Generally. And most nighttime formulas use an antihistamine, like Benedryl, as the sleep agent.

This explains the Nyquil hangover. And any mom can tell you that a child’s reaction to an antihistamine is a crap shoot. Sometimes they get sleepy, and sometimes they run up and down the plane aisle like you fed them three chocolate bars before you boarded.

(Or maybe that’s just Kate?)

The homeopathics, on the other hand, have shorter, more recognizable ingredient lists. And they work. Our favorite is Zarbee’s Nighttime Cough Syrup, which is a dark honey formulation with vitamin C, zinc and melatonin. Like the old fashioned hot toddy, minus the whiskey. And it will soothe a sore throat and calm a cough. I’ve also had success with the Hyland’s allergy formula for Annie.

My girls have a cold this week and I am using the Breathe essential oil formulation from Do Terra. They get a bit on their chest and on the bottoms of their feet, plus some in the humidifier. Kate has a cough, but between the Breathe and the Zarbee’s, she is not coughing at night.

You know Dana and I are only crunchy-ish. We believe in flu shots and vaccines and antibiotics when they are needed. These are my precious babies and I am not fooling around with their health. Homeopathics are an ancient wisdom, but they come from a time when people regularly died of fevers. So we use our common sense and pediatricians who believe in a blend of the old and the new.

I do have a back-up bottle of Mucinex in the cabinet. What prompted me to sit down and write this post is that in cleaning out the cabinet in preparation for the move, I re-discovered the Mucinex—unopened and expired.

Resources:

Recipe for Hot Toddy: www.foodrepublic.com

Zarbee’s Natural: www.zarbees.com

DoTerra Breathe: www.mydoterra.com/danaalvarez

The Greatest Sacrifice ~ Dana

Yesterday my daughters and I went to the Riverside National Cemetery, where my Grandpa Art is buried. It’s only 4 miles from our house and on a drive by, we noticed that a small flag had been placed at every grave. Every. We just had to turn in. It was quite a sight to see.

But today, in honor of Veterans’ Day, I would like to tell the story of my great uncle, Marvin, who served his country faithfully during World War 2, to honor his sacrifice.

Marvin R. Walker was born in 1919, in a small farm town in Iowa. Marvin’s mother, Mildred, had divorced his father, Boyd, an uncommon occurrence in the early 1900s. On a day that Boyd had come to visit Marvin and his brother, Boyd Jr., then aged 3 and 2, he did something that is to the modern parent, unthinkable. He took the boys and moved to Canada. He left, without a trace. Mildred was heartbroken, but in 1921, women didn’t have the voice or the rights that we have today, and the children were lost to her. Boyd Jr. was lost forever as he died from influenza just a year later, unbeknownst to her.

Mildred got married again to a man who already had a daughter, Lenora, and had 3 more children, Betty, Mazie, and Jack. Another divorce and the beginning of the Second World War found Mildred, Lenora, Betty, Mazie, and Jack off of the farm. Mildred continued her long time profession of teaching, while Lenora and Betty had moved to California and worked at Mc Donald Douglas aircraft, supporting the war effort.

Then suddenly, a miracle happened. Marvin found Mildred. He knew the town she lived in and wrote her a letter. He had enlisted in the Army’s Air Force division in a small town in Oregon and was stationed in Southern California, waiting for deployment. Mildred immediately wrote to Betty, and was soon on a train bound for California. The reunion between mother and son was full of joy, elation, wonder, and excitement. Mildred was so proud of the man that Marvin had become. He was kind, funny, sweet, incredibly handsome, and loved his mother dearly. Betty and Marvin hit it off and were instantaneously best friends. Betty, now 92, recalls afternoons spent at the beach or the city pool, dinners together, and laughter. Lots of laughter. “He would just grab me and go,” she told me in a recent conversation. “He was so happy to have his kid sister.”

As many stories of The Greatest Generation go, the war soon separated this lovely, reunited family once again. Mildred returned to Iowa, and Marvin went to a base in Arizona. He begged Betty to move there with him. She decided to stay in Long Beach, but they made plans, plans for his return… Then, tragedy. Marvin was sent to the Pacific front. He was a pilot, 2^nd Lieutenant in the 419^th Night Fighter Squadron. And on March 16^th, 1944, his plane went down. He was lost at sea. Lost again, forever.

Betty is my grandmother. And I have heard her stories of the war my entire life. And to this day, the pain of losing her brother, her sweet, gentle, long-lost brother, still makes her cry. As a mother, I cannot imagine the ache in Mildred, my Nana’s heart, losing her boy not once, but twice. It just doesn’t make sense.

In 1959, Mildred published a book of poetry, including one for Marvin:

“The Depths”

So, it has come

The dreaded word, plunging

Straight into my heart;

Uprooting, tearing out

The hopes, the plans, the joy

Of looking toward your coming;

Making place for pain,

Hot tears, and cold despair.

So let it be.

Nor let anxiety abate;

Nor loneliness be comforted;

Let nothing ease the pain;

Let nothing compensate;

Let every aching nerve

Cry out its grief to every

Auditory sense

Of body, mind, and soul,

That I may know my loss.

And let me sip it, sip it,

Year by year by year,

As long as life shall last.

This sad story, however, does not end there. Seventy years later, in the summer of 2014, came another “miracle,” the miracle of modern technology. In May of this year, my mom joined Ancestry.com to begin tracing our family tree. A fun hobby, we thought. Instantly we were overwhelmed with pictures, and family, and relatives, and DNA matches that we never knew existed. It’s amazing how much information there truly is and how easily it is all accessed. A click here, a click there, and suddenly a note in the inbox from a cousin containing a link to the website American War Graves. This lovely website that contains the information of over 100,000 soldiers who were killed in action in World War I, World War 2, or the Korean War.

And there was his name. There was our Marvin.

I always imagined that since he was lost at sea, there is no burial site. However, under burial details, it says that our Marvin is memorialized on the Tablets of the Missing at the Manila American Cemetery, Manila, Philippines. I’m not sure why seeing just his name there affected me the way that it did, but a wave of tears flooded down my face. His picture hangs on our wall, his gorgeous, infectious smile staring out at us from the past. And I can feel the love and the loss when I look at him. After all of these years, it felt like we had found Marvin.

As luck, or fate, would have it, I have a friend from high school who lives in Manila. Jopet and another good friend of mine, Ray, who was traveling to Manila in September, graciously agreed to take the time to travel to the memorial and make a rubbing of his name. They faced a few obstacles: finding that Marvin’s name is *just* out of reach, trying to find a ladder, getting help from the staff at the cemetery. But my friends were amazing and did this task for me. And I am so grateful to them for bringing Marvin home to us.

As I run my fingers over the letters of his name, I can’t help but feel the gravity of his sacrifice. I feel the sacrifice that my family made, all of them: Nana, Grandma Betty, Aunt Mazie, Aunt Lee, and Uncle Jack, who still remembers seeing Marvin’s picture in his mother’s room and dreaming of the brother that he never met. The heaviness of this loss never quite healed for any of them.

There is something quite healing though, knowing that he is memorialized somewhere, that he hasn’t been forgotten. It feels like this loss isn’t our own. Nana never knew about the Tablets of the Missing. She never knew that there was a sacred place that honored her boy. But I think it would have meant the world to her to know that America, too, felt her loss and honored him.

I know that our story is not unique. I know that so, so many have braved this ultimate sacrifice for this great country of ours. I know the sacrifice that their families endure, all to carry out the cry for liberty. Veterans’ Day honors those who were willing to give their lives for the United States of America, and even if they do not give their full measure of devotion, they and their families give so much protecting us. To the veterans reading this, to those currently serving our country in the military, to the family members of our soldiers, please accept our heartfelt thanks and please know that Jen and I honor you on this Veterans’ Day.

Essential Oil of the Month: Lavender

If you know anything about me, you know that I am obsessed with Paris. And Provence. Ok, maybe all of France. But really, with landscapes like this, can you blame me?

If you’re new to essential oils and don’t know which ones to buy, or are even just curious as to how they can support your everyday life, I’d like to suggest that you give good old lavender a go! Most of us know that lavender can promote relaxation. Its scent is used in products like bubble bath, or linen spray. We have lavender sachets and eye masks that we put by our bedsides to help us sleep better. But housed in those little purple buds is so much more than a lovely smell. In fact, lavender is the most versatile of all essential oils.

Please be aware, though, that not all essential oils are the same. For a long time, I bought my essential oils at the health food store, or from Amazon. I was completely unaware that all essential oils are not created equally. There are different grades of essential oils: aromatic, food (flavoring), therapeutic, and Certified Pure Therapeutic Grade. Only dōTERRA’s oils carry CPTG certification. (Click here to learn more about CPTG)Their oils are put through a rigorous 6 step testing process, guaranteeing that contaminants are kept out of the oils, assuring the presence of their active compounds, at the right levels, which is necessary for safety and effectiveness. Many oils claim to be therapeutic grade, and some may be pure, but few are subjected to rigorous testing standards for chemical composition.

If you have a bottle of lavender essential oil at home, please check the label. There should be some indication of how the product should be used. The bottle of NOW lavender essential oil that I have is clearly labeled “For Aromatic Use Only.” Therefore, I do not think it would be safe or effective to use on the skin, and certainly not to be taken internally.

Now let’s get back to the lavender! Lavender can be used to support a variety of different health and emotional concerns:

Sleep and Relaxation –

Apply to bottom of feet or pillow before sleeping
Apply to chest, top of head, bottom of feet to calm anxiety and anxiousness
Use with bath salts for a relaxing spa bathing experience
Apply to wrists or inhale when travelling to ease motion sickness
Add to hand lotion for a stress-relieving hand massage

Skin Issues –

Use to calm reaction to bee sting or bug bite
Apply to chapped or cracked lips before applying lip balm or lipstick
Calm sensitive skin and soothe pores after hair removal
Use with peppermint oil for a healthy, invigorating scalp massage
Combine 1-3 drops with 1 teaspoon aloe vera and lightly massage onto sunburn
Apply therapeutic grade lavender to cleanse and promote healing to cuts and scrapes
Lightly massage into bruised skin to promote blood circulation
Apply 1-2 drops to ringworm several times a day until ringworm clears
Apply to rashes, poison ivy, and chicken pox several times daily to reduce pain and itching, and to promote quick recovery
Apply directly for other skin issues, such as psoriasis, eczema, or extremely dry skin.
Pure lavender oil has long been used for healing burns. Apply directly to the site, or use in a very light, non-greasy carrier such as aloe, immediately and every few hours while healing.

Children –

Dilute 10 drops of lavender in 1 Tablespoon of carrier oil and apply after diaper change
Apply 1-2 drops to a teaspoon of carrier oil and apply to the gums. You can also add a couple drops of lavender to a cup of water, wet a washcloth with the solution, freeze and allow the little one to gnaw on the frozen cloth.
Dilute in a carrier oil (coconut, almond, apricot) and apply to back or soles of feet to calm an upset and crying child
To aid in alleviating mastitis, dilute 4 drops of oil in 1 teaspoon of carrier oil and massage gently into breast tissue

For a hyperactive child, diffuse in the air or apply topically to the chest or reflex points of the hands or feet for a calming, grounding effect

Emotional Stress –

Whether you’re stressed, overwhelmed, angry or otherwise, lavender oil can be used aromatically or topically to calm nerves and emotions
Uses of lavender essential oil topically will promote relaxation and restfulness, as well as grounding and balance
Apply topically or use aromatically to assist the grief process and provide a centering, grounding effect on the spirit
To combat mood swings, diffuse pure lavender oil in the air or inhale directly for at least 30 seconds as needed

Amazing, isn’t it? For each of the applications listed, you only need to use 2-3 drops (unless otherwise indicated). Lavender is a great starter oil for those just getting started, and it is definitely one of my go-to oils for just about everything. If you’d like to order your own dōTERRA lavender, click the button below. And if you have any questions, feel free to comment on this post, or email us!

Women Who Come Running When

I bought these as favors for Anne's baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be. — I bought these as favors for Anne’s baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be.

On Halloween we trick or treated with neighbor friends, because that’s how we do. Steffani and Laurie know each other through me. They both have three year old daughters, Clare and Abigail, who decided that they had to trick or treat holding hands. Since Annie refused to get out of her stroller, I kept up with the older kids as they ran from door to door. Pretty soon, Steffani and Laurie were half a block behind us.

We all caught up again at Lara’s home, where as we stood outside with the kids milling around, Laurie gave Steffani her phone number.

Suddenly I was twelve years old again.

Wait, what? Why are they exchanging phone numbers? If they become better friends, what will happen to me?

Now, I know that this is silly.

And I further know that I am the one moving away.

But for one really solid moment, I felt alone.

I am blessed with an abundance of wonderful women friends. They live everywhere, from Maui to Canada and points in between.

But Steffani, Lara, Dana, Laurie, Amy, Jennifer, Angela. These are the women within shouting distance. They are the ones who come running when. And any woman—but especially a mama—knows that you cannot do life well unless you have a solid core of other women who come running when.

From midnight trips to the ER to parenting advice to playdates over muffins and coffee while the babies play, these are the friends who make the daily business of parenting joyful from the simple knowledge that I am not alone and there is always another way to cut the cake or skin the cat, depending.

So I’m sad.

Because these women right here, right now? They will always be my friends, but they won’t be within shouting distance, and for a while I’m going to feel like I lost my safe place to land.

They have taught me: we all need women who come running when. Women who love us and support us and answer the phone at 2 am. Women who laugh with us and at us and don’t see the dirty dishes or the pile of laundry. Women who travel with us and celebrate with us and cry with us when it all goes wrong.

They see us at our best and our worst and they still come running when. They show up for it all.

I want to say thank you to these women for making my life here so beautiful and full of love and joy. I couldn’t have done it without you and I love you.

And here’s to all the women who come running when.

May you know one and may you be one.

The Ghost in Our House~ Jen

My phone turned everyone on the edge of the lake into a ghost at dusk a few months ago. Weird.

She’s baaaaaack!

Growing up, we had a ghost in the house. I’ll put that on my mom. And if my mom was writing this, she’d tell you the same.

We’d lived in the house probably ten years before we put it all together. We sat down as a family and told each other all the weird things that had happened that we thought were just weird coincidence or the creakings and squeakings of a 40 year old house. That night, I named her Dorothy.

Dorothy was the source of the knocking on my bedroom wall, the reason that the dog sat up and begged from no one. She whispered in everyone’s ear, waking us up in the dark of night. Up to that point, none of it was scary. Just weird.

But that dinner was like her coming out party. Once we acknowledged her presence, she got busy.

One night Teresa was playing with my mom’s music box, a masquerade clown that played “Music of the Night” from Phantom. As if that in itself was not creepy enough, two hours after she left, I was watching TV by myself when I heard the box play about six slow notes in the dining room. It did that sometimes, like it hadn’t quite wound all the way down.

Thirty seconds later though, that thing started playing loud and fast like someone had wound it all the way up.

I screamed for my brother, who yelled back “I’m not coming out there!” My mom came running up the hallway and grabbed the box, which had indeed been wound all the way up.

Dorothy.

My dad hired a painter to paint the family room. After six hours they wanted out. The paint fell over, the brushes moved from where they had been left, the TV switched on and off. “You got a ghost, boss” the painter told my dad.

Dorothy.

At Christmas, the stockings my mom made when we were all babies, that hung on the mantle every year, and were packed away in the same place, were gone. My mom turned the house upside down. Nothing.

When we dragged the decorations out for the next Christmas, there they were, right on top.

Dorothy.

I lost a pair of jean shorts, my favorites. I looked for them everywhere, even in my brothers’ drawers. Then I forgot about them. One day in the middle of winter, I pulled a load of whites out of the dryer and mixed up among them—my blue jean shorts.

Dorothy.

My brother used to surf early in the morning. The kid never remembered his house key. He’d tap on my bedroom window so I could get up and let him in the back door. One Saturday morning, he called my name and tapped, and I got up and opened the back door. Which set off the house alarm. Which brought everyone running, including my brother who’d been asleep in his bed.

Dorothy.

It got to be a thing. My mom, standing over the tv, turning it off only to have it turn right back on. “Dorothy, cut it out!” she yelled finally, and that time the tv stayed off.

One night I was doing the dishes. It was just my brother and me in the house. He came into the kitchen to get a drink, but then he bolted for the back door and locked it. “I just saw someone outside!” he said.

“Blond hair?” I asked him.

“Yes!”

“I’ve seen that. I think it’s Dorothy” I told him.

And then this night. I was doing the dishes. It was dark. The rest of the family was watching tv in the other room. I looked up from the sink, into the window, which was like a giant mirror, reflecting the room behind me. And I saw a woman with blond hair, in a long black dress, walk into the room towards me. I froze, and watched as she turned and walked out.

When I ran out into the family room to tell my parents, my brother said “I thought I saw someone walk into the dining room just a second ago”.

Dorothy.

The mystery was solved one afternoon at my grandparent’s home. I was telling Dorothy stories and my grandmother, a few Canadian Clubs into the afternoon, said “We had a ghost here too. Bessie.” She then launched into a list of Bessie stories that sounded a lot like Dorothy. My grandmother thought she haunted a painting they used to have.

“Is she gone?” my dad asked.

“Oh sure, since we got rid of the painting” my grandmother said.

“Where did it go?” he asked.

“We gave it to you years ago! The one in the living room.”

And I knew exactly the painting she was talking about. A delicate, Romantic style portrait of a young girl, her face glowing against the background, even in the dark.

The girl in the painting was not a blond. And she was not dressed the way that Dorothy was dressed the night I saw her. But since the day my dad took that painting off the wall and sent it to Goodwill, there has never been another Dorothy incident in the house.

Happy Halloween!

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