Santa: To Be(lieve) or Not To Be(lieve)?

Namas-HEY!

 

As the holiday approaches (we are currently down to 3 days and a wakeup according to Princess K), the Santa debates are exploding. I typically avoid this particular popular parenting fracas, but this year I had a conversation and it made me want to write about it.

 

My opinion on Santa is not the most popular, because it involves reality.

 

Hold up! Don’t judge me…yet.

 

I approach Santa and his holiday buddies from a practical standpoint. I believe in being honest and upfront with my kids, and I avoid perpetuating any fantasy that would damage their trust in me later.

 

Behhh, to that unpopular reality thing. *sighs*

 

I have always been really particular about which fairy tales I encourage for the kids. I want them to have a wonderful, glowing childhood…but I also want them to be rooted in reality.

 

The reality for us is, Santa is a wonderful story. The idea behind it is beautiful—a benevolent character delivering joy throughout the world for one magical night. This story is fun, magical, and inspiring. It’s a tradition to read it and even watch the cartoons about it (we love Dr. Seuss, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” especially) all throughout the Christmas season.

 

Why do we do all that only to not “encourage” belief?

 

Well, it goes along the lines of my parenting philosophy.

 

I don’t teach them what to think—I only teach them how to think.

 

Princess K no longer believes Santa might bring gifts to her, or anyone else. She has not for at least seven years. She is a keen kid and promptly figured out the myth. One day we were building a gingerbread house and out of nowhere, my little bird informed me that Santa was not a person but a story.

 

I panicked, internally. I wasn’t prepared to dash her little hopes. I didn’t want her to grow up too fast. I didn’t want to ruin the holiday magic for her! For pizza’s sake, she was four! Realistically, I thought we had a few more years of reindeer, elves, and whimsy.

 

When we had the conversation, I asked her why she thought he wasn’t real. She told me she figured it out because reindeer don’t fly or have light-up noses. (I told you—she’s a keen little bird.)

 

I listened to her thoughts and decided then and there, I had to level with her. I had to be honest and let her know she was, in essence, correct.

 

Thankfully, I had never told her to believe in Santa anyway.

Note: I am always careful about what I tell them--they have to trust me to guide them. Call it overanalytical if you need to, to feel better about yourself, but I don't lie to them. Not even for holidays. Maybe especially for holidays.

It was a fun holiday game, and now she had figured out the card trick. While I was a little saddened (regardless of how practical we are as parents, it’s always a little sad when they become less enthralled by magic in favor of sometimes-boring actuality), I needed this to be a teaching moment. My feelings couldn’t cloud my action, because in this moment she was clearly, distinctly, blatantly trusting me.

 

…so I let her know. I told her that yes, Santa is a story. The point of that story is to inspire and remind us all to be good, and to share love and joy on Christmas.

 

“Why presents? Why not for adults too, since Santa only gives stuff for kids?”

 

“Santa represents the good and right in us all. It is good and right to share, and for that one night Santa brings happiness to kids all over the world. When kids are happy, parents are happy too.”

 

“He doesn’t go all over the world.” Skeptical, hopeful.

 

“Happiness goes all over the world in the blink of an eye. We just have to send it forth.”

 

“So Santa is real, just not a person. Ideas are real, but not touchable. Is that it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

I also made sure to clue her in to a major point: Some kids believe Santa explicitly. That is, they think he is a real person, with a real workshop and real elves. They believe he goes around the world that one special night and brings all the gifts to them and their friends and families.

 

…and there isn’t a thing wrong with that. I told her she was not to crack their eggs, i.e. tell them their beloved Santa was in fact just a story. No one did that for her, and she was absolutely not to do it to anyone else.

 

Fast forward a couple years and another kid.

 

I still have never mentioned Santa in any big way to our son. He’s enjoying the holiday stuff in a big way this year, as he’s old enough to participate in the crafts and games that make the season more special—decorating ugly sweater cookies, watching movies, and telling Christmas stories before bed with a cup of cocoa.

 

He has seen the big guy in stores. He even dances with the animatronic Santa we see in Walmart. He likes Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. His current favorite is to hear the Grinch story while eating the marshmallows from our cocoa mugs.

 

We haven’t really pressed the issue of Santa because one, it spares him the disenchantment of finding out the beloved character is just that—a character created for a story. Two, he is enjoying the holiday magic as we feel a child should—uninfluenced, untainted, and unbothered; I don’t want to mess that up with my projection of “ideal.” As he gets older, he can decide if he wants to write letters to Santa and leave out those treats. If he chooses, we will play the game with him just as we did his sister. If he opts out, we will make sure he knows not to dash the magic for his friends who may think differently.

 

So… don’t be so quick to judge when a parent says, “My kids don’t believe in Santa.” (After all, exactly how holidaisical is that of you? What part of your Santa system says that people who don't observe the same thing, have to be bad?)

 

It isn’t always that we’ve scrooged our kids or negated a part of their childhoods. It isn't like we woke up one day and decided to spoil the holidays by revealing one of parenting's worst kept secrets. (I promise you, we are not that bored...more importantly, we are not that evil.) Sometimes we have an extra keen kid who puts two and two together. Sometimes it’s not of our culture to indulge such.

 

But all the time, it’s our choice and our choice alone. So...

 

To be(lieve) or not to be(lieve)?

 

Purely, solely, and only up to you and yours.

 

As for me and mine? We enjoy the best parts of the holiday, minus the pressure to give life to a character who, at his purest and truest, is simply a mascot of the spirit of the season.

 

My kids don’t believe in Santa.

 

My kids do believe in the holiday spirit.

 

Whether they’re into the Santa thing or not, I hope yours do too!

 

Namaste.

--Taye K.

Clash of the Cultures: How We Avoid Over-Indulging

Namaste!


It's a week out from Christmas. Like, seriously. More accurately, five days and a wakeup.


For most of us, this excitement has been building all year long. We've shopped, we've decorated, and we've prepared. We've saved, we've bought more, we've cooed, cleaned, and categorized. Christmas is the main event.


...well, usually.


As you know, Family Namaste is multicultural. We have two calendars to live by, so by the time Christmas rolls around we've all but fizzled out on the whole holiday thing.


No holidays are boring, and we enjoy all the magic of each one. However...by the time we observe 50 or more Hindu festivals. Then birthdays. Then anniversaries (our wedding anniversary...our store opening anniversaries...various wedding anniversaries and birthdays within our extended family [which may or may not be over 500 people now, with nearly 150 of those living within driving distance]...) and manage invites to celebrate others with out friends and colleagues, it should be no surprise that we are sometimes a little less than holidaisical by the time December 25th rolls around.


With all these holidays and festivals come presents.


Yes. Toys, trinkets, jewelry, money...it gets pretty hinky around here sometimes, because it feels like each relative tries to outdo the next. Our kids are in a unique position, but it can be a delicate balance.


The K-kids should, by most accounts, be insufferable little brats.


The moment I took vows with Hubby Namaste, I made him promise that our kids would never be entitled, spoiled, or overindulged. We would do what we could and they would definitely have a good (read: practically charmed) life, but we would not send more insufferables into the world. (You know--the bratty, entitled, insufferable humans who refuse to believe the sun doesn't rise and set on them.) They would benefit from our success for sure, but they would not mistake our generosity for their birthright. Nope.


But how could we not allow their various grandparents, aunts, uncles, and godparents to spoil them?! Isn't that the point of a large family and seriously, what parent doesn't want their little bear(s) to be adored and adulated by everyone within their scope?


*raises hand*


I grew up in a tiny town, in a big nice house with a huge yard. I didn't have electronics. I had some pets, a bicycle, and a designated area to run wild in each day, provided my chores were done and my grades were up to par. Across the pond, Hubby Namaste grew up on a beautiful island, in a beautiful home, with is own set of pets and privileges.


Both had strict parents. Both were probably more spoiled than necessary.


...and both grew up hoping to glean wisdom from the best parts of our upbringing and combine them so our kids could literally have the best childhood ever.


They couldn't have the best childhood ever, if they were horrid brats. So what we came up with is simple: four little rules about gifts that keep everyone happy.


1. Clean out.


Before we go shopping for a holiday or birthday, we do a deep cleaning. We purge all things not used and donate them to make sure other children get to be as happy as the K-Kids.


Note: We do this with the cooperation of our kids, not covertly. They do have the right to keep any item if it's important to them. We also talk with them about the next thing...


2. To whom much is given, much is required.


We can't tactfully curtail all the gift-giving, nor do we want to. But we do make sure our kids behavior is worthy of celebrating. Each kid has an age-appropriate code of conduct to adhere to. The most basic of which includes using our manners, keeping our rooms neat, and completing our chores and assignments. If our kids behave as the pleasant, polite little people we have raised them to be, we have no problem letting aunties/uncles/grandparents/godparents/colleagues spoil them a tad.


If they don't behave like the pleasant, polite little people we have raised them to be...


Well, those little people don't get presents. They get another chance to behave, and if that doesn't work they get a correction or two.


3. Gratitude is the attitude.


 Before they can eat it, play with it, wear it, or otherwise enjoy it, they must write a thank you for it. No exception. Even my toddler is required to scribble a thank-you note.


Strict? Crazy?


Maybe. But when someone takes time from their day to give the K-Kids a gift, treat, or even just a simply warm thought, you can hurry up and believe the K-Kids will be taking time from their day to acknowledge that and show the proper gratitude. A little practice now will almost certainly ensure a good habit later. Princes Namaste already knows the routine, and I find t absolutely adorable when she helps her brother with his notes.


Everyone adores those sweet, polite kids. Most don't realize just how easy it can be to foster those traits.


4. It's. A. Privilege.


The main thing we try to instill in them is that all this, is simply a privilege.


It isn't their right. It isn't guaranteed that it will always be this way. It should be appreciated, not expected.


Sometimes we as parents get so busy trying to give the kids everything we never had, that we forget to give them what matters. In my eyes, what matters is way deeper than a room full of toys they only sporadically use or a closet full of clothes they will probably never wear more than once.


They are our absolute sun and moon, and we cherish the little fingerprints they leave on my good china a well as the pitter patter of their little feet in the hallway.


Because we adore them so deeply, we feel it's or duty to make sure they go into the world armed with the manners, decorum, and dispositions needed to help make it a better place. We give them stuff because we can, but we give them boundaries limits, and laws because we must.


Namaste!


-- Taye K.

HoliTAYÈ Cheer: Toddler Gifts I Went Ridiculously Gaga Over!

Namas-HEY!

Still practicing my new greeting. It sounds a little weird, but I kinda dig it.

Anyhoo...let's jump right in.

It's Christmastime! That means shopping. Personally, I love it. Target snafu aside, I've had so much fun picking toys this year for Baby Namastè. He's not quite a baby now, but he'll always be mine. He's gotten so big since last year. He does so much now--he can talk, he no longer walks like a drunken baby man, and toys are more than just things to chew on now.

As such, I wanted to break down my favorite gifts this year for my little guy. 

Keep in mind, my little bear is 21 months old, so the gift setup I'm dishing on is stuff I love that would be best for that age set, from 20 months to about 26 months.(He performs cognitively a few months ahead--but to balance it, he is still a shrimp physically.)

I'm a huge fan of learning toys (both traditional educational toys and those that encourage free play and idea expansion) and books. What's a playroom without a cozy reading corner? Sad. A playroom without a cozy reading corner is sad.

Baboochi Plush and Book

The Baboochi is my absolute favorite toy of 2017, period. If you remember, I got to do an interview with the creator of this adorable furry blue fuzzy-wuzzy. Laura C. Byrne instantly became my favorite children's author. Look at it. Just look! (Photo used with permission and is the sole property of Laura C. Byrne.)

See, the Baboochi doesn't talk or light up or any of that stuff.

No.

What the Baboochi does is far more magical.

In addition to making stroller time cool... (Pic taken in August, shortly after we arrived in Albany.)




The Baboochi is designed to be a kid's (or adult's!) best furry blue friend. (I won't disclose the story, but the premise of this adorable little guy is to teach our kids some positive lessons, as well as help reinforce those in a fun, relatable way.) Baboochi encourages sharing, using good manners, exercising good stewardship, and being a good friend. This little guy is all about positivity, and I am all about this little guy for my little guy. Currently Baboochi is helping my little guy learn all about keeping his room neat, and about remembering to brush his teeth.

Sure, hubby and I are no slouches and we can easily impart these lessons--it's just more fun when we include our Baboochi. It makes what would be a power struggle, a non-struggle.

Imagination plus positive behavior modeling plus adorable? Sign me up immediately. I can't say enough about it without saying too much an spoiling the story, so I'll stop gushing here and give you the websites so you can find out on your own.

Here.  -    Here.

Pros: Because the Baboochi is a free-play toy, kids can really get into it. For example, my older daughter likes creating adventures for her little brother, featuring Baboochi as his sidekick. The story allows the Baboochi to have its own personality of sots, but where they truly shine is that this toy can be a major comfort to a child during a life transition. When we first got ours, we were making a 3-hour move. AN unfamiliar place, plus the absence of all our son's familiar faces and places? Eek! But we made each day into a sort of adventure with his Baboochi. We also included Baboochi in his potty training, and now Baboochi is a part of the Operation: Big Brother endeavor. True, the positivity comes mostly from parents at first--but that's how life works. We imprint our ideas and beliefs into our children! Baboochi helps out by being a tiny blue reminder.

Cons: NOT having this toy and story in your life. Seriously, get it. Get it soon. I would venture to say don't even wait for Christmas, because they are likely to sell out.

Rating: 5 of 5 stars.

Would we purchase again? Is the sky blue! Without a doubt. I mean, how often does there exist a toy that embodies everything you want to teach your child?! I know it's still us doing the legwork, but between the adorable, inspiring message in the story and the adorable fuzzy wuzzy blue guy, I have no doubt we'll grab two or three more. Our ;little guy is a brand rep, and you can see photos of him playing and having cool adventures with his Baboochi here.

Eric Carle Book and Plush Set

DO I even have to expound on this one?! Ok, ok, I don't mind. I am a huge fan of Eric Carle. Almost as much as I love Dr. Seuss, is exactly how big I love Eric Carle. I have fond memories of reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar as a wee Taye, and it does my heart many goods to share that iconic story with my kids now. This year I was beyond huffed to find a book and plush set on Jet.com, and the price was lovely. (I paid about 5.99 for ours, but I caught the Cyberweek goodies. At 14.89 it is still a steal, because this book is an early-childhood treasure. I also got an Eric Carle t-shirt for him from Wal-Mart.com, because the book and plush are only somewhat enough. *chuckle*

Pros: Besides being a classic, this book really is one of the best early readers. Children learn about the little caterpillar and all the foods he tries, and then they learn about what food he really needed! This is a classic.

Cons: Not opening it 'til Christmas. Seriously...I'm glad we have an older copy but this one is soooo cute and that plush caterpillar is singing the song of my people.

Would we purchase again? Is rain wet? Any and all future Karunanithy children will have this book.

The V-Tech GoGo SmartWheels Toys

I love, love, love these little chuggers! The GoGo SmartWheels playsets are a series of inter-connectable train sets with little smart points in the tracks. The smart points elicit specific phrases from the little cars and animals.You can get one set or several, and because the provide structured and free play, you'd be golden.

Pros: Each car sings and talks about subjects ranging from colors, numbers, and letters to concepts like taking turns, cleaning up one's mess, and being polite. (We are especially fond of the train on the treasure mountain set, because he sings about working hard--if that isn't us, I don't know what is!) You can turn the motor off for free play, and the volume is adjustable. The set provides endless combinations--we keep ours assembled in a short-track configuration, just big enough for him to watch the train go round and round, but not so big that he loses interest. The toy itself is quite durable, with a shape sorter, turnstiles to change the train's course, and a crane.

Cons: The assembly is a real blickey, y'all. The instructions are a bit unclear, and there's a lot of possible track configurations. Also, V-Tech really sucks for not at least putting the stickers on the parts. It took us nearly an hour and a half just to get all those little stickers placed, with little help besides basic deductive reasoning, and an additional hour to fully assemble the train set. Thankfully our little bear had fallen back asleep, and we had it ready for him to play with when he got up again.

Caveat: The tracks don't snap together tightly, so an overzealous little conductor will likely pop them apart easily. Again, I wouldn't recommend this for a toddler under 15 months.

Rating: 4 of 5 Stars

Would we purchase again? Indeed we did. We are expanding the little city and so far have the treasure mountain, the fire station (pictured), and will be adding one or two more. I wouldn't recommend this toy for a child under 15 months, though, and I speak from experience. We got our initial set when our little bear was 9 months old, and at first all he would ever do was bat at the tracks and chew on the train.

Update: We got the amusement park set! Actually, it's called the GoGo SmartWheels Race and Play Adventure Park. I'm mentally prepared to fuss about the stickers and such, but this one has a Ferris wheel, y'all. I got ours at Target and it's only 25.49 as of December 6, 2017. In fact, they have a good assortment of these playsets and expansions at really good prices right now! *tucks credit and debit cards away*

Along with the learning toys and books, we like to include a few things that our little bear just wants.

His interests right now are Mickey and Cars 3. With that in mind, a lot of his "fun" items are just little things bearing either Mickey or toy cars. He doesn't just love the movie--he loves cars period. 

Our Christmas this year will be a little less than traditional, as we aren't sure where we will be spending it OR if we'll even be celebrating on the 25th! Such is the K life, I suppose.

Our little guy (and our big girl--I'll dish on my favorite gifts for her next!) is sure to enjoy his presents, so I am letting things bend as they blow. 

Namastè!

-- Tayé K. ❤

Moms of Color and Breastfeeding: Why We NEED to Get REAL About It

Namas-HEY!

I'm still up. Another idea, another post. You know the drill.

When my first baby was a tiny tot, I nursed her. I didn't know anything about anything, except I was young and broke, and formula would cost out the wazoo. There was no way I could afford those cans of milk, plus diapers, plus insurance and everything else my little one needed. But breastfeeding would be free, and better for us both. So I nursed. In 2006, I fed my kid and dodged the jabs.

I didn't have anyone to coach me through, and I didn't receive any support beyond the occasional, "I read that breastmilk is best." I had a pump but was completely clueless on how to use it, so I didn't. I didn't have any special tops or shawls. When the baby was hungry, the baby got fed.

What I did have, was a lot of people pushing me to use bottles.

"It's cleaner for the baby."
"Don't you want someone else to feed her sometimes?"
"Formula is just as good."
"These days, you have more options."
"That's not really a thing Black women do nowadays."
"That's gonna be hard to wean her off when she's older."
"She needs to learn to take a bottle."
"How will you manage that and working?"

And because my little 22-year-old self was so inexperienced, I didn't have all the answers. (I still don't!) I often let those little jabs get to me. I kinda stayed home with my baby, so I could feed her in the security of home. No one was judging, comjecturing, or telling me how formula was just as good and I needed to try that too. It was a lonely time, too. I was all but sequestered during what should have been the most joyous time of my young life!

Most times, I felt heavy shame simply because our breasts are so sexualized that even adult women lose sight of their actual purpose. Breasts aren't designed simply to look good, or feel good. They produce MILK. Developmentally PERFECT milk exclusively for our babies. Low-cut tops be damned, breasts are food first. I wish I had the confidence then to stand my ground and shout that from the rooftops. I wish I had the balls to stare down every human who told me to cover up or feed her somewhere else because it was immodest.

But I didn't. It was all too new.

I had never seen another Black (or brown) woman breastfeed, except those women on the NatGeo documentaries. The lactation consultant couldn't exactly relate to this issue, because she was blond and blue-eyed. Even she knew there was a huge gap in positive breastfeeding statistics for my dark brown self and others who looked like me, but what could she do? Most times, as soon as the doctor laid the baby on mom's chest, the nurses went swiftly to fetch those little bottles and the moms never batted an eye.

Reason?

We never really question beyond the norm. When a woman becomes a mom, there's a lot of comfort in doing what's tried and true. While formula is certainly not more tried and true than good old liquid gold, it is certainly easier (except where trial and error comes into play--food sensitivities, protein allergies, lactose intolerance) a mom who has never been exposed to nursing would likely not think to try it. Nurses in 2006 were not keen to press the matter. Some nurses now, eleven years later, don't press the matter!

A lack of knowledge, plus a lack of encouragement, often leads to us either not making our goals (whether it's 6 weeks or 6 months!) and defaulting to the bottle and can routine.

There's nothing wrong with that if it's truly your choice.

But is it really your choice if you aren't informed of other, better options? Can you really make a legit choice if you don't know all the options available? Can you be truly sure if you never explore the other avenues?

No.

You can tell yourself you are content, and that you made the best decision--most of us do! But fast forward to baby number two, when you have more info and opt to breastfeed. Nearly every mom I have talked to who has gone both routes, has revealed that she wished she had breastfed the first time(s) too.

Note: I'm no statistician--these are just facts I've gathered in the past decade or so of parenting and learning about parenting.

By the time I delivered my second baby, I was a breastfeeding powerhouse. I had read all the good info. I knew what was a scam and what wasn't regarding production. I was even somewhat prepared for failed latches.

I had that info and confidence because the conversations are happening. Women of color are opening up. We are discussing this and we are writing, sharing, and dissecting every bit of it. We are owning it. We are teaching and learning more than ever before. Our babies are better off as a result.

I'm not saying friends of other cultures didn't help too.

What I am saying is, it was an incredible boost to see moms with my skin tone, nursing. To see moms with my husband's skin tone, feeding their babies without shame.

Honestly, I needed that. I needed that more than all the info, all the classes, and all the lactation consultants combined. I needed to see my sisters filling their little ones with liquid gold. I needed to see my sisters meeting and exceeding their goals.

Even more so, I needed to commiserate with them about the inconveniences. I needed to vent about the way I hated having a wet shirt all the time. I needed to chat with women like me, who didn't mind peeling back the glamorous "brelfies" to reveal the cracked nipples, clogged ducts, and oversupply issues.

I needed my tribe, and I needed us to get real about it.

Only in recent years have I begun seeing women of color in breastfeeding ads. Only in recent years have I noticed forums and groups for us. The progression is happening, and we as women are the momentum which is getting this ball moving.

Note: I'm not saying we always have to be separate. I'm simply acknowledging that our experiences as women of color will always be somewhat different than other women, whether it be by socioeconomic status or simply by community support. Breastfeeding is a conversation that must happen at every status, color, and creed in order to remove the shroud of mystery--and that includes us moms of color having the discussion on our own terms sometimes.

Recently, my family and I got the chance to be part of something so incredibly special: The launch of the Mimijumi Dark nipple! Many people complain about the price of those bottles, but I support them for two reasons. One, they're clearly invested in the success of ALL breastfeeding moms, right down to donating their gently used bottles for charity AND creating a dark nipple for moms of color. Two, theirs is the only bottle my son would take with any consistency--he loved his Mimi and so did we!

In 2006 I would only have gotten a dark nipple if I painted it myself. Heck, same for 2016!

What a difference eleven years has made.

We need to have these talks. Our sisters, cousins, friends, neighbors--we have to build that bridge and cross it bearing solid information and pure sisterhood. We don't need to talk about supplementing. We need to talk about surmounting!

Sounds like a feisty black girl battle cry, huh?

I fit the bill.

I doubt we will see a time when every baby is given their ideal perfect food. Simply because the convenience of formula isn't going away. (There even exist machines now to make bottles--I call them baby Keurigs.) That's fine by me.

What isn't fine by me, is when moms of color are shuffled down that formula line without being given any solid info about breastfeeding, by nurses who can't be troubled to take a few minutes to encourage. By families who have sexualized breasts to the point of almost no return. Breastfeeding's natural--but nobody said natural was easy. Furthermore, sometimes natural must be learned!

Example: It's natural for a baby to walk. But it isn't exactly instinctual. The baby must be given time and space to practice the new skill, as well as support. We support them as they learn to stand. We comfort them when they fall on their butts. We get them up again and the process continues. Eventually we have a little toddler, then bona fide walker, then sprinter!

Moms of color, let's get our sprint on.

But first...we crawl.

By crawl, I mean we open the lines of communication. We don't accept the formula. We ask to see the lactation consultant. We don't immediately default to the "easy" path. We seek out other moms who can help us walk this path.

Then we sprint to our goals' finish lines. Maybe 3 months. Maybe 6 months. Maybe 2 years!

The sprint isn't a rush. The sprint is that confident stride we hit because we are armed with solid info, steady camaraderie, and a steeled resolve to stay our course.

Namaste!

-- Taye K. ♡

Magical Cloves... *heart eyes*

Namas-HEY!


It's still dark. I'm awake.


I'm in the throes of my first-ever toothache. *grimace*


I have not, until late last night, understood why grown men cry and moan when their teeth hurt. I have never felt such an odd, torturous pain. I can't even deal. As you know, I dislike medicine. I only take what's absolutely necessary, and even then I use the smallest amount possible to effect relief.


...this tooth pain had me crying for morphine, seriously. I legit wanted the strongest thing, that would last the longest time, so I could sleep through the most pain. I also needed said remedy to not interact with my current therapies. (Anti-nausea meds have side effects that become greatly exaggerated when taken with other meds, and anti-epilectic meds are the same story.)


Modern medicine failed me. There was nothing I could take that wouldn't possibly interact with the stuff I already have to take. Since I didn't want more side effects, I felt like I was at an impasse.


Note: This blog is not intended to give you a diagnosis, a prescription, or a guaranteed treatment plan. I am not a doctor. I repeat, I am not a doctor. I am simply a woman who could not stand one more medication, or surmount one more side effect, so I turned to natural remedies. As with anything you see online, please do your due diligence. Research. Make sure you aren't allergic or otherwise reactive. Discuss anything you want to try with your care team. Best wishes!


The tooth is not infected, so antibiotics aren't needed. The tooth isn't loose or broken, so there isn't a justifiable reason to hook up the pliers and snatch that sucker out. (Sounds painful...yet somehow I am sure it is less painful than what's actually happening in my poor little mouth.)


Because I hate medicine, and currently have to watch everything I ingest anyway (and shouldn't we all, all the time?), I decided to Google it.


I know, I know...Google is NOT the thing to do when you're not feeling well. All it takes is a few clicks to convince even the sharpest mind that they have contracted some kind of weird chicken fever and will die within the hour.


I came across some questionable stuff. Some comical stuff. Some downright wacky stuff.


I came across the magical clove.


No, that's not a reference to some illicit street meds.


The clove.

This little twig-looking flower bud has saved this mama's life, along with what's left of my stupid appetite.


I asked Hubby what he thought about it. (He is the resident medical genius...I am but a humble other genius. *chuckle*) He gave me several different scenarios to consider, i.e. methods to use these little crunchy power pellets to stop the mouth massacre.


Note: For the fact checkers, here is a little infographic about cloves.

There are several different ways to use a clove for a toothache.


The gentlest is to use clove oil. It is available in most pharmacies, and practically all health food stores. But clove oil wasn't available to me immediately. I needed immediate or sooner.


However, we do have a jar of whole cloves at our house, which brings me to the second method...


A less-gentle but still effective route: whole ground cloves.


I had Hubby grind up a few cloves and bring them to me. Ever the considerate one, he also grabbed a few whole ones.


I rinsed my mouth with Listerine, then some saline. The saline helps with salivation--you need a little drool power to help the cloves effect relief. We fashioned a poultice (think, little clove dust-filled pillow) from a little square of gauze and packed it on the affected tooth.


Within a few minutes, the gum around the ignorant tooth began to feel warm. A soothing warm, not cayenne and chili masala warm. A bit later, a blessed numbness.


Naturally (see what I did there? Naturally?), I was elated. I hadn't been to sleep for maybe 16 hours, because it hurt to lay on my face. I sleep on my right side almost exclusively, and even an extra soft pillow hadn't stopped the pain from shooting through my jaw like an errant crap rocket every time I dared rest on my face. While I'm no stranger to sleeping sitting up, I really wanted to lie down and be one with the blankets. Pain, drains.


By first hour's end, my tooth was comfortably numb. As in, "let me eat some Chick-fil-A breakfast and brush, before the feeling comes back and I'm dying again" numb. I took my little magical clove pillow out and got a few winks. Of course, we made another one to keep at the ready.


For now I'm still comfortable. I haven't used my second poultice yet. I decided against buying the commercial clove oil for me, but I will definitely have Hubby get some for the kids. I'm fine with the real deal, the little crunchy spice pillow.


The only downside to this little remedy is, you may not be overly fond of the clove's flavor. I don't mind it, because I drink my weight in chai, which is a spice tea including cloves, ginger, and a host of other healthy things mixed with black tea. I take mine with coconut milk, no sugar.


I digress.


While everything must be exercised with caution and moderation, I fully recommend giving Big Pharma a break and exploring natural remedies. Long before there were pain pills and infusions, there were plants and roots.

Don't take this blog as medical advice. Take it as a tool to learn about something perhaps you didn't know, I hadn't ever tried. Please remember, I am not the resident medical genius. The resident medical genius charges you, while I provide my little insight and anecdotes for free. *chuckle*


Namaste!


-- Taye K.