Skin MD Natural: Review and Giveaway

I am constantly washing my hands. When my daughters were born I became a hand sanitizer fan, which helped keep my hands from becoming too dry. Still, there are many times when only soap and water will work. For example, when I'm cleaning up after the girls use the bathroom. Also when I'm at my part-time retail job I handle a lot money. The only thing that's going to get my hands clean is soap and water. Now that winter is approaching I'm doomed to have dry, chapped hands. Or am I?
Recently 21st Century Formulations asked me to try Skin MD Natural. Unlike typical moisturizers, this is a shielding lotion. Basically as Skin MD Natural is absorbed into your skin, it turns the top layer into a hydrating, invisible shield. The goal is to coax your skin to moisturize itself.
When my complimentary bottle arrived I was a tad skeptical. A four-ounce bottle is a "full size bottle?" Believe it or not, a little bit goes a long way. When used correctly, this bottle should last 1-2 months. Considering how fast I go through some of my other lotions, I would say this is a steal.
I've used just a small amount for the last three days and I'm already noticing a difference. My hands don't feel dry. I had some dry patches on my knuckles when I started using the product. They immediately cleared up. When I wash my hands I notice a difference. Skin MD Natural doesn't slide off my skin they way some traditional lotions do. My hands still feel soft after a washing. Testimonials credit this product for helping with eczema, psoriasis and other skin ailments. According to 21st Century Formulations, some parents are using the lotion as a true "shield" for their child's hands to protect them from the various chemicals and irritants our hands encounter on a regular basis. But it's not just for hands. Skin MD Natural can also be used on your face or body.
Some added bonuses: There is also a Skin MD Natural with sunscreen. Plus, the products are not tested on animals and are dermatology tested, hypoallergenic, fragrance free and colorant free.
Here's the fun part. One lucky Buried in Laundry reader will win a bottle of Skin MD Natural. For your chance to win, simply leave a comment telling me your dry skin woes. You MUST include a valid email address in any comments you leave.
For additional entries: (leave a separate comment for each entry)

• Become a follower of Buried in Laundry or let me know if you already follow
• Blog about this contest and include a link back to this post and a link to Skin MD Natural

This giveaway is open to U.S. and Canada addresses only. You have until 6 p.m. MST Wednesday Nov. 4, 2009 to enter. (That's my birthday and I think it would be fun to give something away on my birthday). The winner will be chosen by Random.org and will have 72 hours to claim the prize before a new winner is drawn.

Snow Day

Until this morning I was truly convinced that our school district never closes school due to inclement weather. School was not canceled last year when I watched two cars spin out in front of me on a particularly icy morning. School was not canceled last year when it was -12. I'm not joking about the temperature. By the time I picked my daughters up it had "warmed up" to a whopping -2.
Last night all the TV forecasters cautioned that a snowstorm was coming. When I woke up this morning there was some snow on the ground, but nothing we haven't seen before.
I almost didn't check the TV before rousing my daughters. Then I realized if I didn't check for a cancellation, school would be closed and we would have missed an opportunity for a lazy morning. Sure enough, no school. I managed to keep everyone in bed for another hour.
As a child, I hated snow days. I loved school. As a teenager I loved snow days and the chance to stay in bed as long as I wanted. My daughters were so disappointed to find out they're not going to school today... especially since today I was supposed to volunteer in their classroom. We spent all day yesterday talking about how much fun it would be to have mommy at school. Another day I guess.
To make up for their disappointment we'll be baking cookies this afternoon. The way it looks outside, I feel as though we should be making Christmas cookies instead of Halloween-themed cookies!

Can TV Make Your Child Smarter?

I have previously confessed that I (gasp) let my children watch television. I never set out to not allow TV in our house, but I do try to limit how much time they spend in front of the TV. Still, we have those days when the TV is on for prolonged periods of time. This afternoon will be one of those days. Yesterday all four girls needed five vaccinations apiece at their well child check up. After preschool today I am going to let them crash on the couch for the rest of the day.
Interestingly enough, there's a big buzz lately about Baby Einstein DVDs. Basically, in 2006 a consumer group asked the FTC to investigate whether the makers of the DVDs practiced deceptive advertising by marketing the DVDs as educational for children under the age of two. Recently, the company announced that anyone who purchased a Baby Einstein DVD between June 5, 2004 and September 4, 2009 can send the disc back for various exchanges, including a $15.99 refund. (Click here for full details). For the record, the General Manager of Baby Einstein says this is all simply an extension of a satisfaction program already in place.
Did I buy some of the DVDs in question? Sure. I think a lot of parents jumped on the Baby Einstein bandwagon. DVDs to make my children smarter? I'm all over that. But I have a hard time actually saying I bought the DVDs because I thought they would turn my children in to geniuses. My daughters enjoyed the music and the hand puppets. Do I think they learned something from the DVDs? Yes, to an extent. In truth, the DVDs simply reinforced things Hubby and I had already been teaching our daughters (animals, colors, etc).
I will never say TV is "evil." It has benefits. Of course, I can say that because we don't have cable so our TV viewing is relegated to PBS and DVDs of my choosing. I grew up on Sesame Street and appreciate the fact that my daughters enjoy the show, too. They count with Count and sing with Elmo, but even then I don't rely on PBS to tell me what my children should watch. There is an episode of Arthur which centers on one of the characters learning a swear word. Sure, the word is bleeped out, but the whole concept of that episode bothers me. I turn the show off every time that episode airs.
I have no problem with parents who do not allow their children to watch TV ever. We're all entitled to our own parenting styles. I just don't know if blaming a company because our children aren't geniuses is the right route to take.

Oh What a Tangled Web

I am not ashamed to admit that I am afraid of spiders. I can't stand them. Little bitty spiders are OK, but anything bigger than a penny terrifies me. When we lived in northern Michigan I nearly had panic attacks at the size of spiders I saw there. Their bodies alone were the size of a small child's fist. I'm creeping myself out just thinking about them.
I have tried very hard to keep this fear from my daughters. When I see a large spider I hold in my urge to scream. I've actually managed to take care of a few spiders that had the misfortune of coming into my home. If the spider is too big for my liking then I simply tell my daughters we'll wait for Hubby to come home and take care of it.
Unfortunately over the weekend I lost all sense of control. While I was at work Hubby and the girls went to a get-together at our neighbor's house. They had a grand time playing with all the Halloween decorations, including tarantula-sized plastic spiders. When I came home from work I saw one of the spiders. No big deal... it's just pretend. Then Cakes wanted to show me the spider. She brought it to me and I screamed. I couldn't help it. Even though I knew it was fake, something deep inside me just couldn't accept the fact that it wasn't real. Poor Cakes. I really hurt her feelings. She was so sad that I wasn't amused by the spider. Tortilla kept saying "it's just pretend, mommy." Hubby didn't help matters by laughing at me the entire time.
Hubby and I managed to divert their attention with a different Halloween toy... and I made Hubby collect the fake spiders and return them to the neighbor. I'm dreading what is going to happen the next time my daughters see a real spider. I should probably be prepared for lots of screaming. From me? From them? Your guess is as good as mine.

Private Parts

I knew eventually this day would come. Still, I was not prepared for the conversation I had yesterday with one of my daughters.

Cakes: Julius pees out of his belly button.
Me (distracted): No, honey, no one pees out of their belly button.
Cakes: Yes, Julius does.
Me (starting to pay attention): No, no he doesn't.
Cakes (indignant): Yes, he does. Like this...
At this point I turn to look at her. My eyes slowly widen and, based on her pantomimes, I realized why she thinks a little boy at preschool pees out of his belly button. (Try simulating the act of a male urinating. Her hands were somewhere around the button of her pants and her belly button). Here's what raced through my head:
Don't panic. Don't panic. She's four. You can do this. Oh crap I'm hyperventilating. Breathe...
I have always been pretty straightforward with my daughters when it comes to body parts. I never set out to be that way, but it's a lot easier to use proper terms than to try to remember what slang was used in previous conversations. So I took a deep breath and calmly explained that boys and girls have different private parts. After learning that Julius does not pee out of his belly button she seemed a lot less interested in the conversation.
Upon hearing about this conversation, Hubby's first question was "why would she know how Julius goes to the bathroom?" Well, I've come up with two probable explanations. In our house when one girl needs to go the bathroom, the other three suddenly need to use the facilities, too. I can only imagine what happens in a class of 16. At some point someone is going to open the door while another student is using the bathroom. My other thought is that during play time Julius may have simulated going to the bathroom (maybe they were playing house, who knows?) and it appeared that he had his hands near his belly button. All I know is that I made it through the conversation/explanation without passing out... and surely that has to count for something. Unfortunately, only Cakes was part of this conversation, so apparently I'm going to have to repeat it three more times.

The Winner Is...

The Winner of the Name Your Tune CD giveaway is...

#2 MaryAnne

Congratulations, MaryAnne!
Thank you for all who entered. Don't forget, Name Your Tune is offering Buried in Laundry readers $5 off a personalized CD order. Simply use coupon code BIL at checkout.

Back in the Summer of '91

Over the weekend I was looking for a picture. What I stumbled upon was unexpected and brought back so many memories. I found an album full of pictures from Chief Logan Reservation. In the summer of 1991, my friend Sarah and I took jobs as the kitchen staff ("Dining Hall Assistants," if you please) at a Boy Scout Camp. Did I mention we were just 16 and it was an overnight camp? Full of Boy Scouts? It was one of the best summers of my teenage years... and not for the reasons you may think.
I still remember the drives to and from camp. We went home every other weekend... or maybe it was every weekend. We would throw our bags into my parents 1974-ish Ford LTD, pop in the Grateful Dead and be on our way. Every time I hear "Uncle John's Band" I think about cruising along a sparsely populated highway in the heart of southern Ohio.
If you're waiting for stories full of teen sex, underage drinking and other escapades, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Yes, we were the only teen girls in the camp (there were a few other females but they were all "of age"), but things were a lot more innocent than you would expect. For one whole summer I had a chance to learn some valuable lessons.
For the first few days I made sure I was up early, showered, hair in place, maybe even a little makeup. A few days of getting up way too early convinced me that you couldn't pay me to be up before Keith A. Hall started his morning wake up announcement. He would play a cassette recording of Reveille and Sarah and I would throw on our clothes, slap our hair into ponytails and dash from our platform tent across a field to the Dining Hall to help prepare breakfast for starving teen boys.
Yes, I said platform tent. I may come across as pretty high maintenance these days, but I like to think that summer I proved I can "rough it." Our tent sat next to the Ad Building, essentially on a main path that every Boy Scout and their leaders had to trek along each day. The area was roped off and I can't even imagine what would have happened to any male foolish enough to cross those barriers. Back then I thought our tent was put there because a) the Ad Building was the place where Sarah and I showered and b) it kept us as as far away as reasonably possible from the Boy Scouts' tents. I now think it was placed there to keep us in plain view of pretty much everyone so they could keep an eye on us. (Years later Sarah and I heard stories about how some of the staff apparently sat on the Ad Building porch at night hoping to see our shadows as we changed for the night. Thanks a lot for cluing us in, guys!)
But, I digress. So, we lived in a platform tent for the summer. It was hot. It was cramped. Daddy Long Legs crawled all over the place. For a few days I screeched at the sight of a Daddy Long Leg, begging the male staff to come get rid of them. Then I realized what a waste of time it was to go get a boy to remove the spiders when I could easily do it myself. To this day I am deathly afraid of all spiders, but show me a Daddy Long Leg and I could care less. That tent may have been primitive, but it was home. When the camp celebrated Christmas in July, Sarah and I decorated the outside of our tent with wreaths and other festive items.
I think of that summer as the summer I perfected the art of flirting. I have never been the girl who has boys drooling all over her, but that summer Sarah and I could have had our pick of pretty much any boy we wanted to date. I'm not being arrogant. Let's face it... throw two 16-year-olds at a bunch of hormonal teenage boys and a few of them are going to want to date you. But I was too innocent, too young and really way too ditzy to have had any type of meaningful relationship. Correction for you CLR Alumni reading this post: I was not ditzy, just really bubbly (thought you'd like that!)
I learned some interesting lessons that summer.

• I can be friends with boys. Period. I laughed with them. I cried and witnessed some of them cry at certain events (the end of sessions, the end of camp). The ones I grew truly close to treated me like an equal and could have cared less that I was a (gasp) girl! Though I've lost touch with some of the staff members who I was closest to that summer, we've slowly started reconnecting. Thank goodness for Facebook.
• Ralph Harvey is the coolest Hairy Chested Man I know (weren't you officially called Mountain Men?) He landed us those jobs and never once rolled his eyes at our ditziness/bubbliness... at least not to our faces. I've known Ralph since elementary school, but never realized until that summer just how cool he was. Little boys at camp wanted to be him. With his long hair, enthusiasm for Scouting and kind soul, who could blame them?
  
• Andy McGinn looks awesome as a woman. As part of the weekly "Ugly Man" contest, Andy agreed to let us put make up on him if he won. He looked fantastic, if I do say so myself.
  
• Scouting is more than camping and building fires. That summer I had a chance to witness various rituals and ceremonies, such as The Order of the Arrow induction. Later, a scout invited us to his Eagle Scout Ceremony. (Thanks, Mike. It was an honor to be there!) Sadly, I still haven't figured out what happens when the Mountain Men go up in the mountains for the night... but I know they delighted in returning the next morning and yelling around the flagpole. (I still think they were louder than ever that summer just to interrupt my last precious minutes of sleep).
  
• Dreama's ice cream pie should not be eaten on a daily basis... unless you want to return home 10 pounds heavier at the end of the summer. Trust me on this one.
• Being outdoors is awesome. No, I'm not a diehard camper, but I wish I were. I can't tell you how peaceful it is to find a quiet spot surrounded by pine trees and do nothing but think. I still can't wait until Hubby and I have the time (and energy) to take our daughters camping.
• They Might Be Giants is by far one of the most underrated bands ever. Particle Man drew me in and Istanbul (Not Constantinople) helped me out in World History.
• I can Swamp Stomp with the best of them. What's a Swamp Stomp? Exactly what it sounds like. You stomp through a swamp up to your eyeballs. I was covered in disgusting filth. It was fun to purposely become dirtier than you've ever imagined.
  
• No matter how progressive an organization may seem, there will always be those who will discriminate against you. I actually had scout leaders, grown men, approach me and tell me that I should "stay in the kitchen" and not be allowed any where else on camp grounds. Classy. Of course, there were other grown men who could only look at my chest when they spoke to me. Creepy. But there will always be more members of said organization who readily accept you and embrace your presence.
  

Unfortunately, that summer had some ugly moments, too. A Scout Leader had a heart attack and died. I still remember the look of terror on Justin K.'s face as he came tearing into the back room of the Dining Hall to call 911. I remember how Maaike, who performed CPR on him, was a shaken for the rest of the day. Also that summer a staff member went on a "Power" trip and was fired. I don't remember all the details and it happened while the rest of the staff was enjoying a weekend off... but I do remember it made for some great stories and speculation.
Ugliness aside, it was a magical summer. So many memories... so little space write them all down. The following year, Sarah and I took jobs at a 4-H camp. After that we worked at a YMCA camp. For me, none of those summers matched the energy, fun and friendship of Chief Logan.
The other day in an email Sarah asked me what our parents were thinking by letting us spend the summer surrounded by teenage boys and, essentially, no chaperones. I have no idea. I like to think they trusted us to make good decisions. I can't imagine they ever truly appreciated the lessons we learned that summer. Sarah asked me if I could imagine ever letting my daughters work at a Boy Scout camp. My initial reaction?? Hell no! I would never let my little girls do that. But as I wrap up this post, I'm starting to wonder: why not? If they were surrounded by the boys and young men I encountered in the summer of 1991 then I know they would have the time of their lives and learn some valuable life lessons along the way.
In closing, I'll leave you with the most important lesson I learned that summer: A lifetime's not too long to live as friends.