Yes, he does. The action movie star recently divulged that he wants a large family to Ok! magazine. Diesel, real name Mark Sinclair Vincent, a native New Yorker, says he wants twelve kids!

Diesel recently became a father to a daughter, and apparently the experience has been a good one! Diesel and girlfriend Paloma Jimenez welcomed the tot, whose name has not been revealed, four months ago.

The actor says being in the movie The Pacifier solidi fed his desire for children. Being around all the babies awakened his paternal instincts. Yes, even the star of such movies as The Fast and The Furious has paternal instincts!

In a draft report recently issued, the Federal Drug Administration has concluded that Bisphenol A is safe --at least when used in food containers. Commonly known as BPA to consumers, the chemical can be found in all sorts of children's products as well as cars, plastic food containers and lining aluminum cans.

This most recent study was one of two funded by the industry itself. Gee, of course any study funded by the industry that stands to make money off it is going to come out with data supporting a chemical's safety. There rationale is that people are exposed to so little of it that it won't do them harm. In other studies BPA has been found in 93% of testees' urine and has been known to cause cancer and behavioral disorders in lab animals. The EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) supports the findings as well.

Opponents of the decision say the study agencies don't have enough data to support their findings that BPA is safe. The country of Canada has banned the use of BPA and products containing the chemical, and national retail chain giants Wal-Mart and Toys R Us are set to remove all children's merchandise containing the chemical from their shelves as of January 2009.

As many of you may know, I have a sixteen-month-old-son. When I first became pregnant I never thought whether I wanted a boy or a girl. I was simply thrilled to be having a child at all, and wanted only a happy, healthy child--the sex of the baby was inconsequential. Then, at one point I found out I would be having a son. I was an only child and a girl and knew not the first thing about having, and raising, a little boy. Now I'm on track with my second child, a little girl. I'm nervous and flustered and wondering just how different raising a child of the opposite sex will be. After all, I've had experience raising a baby, but he is all boy, all the time.

Is there such a difference in raising children of the opposite sex? Ask anyone, whether or not they're parents, and they'll have a pretty strong opinion about the world of boys vs girls. For example, when I found out I was having a girl, the pink clothing literally started pouring in. Everything is pink! When I was pregnant with my son I received clothes in all manner of colors, but not with my daughter. People also always comment that boys are much more rambunctious than girls in the beginning, but that girls are ever so much harder to deal with as teenagers--and that as the would-be mother of a teenage girl I have a lot of drama to look forward to.

The only real difference I've come across in my research is how you change a diaper. For girls you simply wipe in a different direction than with boys. Perhaps there's a little more clean-up involved as you're dealing with internal parts as opposed to external parts, but really that's the only difference I can discern. All of my friends who have two children, oddly enough, started out with a boy and then followed up with a girl. They all say that there is a real difference, even if it can't be defined in words, to raising a boy vs a girl.

Thoughts? Is there any real difference? Is it just society straining its concept of norms over us? Or is there more to raising girls than pink clothing that makes them intrinsically different than boys? After all, aren't little boys made of snails and puppy dog tails and such, while girls are made of sugar and spice?

This was just after the twins were born and we'd gotten home from the NICU: the phone rang and my husband Tom took the call. A few minutes later, he hung up. There was a dazed expression on his face.

"That was the pediatric cardiologist," Tom said. "He called to tell us the good news. We won't be taking a life flight to Seattle for emergency heart surgery. " He paused, letting the words hang in the air around us. "I didn't know," he said finally, "that such a thing was even a possibility."

I hadn't realized it, either. But there were so many things I was just beginning to understand, then. I thought back to my many ultrasounds with Tally, whose name always made me smile (each week she took a tally of our babies!) and the numerous, grainy black-and-white images of Bennett, the small bones in his back like a tiny string of pearls; or of Avery who, more often than not, was sucking his thumb.

Each measurement--of the bones in each baby's leg, or the width of each head, or the blood pumping through four chambers of each heart, was met with, "Everything looks fine," and despite what eventually followed--the twins' premature delivery and 5 days later, Avery's diagnosis of Down syndrome--I still had faith in those words. Why would anything be wrong with Avery's heart?

As it happens, babies with Down syndrome are 40-50% more likely to be born with a heart defect: some of the conditions are minor, and can be addressed with medication, but others require surgery. Hence, our cardiologist's comment to Tom, which was indeed, good news.

Since that time, I've learned even more things about being mother to a child with Down syndrome. I've learned that one of the more common problems in babies with Down syndrome is called atrioventricular septal defect (AVSD), sometimes called AV canal, a condition that affects the walls between the two upper chambers and the two lower chambers of the heart.

Which is how I came to have, in my hands, a white manila envelope from the Kennedy Krieger Institute, an internationally recognized facility dedicated to improving the lives of children and adolescents with disabilities. And though the institute is located in Baltimore, MD, and we're in Montana, I've agreed to participate in a collaborative research effort designed to help identify genetic and environmental factors related to congenital heart disease in Down syndrome.

My role in this study is minimal: since we don't have any heart issues, we'll be part of the comparison group. I need to fill out a medical questionnaire, and sign some release forms. I need to supply the team with a copy of Avery's karyotype, which is a profile of a person's chromosomes. In Avery's case, it shows 3 genes at the 21st chromosome instead of the usual 2, and was how we confirmed the diagnosis. And the researchers need a copy of the echocardiogram, the one that the cardiologist telephoned Tom about.

In a few weeks, I'll participate in a telephone interview too, answering questions about my medical history and my pregnancies. And Avery will donate 1/5 teaspoon of blood for DNA analysis--this will be, in fact, the most difficult part. Avery has his blood tested every year for TSH and T-4 Thyroid function, and we'll get the sample then. In the beginning, he'd approach these blood draws with his usual cheerfulness and good will, smiling at the nurses and even flirting a bit. It's happened often enough that now, just the sight of the medical clinic sets his chin to quivering, big teardrops already forming in the corners of his dark blue eyes.

Why would I consider such a thing? Before becoming Avery's mom, I probably wouldn't have. The world to me, then, seemed like something "out there" that was mostly none of our business. But having Avery made everything personal--the families in the NICU with us, the children we know at the CDC, the babies with heart surgeries, they are close to me, now. I'd once thought that having a child with a visible disability would isolate my family--but instead, most times, I've found the opposite to be true. Avery brings people together.

It's a small thing, our participation in the Kennedy Krieger Institute research, but it's what we can do.

When the twins were still babies, I used to sit with them in the rocking chair. I'd arrange them like the nurses in the NICU showed me, one in each arm, heads on my chest. The rhythm of the rocking chair reminded me of a heart beat, too--bump-bump. Bump-bump. And I'd feel it, then, our connectedness, all of our hearts beating as one.

For more information on the Kennedy Krieger Institute study contact Charnan Koller.

We're all familiar with the "breast is best" campaign, but some women are taking their commitment to nursing far beyond the comfort zone of others.

Experts have noted an increase in cross-nursing, the breastfeeding of a baby other than your own. According to Lisa Moran, editor of Babytalk magazine, cross-nursing is to be expected.

"Cross-nursing is the logical extension to the rise in breast-feeding rates that we've seen in the past 15 years," she told "Good Morning America." "Moms are really committed to breast-feeding exclusively and finding new ways to do that. Cross-feeding, cross-nursing is one of those."

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Cross-nursing or serving as a wet nurse wasn't uncommon in the past (my father-in-law was nursed by a neighbor in the 1920's because his own mother wasn't able) but isn't an accepted practice in developed nations where infant formula is readily available. According to a poll in Babytalk, 45% of respondents find cross-nursing "disgusting" or "weird", whereas the Chinese policewoman who nursed nine babies after the earthquake was considered a national hero.

Surprisingly, the most ardent supporters of nursing, The La Leche League is firmly opposed to wet nurses or cross-nursing. According to their website:

A Leader shall not ever suggest an informal milk-donation arrangement, including wet-nursing or cross-nursing. If a mother wishes to discuss these options, the Leader's role is to provide information about the risks and benefits so that the mother can make her own informed decision based on her situation.

The risks listed in cross-nursing included the transmission of disease or unhealthy habits (alcohol, drugs, caffeine, etc.) via breast milk, decrease of milk production in the non-nursing mother, and confusion in the bond between mother and child.

When I was in the midst of my own nursing years (I nursed all four of my kids) nursing a friend's baby wouldn't have been more intimate to me than giving them a bottle, simply a means to END THE CRYING. However, I was in a completely different mindset where breasts were purely utilitarian baby feeding devices. I'm no longer at that point, and can understand people being grossed out at the thought of breastfeeding someone else's child.