The Delaney and Waylon Diaries

I am mama, hear me ROAR

My discussion with our pediatrician, Dr. R., went better than expected today. That's not to say he didn't try to talk me out of an alternative vaccination schedule or that he didn't give me a lecture on the horrible dangers my baby boy may face if I delay certain vacs or that he didn't blame vaccine opponents for spreading misinformation that could potentially cause a future increase in some pretty terrible diseases in our population. But, he did listen. We spoke respectfully to each other. I showed him The Vaccine Book (he'd heard of it but hadn't read it) and told him that reading it had enlightened my view of vaccinations, leading me to make the decision that an alternative schedule is best for Waylon. I was calm and confident and felt strongly about my position so I knew I had a good chance of making a positive impact on him. And our appointment ended in a compromise and an unexpected hug from Dr. R. which, for a non-hugging kind of guy, was a pretty big deal.

I went in to the office today determined only to get the DTaP and Rotavirus vacs for Waylon. I'd planned to delay the Pc and HIB for a month. Dr. R. did his best to put the fear of God into me over delaying the HIB vaccine as he described the two cases of resulting meningitis he'd seen during his 20+ years in pediatrics (one patient, a baby, died and the other patient graduated from high school but will never have friends or a job due to his disabilities). And although in The Vaccine Book Dr. Sears describes the risk from HIB as uncommon, with only about 25 cases in our country each year, I felt that going ahead with it today, especially since the brand they were offering was aluminum-free, would be a good compromise to show our concerned doctor that I was willing to listen to and respect his opinions.

Still, it was obvious that he was quite bothered that I was challenging the norm. He told me that if I'd said I didn't want to vaccinate at all he'd have to "let me go" because as a practice they had decided not to support non-vaccinating parents (He also said he was not 100% comfortable with that policy because he felt that if the parents stayed in the practice he'd eventually be able to convince them to get their kids vaccinated.). I, personally, think it's wrong to punish parents (and thereby their kids) from having opinions that differ from your own. You know, "do no harm" and all that. He kept trying to reassure me that his frustration stemmed not only from me declaring my position today but the fact that he's hearing from more and more parents who are concerned about vaccinating and that slows things down. I'm sure he wonders why we can't all just be quiet and trust and obey. But questioning the norm can only be a good thing. I told him that doctors shouldn't feel threatened by educated parents who are thoughtful and concerned enough to read, to research, to ask questions. He agreed, but rather grumpily.

I asked him what he thought about the aluminum content in several of the vaccines and whether or not a baby's kidneys could be expected to excrete the large amount included in combo vacs. He wasn't sure (and according to Dr. Sears, no one is. No extensive studies have been done to show that excessive aluminum is or is not a problem. But wouldn't you rather err on the side of caution and give your baby only one aluminum vaccine per visit that he's likely to be able to excrete in his urine instead of possibly overloading his system with a heavy metal that, in large quantities, he may not be able to excrete causing it to accumulate in his bones and brain?). I asked him about the animal tissues (cow fetal blood parts and monkey kidney tissue) present in some of the vacs as well as chemicals such as formaldehyde and how safe they are or aren't. He wasn't sure about that either. Then, I (rather respectfully I'd like to think) offered to lend him my copy of The Vaccine Book. If his patients are constantly bringing it up I thought he'd like to know, first-hand, what he's up against. He (rather respectfully) declined and instead said he'd have his medical student give it a look. Well, small steps will still get you where you want to go, I guess. At least he didn't didn't dismiss the suggestion completely.

I think it's probably easy for all doctors, not just pediatricians, to fall into a pattern of following the status quo and not questioning things. They are busy. They have lives outside of medicine. They trust that the AAP and the AMA will do their due diligence and keep them informed of important changes in the way things are done. And while I'm sure most doctors keep up with studies released in various medical journals regarding things such as the safety of vaccines, not all studies are independent which makes you wonder whose agendas could potentially be behind them. The bigger issue here, in my opinion, is that doctors should not chastise or dump parents who ask questions, who need answers, who want to be reassured that what they're being told to do is safe, especially when it comes to the health and wellbeing of their most precious, adored children.

Luckily, albeit begrudgingly, our pediatrician is open to working with me on an alternative vaccination schedule. I fear that many parents across the U.S. aren't finding this same flexibility with their doctors.

This is all for him because I never, ever want that perfect smile to be erased from his amazing, little face.

Why I get to find out what our pediatrician's really made of

I'll be bringing up the topic of a delayed vaccination schedule with him tomorrow at Waylon's four-month visit. Honestly, this is something I never thought I'd do. When Delaney was born I a.) wasn't very educated about vaccines and b.) wasn't very concerned about any adverse effects from them. And when Waylon was born I wasn't worried about the shots either. Vaccines never bothered Delaney one little bit. The kid never even got a fever. I just assumed Way would handle it all well too. But when he had a fever of 103 for 48 hours and wouldn't sleep for more than an hour at a time for four days straight after getting his two-month vacs I started to get nervous. Add to that the fact that we could (possibly but hopefully not probably) have risk factors for autism: 1 in 88 boys get autism; a father's advanced age may make a child more susceptible to autism (Roger's 54); Way has had more digestive issues (albeit minor ones) than his sister ever did as a newborn; and I became downright concerned about vaccinating. So I did what any self-respecting, 21st century, uninformed-about-vaccines mother would do. I ordered a book from Amazon.

I chose Dr. Sears', The Vaccine Book, because the reviews I'd read of it labeled it as middle-of-the-road--neither pro-  nor anti-vaccine--and I really wanted as unbiased an opinion as I could get. It's a great book and if you have any questions or concerns about vaccinating I highly recommend it. While the vaccine debate is daunting (to un-scientific me, at least), Sears carefully spelled everything out for me and it was a quick but enlightening read. Going into this I never though of myself as "anti-vaccine." But I did have reservations about the side effects of vaccines as well as concerns about what chemicals and additives they might contain. Sears details each AAP recommend vac, the disease it works to prevent and the way in which the vac is produced (including lists of ingredients). After reading the book I'm still in favor of vaccines but Sears did make me a believer in an alternative vaccination schedule that, while still including each and every AAP recommended vaccine, spreads out the delivery so that children get no more than two vacs at each visit.

Our pediatrician's an older guy (probably Roger's age - ha!) and he's pretty old school. We like him because he's straight-forward, no nonsense and he listens to our my concerns (Roger doesn't have concerns - ahhhh, what life must be like to live worry-free!). Tomorrow I'll be bringing my dogeared, highlighted, and annotated copy of Sears' book to discuss with him my quest to get our son onto an alternative vaccination schedule that doesn't include combination shots. His nurse practitioner assures me that he's more liberal on the vaccine debate than the other doctors in the practice but that may be like saying Rush Limbaugh is more liberal than Ann Coulter. I'm a little nervous but when I remember that I'm doing this because my mother gut tells me to, I know I'm doing the right thing. Wish me luck!

F*ck you, Chuck E. Cheese, you little rat bastard

We went there for the first time ever, two times last week (as incentive rewards for pooping in the potty, which doesn't happen often, and not hitting the baby, which also doesn't happen often). Or maybe I should say, "F*ck you, SpringFest!" that we attended at Delaney's school, along with about 200 other kids and their parents. Or, perhaps it should be, "F*ck you, three playdates!" that we had last week. Or even, "F*ck you, preschool!" Because somehow, somewhere, no matter how much Purell I used or how many times I scrubbed her little hands, Delaney caught strep throat.

I was really trying to stifle my germaphobic tendencies by letting Delaney loose at Chuck E. Cheese even though I was dreading it, even though I was pretty sure she'd get sick. And she did. But you know what? The world didn't end. She's on antibiotics and will feel better tomorrow. I guess that's what I have to remind myself of. Kids get sick no matter what you do or how you try to protect them. They may as well have fun doing it.

And the plus side to this whole thing? She is NAPPING now, something she's practically given up. So, this kid-getting-sick thing? Not so terribly bad after all.

Dreams no one cares to hear about except your mother

Delaney called out in the middle of the night, frightened by a nightmare. All she'd say in her sleepy state was that there was a dinosaur. I soothed her back to sleep but half an hour later she called out again. This time Roger answered her and eventually got her back to sleep. This was our conversation in the car this morning:

Me: So, what were you dreaming about last night?

Delaney: I had some dreams. There was a long tiger (???), a dinosaur and some bugs.

Me: Wow. What's a long tiger?

Delaney: He's body was just real long. He was trying to eat us.

Me: Oh! That must have been scary.

Delaney: Well, you grabbed the pieces and then we ran.

Me: The pieces? What pieces?

Delaney: The pieces of me that the long tiger bit off. You put them in your bag and we ran.

Me: Oh. Hmmm. I guess he didn't bite off your legs if you were able to run!

Delaney: Yeah, guess so.

Me: What was the dinosaur doing?

Delaney: He was (laughs) mixing a...cake!

Me: Hmmm. And the bugs?

Delaney: They were trying to tickle me!

I, too, have vivid dreams and I love recounting them to Roger who always tells me the same thing when I do:

Dreams are movies that play only in your head for a reason: no one else cares!

But in this case, mommy cares. I mean, long tiger? Really? That's creative and fascinating. At least to me.

Just post!

I write prolifically in my head. Most of it never makes it to the blog. Like Pinky Dinky Doo, "I think and think and think and think," but I think too much and I write too little. So, here it goes - a blurt straight from brain to blog.

I'm sitting amidst boxes and freshly painted walls. The house is dirty and in disarray. We're moving but not for another month and a half. First we have to get this house ready to sell. We've been working on it for weeks. Well, Roger's been working on it. I've been keeping the kids busy and out of his way.

I think about our new house all the time. I fantasize about what life will be like there. How it will be so much more perfect than it is here in our shoebox. How we'll have pockets of quiet to be enjoyed for reading and writing instead of trying to write while sitting in one room with a noisy TV airing repetitive political commentary which generally interests me but is currently boring a hole in my brain. I'm putting a lot of pressure on our new house to round me out, make me a better person, as if this tiny house we've lived in for almost seven years can alone be blamed for my shortcomings as a wife, mother, human. That somehow, having additional space, a walk-in closet, the ability to do laundry indoors, more than one bathroom will transform me into Martha Stewart. Hell, I've even had fantasies that I start cooking and cleaning because this house will inspire me to take on the impossible. June Cleaver, watch out.

"When we live in our new house, we'll have more room. I'll organize things. I'll organize my life. I'll be a newer, better, happier me. I'll work more, write more, read more, mother better and have sex at least three times a week with my husband. The kids will watch less TV. We'll do more arts and crafts. We'll take long walks and go to the nearby park. I'll keep up with housework and come up with a schedule for cleaning, rotating the rooms I clean each week so the entire house is cleaned at least once each month!"

Is it crazy to think a house could make me that happy, that productive? Stay tuned.

Super Chardonnay-istic Saturday (the antidote to Brutally Honest Monday)

This week:

- I complained about being a mother (oooh, poor me!).

- Delaney may have bid farewell to The Nap (although she's cried no nap before so, God help me, I hope I'm wrong.).

- Waylon started giggling when I change his diaper. They do start that penis love early, don't they?

- A sweet bloggy friend sent me some cheer-you-up Sbux cash (Thank you, Karen, for knowing just what I need--caffeine and cranberry orange scones--even though you told me not to thank you and yes, you are crazy for suggesting I take both kids to Sbux but that's OK because I only target Sbux drive-thrus these days, thankyouverymuch, so your cool gift will still come in very handy.).

- I won a prize from the awesomest poly sci moms on the planet (Momocrats. What? You're not reading them? During the hottest political season ever? You SO should be. Check 'em out.).

- We attended three playdates in two days and no one got hurt.

- And...Delaney finally started to chill the F out. Sure, it could be a fluke. Sure, I'm probably jinxing it by even mentioning it. Sure, I might go back to bitching about motherhood tomorrow. But since my rant on Monday she's really turned things around (even without naps!) and been a pleasant daughter, sister and playmate. I'm so proud of her. I'm not sure what to attribute the change to but kudos to the powers that be. Keep up the good work (I'll burn incense and squirrel fur later tonight for an offering).

Now, both kids are in bed. I just enjoyed a takeout sushi dinner with my husband while forcing him to watch enjoying his company during game 1 of the Spurs/Hornets series and I'm drinking a dry, oak-y chardonnay. Not a bad way to kick off Super Chardonnay-istic Saturdays. Cheers! (and Go, Spurs, Go!)

This is what happens when I try to work

Waylon - 1
Working from home - 0

Brutally Honest Monday: this post may self-destruct in three days

I haven't been around here much lately and that's because when the going gets tough I tend not to blog about it. I've always meant for this blog to be more baby book than mom confessional and I've written it with the intent that one day Delaney (and now Waylon) will be able to read it. But that leaves me with no place to be fully honest, no place to air my dirty laundry, no place to let loose about what's really going on in the trenches of my parenting boot camp. I certainly don't want to leave my kids with the impression that their childhood and my years of on-the-job training as a parent were all kisses and lollipops but I also don't want to detail, here, the really ugly, sometimes scary, messy stuff that they may wish I'd kept private.

But today, the stink comes off. The laundry gets aired out. I'm starting to crack and I have to get this out. I'm not enjoying motherhood very much right now. It's not the first time I've ever felt this way (obviously) and it won't be the last (evidently). It's not something every other mother out there hasn't felt before. I'm not unique in feeling this way. But man, does it suck.

These feelings stem mostly from the wretchedly terrible, seemingly unending period of sibling rivalry angst that causes Delaney to hurt her brother and others with very little remorse for her inexcusable actions. She's also unbelievably defiant and uncontrollable and it's so difficult to be around her right now. Is this what Three is all about, I ask myself. Or are our issues with her larger than those of the average pissed off tot?

I'm also feeling detached from Roger. He works hard all week and then has to work all weekend too as we try to get our house ready to sell. We never get to see each other or spend fun time alone together and I'm sure that the stress we're under is also making him feel dragged down and empty too.

In addition to all that, I've sunken to a new low in the "taking care of myself" department. I'm not exercising or eating right. And because I can't exactly drink my stress away I've been eating one (or four) too many donuts instead, knowing it's wrong but still feeling like I deserve some small (large?), guilty pleasure.

OK. This is all very, "Woe is me!" Look, I know this time is precious and fleeting. My kids will only be this young once and I should treasure every minute. I know other people have worse problems than me and trust me, I'm grateful for all that I have. I know I shouldn't complain about any of this because I wanted kids and I am very lucky to have them. And I do love them to pieces. But still, I'm not having much fun or feeling at all like myself right now.

I feel haggard and dragged down and just plain spent at the end of each day, never feeling like I actually accomplished anything other than keeping the kids fed and bathed and keeping Delaney from harming her baby brother. Is it wrong to want more out of life than that? To want to enjoy reading again, to date my husband, to get regular haircuts, to visit with friends and reclaim a little part of the me I seem to have left behind in that operating room four months ago? Or am I being overly dramatic because caring for two little kids simply is a difficult business fraught with defiance and outbursts and poop, lots of poop, but it all passes eventually (and much too quickly upon reflection)? Do I need to just chill out and stop bitching and be grateful for everything I have? Or is it OK to kvetch and moan about the things stewing inside me right now, recognizing and then releasing the negative so it doesn't stay in and fester?

Visit Mrs. Flinger for more of Brutally Honest Monday.

Stupid is as stupid does

What's the only thing more stupid than taking your defiant three-year-old and cranky four-month old to Six Flags? Oh. That's right. Nothing.

Spit gets in your eyes

Waylon blew his first raspberries today!

In other news, Delaney's learned that she can get out of bed by herself--a revelation that now drags bedtime out to a darling, three-hour process as she invents every imaginable excuse to come into the living room to see us. Good times.