The Importance of Flu Shots

Going on three days with a persistent fever, Soren woke up from his nap with a temperature of 104.  He not only appeared suddenly lethargic, but also just plain uncomfortable.  Chris hadn't even had a chance to unpack his bags after arriving home from Sao Paulo this morning, when we headed to urgent care.  Despite Soren's symptoms, the possibility of him having the flu didn't occur to me.  But his official diagnosis was Influenza B.  The good news is that Influenza B is much milder version of the flu than Influenza A, so if you're going to catch the flu, this is the one to catch. 

Contrary to the claims of the anti-vaccine camp, Soren catching the flu is an example of why the flu vaccine is important.  Yes, he was vaccinated and still got the flu.  As the New Yorker article For God's Sake, Go Get a Flu Shot explains, a third of vaccinated people will still get the flu.  (Soren's doctor said the same thing.) Guessing what strains of the flu will strike each winter and trying to come up with the most effective vaccine against those strains is the best we can do right now.  While it's not a perfect vaccine, two-thirds of the vaccinated population will still be flu-free.  And who knows how many other bullets Soren dodged this flu season. 

As for Soren, his doctor said that because of his flu shot, Soren's symptoms will most likely be milder and his recovery quicker.  And while he's young, I'm thankful he's not an infant and doesn't have a compromised immune system - two groups who can't get the flu shot, yet are in danger of the most complications if they catch it.  But he's still at risk of complications, such as pneumonia, and the doctor warned me that at a minimum, he's going to be uncomfortable (translation: bad sleep=cranky baby=sleep-deprived parents=cranky parents) for another couple of days.  So, no, I don't take the flu, or the risk of it, lightly.     

To those people who proclaim they don't need the flu shot because they've never gotten the flu, I say you're just lucky. 

Let's Talk About the Weather

On Monday the high in St. Paul was -2 (Fahrenheit).  The windchill was somewhere in the mid-negative-20s, or maybe colder.  But what's the point of quibbling over a few degrees at temperatures that low?  It was too darn cold.  I had off work because of Martin Luther King Day and the kids and I stayed holed up in the house awhile managing to reasonably successfully to stave off cabin fever.  But I know, cold winters in Minnesota are expected.  "Alberta Clippers" often blow in the most bitter cold of temperatures through the state at this time of year. 

What drives me nuts, though, are the non-Minnesotans who don't think I can't complain about the cold.  "But you should be used to it!" they cry.  Yes, I am "used" to cold.  I don't freak out when the temperature drops below freezing or it snows a couple of inches.  Cold is a way of life in the winter here.  We've adapted.  But whether you're used to something or not, doesn't make it any less of a pain or less uncomfortable.  It's still cumbersome and time-consuming to put layer after layer on yourself before you can even step foot out the door...and then do it again on behalf of two squirmy, whining, I-hate-wearing-a-hat little kids.  It's no wonder that unless it's dangerously cold, my kids wear nothing more than a thick sweatshirt, and maybe a hat, if all we're doing is running to the car.  Non-Minnesotans would think I'm subjecting my kids to instant hypothermia, but, really?  We're used to the cold, right? 

But let's talk about dangerously cold.  No matter how used you are to cold weather, frostbite doesn't care.  Even though I own proper winter gear and know how to dress for cold and wintry conditions, there's a point where it's just not worth going outside, either because of the effort involved, or the real risk of frostbite.  As much as I love going out for walks with the kids as often as possible, snow and cold make that difficult or impossible when I'm trying to push a stroller over snow-packed sidewalks or the kids can't stay warm enough because they're sitting in the stroller instead of working up a sweat by staying on the move.  Resigning myself to staying indoors wasn't as big an issue when I was kid-less, but little kids need space to run and use their outside voices without being hushed.     

And then there's winter driving, my least favorite of winter's inconveniences.  Again, a few inches of snow doesn't send me into a panic and I'm "used" to winter driving.  But the laws of physics still apply to Minnesota roads.  You put snow in any amount on a road and it's going to be slippery.  Heck, rain makes roads slippery.  Slick road require even experienced winter drivers to drive slower, which means commutes take FOREVER, even after a one-inch snowfall.  So it's not driving in the snow that raises my stressful level sky high, it's the commute.  And while I praise Minnesota's prowess at snow removal - in no other place in the country do I know if a system where when it snows, everyone knows when to remove their cars from what roads so they can be plowed - sometimes the snow comes down too fast and the reality is that road salt isn't going to do much good in really low temperatures. 

As much as life would be easier if it didn't get so darn cold here, Minnesota would lose some of its character without its long, hard winters.  And when you spend winter after winter digging out your car after snowstorms, enduring long commutes, preheating your car before you can pack up the kids, and wearing holes in your wool socks, I think then one does deserve the right to cry that the whole rigmarole has gotten old. 

Soren Update: 15-Month Wellness Visit

Soren almost didn't make it to his 15-month wellness visit.  That's because I completely forgot he was supposed to have an appointment until Chris asked about it, at which point I brushed him off. I told him Soren's next appointment wasn't until 18 months.  A couple weeks later, I at least double-checked with the pediatrician's office, and well, Soren was supposed to see the doctor for a routine well-child visit. 

Soren finally surpassed the 20-pound mark at 20 pounds, seven ounces, which puts him in the fifth percentile.  The doctor said his weight gain was actually more than what's typical for this age, but that Soren is playing catch-up.  And he's still not concerned about his low weight since Soren eats well. 

At 30 inches tall, he's in the 20th percentile.  His head circumference is in the 50th percentile. 

When I first received a questionnaire from the nurse to report on Soren's development , I thought perhaps they had started doing the autism screening earlier since I thought I remembered the screening for Oliver taking place at 18 months.  Instead it was the Ages and Stages Questionnaire (I filled out the 16-Month version), which assesses the development status of a young child across five developmental areas: communication, gross motor, fine motor, problem solving and personal-social.  You can measure the progression of development by completing a questionnaire a various ages from two months to five years.  This is a helpful tool, because when Oliver was a baby, I had no idea what developmental milestones I was supposed to watch out for. Or if my expectations were too high for what he was developmentally capable of. 

Since I know my kids' pediatrician is asking the right questions about their development, it's a shame the questionnaire is being imposed by insurance companies intent on making doctors prove that they're tracking development, even if it's otherwise a good resource for parents.  As the doctor pointed out, the questionnaire is redundant since the doctor did and has always interviewed me about my kids' development.  How many words can he say?  Does he scribble with crayons?  Can he feed himself?  His questions facilitated a dialogue around issues I had concerns with.  Meanwhile, I dutifully filled it out and then I guess it was stuck in Soren's records since no even asked about it or looked at it.  The doctor complained about it being another hurdle in providing care and created more paperwork for them.

Even if the questionnaire doesn't improve the care my kids receive at their well-child visits, it'd be nice if the practice made better use of the resource.  The questionnaire is designed to do at home with your child, so the practice wasn't even using the questionnaire the way it had been designed to be used.  If parents have access to the appropriate level questionnaire ahead of an appointment and it can prompt parents to ask the right questions. 

Freshening Up

I shouldn't care what my blog looks like given that I don't blog for a living, but gosh, evertime I logged in, looking at the design (or lack thereof) depressed me more and more each time.  Sometimes I feel the same way about my own reflection in the mirror and I realize it's time I get a haircut.  So I went on the search for the blog equivalent of a haircut and found a site offering inexpensive premade blog templates.  With a fresh new look, I, and my blog, feel better already.

The Long Road to Diaper-Free

Oliver is now completely diaper-free, even at night. Despite my excitement, it's been a long road.  I wasn't always sure I was making the right decisions, but we eventually got there.

Our last hurdle was to get Oliver to use the toilet since not only had he created for himself a big case of constipation, but Chris and I were also frustrated with changing him in to a diaper before putting him to bed for the night, only to have to change his soiled diaper after he'd done his "business" just minutes after we'd kissed him goodnight.  So I did the opposite of what I assumed every doctor or parenting book on toilet-training would recommend and bought a bottle of Miralax and juice boxes of apple juice, fed him as many canned peaches for dinner as he wanted and hoped I was successful in jump-starting his system well before bedtime so he physically couldn't wait for a diaper anymore.  It worked.  Oliver has been in underwear every night since.

But establishing a consistent (and stress-free) potty routines continues to be a challenge.  Oliver still often fights puts off having to use the potty.  I think that's typical for kids this age who don't want to stop the fun they're having to use the toilet or are afraid they won't get to go back to what they're doing.  I once had to repeatedly assure Oliver his plate of waffles would still be there after he used the potty before he decided to leave the table on his own free will.  And I've been guilty of not letting him off the potty until he'd relieved himself in instances when I either knew he had to go badly or knew he wasn't going to have the opportunity to use a toilet later on. 

I felt guilty about pushing Oliver, because the consensus in parenting circles today is that you should have a cheerful "oh, don't worry, accidents happen" attitude and let your child guide the process.  I actually don't say that completely cynically.  I did try to be as relaxed as possible when we were in the toilet awareness stage and I never punished Oliver for an accident.  But when we reached the point that Oliver knew how to use the toilet and I believed he understood the cues his body was giving him, I felt it was best to be firm about what was expected of him.  The rationale behind the tactic of giving him an extra dose of fiber was that a constipated kid isn't going to have opportunities to practice using the potty, something Oliver had grown anxious about, (admittedly, potentially because of the pressure he was feeling to perform) and I wanted him to have a chance to experience a success. 

It's true Oliver would eventually left diapers behind on his own, but I think in our circumstance, we avoided prolonged frustration by stocking up on extra laundry detergent and stopping with diapers all together. 

The Complete Family

Still in my child-bearing years and with two young kids, I feel like I'm in limbo between being able to declare myself finished with having more children and having another because I'm still young and entrenched in a life revolving around changing diapers and strict nap schedules.  I love my family the way it is and marvel at the two little people Chris and I created.  I can't even imagine what life would be like with more kids because all I know is what I have.  We could stop now and have a great life. Chris probably wouldn't have any objections to that.  Yet my family does not feel complete with two kids.

There's no rationale for why I feel this way.  As someone who disliked being pregnant and continues to mourn the loss of my pre-pregnancy body, sometimes I wish I felt complete at two children, but I just don't.  Circumstances of my life have surely influenced my desire to have a larger family.  Having grown up with just one sibling and no cousins, I was always fascinated with large families.  I associated large families with fun and as being a source of support through all stages of life.  As a parent, I've learned that large families also mean chaos, so luckily I no longer need six, seven or eight children to feel complete.  So sometime in the past few years, I started to become fixated with four.  It seems realistic to me given my age, the size of our house and the spacing of our first two children.  

Luckily Chris is excited about the chance to have a third child even though he'd be equally as happy with two.  Maybe when we have a third, I'll look into the baby's eyes and just know, our family is now complete.  Or perhaps not. 

A Hospital Bill I Wouldn't Have Minded

My father-in-law found the hospital bill for his father's birth in 1927.  It's amazing that Grandpa Joe even has a bill for something he wasn't reponsible for paying, but that he still has it 85 years after it was paid.  But when I looked over the bill, I found two things even more amazing: a 17-day hospital stay and a final bill of $118.65 for those 17 days. 

With our high deductible health care plan, Chris and I paid at least $3,000-$4,000 for each of our kid's births and, as standard in this country, was allowed only four day's hospital stay for a c-section.  A vaginal birth would have given me only two days, whereas when my dad and uncle were born in the 1940s, my grandmother received ten-day hospital stays. 

I also wonder if this is the only bill the family received.  I received multiple bills.  One was from my OB, another from Soren's pediatrician.  Of course there was the hospital bill, but also seperate bills for care I assumed was part of my hospital stay.  It was when I received seperate bills for the anesthesiologist and the nurse anesthetist that I learned that not only were they not employed by the hospital, they weren't even employed by the same company.  When the bills finally stopped arriving, I did my best to try to understand what I had been charged, took their word for it on most of it, emptied our healthcare savings account, and moved on.



Soren Update: 15 Months

Soren has completely abandoned crawling and is officially a bonafide walker.  It's hard to believe that just a month ago we were cheering for him as he took a couple of steps across the room.  Now he only crawls if he's already sitting on the floor and sees something he wants that's only a step or two away.  Or apparently if he's imitating another baby.  Our friends' eight-month-old is just learning to crawl.  He gets up on this hands and knees and belly-flops forward and then flails around a bit on his stomach.  When I set Soren down on his feet now, he usually stays upright, but when I put him down on the floor to play with the baby, he flopped down on his stomach and started moving around the same way the baby was moving. 

Soren is also a dancer.  He's always liked music, but now that he can walk, if we put on the radio, he bounces up and down or spins in circles.  Sometimes he'll pump his arms.  He just recently added a new move to his repertoire - a foot stomp.  He doesn't necessarily even need music.  If we ask him if he wants to dance, he starts bouncing up and down.  Now Chris can't wait for Uncle Scott's wedding when he can get the kids on the dance floor to show off their moves. 

This must be the month for gross motor skills, because Soren can also climb stairs. Actually, he races up stairs and is even learning how to go down them backwards on his hands and knees. 

Although Soren can't talk, he surprises us with how much he can comprehend at such a young age.  He responds to his name, can hand you things if you ask for them and when he was whining at the dinner table and I asked him if he wanted more cheese or some water, (and pointed at each one) he motioned towards the water.  He even understood how to play hide and seek with his Uncle Andy, although his giggles always gave away his location. 

Soren is still afraid of dogs, but at least he's not afraid of stuffed animals anymore.  In fact, he gives them kisses - loud, lip-smacking kisses.  He suddenly started showing interest in Oliver's brown bear, so we got him a polar bear, also an Eric Carle favorite, and he instantly wanted to snuggle with it at bedtime. 

One of the most enduring things he does of late is give me a big hug and kiss.  When I come home from work, I crouch down on the floor, call out Soren's name and ask if I can have a kiss and he toddles towards me and give me a gentle hug and kiss before going back to playing.  He also insists on waving goodbye to me when I leave by climbing on top a floor-level shelf that holds the kids' toy baskets so that he can get a good view of me as I get into my car.  

He's in size 4 diapers and is just moving into size 18 month shirts and size 12 month pants.  He has six teeth, two on top and four on bottom, and is working on a seventh.  He's still drools tons and he may go a few days with relatively un-chapped skin, but we pretty much have to be unrelenting with applying Vaseline around his mouth. 

This kid loves tofu!  He remains a good eater and like most kinds of foods, including all types of fruits and the typical snack foods, but at dinner, he plows through any dish with tofu in it. 

Small Gestures

It's the small gestures that count.  The receptionist at work flagged me down before I hopped on the elevator and told me flowers were delivered to me at the front desk.  I thought for sure she meant there were flowers for my co-worker whose last day was today, and she wanted me to bring them back to her desk for her.  But nope, they really were for me.  My husband had sent me flowers, not just as an early birthday present, but also to celebrate my one-year anniversary at my new job, which is today. 

I had planned to stay home with the kids for a couple more years and when an incredible job opportunity came up, I felt I had to take the leap into the unknown.  Fast forward one year and I now feel so lucky that I like my job and have a nanny who takes great care of my kids and keeps the household afloat and a supportive husband.  I was so touched that he had acknowledged (and so publicly) what a challenging, but amazing year I have experienced. 

If the flowers hadn't been surprise enough, when I came home, I smelled the sweet scent of freshly baked cake and saw balloons decorating my dining room.  Our thoughtful nanny had spent the afternoon baking and decorating with the kids to surprise me for my birthday.  In addition to a book by her favorite Brazilian author, she treated me to a traditional Brazilian birthday cake. 

At my age, I'm not concerned about presents, (even if they still are nice to receive) or receiving a lot of attention on my birthday.  Some people like to make a big deal about their birthday, but I've never been one of those types (at least as an adult).  So as I quietly turn another older, those small gestures leave a big impact on me.