Swine Flu for Me and You? Well no, not you, Drew

Yesterday I was embroiled in controversy. Well, this definitely is may be an overstatement. My four year old son, Drew got his H1N1 vaccination, or as some would say, we protected him against the Swine flu. (Hopefully the pork council won't hunt me down for calling it that.)

After much careful deliberation (reading what little information I could find on the Internet about the vaccine), I asked my co-worker what she would do if she were me. My co-worker always has advice for me, and it usually is great advice being as her previous job involved working with children in a social worker-type- role, even if the advice is mostly unsolicited. Yes, after all the information I read, I based my decision to get Drew's shot based on my co-worker's feelings, because I felt so mushy and turned around I wasn't sure what to do, and after reading about the shortage of seasonal flu vaccines all around our city, I felt he definitely needed some protection, like NOW.

I rushed out of work to go pick up Drew and hurried him to the Middle School where they were having the clinic. Pulling in, I noticed two cop cars, and policeman patrolling the entrance to the parking lot, where I had to talk to a volunteer, who told me to "park anywhere". Wow, her job was necessary.

We parked, and Drew started to saunter towards the line. "No, Drew-bear, let's walk extra fast- can you do it?" Being the total asshat I am, I sped walked my way in front of a few people who were taking their time walking up to the line that stretched out past the courtyard and spilled out onto the sidewalk by the parking lot. In my defense, I had to urinate this whole time.

As we were waiting in line, policeman patrolled the area. I'm not sure if they thought people were going to start freaking out and frothing at the mouth, like in zombie movies. I mean, for god's sakes, it's just children in stroller and parents. There were large signs all over courtyard that if you had flu symptoms (Fever and cough/or sore throat) you could not come into the facility. Loud speakers announced this as well and could be heard throuought the courtyard. It felt like we were waiting in line for the worst Disney World ride ever. Immediately I felt the need to cough, and was worried that the policemen would come over and take me out of line for coughing in which case I would have to drop to the ground and scream "My baby! My baby needs this shot, please, officer you have to help me!" (Or not.) The whole scene was like something out of a Roland Emmerich movie. I felt all valiant that I was saving my son, even if I wasn't going to make it, at least for a second, and then I remembered I was in real life, and real life is not as exciting or dangerous.

We were finally allowed to enter the school after a quick screening of Drew's eligibility (thank goodness Drew is tiny, I thought, and no questions about his age), and I had to sit and speak with another volunteer about when Drew's last flu shot was (hadn't had one yet) and so they told me he could get the flu mist). Of course I had a million questions for her, which she didn't want to answer or didn't know.

Next, we waited in another line. Drew started to whine, a four year can only be patient for so long! I told him he could play with my Ipod, then realized it was in my car. Then I told him he could have a piece of gum, which was dirty, so I had to take that away as well. Then I promised him candy corn at home. That satisfied him. Bribery, my favorite parenting skill.

Drew and I entered the cafeteria, i.e., crying central, and two shoots up the nose later, and no tears (!) we were finished. It took about an hour, and when we left the building, there was no line- it just figures, right?

We went back to school to pick up Jacob, you know, my unprotected son. Unprotected against the swine flu, but protected against seasonal flu. This way they can't cross-contaminate each other or something.

Once we arrived home, I was so happy to see our bathroom. Near tears, myself actually. THE END.

Conclusion?

The thing that bothers me most about this vaccination and the clinics is the lack of information out there about these clinics, and the weird rules that are spelled out and not spelled out for everyone. Drew is 4, but he will be 5 in January. Are they trying to tell me that because of these 3 months he is high risk and should not be turned away, unlike the 5 year old boy I saw turned away yesterday?

Also, there needs to be more information on H1N1 Flu mist vs. H1N1 Flu shot. My two year son, Jacob received the seasonal flu mist, so now he is not eligible to get the H1N1 shot for another month. Drew received the Flu Mist for H1N1, but he can get a flu Shot, just not the seasonal flu mist. What?!? I am also not excited about the fact that the flu mist contains a live virus, vs. the flu shot which contains the dead virus. Again, my information on this topic is all internet hearsay, so I have no idea of knowing what this means.

We cannot forget about the fact that Drew will need a second shot, also, which Drew have to wait ANOTHER month for, that is, if that shot becomes available, and the people I talked to at this clinic don't think it will. Don't worry, though, the one shot is "better than nothing" I was told. I understand that this is a new virus, and we are learning as we go (scary thought) but there really should be a collective way we are receiving and understanding the different shots, how they react with one another, and the location of any and all local clinics.

PS Thank you to all of the volunteers. For all my joking, everything ran very smoothly and all the volunteers were wonderful, and very friendly.


PSS Drew is doing absolutely fine today.

I think this signals the end of "The Courtship" Phase of our relationship....

When I first starting dating Mr. Bee, he brought me flowers for every occasion and sometimes just because. Of course, I dated broke-ass students before Mr. Bee, and he was older, and more mature (but not mature enough to frown upon my rite-of-passage-big-ten-college-binge-drinking, thank goodness) and I totally swooned over a boy who was able to buy me ANYTHING, much less flowers all of the time. My sister's first words to me when I gushed over these flowers was: "enjoy it now, because it will never last". I thought she was totally wrong. Mr. Bee would always bring me flowers.

We moved in together after a little under a year of dating, and being 21, I was still in the binge-drinking through the week heyday of getting cab rides home and puking up vodka and cranberry juice concoctions, which is not a pretty picture. During the time Mr. Bee was commuting for me, so I could go to school and he could work at his new job. Still, he was ever so patient, and while there weren't flowers all of the time, there were the thoughtful gestures. (Holding my hair back until 2am when he had to be at work at 6am? He had the patience of a saint!) I can't even begin to tell you how often he would pick my loaded friends and me, and laugh along with us, even though he must have been annoyed.

Then we got married. We were husband and wife, and Mr. Bee, being an understanding husband, accepted the fact that I could not find a steady full time job because I sucked at interviews. He went and saw chick flicks willingly with me, and we lovingly talked about when we would start a family. In turn, I eventually found a steady, albeit low paying, job.

After about three months of trying, I found out I was pregnant. We were both nervous (heck, I was a wreck, and I stress-ate to compensate), but Mr. Bee put on a brave face, and lied and told me I looked pretty as I went on to gain 55 lbs. After Drew was born, I was grumpy, puffy and tired, but he told me how beautiful I looked and I actually believed him. I'm not sure who was more delusional at that point.

Our second child was a surprise as it happened so quickly. Still, we were very excited, and Mr. Bee was patient, if not as helpful with the other pregnancy. After all, we had another child to take care of and he couldn't hold my hand through the whole pregnancy as he had before. I had found a new, higher paying job, and money wasn't tight. We did a lot of shopping and went to restaurants often, which was a relief, as I discovered I really hated cooking in our outdated kitchen.

After Jacob was born, Mr. Bee started a stressful change in jobs, and the stress was dully noted by me. There was little in the way of magic or babymooning the second time around. (Babymoon: The period after your child is born that you are both so in love and happy that little stresses matter less. This lasted about 1 month with Drew and about 2 days with Jacob.) Restaurant and shopping trips stopped as we had neither the money or the patience to deal with two children out at a mall. Oh, I also outlawed red roses at our house. How cliche! (Not that I was getting a lot of flowers.) So now I get plants, on the appropriate day. No suprizes.

Did I notice any of these changes at the time? No, it was subtle, and I think, a part of our relationship maturing. I am no longer being courted or coddled, those days are (sadly- I did enjoy them) over. I came to this conclusion after another argument about what movies to watch, and I remarked that his taste in movies had gone downhill. "No," he replied, "[my taste in movies] hasn't changed at all." In other words, yes, it took me 10 years to realize that husband never really liked girly movies at all, he just watched them to appease me. Don't poke fun at me, as I am not the only person living in a bubble; when he insisted that I liked the movie Wolverine and I insisted that I thought that it was really stupid, I realized that he still hasn't realized I don't like action movies.

There are still many sweet moments in our life... Mr. Bee still will get up and get me ice water after I decide I want one when he gets one for himself, even though I have two perfectly good legs. I am planning on watching GI Joe on Blu-ray when it comes out for him, and he in turn will watch The Proposal for me. (Well, he will watch that because Mr. Bee has a thing for Sandra Bullock, much like his love for Hugh Grant.) I will still work furiously to get stains out of his clothes, and he will still make the bed for me (he makes it so much nicer than I do). I will still make him Chili, even though I hate cooking and tolerate Chili, and he will still make french toast on Saturdays mornings because I love it so much. We do these things because we love each other and we know it will make the other person happy. We are not trying to impress, just trying to make each other's lives better. That's the difference.

Now, can someone remind of this blog post before I have to watch The Matrix for the 4,000th time?

In the heyday of our courtship phase. Oh mah God, We look like Behbees!

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: (Kind of) Red

I went for a change in hair color. What do you think? Drew is obviously excited about it.

For more wordless Wednesday, Visit Five Minutes for Mom,and Ordinary and Awesome

My Google Reader Taunts Me

No matter how hard I try to keep up, I can't keep up with my Google Reader. I hate leaving any job unfinished, I do, but I just think I am fighting a losing battle. I don't know how so many people have so much to say with only 26 letters in the alphabet. The possibilities must end at some point, right? Isn't there a finite amount any blogger can write about? I am flabbergasted by the amount of posts some bloggers can churn out, and how funny or poignant or interesting they are, and here I am, still discussing my children's poop fetishes.

So, yeah, you could say I'm in a wee bit of a creative slump. It's only a mild case of writer's block, I hope. I think this slump means I need to go out and experience some things instead of reading these things in my Google Reader. So for the next couple of weeks, I might not be the bestest bloggy buddy ever (I'll still visit, just not as often), but my content will get better (hopefully?!?), and for those of you who are a slave to your Google Reader as I am will be thankful in the long run (again-hopefully?!?).

I leave you with this picture and caption which I have circulated in Facebook and Twitter (am I really stealing material from myself? I would say it's a new low, but I have done it many times before....)

Batman... or Cowboy/Lumberjack? You decide!

PS- 60 minutes into this experiment of less computer time I have done laundry and opened mail. And then updated my post. WOOT there's some blogging material.

Dear Jacob,

For you I have watched dozens of episodes of Elmo's World, cut up countless slices of pickles, let you spit out food into my hand because you bit off too much to chew, pick your boogers, and read Ten Little Fish over and over again. For you I have listened to Dr. Worm numerous times, sang Twinkle Twinkle, and Ba Ba Black Sheep (with made up lyrics because I can't remember them). For you I have given too many hugs and kisses to count, kissed thousands of boo-boos and tucked you in almost every night. For you I promise to love you unconditionally, even those times when we don't get along, see eye to eye, or even when you don't like me. Even when you're in High School and your room smells like a dirty sweat sock, I will still love you, I promise.

In return, you will always be my baby at age two or age forty-two. Sorry, it's a package deal.

My life changed so much when you came into this world two years ago today, it became 100 times crazier, but 10,000 times more enjoyable and interesting. Thank you for filling my life with laughter and joy.

I love you Jakey, more than I can ever express in a letter. Happy 2nd Birthday.
Love, Mommy

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Reason #1,236 why Facebook makes me feel stabby:

TMI status updates.

Now, please excuse me while I go gouge my eyes out with a dull No. 2 Pencil.

Gah! Blaurgh! Pshaw!

I know, I know, I know! I've been a bad blogger lately.
I have a reason/excuse- I am busy getting ready for Jacob's Birthday. That's right, my little munchkin is turning 2! I can hardly believe it myself. I know I've been calling him 2 for a while, that's because he seems like a 3 year old to me with his expansive vocabulary. At this rate, he'll surpass my mental capacities by age 8. I can't believe how much he has grown, although at the same time it's hard to remember him this little:

Fun Fact: It's corny, but Moms really do believe in love at first sight.

I will hopefully be back with more funny soon, that is, if I am not busy scrubbing my whole house down with a toothbrush. (I get neurotic when guests come over to my house for parties, even when it is a small get together- of course some of you already know this.)

Venting it out

I must confess, I am letting someone get to me. I am trying to let it go. I am trying not to be upset. So far I am doing a good job (I made a promise to myself not to shed a tear because of this person's actions, I am so proud of myself that this time I haven't let the waterworks loose), but it is still in the corner of my mind, lingering. It's putting a damper on my day to day activities. You know that feeling when something isn't right- even though everything should be fine and you can't put your finger on it? That is exactly how I feel right now. That is the way this person made me feel.

Yet, I know I didn't do anything wrong. The fact that I stood up for myself and did it in a mature, honest manner should put my mind at ease. I can only answer for myself and my actions and no one else. Unfortunately I am still thinking about it, and this person's actions are still affecting me. I just don't like it when people don't like me, and this person obviously doesn't like me, and chose to act out on it in a strange, passive-aggressive way.

Don't worry about me, I will get over it, I always do, eventually. It's just a very toxic relationship that I have to deal with, and I know from experience it just takes a couple of weeks to fade.

So please bear with me for this melodramatic post. Also bear with me if I have been distant lately, I have a lot on my mind right now. Sorry I am being so cryptic, I have to be though. If you are reading this- it's not you.

The good news is- I am still healthy, and the kids are getting better. Mr. Bee is another story. (Why didn't he go to the Doctor when I told him he should?) All that hand washing, orange juice and water are working, although I am spending a LOT of time in the potty (Momspeak for Bathroom).

The sickness in my house and anger in my mind should leave by next week. (A girl can hope, right?)

A Walking Bullseye

Yesterday Drew had a fever. He also had a cough, was lethargic and didn't want to eat. Under the advice of my husband, we took the little man and the littler man (who was exhibiting similar symptoms) to the Doctor.

After waiting in a 7 X 7 foot room with one chair with all of the Bees for over an hour, we saw the Doctor. The test (which involves sticking the world's biggest q-tip up my children's noses, which amounted to lots of tears) was positive almost immediately for Influenza A. I only had to look to my left to my husband to know where they caught it.

So now I am the only healthy one in my flu ridden family. My flu ridden family that has to stay away from healthy people for 5-7 days so that others don't catch it- this includes school. (Goodbye Vacation time!)

So,
I am drinking lots of orange juice and water.
I am taking my vitamins.
I am getting lots of rest.
It's okay for the rest of the family to be sick, they don't do the bills, the laundry, the grocery shopping, make dinners. I do. Plus I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to fevers. Not Mr. Bee whiny, but pretty close. It will not be a pretty picture if I get sick.

Think healthy thoughts for me, okay?

Not Me Monday: El Sicko Edition

I solemnly swear I did NOT do these things last Week:

I did NOT gloat at all when I kicked butt at scrabble this weekend: I beat the runner up by 50 points! (This is NOT the product getting all the big letters- and of many hours of playing scrabulous on Facebook- no, NOT at all!)

I did NOT whine about a face rash the end part of the week and all weekend that no one could see but could feel. It started to get better, than I had an outbreak before work this morning; this did NOT make me think I might be allergic to work.

I did NOT stay up too late on Saturday night watching the movie, Adventureland. I did NOT stay up too late all freaked out after watching the movie, Knowing, on Sunday. Consequently I am NOT ridiculously tired to start my workweek.

I did NOT debate with Mr. Bee during Adventureland about who was cooler, Dane Cook or Ryan Reynolds. (FTW- Ryan Reynolds- he married Scarlett Johansen, while Dean Cook was in Employee of the Month with Jessica Simpson. No contest!) This was NOT the dumbest debate ever.

I was totally NOT annoyed by Mr. Bee's sickness this week. I did NOT bitch about how annoying Mr. Bee is when he is sick.

I did NOT get a lecture from my son Drew for leaving my library book out when we were cleaning.

My son Jacob was NOT so ridiculously adorable with his catch phrases this weekend. My favorites were "I'm a bouy!" and "I'm nak3d!" which he says in a surprised fashion while pointing to his chest.

We did NOT let Jacob open a gift for his birthday two weeks early, consequently I was not ridiculously pleased at how much he love his stuffed animal- named appropriately "Puppy Dog". Poor Jacob is the "hand me down" kid- he was so happy to have something that was actually his and his alone.

I did NOT forget to take any pictures this week, leaving me to take this picture of Drew with my Cell phone, because I was totally NOT too lazy to upload pictures from my camera.

I did NOT have to say- "open your eyes, Drew, open your eyes" to get this picture.

I also did NOT promise Tina I would post about her Fundraiser/Giveaways for this month to bring awareness to Breast Cancer. It is NOT a great idea, so please do NOT go check it out!

This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

Cure JM Awareness Day

Before I read Kevin's Blog, I had never even heard of juvenile myositis. I was shocked to see what a debilitating, life threatening disease this can be. Therefore, when Kevin contacted me, I knew I wanted to participate and make people aware of this disease, as his blog had done for me.

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife's birthday.

(Happy Birthday, Rhonda!)

**********

Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or
www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.