Dude.

Both my kids were sleeping so, instead of pouncing on the opportunity to get some work done around the house, I checked in on a political blog. The blog post was completely relevant to a current event, yet the comment thread became about something entirely different. Somewhere along the way, a holy war erupted between atheists and evangelical Christians.

Since everyone is entitled to my opinion, I , "Ohio girl," left the comment in purple. Someone (whose name I did not get permission to post to my blog) responded to my comment with the following: (click to enlarge)


Um...yeah...okay.

I think I'm done with political blogs for a very long time. Thanks, Neo, for opening my eyes.

On my soapbox.

I thought about posting a video blog, wherein I would smear my eye makeup and cry in front of a bedsheet, screaming "LEAVE BRITNEY KIDS ALONE!" Unfortch, I didn't have time for that. Apparently, I also lack the time to type words in their entirety.

Anyway, note to political pundits, deejays, and (late night) comedians: Leave kids alone. Kids can't choose their parents, and children of celebrities and politicians most certainly did not choose the spotlight.

I don't care if Letterman's sexually explicit jokes were aimed at Sarah Palin's 14-year-old daughter or the 18-year-old, they were in extremely poor taste either way.

Wingnut Arianna Huffington was on Donny Deutsch's MSNBC show, where the two declared that Bristol Palin (age 18) is "fair game" because she put herself out there when she embarked on a hypocritical abstinence campaign. Yes, how dare she exemplify the consequences of teen sex? Keep your cautionary advice to yourself, Bristol Palin! (By Huffington and Deutsch's reasoning, Alcoholics Anonymous sponsors are mere hypocrites.)

I'm no prude. David Letterman is a smart and funny man, which is why this is disappointing. There are a million-and-one jabs you could take at Sarah Palin (or the current administration--now there's an idea!), do you really have to go after her kids?

Teen pregnancy is sad. Almost as sad as a 62-year-old man, who also fathered a child out of wedlock, making jokes about it.

I want to clarify that this post is not purely political. Quite frankly, I'm very tired of feigned outrage. But this situation is very upsetting to me for two reasons:

1) I am not a famous celebrity. I am not a policy maker. But, like Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton and Michelle Obama, I am a mother. You can say whatever you'd like about me. You can poke fun at me and put me down, and that's fine. But if you EVER hurt my children in any way, I WILL END YOU.

and

2) Somewhere, at this very moment, a scared, young, unmarried woman is contemplating an abortion. And, right now, she is making a choice between ending the life of her unborn baby so that there is no evidence of her sexual act, or keeping the baby and being ridiculed and judged for taking responsibility for the consequences of that sexual act.

When we laugh at, and thereby tolerate, jokes like the one(s) made by David Letterman, we make that choice for her. As someone who is pro-life, I'm not okay with that. And, if you are truly pro-choice, you shouldn't be, either.

In no particular order...

(Paragraphs? You expect writing to have structure? You've come to the wrong place.)

*I miss blogging. I have so much I want to talk about. Charlotte has reflux, so I have to hold her all the time. It's too difficult to type. Not to mention, my Reader has over 1,000 unread posts. This kid's crampin' my style.

*I technically returned to work Memorial Day weekend. I am not working during the week (I love being home with my babies!) I work Saturday mornings when I feel like it, and I am the on-call ultrasound tech every other week. This works well for me. I get paid to be at home with my kids, as long as I wear the pager. It was not so cool Memorial Day weekend, though. I was called in nine times that weekend. Lots of groin trauma in the ER. Holiday weekends bring out the crazies.

*Summer T.V.--When the kids go to bed, I'll be watching Kathy Griffin: My Life on The D-List. Also, I LOVE me some Real Housewives. These women make me feel so grateful for my nonmaterial wealth. The New York housewives are my favorite, but these New Jersey women are something else. Want to check out an awesomely hilarious blog? Here's the bio:

Topics include, but are not limited to, Bravo reality shows, celebrities, sex, regular people who want to have sex with celebrities, Lucky magazine, hot gay guys, musicals, douchebags and science.

Um, I don't know about you, but that pretty much sums up everything I look for in a blog. (She does fantastic recaps of the Real Housewives episodes.)

I love a good trainwreck. Unless kids are involved. Which is why I'm no longer watching Jon & Kate Plus Hate. That is all I have to say about that.

*None of my jeans fit. Every single pair of pants and shorts I own gives me a muffin top. On the bright side, I've finally got those hips I've always wanted.

*I am doing SO much better postpartum than I did with Rhys. No depression this time. I'm not gonna lie, I'm in over my head with two babies. It's exhausting, but it's getting easier day by day. I just got this comic in an email, and it couldn't be more true-to-life:

Quote of the Day.

"Everybody wants it. It's work. I have very, very thick hair, so it's not going to work for everybody. I've seen people come through the book line with thin hair and it's just won't work. My hair stylist gets calls from all across the country."

-The completely delusional Kate Gosselin, talking about her hedgehog hair.

"Just another photo of a woman holding a jumbo pink banana squash in one arm and a miniature schnauzer in the other."

I hope to post something substantial to my blog soon. In the meantime, I encourage you to view some awkward family photos. Make sure to read the captions.

AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com

(It's 1:30 AM. I am sleep-deprived and delirious. Maybe that's why I find this website EFFING HILARIOUS.)

I, like, had a baby. And stuff.

Ah, life with two under two. (I pitched Two Under Two to TLC. They told me to have twenty-seven more children and get back to them. Anything less is a waste of their film.) But here are some photos to give you the general idea:





The last six weeks have flown by, between nursing the baby when she demands to be fed every hour (no lie) and changing as many diapers as there are hours in the day. Things I have not been doing: showering with any regularity, sleeping. I also have not been accessing the Internet. I think I've checked my email a total of three times in the last six weeks. I've received some very kind and thoughtful emails, comments and Twitter messages from some of you expressing concern over my whereabouts or how I'm doing. THANK YOU so much. I'm terribly sorry for taking so long to respond and/or post pictures on here, but I hope you understand. I'm still trying to figure out this new life of mine.

So...

Wednesday, March 25, 2009. I'm having contractions. Big deal, I'd been having contractions for the last four weeks. But these were different. By 1:45 AM, I'd woken up Nate with my wailing. We called Jill, who had so kindly agreed to come over and stay with Rhys in the event that I went into labor in the middle of the night. (Our families are two hours away.) By 2:15 AM, we were at the hospital. When we arrived, I was seven centimeters dilated. Two minutes later, I was eight centimeters. The nurses urgently paged my doctor. We were all worried that he wouldn't make it in time.

My contractions were getting stronger and closer together. I asked for an epidural. They told me it was too late. "Fine," I said. "Just give me drugs." They told me it was too late for drugs, they didn't even have me hooked up to the I.V. yet. That's when I began bawling.

My eleven-and-a-half hour labor with Rhys involved pitocin and an epidural. I had totally planned on having a natural birth this time, but that was when it was my choice. And, more importantly, I drafted that plan when I WASN'T IN LABOR. Oh well. Now I can judge other women that opt for pain management and make them feel inadequate by telling my natural childbirth story at every given chance.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to push. They told me I couldn't because the doctor wasn't there yet.

"KEEPIN' IT REAL MOMENT" OF THIS POST: Have you ever been driving when suddenly you have to go to the bathroom so badly, you have to stop at a gas station because you don't think you'll make it home in time? Sure, you have. Imagine you make it inside the gas station bathroom and someone there offers you a million dollars to hold it. And you tell them, "KEEP YOUR MONEY." That's precisely what it feels like when your baby is ready to be born before the doctor gets there.

Then, like an angel in the night, my doctor showed up. With a police officer trailing him for speeding. I could finally push!

Three pushes later, a half-hour after we arrived at the hospital (!), Charlotte Vivienne was born. I know there's a lot of hyperbole involved when it comes to describing the experience of childbirth, but I can say this with complete honesty. Just as with Rhys, when Charlotte was born, I felt her soul enter the room.

Look at those cheeks! She's storing acorns for winter.

No, that's not a coon skin cap, she really has that much hair. It reminds me of Bret's hair helmet. (FOTC, holla!)

Her first trip to the salon.

Rhys came to meet his sister and to bring me some flowers.

Seeing Rhys brought tears to my eyes. Not only because I missed him, but because his hands, feet, head, everything about him seemed HUGE all of a sudden. It was like he grew overnight. He isn't my baby anymore!

But he LOVES his baby sister and is very good with her. He wants to do everything for her, like carry her into the house.

And get her out of her car seat.

But not before giving her a kiss.

Here is our little Charlie girl now, six weeks later.

My two beautiful, healthy blessings.

And now it's time to feed the baby again. Have I ever told you about my natural childbirth?

An anticlimactic update.

Yesterday, I awoke at 5 a.m. to a fairly large contraction. It was stronger than the Braxton Hicks contractions that I've been having for the last month. I tried to fall back asleep, but these contractions kept coming every five minutes. Woo-hoo! Consistent, regular contractions. Time to go to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital, they hooked me up to the monitor. Because my contractions were regular (two minutes apart), they admitted me. When they first checked my cervix, I was only one centimeter dilated. After walking for hours, and waiting, and waiting some more, I only dilated to one-and-a-half centimeters. Because I am only thirty-eight weeks along, and because I DO NOT want Pitocin, I opted to leave the hospital and go home to rest.

I went back to see my doctor this morning. I am now three centimeters dilated, but my contractions have slowed down. I am hanging out at home, walking, cleaning, waiting to have some more strong, regular contractions.

I really, truly appreciate your well-wishes and support, so I wanted to keep you posted. I don't mean to complain, but I am SO ready to have this baby. I feel like I have pregnant for years. This is probably because I found out I was pregnant when I was a mere five weeks along. Also, I was only pregnant with Rhys for eight months, so I'm not used to this "full-term" nonsense that you other women speak of. But I am so incredibly blessed to be pregnant, to have had a healthy pregnancy, and that very soon, I will have a daughter! A feisty, stubborn daughter who insists on doing things on her terms. I wonder where she gets that.

"I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you..."

Last summer, I hated our next-door neighbors. And I hadn't even met them.

They were building their house on the lot right next to ours. The process took forever. It was very loud. The builders worked from sunrise to sunset, with peak activity seemingly occurring during what should've been Rhys' nap time. Grr.

Of course, as the process came to an end, we started to get excited about who was going to live next to us. We plan on being in this house for several years, and our neighbors could make or break the experience. We just prayed that they would be our age (everyone else on our block is ten to twenty years older than us), have a kid (a good kid for Rhys to play with), and like to have fun (in the cookouts and margaritas sense. Not "like to have fun" like the neighbor couple down the street--who are alleged swingers. But that's a story for another time.)

So, imagine how thrilled we were when Marcus and Kelly moved in. They're our age. They love beer and Ohio State football and have a very large television. They have a sweet little boy, Colin, who is two months older than Rhys. And...

this is the little girl who joined their family two weeks ago! Meet Allison Grace, who is visibly exhausted here from all of the head sniffing and finger nibbling to which I subjected her.

We had them over for dinner tonight. I made spicy chicken tacos. Not exactly Irish fare, but I'm making every attempt I can to kickstart my labor. After dinner, I sprinted several laps around the block. Then, I contemplated letting Nate get lucky tonight, even though it's not his birthday.

Here's Rhys holding Allison. He's oblivious to the fact that one of these things is coming to live with us any day now...

"Go ahead, Rhys. I dare you to resist sniffing her head."
As with everything and 18-month-olds, his amusement was short-lived. He just wanted to play with Colin. (Yes, a toy bomb did go off in our family room. Don't worry, everyone is safe.)

"Hey Colin, I like your St. Patrick's Day shirt."
"Thanks, Rhys. Why do your jammies have a monster truck on them?"
"Because my parents are classy. That's why."

As they say, a good time was had by all. I am very much looking forward to spending my summer days with Kelly, sitting on the porch with our babies, sipping martinis while our boys play in the street.

I got dressed today.

All the rotund belly you can handle at The Working Closet.

Random things I've learned about naming a baby:

*Naming boys is a lot easier. You can go one of two ways: traditional or trendy. With girls, you have a variety of options, plus girl names come with connotations. Will people perceive her as a nerdy librarian? a stripper? a snob?

*If you go with a very traditional name, people will ask if your child is being named after someone in your family. That’s their nice way of saying “that name is so dreadfully boring or outdated, you must only be using it to honor someone.”

*Conversely, people love to tell you that a miserable life lies ahead for your baby if you name them something uncommon, or something that's not included in the lists of Top Baby Names. I'm not just referring to the name "Rhys," either. (Which, for the record, is not a "made-up" spelling.) Also, according to many people, any name over two syllables will be IMPOSSIBLE for your poor child to learn to spell. IT JUST CAN'T BE DONE. I mean, look at how many adult Christophers and Alexandrias you know that still don't know how to spell their own names. It's heartbreaking, really.

*Grown-ups love to come up with schoolyard taunts for your baby name that no child would EVER in a million years come up with. Kids are very creative and can be very cruel, but not as creative and cruel as adults that are trying their damnedest to discourage you from using a particular baby name.

*People love to share unflattering stories about someone they know by that name. If you DARE tell your baby name to a teacher, expect to trigger a flashback comparable to that of a Vietnam vet. “Omigod. I once had a student by that name. He would run around, kicking and hitting and punching the other kids. He threatened to kill me once. I wouldn’t be surprised if that kid ends up in jail...but your kid will be an angel.”

*You should only tell your name to trustworthy people. And you’d be amazed at who can and cannot be deemed trustworthy. I was.

True story: I was pregnant with a boy at the same time as our pastor’s wife was pregnant with a girl. She asked me what our girl name would’ve been. I told her the name of Nate’s grandmother. Her eyes lit up and she asked what middle name we would’ve used. I told her the name of Nate’s other grandmother. Three months later, the congregation welcomed its newest member, who just happened to be the namesake of Nate’s grandmothers.

We really miss that church.

*You know how, by this point in your life, you know better than to trash the spouse of someone who’s going through some marital problems, because they’ll inevitably work things out, and then that person knows that you can’t stand their husband? Yeah. Well not everyone is at that point in their life, the point where they know when to keep their mouth shut. These are the same people who tell you they hate your baby name, oblivious to the fact that you’ve already settled on that name, and that you’ve been affectionately referring to the little being in your womb by that name for the last several months. Now you know who hates your kid’s name. Awk-ward!

For the aforementioned reasons, we have only told a few close friends our baby girl’s name. Truth of the matter is, we only settled on one just the other day. Nate came up with it as soon as we found out we were having a daughter, and he’s shot down any other name that I’ve had to offer since then. This is pretty remarkable, for Nate to be so passionate about a name. His approach to naming babies is usually the same as my approach to getting a new hairstyle: I don’t know what I want, I just know what I DON’T want. And I cross my fingers that the result of my indecisiveness elicits a positive response. (To my hairstylist, Sarah: I’m so sorry for being such a pain in the ass. Now I can appreciate how much clients like me must frustrate you.)

So, since her father feels so passionately about it, and because it’s really grown on me, IT’S DONE. SHE’S NAMED. And I’ll tell you what her name is as soon as she is born, which I hope is VERY soon. Just, please, think twice before being one of those people who tell me they dislike the name even after the kid is born. I don’t want to have to kick anyone’s ass in a postpartum fit of hysterics.

Try this.

Hi! I'm just checking in to talk more about the things I do to make myself feel pretty. ;-)

Vaseline should be a staple of your first aid kit, as well as a regular part of your beauty routine. Each night, put a little bit of Vaseline on your eyelashes. Over time, it makes them thicker (I swear!) and it does a fabulous job of conditioning your lashes. As a result, your mascara goes on smoother and less clumpy, in the same way that it's easier to comb through your hair when it's been conditioned. If some of the Vaseline gets around your eyes, no worries. You're going to rinse it off in the morning. Plus, it never hurts to moisturize the delicate eye area. Dry skin shows every line and wrinkle.

When you're done putting the Vaseline on your eyelashes, put some on your lips. If you do this regularly, you'll notice a decrease in how often you have that internal debate over whether or not to pull that annoying little piece of skin off your lip, knowing damn well the painful consequence. (And using your teeth to pull the skin still leaves you with a raw, bloody lip. Nice try.)

Fellas, I recommend that you also use Vaseline as lip balm at night. But not during the day. Unless you want to look like Bobby Trendy.

Don't tell anyone, but I think Bobby Trendy might be gay.
I suggest using Vaseline from a tube, rather than a jar, especially for use around the eyes and mouth. Unless breeding bacteria is your "thing." If so, remind me to tell you about the time that I found a milk-filled sippy cup in Rhys' diaper bag that had been in there for over a week. It. was. awesome.

Flickr fun: The Working Closet

While I enjoy reading fashion magazines, their pages are filled with models that are not representative of my body type, wearing clothes that I cannot afford, crafted into ensembles by stylists who, although creative, leave me questioning their perspective of reality when it comes to how women dress in their daily lives.

To counter these issues, I've been faithfully visiting The Working Closet group on Flickr for quite some time now. I love admiring the outfits that other real women have put together. Of course, there are some misses strewn about the hits in this group, but that makes it even more fun. It's like people-watching at the mall. And the contributors label their pics with a brief description of their outfit and/or breakdown of where their pieces are from. Plus, it's fun to read the comments that a woman's fashion choices elicit, and I'm fond of leaving comments of my own if I feel compelled to tell someone that I think they're tres chic.

Here are some of my favorite regular contributors to the group (I've linked to their Working Closet sets):

Kristin aka Camels & Chocolate. She's a travel writer/celebrity reporter who lives in San Francisco. Her wardrobe is funky and fun.


Hollylynne. I like her because her clothing preferences are quite similar to mine: lots of gray, or neutrals with a pop of color.


DsSliceofLife. She has the most impressive collection of colorful, affordable shoes and purses. (Look at those adorable green shoes from Payless!) She wears her polished look well.


I love clothes. Although you wouldn't know it because the majority of the time, when I'm home with Rhys, neither of us get out of our lounging/play clothes unless we have somewhere to go. And I wear scrubs to work. So I just contributed my first pic to The Working Closet last week. You can see it here. And if I ever get my lazy ass dressed again, I'll be sure to post about it.

One small problem.

In this edition of Ultrasound: it's not all baby pictures we meet a young man who comes to the ER with testicular pain.

Me: "What seems to be the problem?"

Him: "I think I have that thing where your balls get twisted up."

Me: "Testicular torsion?"

Him: "Yeah! That's it."

Me: "Why do you think you have testicular torsion?"

Him: "Because my nuts hurt real bad."

Me: "Uh-huh. And how long have you had this pain?"

Him: "A couple months."

Me: "You don't have testicular torsion."

Him: "How do you know?"

Me: "Because guys whose spermatic cord has twisted to the point that the blood supply to their testicles is cut off don't come strolling in here after months of pain. They come in immediately, they're crying, and they're unable to walk."

Him: "That's kind of how I felt yesterday."

Me: "Then you would've been in here yesterday. On a stretcher. Barely able to speak."

Him: "Well then what's wrong with my nuts?"

Me: "I'll do an ultrasound and find out."

Him: "What do I need to do?"

Me: "I'm going to step out of the room. I need you to undress from the waist down. Here's a sheet for you to cover up with. And here's a hand towel. Pull your penis up toward your abdomen and cover it with this towel--I only need to scan your testicles. Any questions or concerns?"

Him: "I don't need a towel this big."

A love letter.

Nathan,

You may stubbornly refuse to even look at an instruction manual. You may throw your wool sweaters in the laundry after wearing them just once. You may complain about a self-inflicted, minor sports-related injury while I am laid up eight-and-a-half months pregnant with your second child.

But my life without you? It would suck.

That's why I'm glad that today is the anniversary of your birth. That, and I get to eat cake.

Love,
Me

To my boys.

(And now I have this Pixies song stuck in my head.)

print from etsy.

Worth It!

When Rhys was born and I had quit working, I could no longer justify spending exorbitant amounts of money on beauty products. A lot of it had to do with my self-inflicted guilt for not bringing in any income, but a lot of it stemmed from the realization that it's not really necessary for me to use $20 hairspray when a $2 bottle can work just as well. Motherhood has brought out the crazy in me, but it's also brought out the practical.

It's been kind of fun this last year or so, trying out a variety of drugstore brands and being delighted to find the ones that are comparable to salon or department store brands. I'm a product junkie, always have been, but now I can be one without the nagging feeling that my night cream purchase tapped into my child's college fund.

So, one of the new features of my blog will be "That for This," where I show you the salon/department store product that I traded for a cheaper alternative, but by no means downgraded when it comes to quality or effectiveness.

But, of course, there are some products that I find to be worth the money. And, believe me, I wouldn't tell you they were worth it unless I really meant it. Some results just can't be achieved by cheaper means.

This segment of "Worth It!" is inspired by my trip to the dentist today, where I anticipate having a quick, pain-free and congratulatory teeth cleaning.

(As an aside, I would just like to say that I LOVE going to the dentist. I feel like I'm being pampered. Maybe it's just because I've turned into one of those moms, who views any opportunity to get out of the house alone and do anything for herself as freeing and indulgent. Yes, that must be the case because last night when I went to get my eyebrows and upper lip waxed, the whole time the woman was ripping hair out of my face I was thinking "Ahhhhh. This is relaxing.")

When I was in my very early twenties, I had extremely sensitive gums that would bleed easily. (Go ahead, you may call it gingivitis, if you must. Eww.) There are many causes of gum sensitivity, but mine most likely stemmed from a habit of passing out before scrubbing the malted barley and hops off my teeth. I had many painful health and beauty afflictions back then. Like, hormonal acne around my mouth and chin. Oh, who am I kidding? Those were bong zits.

So, what was I talking about? (See? Just Say No, kids.) Oh yeah, teeth and gums and stuff. My dentist at the time advised me to get a Sonicare electric toothbrush, and my life (and dentist visits) have never been the same since.

I include the Sonicare toothbrush among the Beauty Products Disguised As Health Products. I'll be honest, if you want to motivate me to make healthy choices, appeal to my vanity.

"Take these prenatal vitamins. They'll help your blood circulate oxygen more efficiently, provide you with essential nutrients and reduce the risk of spina bifida in your baby."

Of course. That's important stuff.

"Oh, and they'll make your hair shiny and your nails grow strong."

AWESOME! Are you serious? Can I take these even when I'm not pregnant?

Same thing with the Sonicare toothbrush. It has reversed my gum disease, virtually eliminated the potential for tartar or plaque to build up on my teeth and, overall, made my dental exams so much more bearable.

Oh yeah, and it makes your teeth white. Which is why I use it faithfully.

I'm telling you, get yourself one of these. If it doesn't change your life, it will at least change your experience at the dentist's office.

Sure, you can use your manual toothbrush that your dentist gave you for free, but then you have to do all that rigorous and tiresome scrubbing. (I'm exhausted just thinking about it.) Not to mention, the level of pressure that you're applying is probably damaging your tooth enamel. And does your manual toothbrush beep when your two minutes of recommended brushing time are up? I don't think so.

You can buy one base/charger and both you and your significant other can use it, as it comes with detachable toothbrush heads. We have a subscription with Amazon that automatically bills us at a discounted rate and sends us two new toothbrush heads when it's time to change them.

So worth it.

Karma.

"I hope you have a daughter one day, and I hope that she grows up to be exactly like you!"

Well, Mom, you got your wish. I'm going to have a child made of sugar and spice and everything nice. That is what you meant by exactly like me, right?

I'm so excited! Let the shopping commence.

Thank you all for your kind words and well-wishes. The winner of the Real Simple magazine subscription is...

Dri of Aimless Oasis!

Send me an email with your address, Dri. I promise to try to remember to call before each of my impromptu visits.

That's what you thought. A poll.

I consistently have to look at a woman whose foundation is three shades darker than her natural skin tone. At least that's my guess, based on the color difference between her jaw and her neck. She liberally applies bronzer for blush, her eyeshadow enhances the dark circles under her eyes, and her lipstick washes her out. I can't even begin to address her harshly drawn eyebrows.

I know, I'm coming across as hypercritical (which I cannot deny), but if you saw her, you'd completely understand. She's not even old, which makes it all the more frustrating that she has the potential to be a natural beauty.

So, I ask you:

Could you ever tell somebody that you thought they were wearing the wrong makeup? (Too much, wrong colors, etc.) Is there a polite way to do so?

Why do I care about these things? I don't know. I just do.

The more you know...

As Rhys' first birthday loomed near, I took on a task far more laborious and stressful than party planning: research. The time had finally come.

For me, the issue was never about whether or not to vaccinate. For me, the issue was whether or not I could feel totally confident with my decision to vaccinate my child. Did I have all of the information? Could I live with my decision if, for some reason, it had unfavorable consequences?

I asked every doctor I knew: M.D. and D.O. friends, the docs I work with (regardless of their practicing specialty) and, of course, our pediatrician. DO YOU BELIEVE THERE IS A LINK BETWEEN THE MMR VACCINE AND AUTISM?

I must've spent collective hours discussing this issue with our pediatrician. He told me he would respect my decision either way, and then provided me with all of the information he had. I asked him repeatedly, "aside from this scientific information, what's your personal take?" He told me that he, personally, doesn't believe in a connection, that all of his autistic patients had identifiable issues before they'd ever received the MMR vaccine. However, he encouraged me to seek another opinion, and assured me again that he would respect my decision whether I vaccinated my child or not. He also proposed that we wait until 15 months of age to vaccinate Rhys. The idea there is that, in those three months, my toddler would reach milestones that would make it easier for me to recognize if any developmental regression was occurring after the vaccine.

I did wait until Rhys was 15 months old, and I spent a good part of those three months reading over materials on the subject (what our pediatrician had provided me, Internet research, autism awareness websites, the Center for Disease Control, etc. I even reviewed the sentiments of celebrities tied to the cause). There really wasn't a lot of scientific data out there, but there sure was a lot of hype. I came to my original conclusion that I was more concerned with protecting Rhys from a possibly fatal case of measles than I was with him "contracting" autism from the vaccine. Some people don't come to that conclusion, and I respect that. I'm just sharing with you my personal choice.

I took Rhys to our appointment. I filled out forms and took part in an interview asking me countless questions about my child's development up to that day. Is he walking? Does he know his own name? Does he make eye contact? And the list went on. I made mental note of all of these things, as I would find the need to obsess over them later.

I then inspected the lot numbers on the vaccines they were about to administer and verified that they were free of thimerosal (a mercury-based preservative that's been mentioned in the autism link). I initialed next to the lot numbers and the dosage information. I signed consent for the vaccine to be administered.

And then Rhys received the shot. He didn't cry. I did.

I spent the next few weeks running that developmental milestone list through my head. He's still walking. He still knows his name. He still makes eye contact. Phew!

That was two months ago. Two days ago, I came across these headlines:

MMR doctor Andrew Wakefield fixed data on autism

Hidden records show MMR truth
A Sunday Times investigation has found that altered data was behind the decade-long scare over vaccination

The gist of the articles:

The doctor who sparked the scare over the safety of the MMR vaccine for children changed and misreported results in his research, creating the appearance of a possible link with autism.

Despite involving just a dozen children, the 1998 study's impact was extraordinary. After its publication, rates of inoculation fell from 92% to below 80%. Populations acquire “herd immunity” from measles when more than 95% of people have been vaccinated. With less than 95% of the population vaccinated, Britain has lost its herd immunity against the disease. In 1998 there were 56 cases reported; last year there were 1,348, according to figures released last week that showed a 36% increase on 2007. Two British children have died from measles, and others put on ventilators, while many parents of autistic children torture themselves for having let a son or daughter receive the injection.

No researchers have been able to replicate the results produced by Wakefield’s team in the Lancet study.

Because Dr. Wakefield and this issue are still being investigated, because this is such a controversial issue, and because this issue involves a personal parenting decision, I will refrain from publishing my visceral reaction to this information.

But I just thought you might like to have it, to include with your research on whether or not to vaccinate your child, or to vindicate the decision that you've already made.

Like a Dyson...

...my blog sucks.

I just want you to know that I know that.

The countdown clock on the left (you know, the one with the creepy little floating baby in it) tells me that I have 54 days to go. But, if this pregnancy is anything like my first one, I have about a month before I contribute to global warming climate change by bringing another human being into the world. Kids, man. They ruin everything.

I've been incredibly busy lately, unable to suppress the undeniable urge to prepare my home for another baby. Such preparation includes: color-coding my closet, rearranging all of the dry goods in the pantry, and labeling everything in sight - stopping short of the appliances. Some people call this behavior "nesting." I call it, "things I should probably discuss in my next therapy session."

Times like these make me realize what a good (read: obsessive-compulsive) idea it was for me to have saved every issue of Real Simple magazine ever printed. It's the bible for people with my domestic neurosis. "Life made easier" is the magazine's tag line. I couldn't agree more.

For starters, the magazine doesn't come wrapped in that pesky brown paper like all the other publications that come to this house. Second, it's like the publisher knows that I secretly wish that Martha Stewart was my mother, in the same way that little boys wish that their favorite professional athlete was their dad. (Yes, I've read Martha's Living magazine, I just like RS better.) The pages of Real Simple taught me how to knit a scarf, how to prepare a feast with five ingredients, how to shop for bedsheets, and so much more. It's filled with simple solutions for everyday life, and also discusses some of my favorite things: food, fashion, health and beauty, and home decor and organization. The website is pretty nifty, too.

It's got me thinking, shouldn't my blog represent and/or consist of the things that inspire me?

So, when I don't have a clever and amusing anecdote to share (eh-hem), here are some upcoming features of my blog:

*Crisis! averted. Think of this as a "simple solutions" or "worked for me" kind of thing, (as inspired in part by Real Simple). This will be a forum for product reviews, tips and/or advice in the areas of products, fashion, decorating, parenting, relationships, life, etc.

What qualifies me to offer tips in such areas? Good question. If Paula Abdul can judge a singing competition, or Sharon Osbourne can give lessons on class and charm, or Dr. Phil can offer mental health advice, THEN I CAN SHARE MY FINITE WISDOM ON MY BLOG. I think it will be a great way to open discussion and/or exchange ideas with other people who have valuable little tidbits to share. It might also be a great way to lose my male readership. Sorry fellas, but ladies LOVE things like beauty products and fashion. I know this as fact because of how, within minutes of Barack Obama's swearing-in ceremony, the J.Crew website crashed from inquiries on the Obama ladies' clothing and accessories. Or how, when Barbara Walters interviewed Monica Lewinsky in 1999, the ABC network was flooded with calls, letters and emails from female viewers demanding to know what lipstick shade Ms. Lewinsky was wearing. (It was Club Monaco's Glaze, and it's been selling out for years ever since.)

*Site-seeing. I read so many interesting blogs and am a devotee of many websites that I think are worthwhile and pretty cool. See if you agree with me when I link you to them.

*Flickr fun. I'm addicted to browsing photos on Flickr. I belong to several Flickr groups and would love to show you some of my favorite pics that people have contributed, as well as my own contributions to these groups' photo pools.

*Polls. I've got questions (lots of them) and, hopefully, you've got answers.

*Current events (yep, including politics). I know some of you hate me for ranting on here. I know others don't agree with my views but still read them, and maybe even respectfully disagree in my comments section (I love you). And then there are my like-minded people (Holla!). I am pleased to be one of the Top Conservatives on Twitter (TCOT) and a member of Smart Girl Politics. I'll try to watch the tone and frequency of my political posts, but it's something I'm very passionate about and a big part of who I am.

*Grace in Small Things. Yes, I still log these daily. However, I've come to the realization that maybe people aren't interested in reading what I snacked on that day. (I don't know why not, but whatever.) I won't give this up, though. At times, the concept has helped me to remain positive and I love reading the lists of other people. I'll probably post highlights from my daily lists on a weekly basis, or whenever I feel compelled to share.

(Please note, I am not going to make any commitments to the frequency of the aformentioned features, as that amount of pressure results in conversations like this:

Me: "We've GOT to get home."

Nate: "What's the rush?"

Me: "There are four people whose Tuesday will be COMPLETELY RUINED if I do not pose a Table Topics question today!")

Here are some other goals I have set for myself with regard to blogging:

1. I will blog more frequently. A good idea today is better than a perfect idea tomorrow. I haven’t blogged regularly for awhile, and some potentially good blog posts have either A) escaped me, B) become outdated topics, or C) been blogged about by somebody else.

2. I will not beat myself up if I don’t blog as frequently as I’d like.

3. I will respond to comments in a timely/courteous manner.

4. I will respond to emails the same way. (I am TERRIBLE about responding to emails.)

5. I will be better about commenting on the blogs I read. (I love reading other blogs. Maybe I shouldn’t read them in a hurry and only visit when I have time to “stay and chat”?)

6. I will update my profile and/or write an “About Me” post in the sidebar. (I appreciate when I stumble upon a new blog and am provided with some info about its author. Maybe I'll even do one of those "25 things" memes that's been going around teh Interwebs.)

7. I will tag my posts for easy reference or so that people can skip over them if they don't like the subject matter.

Are you still reading this? You made it this far? Really?? You love me, you really love me! And because I love you and appreciate you reading my blog, I'm giving away a subscription to Real Simple magazine. Woo-hoo! A subscription is valued at $23.88! I know, big deal. But do you see that picture up there? That's an effing pensive-looking monkey for crying out loud, not a corporate sponsor. So LAY OFF.

If you would like a subscription to Real Simple for yourself or a loved one, guess the sex of my baby in the comments section. Correct guesses will be numbered in the order in which they are received and then I'll RIG the competition. (That's random integer generator for those of you conspiracy theorists.) Contest ends Thursday, February 12th at 11:59pm. Winner will be posted on Friday the 13th. Void where prohibited by law. (I just felt the need to add that, to sound official and stuff.) If I've told you the sex of the baby, obviously you're not eligible and you're also really cheap and discourteous. But that also means that you're one of my good friends, so what does that say about me?

I'll even show you a 3-D sonogram of the baby at 16 weeks, even though this picture is completely useless for gender determination. (Man, that ultrasound tech is terrible.)

Mah preshus baybee.

Will Rhys have a little brother, or a little sister??? (You can guess for fun, even if you don't want the stupid magazine.)

GIST 26/365

1. Gray. It's the new beige as far as neutrals go. I have spoken.

2. Having a bad hair day today. I'm getting my hair did tomorrow, and something like a good hair day falling on the day before I'm psyched to try something new really toys with my delicate emotions.

3. Rhys taking my keys to the back door, trying to stick them in a non-existent keyhole, and turning around and waving as he says "bye-bye."

4. My whistling tea kettle.

5. Harvest cheddar Sun Chips.

GIST 25/365

1. Sleeping in.

2. The excitement of going to pick up Rhys after 24 hours apart.

3. Fighting over who gets to hold him first.

4. The exchange of hugs and kisses.

5. Being "just" someone's mom.

GIST 24/365

1. Rhys spending some time with his grandparents so that we could celebrate our anniversary.

2. Our annual couple's massage. (No, it wasn't at one of those places by the airport.)

3. A steak (covered in bleu cheese--yum!) dinner.

4. Great conversation.

5. Remembering that we're more than just parents.

GIST 23/365

1. TARGET.

2. The little cupholder thing-y that attaches to the shopping cart to hold your Starbucks.

3. Peppermint Mocha Lattes.

4. Clearance at 75% off.

5. Leaving with a cart full of purchases AND having actually remembered to buy what I originally went there for.

Nirvana bassist's Rock Band 2 experience

Krist Novaselic shares an amusing anecdote:

Recently, while walking through a one-stop shopping center, I encountered the Rock Band 2 video game. It was set up on display for customers to try.

I know about Rock Band, because Nirvana has some songs on it. I had never tried the game before, so I gave it a go. I worked through the menu and found the song “In Bloom.” I picked up the little guitar-shaped controller and hit the stage. I knew the bass line to the song, of course, but I couldn’t quite master this new, different way of playing it.

The game reminded me of Space Invaders. I tried to hit the notes cascading down the screen, but could barely keep up.

Meanwhile, this kid was watching me fumble with the game. I became self-conscious and took the controller off. I handed it to him, and he proceeded to jam on the song—and was really good! He had no idea that I was the musician he was emulating on the game, and I didn’t tell him.

Life goes on: I walked away to buy some paint supplies, groceries, and other items from the store.


Too bad for that kid that he didn't realize what was going on. For the rest of his life, he would've had a cool story to tell. Heck, had it been me, I'd have found a way to work that story into my grandfather's eulogy.


(via Clusterflock.)