It’s coming to an end

The kids have had a wonderful week down in Florida with their grandparents but, sadly, it ends today.  I have to admit, we’ve also really enjoyed the relaxing week with just Landon at home.  I know he’s bored out of his mind, but I’ve relished the quiet.  But I’ve also missed my kiddos.  Rather than wishing they were here with me, though, I’ve more longed to be there with them.

Sloan and Tia in sand

 

 

Playground

Bunker beds

Swimming

Tia Fish

Tia sand castle

Sloan lost another tooth

Sloan lost another tooth

Thank goodness the Tooth Fairy makes stops in Florida. And she leaves money in a seashell!  Cool!

Thank goodness the Tooth Fairy makes stops in Florida. And she leaves money in a seashell! Cool!

Ice cream

Tia Sand Pearl

Glow Sticks 2

Sunset

ROCK ON!!!

ROCK ON!!!

It could have been mortifying

We had a full weekend partying like it was 1999 with only one kid.  I am only slightly exaggerating.  When you’re married with three kids the term “party” takes on a whole new meeting.  Just getting out of the house with makeup on could be considered “partying,” for example.  Relaxing on the couch in a quiet house at 2:00 in the afternoon – PAR-TAY

So yes, relatively speaking, we were partying this weekend.  We even attended an actual party thrown by the lovely Kim, Jess and Gina.  This meant that we had a real life babysitter and we hung out with a group of people (90% of which were significantly younger than Lee) and played games and ate food and laughed a whole dang lot.

Then came the time change.  BAM-BAM-BAM.  I have been reading this book and, while I will admit I got increasingly frustrated with the author’s long windedness and his perpetual overdescription of things that weren’t pertinent to the story itself (it sucks to be an editor sometimes…it can really ruin the book reading experience) the story was still engaging enough that I was able to skim past the boring parts and keep pace with the action.  It was also engaging enough to keep me up until the wee hours of the morning.

So when I dragged myself out of bed Sunday morning, having lost not just one hour of sleep but multiple hours, I wasn’t feelin’ like the young hot mama that I actually am. 

I was a little nauseous, a lot tired and running very late as I had to be at church early to prepare to sing up front with the choir.  I got ready as fast as I could and rushed out the door like I do nearly every Sunday morning – without eating any breakfast. 

When I arrived at church, I joined the choir on stage to warm up and prepare for service.  I was exhausted, sluggish and increasingly nauseous.  In the five minutes between rehearsal and the service, I took a long drink of water and tried to get my heavy eyelids to quit fighting me.  Then service began and all was going well.  There was a girl who had recently joined choir standing beside me and I enjoyed getting to know her and singing alongside her.

About halfway through the first set, I opened my eyes and noticed a rather sizable crowd rushing up the center isle to the aide of someone who had apparently passed out and, upon falling, had cracked his head open.  We stopped the service so that he could be attended to and commenced in a little silent prayer time, which had been built into the service for that day anyway (how great is God?).  It was at this time that I myself started feeling more than nauseous.  I was light headed and starting to break out in  a cold sweat.

I sat down to pray and put my head down which seemed to help.  After a few minutes the paramedics arrived and while they were tending to the gentlman who fell, we began the service again.  I stood up by my new friend and instantly knew I was in trouble.  It started in the corners of my eyes.  The room was going black.  I took deep breaths and all I could think was Dear God please don’t let me pass out here in front of everyone while there are paramedics in the room.

Within seconds I knew I had to get out of there because I was going to hit the floor.  Like a bad movie, the blackness closed in and I started to sway.  I turned to my new best friend and heard her say with a bit of urgency, “Are you okay? You’re really white?”

And then it went completely black.  I couldn’t see anything at all.  And I was going to crumble. She grabbed my arm and walked me to the stage door, which mercifully wasn’t far because we were stading on the end.  I ran into the door because I couldn’t see anything at all and made it backstage before I fell.  She dragged me to the couch and pushed my head between my legs.  About thirty seconds later the blackness finally faded away and I could see again.  And a mixture of mortification and gratefulness set in.  I was mortified because I blacked out on stage. I was grateful because not many people noticed thanks to this girl’s quick reaction.  Ah! I would have been devastatingly humiliated had I hit the floor on stage.

A friend sitting in the congregation saw her lead me off stage and came back to check on me, then set off to find something for me to eat.  She found two pieces of Kraft American cheese which had a bad case of rigor mortis, but I ate them anyway and gulped down some water and tried to get the fuzzy feeling in my head to go away.

After sitting down for about 30 minutes, I did manage to go out and finish singing with the choir, but it took several hours for me to feel totally right again.  I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before (other than, you know, after having my blood drawn or a shot…ahem) and I can’t think of any reason as to why it happened yesterday other than apparently extreme fatigue coupled with low blood sugar were not a good combination.

Another possible reason was mentioned to me by more than one person and I know some of you are thinking that yourself with eyebrows raised.  Let me spare you the speculation…I do remember passing out two or three times when I was pregnant with Tia so I know that is a possibility, however slim that may be.  But there have been signs that lead me to believe that that, indeed, is not the case. 

And just to be sure, I took a test.  And I’m not pregnant so nobody go gettin’ all excited unless you want to rejoice with me that I’m not pregnant.  You can do a happy dance with me…

All I know is that while it was definately bizarre and embarrassing, it could have been terribly mortifying.  The whole morning was just a little bizarre.  And with that, I will head off to eat a little breakfast!

He’s not having fun at all…

While his older brother and sister are galavanting about Florida with their grandparents, Landon is left here at home to experience something he has never known – what it’s like to be an only child.

I don’t think he likes it.  I mean, he’s got his dad all to himself…

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where he’s allowed to climb,

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stand,

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and jump

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onto daddy’s belly

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and he doesn’t have to fight

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with anyone else for daddy’s attention.

Daddy makes elephant sounds

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And Landon makes them back.

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He’s got daddy’s undivided attention,

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and he’s clearly not enjoying himself.

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Nope – not one little bit.

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On Menopause

Our friends Scott and Marci invited us to a client appreciation dinner last night and afterwards we were treated to the play, Menopause: The Musical.  A play where four menopausal (or post-menopausal) women sing and dance about all things menopause.  Lee and I were completely unsure about this play as we prepared to leave.  Lee in particular was preparing to meet the evening with a bit of trepidation.  But we were assured by many (men and women alike) that it is indeed a hilrious program, no matter how old you are.  And I will say – that is true.  We laughed…a lot.

A few observations:

  • Gettin’ old blows.  There’s no two ways about it.  Oh sure, with age comes maturity, experience, wisdom and all manner of blessings.  But with all those glorious blessings also come hot flashes, memory loss and, apparently, THE CRAZIES.
  • If you age with a sense of humor, it can be fun.  And funny, as these women so aptly proved last night.  I mean, really, singing about night flashes to the tune of Stayin’ Alive?  Funny.
  • I’m glad that the “change of life” is still a ways off for me.  Sweet mercy, I’ve already got THE CRAZIES.  I don’t need THE CRAZIES accompanied by hot flashes and memory loss…
  • Actually, come to think of it I am having uncharacteristic memory loss.  I think it’s kid-induced rather than hormonal, but it does prove that I’m only one hot flash shy of “the change.”  Awesome.
  • No matter which way you cut it, middle aged women dancing in robes and nighties and singing about hormonal changes and sex is funny…and uncomfortable – but mostly funny.
  • Do not drink two bottles of water and a glass of wine before the show, then take your seat in the middle of the row without going to the bathroom first.  There is no intermission…
  • Should you go see this play yourself be sure to sit directly behind two women who are in their sixties and cackle so loudly that you fear they may wet themselves.  It will totally and completely enhance the performance and will cause your husband to roll around in his chair overcome with hysterics.   

 

So, to recap – aging is inevitable; no matter how old you are, if you drink too much then sit down to watch a hysterical recounting of aging you will be uncomfortable and laughing will be dangerous; sit behind women who have already experienced “the change” – it’s way more fun; don’t get scared of “the change”, especially when you realize you’re one hot flash away from it; and aging blows, but it can also be funny.

I think that about covers it.

The good news? I’m a blonde again…

Sorry brunettes – you guys may be smarter, but after several months of being a brunette myself I’ve come to the conclusion that blondes actually do have more fun.

Wouldn’t it be awesome if I had pictures to back up my claim?  But alas, I suffer from mom syndrome in that I am always the one behind the camera, never in front of it.  Not that I mind, really.  Because rarely am I in any position to be standing in front of a camera unless someone with professional editing capabilities is ready and waiting to touch me up.  So you’ll just have to take my word for it – I was a smart brunette for three months and I am now a fun blonde again.

See? Look how much more fun I am already.

Ahem.

So….

The two older kids are leaving today to go to Florida for a week with their grandparents.  I’m excited – and a little jealous, but just a little.  They’re going to have a great time.  And it will be fun to have some one on one time with Landon this week, although I’m afraid he and I both may be a little bored.  I’m not entirely sure what to do with just one child any more.  I remember the days when one child was overwhelming…

It’s always a little nerve racking sending your kids away without you.  I hate the feeling of being out of control.  I can only imagine how terrifying it will be when they get older and they’re driving and I really have no control over what happens to them.  Ugh – I feel an ulcer coming on just thinking about it.  Would it be wrong to sequester them in a padded room from the age of 13 until about 23?

Did I mention that I was blonde again?  I feel all sassy like.  Well, except for the extreme fatigue that’s  resulted in bags and circles under my eyes.  I was up until 1:00 last night working on my article for STL Family Life.  I finished it yesterday morning and needed nothing more than to add the photo and a few hyperlinks.  But WordPress and HTML had other ideas – namely eating entire portions of my article not once, not twice but three flippin’ times!  By 12:30 I was near tears and muttering all manner of unladylike words (being blonde has made me saucy).

But alas, I finally conquered and prevailed and posted and went to bed.  Only to be awoken by a very excited little girl who stormed my bedroom at 5:45 announcing that today was the day they went to “Fwowida.”

Remember staying up until all hours of the night in college and it being all fun and easy and what not?  I was trying to figure out why it’s not fun, easy or…what not…anymore.  And I think I got it.  I had no responsibility back then.  I had merely to drag myself to a class or two, then back home where I could sleep as long as I wanted before getting up again.  There were no kids to feed, no beds to make, no suitcases to pack, no hugs and kisses to dole out, no fights to break up…life was way less complicated.  It was also pretty boring now that I think about it.

So in writing this post I’ve come to a sad realization – while being a blonde makes me more fun, being tired makes me a terrible drag.  I’m going to close it out before I bore you all to tears…

To read today’s article on STL Family Life, click here.

A Fairy I Am Not

This is the view from my bedroom looking down the hallway…

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I’d like to say that a little fairy came in while I slept and folded all these mounds of clothing that are waiting to be dispersed (read: shoved) into their respective drawers.

I’d like to say that…but I can’t.

The truth is I folded these mounds of clothes and I’m not done.  That’s only five of the nine loads of laundry I did yesterday.

Try not to be jealous of me, everyone.  I know it’s hard…

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Monday – In Bullets

– Spring has sprung.  Unofficially, of course.  We could still have another deep freeze as St. Louis is prone to experience before Spring really decides to settle in.  But I’ll take what I can get.  The kids played outside all weekend, skipping naps and all around having a fantastic time.  My eyes are itching and my nose is running and I’m so excited about it because it is 60 flippin degrees outside.

– We realized last week that our kids haven’t been on antibiotics one. single. time all winter.  I’m knocking on wood as I type this.  I believe there are two reasons for this phenomenon.  First, we more than paid our dues last winter when someone was sick preeeetty much all winter long.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that we spent roughly 600 dollars in copays at the doctors office.  Second, I have been giving my kids Emergen-C like it’s going out of style.  Seriously – You’re thirsty?  Have some Emergen-C.  Your throat hurts?  Emergen-C.  You feel fine?  EMERGEN-C!  Sloan had a sore throat and a fever on Friday.  We pumped the Emergen-C in double doses and by Sunday he felt perfectly fine.  Of course he is glowing in the dark now, sssssoooooo…

– Speaking of Sloan, his top tooth is hanging on by a thread.  Every time I look at it my stomach flips over and I get all hot and light headed.  And guess who he keeps asking to try and pull it out?  ME!  The one who could quite possibly pass out if blood came spurting our of his mouth.  (In my mind I imagine the scene from The Shining when a waterfall of blood comes splashing down the hallway – *shudder*)  He doesn’t want Lee to do it – just me.  He came into our room at 5:45 yesterday morning to have me wiggle his tooth.  That thing better fall out quick.

– I put about 20 items on Craig’s List this weekend.  I’ve sold a lot of it and am a little over half way to my goal of remaking my bedroom.  But if I get one more spam message from someone who is “interested” in my item but wants me to click on her link to make sure it’s what her son/cousin/brother is looking for I’m gonna go batty.  I may have gotten a little nasty with someone yesterday…

– My parents put their house on the market Monday afternoon.  They are under contract as of yesterday afternoon.  Mom is panicking (*deep breaths mom*).  They thought it would take longer.  They close in 5 weeks.  The bummer is that we love my parents house and are sad to see it go (they’ll get a condo here in town).  The plus is that I will be able to sell more stuff on Craig’s List.  Wahoo!

– I wrote a giveaway/review over at 5 Minutes for Giveaways today for the Superstar Barbie.  It’s not up yet but it will be later.   It is now up and running.  LEave a comment to enter and win a commemorative st of Superstar Barbie dolls.  If you don’t want to win a Barbie but do want to check out Barbie’s rockin’ shoes that I totally love, check it out anyway!

– I am writing an article on raising bilingual kids in a monolingual home for STL Family Life this week.  I’m gonna have a few late nights as I work to put that together.  Hello procrastination, I’m so glad you’re here.

– Have I mentioned that it’s gonna be 60 degrees today?  That makes me want to do back handsprings down the street.  But I can’t do a back handspring anymore so I may have to settle for a pathetic hurkey when no one is looking…

– We watched the Oscars last night.  I don’t know why.  We haven’t seen a single movie that was up for nomination.  Well, that’s not true – we saw UP.  We haven’t always been this cool, folks.

– Landon’s new favortie phrase is “Oh My Dosh.”  He says it a hundred times a day and it’s funny every time.  He is also showing a great deal of interest in the potty.  He’s not ready to train yet, but I am letting him sit on the potty a few times a day.  He hasn’t gone in it yet because he usually tells me he has to go after he’s already gone.  But he’ll sit on the potty for ten minutes talking and playing (usually with himself…ah the joys of little boys).

– I have so much laundry to do that I fear I may get lost in the mounds of clothing spread around the basement.  That is today’s number one goal to accomplish.

– And with that, I will head out.  Have a nice Monday!

It was a crisp, clear morning…part two

A follow up to this post.

Alternately titled “How to turn 12 hours in to 36 without even trying…”

Or: “An American girl on a Ukrainian train to Prague with an Iranian born German.”

I failed to mention in my previous post that on my way to the train station in Kiev where my adventurous journey to Prague would begin, I was accosted by a very drunk Ukrainian man.  It was 10:00 at night, dark and the metro station was empty when he came up behind me and pinned my arms down by my side.  I honestly don’t think he was trying to hurt me – I just think he was wasted.

calmly called  screamed for help and a young policeman came running to my rescue.  He yanked the guy off me and pushed me into the awaiting metro car that would take me to the train station.  So, you know…that was the start of this adventure.

So, now I’m in Prague and I’m wiping Cameron’s slobber out of my ear as I make my way out to what I am hoping is the main square.  It is early Monday morning and I am armed with my backpack (which contains one change of clothes, my passport and nothing else) and a scrap of paper that lists the address and phone number of the hostel where my friend and her group are staying.  My first order of business is to call my host family in Ukraine as I know they are probably panicking since they thought I would arrive in Prague more than a day earlier.

Allo?

Sergei?

Kelli!  Where are you? Are you okay?! We have been so worried.

Sergei then went on to tell me that after they didn’t hear from me, they called the station to check on my train and were informed that it was a much longer train ride than they had been originally told.  Shortly after that, they received a phone call from my friend Wanida saying that she and her group were actually running a day behind schedule, which meant that I actually beat them to Prague.  A bit of God’s Providence as I would have been wandering the streets of Prague alone for two days had I, indeed, been on a 12 hour express train.

After I hung up with Sergei, I decided my first order of business would be to find some place to buy toothpaste and maybe some shampoo and get something to eat since I hadn’t had any more than a few bites of bread in almost two days. 

Entering the heart of Prague, I stopped and took in the sites.  I was struck by the beauty of the city.  Because it was early morning, the autumn sun was just starting to spill over the buildings.  The architechture took my breath away and I found myself mezmorized by the different structures before me.  I knew nothing about Prague and was itching to explore once I stabalized my blood sugar.

I began walking down what looked to be a main street and almost immediately picked up a follower.  He came out of nowhere and walked right on my heels.

Xello zere, pritty girl.  Would yoo like to buy some xash (hash)?

I shook my head and sped up.  It was a fairly crowded street so I determined that if he tried anything funny I could scream and escape easily.

Come on now, pritty girl.  Eet ees very good xash. 

No! I told him firmly.

And yet he persisted.  For almost 30 minutes he persisted in trying to sell me hash.  And in that time I walked in circles because I didn’t want to venture off this main path.  Finally, having had enough, I whirled around on my heel and faced my annoyance.  He was tall, greasy and smelled of urine and cheap tobacco.

Seriously! Do I LOOK like the type of girl that would do hash?  Please, leave me alone.

He bowed all creepy like and folded his hands under his chin, then turned and walked away.  I breathed a sigh of relief and continued my search for toothpaste.  Finally, I found a small pharmacy where I bought some Suave Spring Rain shampoo and conditioner and AIM toothpaste.  I think I paid $15.00 for those three items.  And to the glory of God, a Kentucky Fried Chicken was right next door.  

I entered the restaurant and breathed in deep the smell of crispy fried chicken then made a beeline for the bathroom where I check out my reflection in the mirror.  As I took in the circles under my eyes and my stringy, greasy hair I realized I kind of did look like the type of girl who would do hash…

After washing my hair in the sink and brushing my teeth, I felt like a new woman.  I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more clean in all my life.  I then walked out and dropped another load of cash on the best chicken and biscuit I’ve ever tasted and walked back out on the the streets of Prague feeling like a million bucks.

Since I knew Wanida and her friends wouldn’t be arriving until that night, I decided to explore a bit.  I wandered until I found the Charles Bridge, only I didn’t know it was called the Charles Bridge at the time.  Iwas in awe of the vendors selling photographs and paintings, singing and dancing.  Every ten feet, I stopped to admire the brilliant statues that graced the bridge.  If I could figure out how to work our new scanner and printer, I would share some of my pictures.  But I can’t figure it out so if you’re interested in seeing it, you can go to google and check it out.  Or watch the opening scene of the original Mission: Impossible, which was filmed in Prague.

After taking my time to check out every vendor, I stopped at the end of the bridge and looked out over the water at a hillside that was covered with gorgeous red, yellow and orange trees.  The autumn colors had created a patchwork piece of art across the vibrant green hill.  And at the top I could make out the shape of a woman leading a flock of goats.  It was picturesque and I determined that before my few days in Prague were over, I would climb that hill and look back at the bridge.

I eventually made my way back to the city square where I found a small grocery store and bought a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and the book Jane Eyre.  Then I hailed a cab and headed to the youth hostel.  By this time it was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to fall behind the horizen.  Wanida’s group was supposed to arrive at 7:00. 

When I arrived at the hostel, I told the receptionist who I was and who I was waiting for.  She asked me to have a seat.  I did and promptly opened up my box of cereal and dug into my new book.

At 8:00, I asked the receptionist if she had heard from the group.  She blinked twice then told me that she was very sorry, but the group had called and they were staying at a different hostel…on the other side of town.

If you go outside and walk three blocks you will be able to get a cab to take you to this hostel, she told me handing me a piece of paper with the hostel’s address and phone number on it.

So I headed out into the dark streets of Prague and found myself in a back alley where an older gentleman who, once again, had had too much to drink stumbled into my path and said something to me in Czech.  I shrugged my shoulders and tried to push past him.

Oh you are American girl, yes? Oh please, pritty American girl. Give me money for a beer.  Just one beer.  I just need a little beet of money.

He then reached down and grabbed my butt and gave it a squeeze.  I burst into tears and took off running with him calling out behind me to stop.  I finally made it to a busy street, wiped my eyes and hailed a cab who took me to the hostel where I rushed in to find a worried Wanida sitting in the lobby waiting for me.  I grabbed onto her and and laughed and cried.

Are you okay? she asked.

Yes, I answered.  But I don’t want to be near another man for a long, long time.

After I was finally united with a group of Americans, I had a wonderful few days in Prague.  I learned a lot about that beautiful city, I ate at amazing restarants, I ran along the Charles Bridge at night singing the theme song to Mission: Impossible, I bought gorgeous photographs that are today hanging in my foyer and I was all over refreshed after a stressful trip.

When Wanida’s group left, I had about 7 hours by myself to wander before my train was to depart.  My hands were loaded down with bags full of souviner’s, but I did the one thing I was determined to do.  I hiked to the hill across from Charles Bridge (which was much father away than I had anticipated – I guarantee I walked three miles to get there) and trekked up the hill (which was much steeper than it looked) and stood at the top looking over the city of Prague.  I sang praise songs and enjoyed the sound of my voice floating uninterrupted through the air.  It was a spectacular moment.

Finally, I headed back to the train station and began the long journey back to my temporary home.  And this time, I got a room to myself the entire way back…

Sometimes sticking to your guns is hard

I took Tia to the doctor yesterday for her 4 year exam.  I made the mistake of telling her the night before about the appointment, which caused much consternation and dread as she knew they would have to examine her ears.  Shots?  No – she wasn’t scared of those.  But the doctor taking a tiny peek inside her ear canal caused hyperventilation.

She did not dissapoint in the drama department with the ear exam came.  She screamed bloody murder.  She kicked, she flailed, I had to lay on top of her to keep her still.  The doctor was able to see inside enough to know that Tia’s eardrums are, indeed, no longer visible due to wax build up…again.  But, because she seems to be hearing fine at this point and cleaning out her ears without sedation is out of the question, we let it go.  We will probably have to have her sedated again next year before she starts kindergarten.

Cleaning out that girl’s ears is getting expensive.

After we talked a bit, the doctor told me that Tia would be receiving two immunizations, then she packed up her stuff and left.  I didn’t think to ask her what the immunizations would be – I should have.  It was my mistake for not asking…and maybe her mistake for not saying it in the first place.

Just before the nurse came in to administer the shots, I checked the sheet and noticed that one of the shots was the chicken pox vaccination.  This is a vaccine that Lee and I have decided, for the time being, to pass on.  (we are skipping or delaying several vaccinations.  You can read about why we decided to do that here.)  So when the nurse came in, I told her that I didn’t want Tia to receive that shot.  Her eyes narrowed and she got a peeved look on her face.

“It’s a $70.00 shot and I’ve already drawn it up.  It is only good for 30 minutes after it’s drawn up,” she said.  And my heart sank.  I honestly didn’t know what to do.  So I asked for a minute to think about it.  I wasn’t able to get in touch with Lee so I called my mother-in-law and got her opinion, then the nurse came back.

I felt really terrible, but I couldn’t justify giving Tia the shot simply because I didn’t want to waste the vaccine.  Had I known before the doctor left the room I would have declined the shot earlier, but the circumstances left me to decide what I felt was best for my child.  So I declined the shot.

To the nurse’s credit, though she was obviously annoyed, she did not treat me poorly and was very forgiving as I apologized profusely.  She did want to know why I wasn’t comfortable giving Tia the vaccine and I explained to her that I just don’t think it’s a warranted vaccination and I want to wait until more research is done on the long term effectiveness of that particular vaccination.  At this point, it’s considered to only be effective for up to ten years, which means kids are going to need booster shots likely for the rest of their lives whereas if they would only receive the chicken pox in childhood they would build up an effective immunity.

Now, the obvious dilemma in not giving them the vaccine is that it will be extremely difficult to expose them to chicken pox in childhood since almost everyone is being immunized.  Which means that sometime down the road we may have to vaccinate them.  But this is a shot that I have no problem holding off on and waiting until more research is done.  If we have to give it to her later, then neither Lee nor I have a problem in doing that.

She may not be too happy with us, of course, but we’ll cross that bridge later.

Yesterday, however, I felt terribly guilty and even a little embarrassed.  While the nurse was patient with me, I imagine I was discussed as one of those crazy paranoid mothers after I left.  And I’m really not a crazy paranoid mother.  But I am an aware mother and I hold firm to the fact that, ultimately, I am responsible for these little lives placed in my care and it is more important to me that I stick to my guns and fight for what I feel is right than bend on my convictions so that the doctor isn’t out a $70.00 vaccination.

Thankfully, my husband confirmed my decision when I got home…

What are your thoughts?

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To the right you will notice I’ve added a banner for this Saturday’s Help Haiti Live benefit that’s being put on be Compassion International.  It is a one night, two city concert being broadcast from both Los Angelos and Nashville.  If you are in either of those areas you can purchase tickets and see the event live.  If you are nowhere near, then you can watch the event live via the lovely internet.  Consider taking part and contributing to the fundraiser they are sponsoring to continue the work of rebuilding Haiti.

It was a crisp, clear morning…

As I stepped outside this morning, I was struck by the crisp chill in the air.  It is the lingering mix of winter air as it fights back the impending spring.  I love it.  It’s cold, but I can hear the birds chirping in the distance and the air feels and smells so clean and fresh.

As I breathed in deep, I had a flash back to a similar morning nearly 12 years ago – October, 1998.  The situation and circumstances were so different, but the experience is one that shaped my life and is, perhaps, one of my favorite moments in life.

It was a crisp, clear morning when I stepped off the Ukrainian train and stretched my arms up over my head.  I tried to shake the sleep from my eyes as I looked around the strange platform.  Not paying attention, I turned and hopped back on the train and sat down on the bottom bunk in my small room.  I had had an amazing night’s sleep.  The train pulled out of the station in Kiev at 11:00 and I had promptly fallen asleep and been rocked most of the night.  Except for the occasional stop to pick up new passengers, I had been uninterrupted in my sleep.

Now I was ready to fold up my bedding, pack my backpack and prepare to arrive in Prague, Czech Republic where I was to meet my friend Wanida and the group that she was travelling with for a semester abroad.  I had been in Kiev for roughly a month and half so far and I craved the companionship of fellow Americans.

As I leaned back against the cold train wall, I looked outside at the sterile platform once more.  And in that moment, my heart sank.  The signs were in Ukrainian.

This startled me because my host family in Ukraine, a young couple who were dear friends, had assured me that the train I was on to Prague was an express train.  You will be there in 12 hours, Sergei told me proudly as he handed me the tickets.  And yet here I sat, 11 hours after boarding the train and I was clearly still in Ukraine.  Which means we still had to go through Poland before we would make it to Czech Repbublic.

I hurried out to the conductor – a kind, round faced little Ukrainian man who spoke no Enlgish but communicated well through hand gestures and facial expressions.  In my broken russian I asked him how much longer until we arrived in Czech Republic.  25 hours, he said. 

This isn’t a 12 hour express ride? I asked.

And then he laughed.  Hard.  Shook his head and said.  Nyet.  This is a 36 hour train ride.

Awesome.  I returned to my room and sat down hard on the bed.  I had nothing to read and no food.  I had been planning on buying food when I met up with the group in CR.  I was worried that they would be looking for me and I had no way of communicating with them, or my parents for that matter, that it would be another day before I arrived.

Then the situation got worse…much worse.

The conductor came by my room, his eyes full of apology, and told me they were out of room and he needed to add a passenger to my room.  And in walked a short, stocky Iranian man who clearly hadn’t showered in some time.  His eyes lit up when he saw the blonde haired, blue eyed 20 year old sitting in front of him.  And I got very uncomfortable.

It didn’t take long for me to realize, however, that this guy was a mouse – a dorky mouse.  Had he been anything else, I may have been in trouble.  His name was Cameron.  He was Iranian born, but had been raised in Germany.  He spoke no russian (I never could figure out why he was in Ukraine) and his English was limited to phrases like, I love you and Will you sleep with me?

The beds in the train were narrow cots that folded out of the wall.  Mine had been the bottom cot, but I quickly realized that sitting down there gave Cameron too much access to me.  As soon as he started stroking my leg and professing his undying love to me, I folded down the top bunk, hopped up and did not remove myself.

By this time it was 2:00 and I was famished, tired and in need of some toothpaste.  I hadn’t brought any, of course, thinking I could just borrow Wanida’s.  The sweet conductor brought me some bubbly mineral water and a couple pieces of bread and glared at Cameron for good measure before leaving again.  He also brought me a russian newspaper, which I spread open and worked at reading to distract myself from Cameron’s persistent stares.  Everytime we made eye contact he would raise his brows and point at his cot.  I would, in turn, roll my eyes, shake my head no and stare at the paper again.

Finally, it got dark enough to try and sleep.  But it would be a long night.  As we crossed from the Polish border to the Czech border in the wee hours of the morning, several men came into our room to check our passports.  Cameron’s looks brought on immediate suspisions, unfortunately, so the men kept coming back in and trying to question him – the conductor among them.  Finally, feeling a little sorry for my bunk mate, I told the conductor to tell the men that Cameron was merely travelling for pleasure and that he was planning to head back to Germany from Czech Republic.  I’m not sure if that was true or not – I just wanted to sleep.

This seemed to satisfy the men and they finally left us alone.  After they left, Cameron got up and shut our room door, something that I had already told him more than once was not acceptable.  He stood up on the bunk and ran his hand over my hair.  I pulled the blanket over my head.

Sank you bery much, he said

You’re welcome, I replied.

Keeelli, he whispered.  Come down wis me.

Uuuuuhhhh…Cameron no! Go to bed.

Then he pulled the blanket back and leaned in close, his mouth puckering.  And this, my friends, was perhaps one of my finer moments in life.  I shot up and grabbed Cameron by the shirt collar and yanked his face close to mine.

Cameron, I swear to God, if you touch me again I will scream so loud that the Ukrainian police, the Polish police and the Czech police will all come running to my rescue.  But that will only be after I beat the crap out of you first.  Don’t. you. dare come near me again. Do you understand?”

Then I shoved him all wide eyed backwards off the bed, reached down and flicked the door back open, laid back down and yanked the covers back over my head.  Then I started laughing and shaking all over.  I heard Cameron slowly settle himself back down in his bed.  A few minutes later, very softly, he said.  Keeeellli.  Come down pleeze.

The guy was persistent, I’ll give him that.

Finally, we made it to Prague, 36 hours after departing Kiev.  And as I headed one direction, Cameron headed another to catch his next train.  But not before trying one last time to steal a kiss.  I managed to turn my head fast enough for him to merely slobber in my ear.

And that was only the beginning of this adventure…