In case you didn’t know? Flu shots that get delivered straight into the muscles on your upper arm/shoulder can render you completely helpless as your muscles turn into a big ball of OWOWOWDAMMITOW within hours. And FYI, if you get another shot delivered into the other shoulder muscles at the same time by a nurse with point to make you will be lying on the couch in the fetal position in the near future. Prepare yourself.
Dec
1
If you were a Canadian (like me) living in the United States (like me) (or even, gasp! vice versa) you might have to deal with the small unpleasantness of having to sort out the issue of immunizations and school and the territory in between. You might have to show your child’s school evidence of said shots and this may have involved all sorts of trips to and from the doctor and phone calls to and from doctor’s offices, public health offices and hospitals all over civilization and harried conversations regarding records, faxes and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HURRY. And after these many phone calls without any resulting yelling or expulsion of your child from her (or his) school you might relax and choose to believe that all required faxes have been sent and received and that these things will sort themselves out.
You would be wrong.
Because after three full months of school your child’s school might finally get around to checking out the forms submitted when she enrolled in school and they might call you and leave a message on your phone in ALL CAPITAL LETTERS telling you it’s Very Important that they get your child’s Immunization Records because she May Not Attend School without Proper Documentation of her Vaccinations.
So you, being a responsible parents, would speak with the school nurses and discuss the reasons for the delinquent information (our records are in Canada and apparently faxing documents across the border is Very Hard). The nurses would probably be calmed by your Responsible Parent Voice and give you permission to bring in your personal documentation of your child’s frequent puncturage the following Monday. Which you would go ahead and do because you care about following rules.
When you bring the school nurse the information she requires she would reward your conscientiousness with a damning proclamation; your child is not fully vaccinated! UNCLEAN!!! The USA requires Hepatitis B vaccinations and Canada does not. Your child must not be allowed to pollute the school air with her dirty, unvaccinated little self one second longer (nevermind that she has already attended school for three months)!
And so you might be told to take your child home so as not to defile the purity of the school atmosphere. And your child might be brought from her classroom in tears, not wanting to leave school and you might feel ashamed, as though you had done something wrong, even though you know you haven’t.
If you were like me you might start playing phone tag (once again) with two different Canadian offices to try and get your child’s immunization records faxed to your new doctor’s office so that your doctor can sign a form for the school so they can untie the giant knot their panties are in. But both offices say they faxed those forms back in September like you asked them to. When you ask them to do it again you would probably discover that the number they originally faxed to was incorrect. So you would get them to do it again.
You would make phone calls to the doctor’s office to see if your leperous child can be immunized today so that she can return to school tomorrow. The child would weep because she fears shots like little else in this world. I mean *if* you had that kind of a kid.
And after your child is punctured you would probably ask them to confirm that they received the faxes from Canada. But they would dismiss you disdainfully, saying they had received no such fax. Because that’s the kind of day it is, and apparently fax machines in Canada are made from twigs and leaves and therefore take much longer to cross the border to America, the blessed land of technological ingenuity.
So you would go home and although you should be making more calls to verbally kick some ass you might be feeling a tad discouraged and you might need to break down and cry for a while. Especially after your husband does some searching online and discovers that the first fax number, given to you in September was actually the right one and not the one given to you today. Then you might just want to lock yourself in the closet for a few years. I mean, that’s how I would feel if it were me.
But it’s so totally not me.
Nov
23
Oh good grief! We’ve been hit by the Stinkeye once again. Both kids, both eyes. Avery hasn’t had pinkeye since she was really little and is freaking out and losing her mind every time I come at her with the antibiotic ointment (leftover from the last bout of conjunctivitis, and yes, I know you’re not supposed to do that, but since pinkeye ALWAYS shows up at our house late Friday night that means it’s pretty complicated to find a doctor to prescribe anything until Monday so YES I KEPT THE DAMN TUBES OF OINTMENT!!!!) like I’m coming at her with hot pokers and saying “It won’t hurt a bit, I PROMISE!”
Meanwhile we have friends visiting and I’m sure they wish they’d never come to our den of bacterial iniquity.
And really, I have nothing else to write about because I have also been struck down by the common cold some kind of plague and am busy whining my face off suffering quietly while groaning about lovingly tending to my children’s goopy eyes. Back soon, my friends.
Nov
4
It’s been an exciting time to be living here in the United States. Of course, the election campaigns have been going on here for a long time already, but being here in the months leading up to this election has been fascinating. An exercise in understanding the differences between Canadian and American cultures.
Here is my experience as an observer: America has trust issues. Please don’t hear me say that America is wrong or bad. Only a fool would make such callous comments, being a citizen of a neighbouring country, and although I have do have a sense of Canadian pride, I am very aware that Canada doesn’t have everything right. But here in the USA people seem not to be able to trust others to use the sense God gave them. I get the strong feeling I am not trusted to be be rational and reasonable. This is why I have to sign significantly more forms here than in Canada when I take my children to the doctor, when I enroll them in school, when I set up a bank account or driver’s license - to ensure I won’t come back and sue them over a ridiculous technicality. The television is rife with commercials, news broadcasts and tv specials full of warnings and anxious, cautious language.
This is why, when I have listened to Americans discuss today’s election, they talk about their great fear over what will happen if the candidate they don’t support is elected into office. Not to minimize the very valid concerns American citizens have about who governs their country and how they do so. I just find it very hard to identify with this crippling sense of fear.
As an outside observer I don’t get a say in what happens in today’s election. But there are many countries in the international community with a vested interest the outcome. I dare say there are a LOT of Canadians hoping that Obama wins. If for no other reason than he didn’t talk smack about our health care in a nationally televised debate or have a seven minute telephone conversation with a fictional French president!***
Perhaps Americans have more reasons to be afraid. A major war, an economic tailspin, and no universal healthcare are all good reason to shake in your boots a little or to feel suspicious of people who claim to be able to make changes. While I don’t claim to fully understand (or even to be correct about) the feelings or attitudes I observe as a foreigner here, I do know that today is the day that Americans get to make a choice to move forward without fear by electing a candidate who has campaigned fearlessly and without perpetuating fear in this country.
America, this is your opportunity to move beyond fear to confidence, beyond suspicion, to trust, and to take the next step out of your country’s childhood to become self-aware, humble and to lead with conviction. When people look back on this day in history they will say that this is the day America left fear behind. This is the day they elected president Obama.
***While I wouldn’t say that Obama’s health care plan is a copy of Canada’s for a number of reasons, and while I would be the first to agree that Canada’s health care plan DOES have a number of problems, let me refer y’all to an article from a July 2008 copy of Maclean’s magazine. This article states that Canadians pay half as much as Americans per person each year for both public and private health care. The result? We live an average of 2.5 years longer than Americans! With those numbers I’ll take the Canadian health care system, warts and all!
Nov
3
Hours of sleep: 2 less than I need
Times I had to remind myself not to eat breakfast because I had to be fasting for bloodwork: 7
Times I forgot I wasn’t supposed to be eating and tasted the kids waffles: 1
Times I lied and said I had been fasting, despite rogue waffle tasting: 2
Gallons of water drunk before 8:30am: 2
Minutes waited at the lab: 35
Times the elastic tourniquet was tied around my arm: 12
Times my hands or arms were slapped by nurses to encourage veins to “pop” out: 348
Number of different nurses who punctured me and dug around under my skin with sharp needles: 3
Needle pokes in arms: 1
Needle pokes in hands: 3
Bruises from said poking: NONE (So unfair! At least a bruise would earn me some sympathy!)
Heat packs applied to hands to encourage veins to “pop” out: 1
Times I wished to be eating something: 58997
Times I wished I hadn’t brought the 2 year old: surprisingly, 0
Tylenol capsules I am about to consume to treat very sore hands: 3
OW.
Oct
12
Here we are. Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Well, actually it will come and go tomorrow. But in our household it came today. Because, while much of America gets Columbus Day off tomorrow, my hubby’s employer didn’t jump on that bandwagon. So our little family of four celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving by cooking all day and feasting on turkey at dinner time. I don’t want to make any guesses about how old the turkey we purchased may or may not be since the American grocery stores won’t be stocking up on turkeys for quite a few weeks yet.
Nonetheless, it all tasted good and I was able to find the bread cubes for the stuffing and the cranberries for the cranberry sauce. We didn’t miss any key items and we had a lovely dinner.
How is it that it looks totally underwhelming in the picture even though I cooked and baked all day yesterday AND today to make that baby happen?
We missed our family and friends dearly today, but we had each other and that was good enough for this year. On the plus side, we barely made a dent in the 14 pound turkey which means lots of leftovers!
We had one other special visitor with us at the dinner table. Can you see it?
No? Look closer…
If you were thinking that Kieran’s right eye is looking especially pink and gooey then you would be right. Looks like we’re in for an unexpected visit from the Pinkeye Fairy. Lucky us! And I have no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow if our pediatrician’s office is closed. I don’t know what I can do on weekends except go to the emergency room. Are we really expected to go to the ER just to get a prescription for eye drops? I hope not!
I just reread this post and realized how fantastically boring it is. Sorry about that. I lost my funny somewhere between mashing the potatoes and carving the turkey. It’ll be better tomorrow (I hope).
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Sep
24
Oy. Things are crazy this week. We have friends visiting and somehow managed to schedule every. single. medical appointment for this week. I spent 2 hours in the doctor’s office this morning answered 93847296 questions about my medical history and current health and then getting poked with all kinds of needles and still not losing a single drop of blood because apparently I don’t bleed. So I won ANOTHER trip to the lab tomorrow! Lucky me.
I have also taken on a huge project which is really exciting and I can’t wait to tell you all about, but, unfortunately you will have to wait. I know. Everyone hates it when bloggers talk about something without talking about it. So very rude. I’m a jerk.
Also? I have a cold and I am fighting the urge to curl up in the fetal position for the next week. But there is just too much going on to allow myself to do that.
I am so totally overwhelmed right now. Can you tell? There’s nothing to say but that I am going to do my darnedest to get some real content up here pronto. Until then, may I present…my sidebar?! So many links to choose from! I’m sure you’ll find something to your interest.
Back soon!
Love,
Shannon
Sep
19
…when your child has an expressive speech delay? What changes?
Nothing.
Except everything changes just a little. Or maybe it’s just me. There was always a niggling concern in the back of my head, even when most people assured me that all boys are slow to talk, my son didn’t talk until he was 4. I wanted to know. And I didn’t want to get to a point where I wished I had taken steps to help him earlier.
Still, hearing the words out loud made my heart hurt just a little. Even though I know his speech problems are due to his many ear problems and not some failing of mine. Even though I know he will likely catch up to his peers without a problem now that he is getting help from Early Intervention. Even though I know that his so-called “therapy” will be like play time and he will probably love every minute of it.
Still. A little part of my heart is sad knowing my baby, through no fault of his own, isn’t living up to his potential.
I know, I know. Suck it up, princess. I should be thanking my lucky stars that we’ve got help and so fast. I should be grateful that he doesn’t have more serious problems. That a year from now my son will mostly likely be yammering until my head aches, just like his sister. I am not complaining. I’m truly thankful that he is going to be getting the help he needs.
Maybe what really makes me sad is I am realizing this is the first of many times in his life where he may not reach his full potential, whether by his choice or not. As a parent I want nothing more than to see my kids fulfill all the promise I see in them. Even if it’s something as trivial as being able to say “I’m sorry I just hit my sister in the head with this matchbox car.”
Aug
8
The Good News: The Diabetes Center was ALL KINDS OF AWESOME and were 100% helpful and got me all the prescriptions I needed and I’m pretty sure there were rainbows and bunnies shooting out of the air vents.
The Bad News: More fun times to be had on the phone with THE INSURANCE COMPANY and THE MAIL-ORDER PRESCRIPTION COMPANY and THE INSULN PUMP SUPPLY COMPANY (capitalized to indicate their purely EVIL natures) in order to accomplish the dispensing of three months worth of medication and pump supplies. I expect to be pissed off again before too long because that’s just exactly the kind of lovely person I am.
The Good News: The Diabetes Center even managed to get bloodwork done for me, which isn’t fun, but I mean, really! Bloodwork! Without any phone calls! Or yelling! It’s an effin’ miracle!
The Bad News: I defy anyone to tell me there is something more humiliating than bringing two kids with you into the bathroom while you -erm- *collect* a urine sample. The ONLY saving grace was that it was a private washroom and not a multi-stalled, potty-house where everyone could here Avery say “Mommy, why are you washing your hands BEFORE you go pee? What are those little wipes for? What are those BOTTLES FOR??? WHY DOES THE DOCTOR WANT TO SEE YOUR PEEEE???” and Kieran simply yelling “PEE!! MAMA! PEEEEEE!!!!” I am absolutely POSITIVE that the whole waiting room could hear us in there. I left quickly, and without making eye contact with anyone. Ah, dignity, how I miss you.
Mar
28
So here we are, a month since Kieran was first diagnosed with an ear infection and he’s still not better. He is now taking a third antibiotic and the doctor says if this doesn’t work he will have to see the Ear/Nose/Throat specialist, possibly to get tubes put in his ears. This really doesn’t concern me. I just want him to get over the infection so he can hear properly. This is such a crucial time for figuring out sounds and if he can’t hear well it could seriously affect his speech development.
On the up side the kids have been been trying to kill me starting the day at 5:30am. If by “up” you mean “waking”. Because that’s really all I can say about that without cursing. We think Avery might be developing allergies because she seems to have a runny nose that won’t go away and it seems to get worse at night when she was sleeping on a feather pillow and under a down comforter. I am going to make some changes in her sleeping environment and see if that improves things. But it would seem that she may have inherited her father’s sensitivity to…well…everything. Allergies suck. For the allergy sufferers, sure. But don’t think that the families of allergy sufferers don’t also suffer! We have to put up with the sniffling and snoring and general crankiness, too. And Avery has DEFINITELY developed a case of the grumpies. She is so cranky these days. I don’t know if it’s because of this possible allergy, or the fact that she’s waking up so freaking early that she’s tired, or if it’s just the three-year-old-crazies. But some days she is more belligerent than a teenager. She’s also started lying. Unfortunately (for her) she’s not very good at it. So she gets caught. This results in punishment. Which increases the moping and moaning and general gnashing of teeth and rending of garments.
Example: Avery is not allowed to get up until the digital clock in her room says 6:00am. (What she doesn’t know is that the clock has accidentally been set back by half an hour.) This morning she comes out and tells me that her clock says “6″ and she wants to get up. I, knowing that the clock does NOT say “6″, say “Let’s go check and see what time it says.” Avery scurries ahead of me to her room, covers the numbers with her hand and says “No! Don’t look Mommy! It’s a secret!” Secret, my ass! I set the damn clock. I think I know what time it says! This child will never work for any kind of secret intelligence agency!
