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A Matter of Taste
I’ve been getting a lot of excitement on my site lately after some antivaccination groups discovered this post. And then when I wrote this post, I got some more activity. Some of it was really nice and well thought out. Other people basically hate me. Seems wanting children to avoid unnecessary illness and death makes me evil.
Oh well.
One thing I’ve learned in this life is you can’t please everybody. To put yourself out there and take a stand in the midst of controversy, you have to develop a bit of thick skin. It’s a lesson my sister could use. You see, apparently my 2 ½ year old niece has begun saying, “I don’t like you.” Well, to be precise she’s not just walking around the house saying it to anyone. She’s directing her animosity at one person: her mother.
And my sister is taking it personally. Never mind that the child is a toddler and functions solely at an “ego” level, unable to really feel empathy for others. And never mind that there is a new baby in the house and my sister has just gone back to work. And certainly never mind that Olivia has probably figured out that this little group of words gets her a lot of attention.
I think sometimes we have to remember that small children are just that: small children. When Olivia says, “I don’t like you,” she’s not saying, “Mom, I have given it a lot of thought and I feel our relationship is not one I cherish. You are nothing to me.”
No, actually what she is saying is something more akin to: “I don’t like eating chicken. I don’t like going to bed at 8. I don’t like getting not everything my way all the time. I don’t like that stupid new baby who has effectively dethroned me from my position of power. And I definitely don’t like it that my mom has gone back to work.”
And then she’s saying, “But gosh, I love it that my mom pays me so much attention when I say that. That’s great good fun!”
Of course, she could also be saying, “I wish I could hang out with Aunt Lara, she’s so much fun!”
What do you guys think? Doesn’t this happen to everyone? Shouldn’t I just expect to hear this from Eva and Zoe one day soon?
Guess I Touched A Nerve!
Okay, I admit I’m not the very best blogger out there. I would love to have more comments and discussions on my posts but hey, you all are busy folk. I am too. It’s okay. But I’ve gotten kind of used to the peacefulness that is my site and admit right here and now that I don’t check my inbox as often as I might. So imagine my absolute shock when I found some 30+ comments about an article I wrote over 3 months ago. Yes! So much activity that the platform stopped accepting comments! Can you believe it? What article did it? This one. My provaccine rant. And guess which group somehow found it and came pouring out of the woodwork to call me a nutter? Yep, the antivaccine community. Ooh, touchy, that group.
Now I truly can’t be bothered to respond to 99% of what was said because it was erroneous, hysterical and just plain odd. I would however like to address a couple points. The first is that my name is actually Lara Zibners. It would be lovely if you could spell it correctly while calling me a baby killer. I’d really appreciate it. Secondly, I am an ER pediatrician. Yes, I am actually a real doctor. But I don’t provide routine immunizations in my line of work. Therefore I can’t make money off them. And thirdly, I do find some of the conspiracy theories interesting but I will stand by my beliefs and state firmly and publicly that vaccines are not the government’s attempt to depopulate the world.
Oh and they don’t turn you into a newt either. (That comment made me giggle.)
Now I could get angry and sit here and write a whole post about the safety and efficacy of vaccines but I’ve already done that many, many times. My kids are fully immunized and I don’t actually know any pediatricians who don’t vaccinate their own children. This doesn’t mean they absolutely don’t exist, however, but I’ve tended to work in solid, respected, research and evidence-based environments so I’ve not actually come across one.
But instead of getting mad, I’m actually thrilled. Because in the midst of all the angry weirdness shone through a few voices in my defense, people thanking me for speaking out. It seems the antivaccine community got a little rope and went about hanging themselves, at least for a few readers. The one comment that made all this absolutely worth it for me was this one, by a expectant mom who had been undecided about vaccinating her new baby:
I’m going to be a mom soon and my friend posted this link on her wall. I’ve always thought she was unique in her craziness, but it looks like she has lots of friends with crazy in common.
Reading the comments from parents against vaccines posted here reveals a very angry bunch. All they have is name-calling and false claims. You all appear very delusional.
Sorry guys, I know you believe with all your heart that vaccines are EVIL, but you are clearly nuts. I think I’ll go with the doctors on this one. Thanks for opening my eyes to a realm of crazy that I thought was limited to just one wacky friend. I was considering exploring the other side, but now I know I don’t have to waste my time.
And there you have it. I am happy to have the name calling and the personal insults and the rude comments about my intelligence, education and professional worth hurled at me if even one baby’s life is saved. Oh and if I get to learn awesome new phrases like “batpoop crazy.” Hey, I didn’t say it. But it’s still awesome.
Enough About Me, What Do You Think Of Me?
I know this is going to shock you but today I’m just going to talk about me. Yes, I’m tired of talking about children, even though they are the future. Today is all me. I’m entitled. Because it’s my birthday. My big birthday. The one that took me to “XL” in Roman numerals, as one of my darling friends pointed out this morning. So today, September 14, is Dr. Zibners Day.
Unfortunately I’ve spent much of the day in tears. It started with the enquiring little “Mommy?” coming across the baby monitor at 6:30. We did our good mornings and hugs and kisses and came upstairs. But instead of our usual routine, whereby I try to answer emails while the girls try to destroy the living room, I didn’t even pick up the computer and instead the 3 of us had a “cuddah” on the sofa and watched Tangled. Cute film. The girls liked the singing and the horsey. I cried a little. Poor Rapunzel’s parents!
Then I took us all to the kitchen table where I served a fine breakfast of Angel Food cake (homemade!), fruit and marshmallow fluff. It’s my birthday, after all. Of course I had to light a candle and sing to myself while Eva and Zoe stared at me like I had 2 heads. We spent the next 10 minutes relighting the candle and practicing. Zoe quickly learned how to blow out a candle like a pro. Eva learned that fire is hot.
Note to self: marshmallow fluff and toddlers don’t mix.
Next came opening the cards the girls “made” me with the help of our sitter. Who knew a piece of pink construction paper covered in little photos of the girls and decorated with sparkly “40”s could make me weep like a baby.
And now I’m sitting at the computer, crying like a baby all over again. Because even when it’s all about me, it’s still all about them. But that’s okay. It makes 40 pretty tolerable.
The Case of the Missing Binkies
As you know, I’m a big fan of the American Academy of Pediatrics. That said, sometimes I just have to wonder whether the people who write their policy statements are actual humans, let alone parents. Sometimes their rigidity just doesn’t seem practical. Absolutely no TV before age 2? Really? Are you sure that an hour of Sesame Street in the mornings will really ruin them? Truly? Then I guess I’d better be content with never brushing my teeth again. Or going to the toilet. Because that’s what Elmo does for us. And when it comes to pacifiers, the party line is to use them in small infants both for developmental nonnutritive sucking and to decrease the risk of SIDS. But then, just when they’ve figured out how to stick the thing back in their own mouths, I’m supposed to take it away? Honestly? Have any of them ever had a 6 month-old baby? I’m still wondering.
Anyway, this is yet one more piece of advice that I decided to sort of ignore. At least the taking away part. Don’t get me wrong, I have big issues with 3 year-olds walking around the grocery store with a binky hanging out of the corner of his mouth. That’s a habit that hinders both speech development and teeth alignment. But at night? To fall asleep with and have handy in case they wake? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal.
One problem with my plan, however: Eva will only accept the newborn Soothie style pacifier. The ones that are only available in the US. In fact, they are so unique to the Colonies that when she was a small baby someone came up to us in an airport and asked if she was American. So every time we visit home, we stock up. And yet, despite the fact that these stupid things haven’t been allowed out of the house in over 9 months and only come out of the cribs at bedtime and early mornings, we keep losing them. 6 months ago we had 10. Today we’re down to 2. I’ve searched everywhere but apparently there is a binky blackhole in our home.
Now she’s almost 2. Knowing the AAP policy as I do, and having preached publicly about the dangers of pacifier dependence in little kids, I felt stuck. On one hand, she really should be getting rid of them. On the other, she will never give up her binky so long as Zoe still has hers and that child is just not ready. I felt too embarrassed to confess our sins to my family and request a care package. So for the last few months I have done daily pacifier counts, crawling around furniture, searching through Lego containers, my blood pressure creeping slowly up with each loss.
But last week at the pediatrician’s, while having Zoe tested for allergies, I just casually asked if he knew where I might be able to buy American style Soothies. Their doctor just looked at me and said, “can’t your family or friends send some?”
“Ah, yeah, but I’m so embarrassed that she’s still using one at her age…”
He cut me off. “So?” he scoffed. “It’s a little comfort at night. Get over it.”
I can’t tell you how reassuring it was to have a fellow pediatrician tell me that a 22 month old using a binky at night is really not terrible parenting. I felt like a massive burden had been lifted off my shoulders. Seriously. You think I’m exaggerating? I’m not.
And the care package is on its way. Thanks to Grandma.
The Evil Green Fruit
Zoe had a kiwi fruit this week. I know that may sound utterly boring to all of you but to me, it was a heart stopping moment, one filled with fear and anxiety. And it took place in a hospital under the watchful eye of her doctor and a team of nurses. There was a crash cart standing nearby and her mother was relegated first to the waiting room and finally told to leave her little baby there alone. Alone with her sister, her babysitter, and a giant hairy green fruit. I’m still having flashbacks. It was terrifying. What, you think I’m exaggerating?
The reason for all the hoopla will soon be clear, my friends. See, when I was a little girl, I ate some kiwi. And then my face swelled up. My parents were used to watching my diet carefully given my extensive food allergies but kiwi was a relatively new addition to our local supermarket and they had no way of knowing that this innocent looking little sweet delight would actually one day be the leading cause of fruit-related true allergic reactions. Until the day my face blew up.
After that unfortunate incident I managed to avoid kiwi for some 20 odd years until one night when I dined in a restaurant that ran out of cactus pear and decided to substitute kiwi fruit in its place. It was only after I’d taken a bite of my dessert that I realized what had happened. Fortunately the ambulance crew was very kind and took me directly to my place of employment where I spent the night hooked up to wires and tubes, hoping that modern pharmaceuticals would abort a severe or even life-threatening reaction. Since then I’ve been insane about avoiding kiwi, carrying an Epi-pen everywhere I go and actually running in fear from dessert trolleys.
So what was I to do with little Zoe, the poor child who got half her genes from me? Well, I did what any neurotic pediatrician mother would do: I demanded testing. And our doctor happily obliged. First we did a skin test. I wasn’t allowed in the room while they did it, but I understand she was a very brave girl. After 15 minutes and no reaction, I was shown the door. Her doctor wanted to follow up with an actual oral challenge and the risk that she would kiss me or try to shove some fruit in my mouth was too great. My awesome babysitter took over from here and I headed home, checking my phone every few minutes.
Per report, Zoe attacked that kiwi with gusto. She even shared a piece with Eva. (Hey why not kill two birds?). After an hour of observation they headed off to lunch (to make sure any trace of the poison was totally washed away) and then home for a complete soaping and teeth brushing. And finally back to her Mommy she came.
Allergy testing in little kids isn’t perfect so there is still a risk that she could one day develop an allergy like mine. And I have zero intention of actually bringing that evil stuff into my home. But at least now I can relax a bit when she steals other children’s food at playgroup. Fingers crossed it stays this way.
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